Rod. I will do all.
Ped. And when you have done all, which is my poor ruine,
(For farther your base malice cannot venture)
Dishonours self will cry you out a Coward.
Hadst thou been brave, and noble, and an Enemy,
Thou wouldst have sought me whilst I carried Arms,
Whilst my good Sword was my profession,
And then have cryed out, Pedro, I defie thee;
Then stuck Alphonso's quarrel on the point,
The mercenary anger thou serv'st under,
To get his Daughter. Then thou shouldst have brav'd me,
And arm'd with all thy Families hate upon thee,
Done something worthy feat; Now poor and basely
Thou setst Toyls to betray me; and like the Pesant,
That dares not meet the Lion in the face,
Dig'st crafty pit-falls: thou sham'st the Spanish Honour;
Thou hast neither point of Man, nor Conscience in thee.
Rod. Sir, Sir, y'are brave, ye plead now in a Sanctuary,
You think your Pilgrims Bulwark can defend ye;
You will not find it so.
Ped. I look not for't.
The more unhallowed soul hast thou to offer it.
Rod. When you were bravest, Sir, and your sword sharpest,
I durst affront ye; when the Court Sun gilded ye,
And every cry was the young hopeful Pedro,
Alonso's sprightly Son; then durst I meet ye,
When you were Master of this fame, and fashion,
And all your glories in the full Meridian,
The Kings proof-favour buckled on your body;
Had we then come to competition,
Which I have often sought.
Pedro. And I desir'd too.
Rod. You should have seen this Sword, how e're you slight it,
And felt it too; sharper than sorrow felt it,
In execution quicker than thy scorns;
Thou should'st have seen all this, and shrunk to see it.
Then like a Gentleman I would have us'd thee,
And given thee the fair fortune of thy being,
Then with a Souldiers arm I had honour'd thee;
But since thou stealst upon me like a Spie,
And thief-like thinkst that holy case shall carry thee
Through all my purposes, and so betray me,
Base as the act, thy end be, and I forget thee.
Ped. What poor evasions thou buildst on, to abuse me!
The goodness of a man ne'r taught these principles.
I come a Spie? durst any noble spirit
Put on this habit, to become a Traitor?
Even in an Enemy shew me this antipathy
Where there is Christian faith, and this not reverenced:
I come a Spie? no Roderigo, no,
A hater of thy person, a maligner?
So far from that, I brought no malice with me,
But rather when I meet thee, tears to soften thee;
When I put on this habit, I put off
All fires, all angers, all those starts of youth
That clapt too rank a bias to my being,
And drew me from the right mark all should aim at;
In stead of stubborn steel, I put on prayers;
For rash and hasty heats, a sweet repentance:
Long weary steps, and vows, for my vain-glories.
O Roderigo.
Rod. If thy tongue could save thee,
Prating be thy bail, thou hast a rare benefit.
Souldiers, come out, and bring a halter with ye;
I'le forgive your holy habit, Sir, but I'le hang you.
Enter Out-laws, Lope[z], Jaques.