The valiant’st spirit e’er trod the Spanish court:
Here let the rising of our hot blood set.
Alex. My liege, two nobler spirits never met.
Bal. Until we meet in purple, when our swords
Shall——
And. Agreed, right valiant prince:—
Then, Portugal, this is thy resolute answer?
King. So, return, it’s so: we have bethought us,
What tribute is; how poor that monarch shows,
Who for his throne a yearly pension owes: