King.
But what was he, that on the other side
Held him by th' arm, as partner of the prize?
Hieronimo.
That was my son, my gracious sovereign;
Of whom, though from his tender infancy
My loving thoughts did never hope but well,
He never pleas'd his father's eyes till now,
Nor fill'd my heart with over-cloying joys.
King.
Go, let them march once more about these walls,
That, staying them, we may confer and talk
With our brave prisoner and his double guard.
Hieronimo, it greatly pleaseth us
That in our victory thou have a share,
By virtue of thy worthy son's exploit.
[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 largess welcomes them.
[Exeunt all but Bal., Lor., and Hor.