Hor monologue — The Spanish Tragedie

For loue of him and seruice to yourself, [Ile not] refuse this heauy dolefull charge; Yet teares and sighes, I feare, will hinder me. When both our armies were enioynd in fight, Your worthie chiualier admist the thikst, For glorious cause still aiming at the fairest, Was at the last by yong Don Balthazar Encountered hand-to-hand. Their fight was long, Their harts were great, their clamours menacing, Their strength alike, their strokes both dangerous; But wrathfull Nemesis, that wicked power, Enuying at Andreas praise and worth, Cut short his life to end his praise and woorth. She, she her-selfe, disguisde in armours maske, As Pallas was before proud Pergamus, Brought in a fresh supply of halberdiers, Which pauncht his horse and dingd him to the ground. Then yong Don Balthazar, with ruthles rage, Taking aduantage of his foes distresse, Did finish what his halberdiers begun; And left not till Andreas life was done. Then, though too late, incenst with iust remorce, I with my band set foorth against the prince, And brought him prisoner from his halba[r]diers.