English Spy, (Hurriedly), Good God! The perfidious traitor escaped.
Foreign Spy. There, just as the tiger was about to spring, a strong hand arrested him. His Spanish title, his broad lands, his order of St. Jago vanished, and the dread spectre of rack and dungeon rose before his eyes, but Balthazzar was a hero and accepted death. They dragged him to the rack, ’twas vain! They tried every torture ingenuity could invent, or the wickedness of Heretics employ to tear from this soldier of the church a confession of his employees. Balthazzar fixed his eye upon his Martyr’s crown, and pointing to his dislocated limbs, with grim but triumphant smile, heaved his last breath, said “Ecce Homo,” and expired.
English Spy, (Shocked and excited), Oh! Brother, this is horrible!
Foreign Spy, (Rather Surprised), But the end, Brother, justifies the means. You see the good cause advances! ’Tis Philip’s most successful warfare; thus Murray in Scotland, Coligny at Paris, and now the Prince of Orange at Delft have paid the penalty of heresy. These were only the horns Brother, the head itself shall be cut off. In England is the very head of Heresy! She must fall next, and then the Church’s triumph is complete. Philip himself, great as he is, must bow as kings of yore, and hold the stirrup.
English Spy, (Aside), This will do for Walsingham, he’ll trap the wolves! (To his companion), We’ll talk of this anon, Brother.
Cheers and shouts without, tumult, rushing, and cheers. Shouts of “To the Market-place.” The cheers taken up by the sailors within, who brandish their gold goblets and shout, “Hurrah for old Plymouth,” “Hurrah for the Craft!”
1st Sailor. What’s up messmates?
2nd Sailor. Some Spanish prize, I’ll warrant; It’s no mere row that, I know the heavy tread of a Rover’s crew. That’s the game for me. Let’s out and join the fray. (Exeunt sailors, rushing in confusion).
English Spy, (hurriedly), Come! Brother come, there is much that you must see here before you make up your horoscope of the future. (Exeunt spies).