_Ten_. The more unmanly done: And though, _Don John_, by law y'are not accusd, He being a common Enemy, yet being a man You in humanity are not excusd.
_Jo_. It was my fury & thirst of revenge.
_Fer_. Reason & manhood had become you better; Your honour's wounded deeper then his flesh. Yet we must quitt your person & committ The _Englishman_ to prison.
_Ten_. To prison with him; but let best care be taken For the best surgeons, that his wounds be look'd to.
_Pike_. Your care is noble, and I yeild best thankes; And 'tis but need, I tell your Seignioryes, For I have one hurt more then you have seene, As basely given & by a baser person: A _Flemming_ seeing me led a prisoner Cryde, "Whither doe you lead that _English_ dog, Kill, kill him!" cryde hee, "he's no Christian;" And ran me in the bodie with his halbert At least four inches deepe.
_Fer_. Poore man, I pitty thee.--But to the prison with him.
_Ten_. And let him be carefully lookt to.
_Enter Captaine, Hill, Secretary, Jewell_.
_Cap_. Our Generall yet shewd himselfe right noble in offering ransome for poore Captive _Pike_.
_Sec_. So largely, too, as he did, Captaine.
_Cap_. If any reasonable price would have bene accepted it had bene given Mr. Secretary, I assure you.
_Jew_. I can testify that at our returne, in our Generalls name & my owne, I made the large offer to the _Teniente_, who will by no meanes render him. Sure they hold him for some great noble purchace.
_Sec_. A Barronet at least, one of the lusty blood, Captaine.
_Cap_. Or perhaps, Mr. Secretary, some remarkable Commonwealths man, a pollitician in Government.
_Sec_. 'Twere a weake state-body that could not spare such members. Alas, poore _Pike_, I thinke thy pate holds no more pollicy than a Pollax.
_Hill_. Who is more expert in any quality then he that hath it at his fingers ends; & if he have more pollicy in his braines then dirt under his nayles Ile nere give 2 groates for a Calves head. But without all question he hath done some excellent piece of villany among the Diegoes, or else they take him for a fatter sheep to kill then he is.
_Cap_. Well, gentlemen, we all can but condole the losse of him; and though all that we all come hither for be not worth him, yet we must be content to leave him. The fleete is ready, the wind faire, and we must expect him no longer.