1. Hell take thy Quarter staffe!
2. Pox on thy quarters!
Mac. The matter? why this noyse?
[A noyse within of Diable Englese.
Jay. The soldiers rayle, stampe & stare, and sweare to cutt His throat for all the Jaylors care of him.
Mac. Make proclamation, my lord Fernando, That who soever dares but touch his finger To hurt him, dyes.
Fer. I will, sir. [Exit.
Lady. This is done nobly.
Mac. Here, give him this gold.
Ten. The Duke Macada gives you this gold.