POLICY.
But that's not now the cause.
Yon three are Pride, Ambition, Tyranny:
Shame follows Pride, as we a proverb have;
Pride goes before, and Shame comes after.
Treachery ever attends upon Ambition;
And Terror always with a fearful watch
Doth wait upon ill-conscienced Tyranny.
But why stay we to give them space to breathe?
Come, Courage! let us charge them all at once.
[Let the three Lords pass towards the Spaniards, and the
Spaniards make show of coming forward and suddenly depart.
POMP.
What braving cowards these Castilians be?
My lords, let's hang our 'scutcheons up again,
And shroud ourselves, but not far off, unseen,
To prove if that may draw them to some deed,
Be it to batter our impressed shields.
PLEASURE.
Agreed. Here, Fealty, hang them up a space.
[They hang up their shields, and step out of sight. The Spaniards come, and flourish their rapiers near them, but touch them not, and then hang up theirs; which the Lords of London perceiving, take their own and batter theirs. The Spaniards, making a little show to rescue, do suddenly slip away and come no more.
POLICY.
Facing, faint-hearted, proud, and insolent,
That bear no edge within their painted sheaths,
That durst not strike our silly patient shields!
POMP.
Up have they set their own: see, if we dare
Batter on them, and beat their braving lords.
PLEASURE.
Let them not yonder hang unhack'd, my lords.
POLICY.
With good advice, that we be not surprised.
POMP.
And good enough myself will onset give[275]
On Pride's. At your Peacock, sir.