lorious Warre, the _Affricans_
A farre had heard our Thunder, whilst their Earth
Did feele an earth-quake in the peoples feares
Before our Drummes came near them. Yet, spight of terrour,
They fortifi'd their Townes, cloathed all their fields
With warres best bravery, armed Souldiers.
At this we made a stand, for their bold troopes
Affronted us with steele, dar'd us to come on
And nobly fierd our resolution.

_King_. So, hasten; there's in me a battaile too;
Be quicke, or I shall fall.

_Hen_. Forefend it heaven.
Now, _Bellizarius_, come; here stand, just here;
And on him, I beseech you, fixe your eye,
For you have much to pay to this brave man.

_Hub_. Nothing to me?

_Hen_. Ile give you him in wonder.

_Hub_. Hang him out in a painted cloth for a monster.

_Bel_. My Lord, wrong not your selfe to throw on me
The honours which are all yours.

_Hub_. Is he the Divell? all!

_Bel_. Cast not your eyes on me, Sir, but on him;
And seale this to your soule: never had King
A Sonne that did to his Crowne more honours bring.

_Hen_. Stay, _Bellizarius_; I'me too true to honour
To scant it in the blazing: though to thee
All that report can render leaves thee yet--

_Hub_. A brave man: you are so too, you both fought;
And I stood idle?

_Hen_. No, Sir.

_Hub_. Here's your battaile then, and here's your conquest:
What need such a coyle?

_Bel_. Yet, _Hubert_, it craves more Arethmaticke
Than in one figure to be found.

_King_. _Hubert_, thou art too busie.

_Hub_. So was I in the battaile.

_King_. Prethee peace.

_Hen_. The Almarado was on poynt to sound;
But then a Herald from their Tents flew forth,
Being sent to question us for what we came;
And [At?] which, I must confesse, being all on fire
We cryed for warre and death. Backe rode the Herald
As lightning had persu'd him. But the Captaines,
Thinking us tir'd with marching, did conceive
Rest would make difficult what easie now
Quicke charge might drive us to. So, like a storme
Beating upon a wood of lustie Pines,
Which though they shake they keepe their footing fast,
Our pikes their horses stood. Hot was the day
In which whole fields of men were swept away,
As by sharpe Sithes are cut the golden corne
And in as short time. It was this mans sword
Hew'd ways to danger; and when danger met him
He charm'd it thence, and when it grew agen
He drove it back agen, till at the length
It lost