Enter again.
Bring hither the young prince of Portingal!
The rest march on, but, ere they be dismiss'd,
We will bestow on every soldier
Two ducats, and on every leader ten,
That they may know our largesse welcomes them.
Exeunt all [the army] but BAL[THAZAR],
LOR[ENZO], and HOR[ATIO].
KING. Welcome, Don Balthazar! Welcome nephew!
And thou, Horatio, thou art welcome too!
Young prince, although thy father's hard misdeeds
In keeping back the tribute that he owes
Deserve but evil measure at our hands,
Yet shalt thou know that Spain is honourable.
BALT. The trespass that my father made in peace
Is now controll'd by fortune of the wars;
And cards once dealt, it boots not ask why so.
His men are slain,—a weakening to his realm;
His colours seiz'd,—a blot unto his name;
His son distress'd,—a corsive to his heart;
These punishments may clear his late offence.
KING. Aye, Balthazar, if he observe this truce,
Our peace will grow the stronger for these wars.
Meanwhile live thou, though not in liberty,
Yet free from bearing any servile yoke;
For in our hearing thy deserts were great.
And in our sight thyself art gracious.
BALT. And I shall study to deserve this grace.
KING. But tell me,—for their holding makes me doubt:
To which of these twain art thou prisoner?
LOR. To me, my liege.
HOR. To me, my sovereign.