royall master.

_Pike_. My thankes to heaven, him & your Graces.

_Mac_. The King further writes heere,
That though your Nation came in Thunder hither
Yet he holds out to you his Enemy
2 friendly proffers: serve him in his dominions
Eyther by land or sea, & thou shalt live
Upon a golden pension, such a harvest
As thou nere reapst in _England_.

_Pike_. His kingly favours
Swell up in such high heapes above my merit,
Could I reare up a thousand lives, they cannot
Reach halfe the way. Ime his, to be his Vassaile,
His Gally Slave, please you to chaine me to the oare;
But, with his highnes pardon & your allowance,
I beg one Boone.

_All_. What is't?

_Pike_. That I may once more
See my owne Country Chimneys cast out smoake.
I owe my life and service to the King,
(The king of _England_) let me pay that Bond
Of my allegeance; &, that being payd,
There is another obligation,
One to a woefull Wife & wretched Children
Made wretched by my misery. I therefore beg,
Intreat, emplore, submissively hold up my hands
To have his Kingly pitty & yours to lett me goe.

_All_. [_Alq_.?] Let him ene goe.

_Mac_. Well, since we cannot win you to our service,
We will not weane you from your Countryes love.
The king, our lord, commands us here to give you
A hundred pistoletts to beare you home.

_Pike_. A royall bounty, which my memory
Shall never loose; no, nor these noble favours
Which from the _Lady Marquesse Alquevezze_
Raynd plenteously on me.

_Alq_. What did she to thee?

_Gyr_. How did she entertaine thee?

_Pike_. Rarely; it is a brave, bounteous, munificent, magnificent
Marquezza! the great Turke cannot tast better meat then I have eaten
at this ladies Table.

_Alq_. So, so.

_Pike_. And for a lodging, if the curtaines about my bed had bene cutt
of Sunbeames, I could not lye in a more glorious Chamber.

_Mac_. You have something, then, to speake of our weomen when y'are in
_England_.

_Pike_. This Box, with a gold chaine in't for my Wife & some pretty
things for my Children, given me by your honourd Lady would else cry
out on me. There's a _Spanish_ shirt, richly lacd & seemd, her guift
too; & whosoever layes a foul hand upon her linnen in scorne of her
bounty, were as good flea[54] the Divells skin over his eares.

_Mac_. Well said: in _England_ thou wilt drinke her health?

_Pike_. Were it a glasse as deepe to the bottome as a _Spanish_ pike is
long, an _Englishman_ shall doe't. Her health, & _Don Joh