Don A. It is most true, Octavio, I come hither
A married man, as much as friends can make me.
Don O. Since it imports you not to miss your servant,
Let us stay here without until he comes,
And then go in and rest yourself awhile.
But how go our affairs in Flanders?
Don A. I left our armies in a better state
Than formerly.
Don O. And your governor, the Duke of Alva,
I suppose, in great[er] reputation?
Don A. The honour of our country and the terror
Of others: Fortune consulted Reason
When she bestow'd such favours upon him.
Don O. And yet 'tis said, he loses ground at court.
Don A. 'Tis possible: under a jealous prince
A great's as prejudicial as an evil fame.
Don O. They say he's cruel, even to barbarity.
Don A. 'Tis mercy, that which they call cruelty.
In a civil war, in fertile provinces
(And the sun sees not richer than are these),
The soldier, especially the auxiliary,
Whose trade it is to fight for salary,
Is brib'd by gain the rebels' lives to spare,
That mutual quarter may prolong the war;
Till this slow fever has consum'd their force,
And then they'll fall to our rival France, of course.
War made in earnest maketh war to cease,
And vigorous prosecution hastens peace.
Don O. Y' have made me comprehend his conduct: he's sure
As great a politician as a soldier.