_Ex. Fer., John, Catalina_.

_Enter Jaylor & Woodrow_.

_Pike_. Oh, Mr. _Woodrow_, I must now take leave
Of prison fellowship with you. Your fortunes
May call you into _England_, after payment
Of some few money debts; but I am calld
Unto a further tryall: my debt is life,
Which if they take not by extortion,
I meane by tortures, I shall gladly pay it.

_Wo_. I have heard, & thought you by what I had heard
Free from feares passion: still continue soe,
Depending on heavens mercy.

_Pike_. You doe instruct me well; but, worthy Countryman,
Once more let me give you this to remember,
And tis my last request:--that when your better stars
Shall guide you into _England_, youle be pleasd
To take my Country _Devonshire_ in your way;
Wheir you may find in _Taverstoke_ (whom I left)
My wife & children, wretched in my misfortunes.
Commend me to them, tell them & my frends
That if I be, as I suspect I shalbe,
At _Sherris_ putt to death, I dyed a Christian soldier,
No way, I hope, offending my iust King
Nor my religion, but the _Spanish_ lawes.

[_Exeunt_.

(SCENE 3.)

_Enter Don Pedro, reading a Letter, & Manuell_.

_Man_. Dear sir, let me have power to recall
Your graver thoughts out of this violent storme
Of passion that thus oerwhelmes your mind.
Remember what you are, and with what strength,
What more then manly strength, you have outworne
Dangers of Battaile, when your warlike lookes
Have outfac'd horrour.

_Pedro_. Oh, my son, my son,
Horrour it selfe upon the wings of Death,
Stretcht to the uttermost expansion
Over the wounded body of an Army,
Could never carry an aspect like this,
This murthering spectacle, this field of paper
Stucke all with Basiliskes eyes. Read but this word,
'The ravisht _Eleonora_!'--does't not seeme
Like a full cloud of bloud ready to burst
And fall upon our heads?

_Man_. Indeed you take too deepe a sence of it.

_Pedro_. What? when I see this meteor hanging ore it?
This prodigy in figure of a man,
Clad all in flames, with an Inscription
Blazing on's head, 'Henrico the Ravisher!'

_Man_. Good sir, avoid this passion.

_Pedro_. In battailes I have lost, and seene the falls
Of many a right good soldier; but they fell
Like blessed grayne that shott up into honour.
But in this leud exploit I lose a son
And thou a brother, my _Emanuell_,
And our whole house the glory of her name:
Her beauteous name that never