AND. No, my dear self! for I was blest by thee. Else his unpitying sword had cleft my heart, Had not Horatio played some angel’s part. Come, happy mortal, let me rank by thee, Then am I sure no star will threaten me.
HOR. Let’s to the battle once more; we may meet This haughty prince, and wound him at our feet. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ ROGERO _and_ ALEXANDRO _in their Shirts, with Poleaxes._[310]
ROG. Art thou true valiant? hast thou no coat of proof Girt to thy loins? art thou true loyal?
ALEX. Why, look; Witness the naked truth upon my breast. Come, let’s meet, let’s meet, And break our haughty skulls down to our feet. [_They fight._ ALEXANDRO _beats in_ ROGERO.
_Enter_ LORENZO _and_ DON PEDRO _at one Door, and_ ALEXANDRO _and_ ROGERO _at another Door._ LORENZO _kills_ DON PEDRO, _and_ ALEXANDRO _kills_ ROGERO. _Enter at one Door_ ANDREA, _at another Door_ BALTHEZAR.
AND. O me ill-sted! valiant Rogero slain!
BAL. O my sad fates! Don Pedro weltering in his gore! O, could I meet Andrea, now my blood’s A-tiptoe, this hand and sword should melt him: Valiant Don Pedro!
AND. Worthy Rogero, sure ’twas multitudes, That made thee stoop to death; one Portugal Could ne’er o’erwhelm thee in such crimson streams, And no mean blood shall quit it, Balthezar, Prince Balthezar!
AND. Aye, in valiant blood of Don Rogero’s shedding, And each drop is worth a thousand Portugals.
BAL. I’ll top thy head for that ambitious word.
AND. You cannot, prince: see a revengeful sword Waves o’er my head.
BAL. Another over mine; Let them both meet, in crimson tinctures shine. [_They fight; and_ ANDREA _hath_ BALTHEZAR _down._
_Enter Portugals, and relieve_ BALTHEZAR, _and kill_ ANDREA.
AND. O, I am slain! help me, Horatio! My foes are base, and slay me cowardly. Farewell, dear, dearest Bell’-Imperia! Yet herein joy is mingled with sad breath: I keep her favour longer than my breath. [_He dies. Sound alarum._ ANDREA _slain, and Prince_ BALTHEZAR _vaunting on him._
_Enter_ JERONIMO, HORATIO, _and_ LORD GENERAL.
HOR. My other soul, my bosom, my heart’s friend, O my Andrea, slain! I[’ll] have the price of him In princely blood. Prince Balthezar, my sword shall strike true strains, And fetch Andrea’s ransom forth thy veins.-- Lord General, drive them hence, while I make war.
