Gent. I hope most fairely.
Enter 2 drums, Teniente, divers musketts, Fernando with Pike (without band, an Iron about his necke, 2 Chaines manackling his wrists, a great chaine at his heeles); Jaylour, 3 or 4 halberts. A Barre sett out.
Clarke. Silence!
Mac. You see how much our Spanish soldiers love you To give this brave attendance; though your Nation Fought us & came to hunt us to our deathes.
Pike. My Lords, this, which in shew is brave attendance
And love to me, is the worldes posture right,
Where one man's falling downe setts up another.
My sorrowes are their triumphes; so in kings courts,
When officers are thrust out of their roomes,
Others leape laughing in while they doe mourne.
I am at your mercy.
Mac. Sirra Englishman, Know you that weapon?—reach it him.
Pike. Yes, it Was once mine; and drawes teares from me to think How 'twas forced from me.
Mac. How many Spanyards Killd you with that sword?
Pike. Had I killd one This Barre had nere bene guilty of my pleading Before such Princely Judges: there stands the man.
Gyr. Don John, sett he on you or you on him?