2. _St._George_ for _England_! 1.

And _St._George_ we cryde, Albeit, we heard, the _Spanish_ Inquisition Was aboord every ship with torture, torments, Whipps strung with wyre, and knives to cutt our throates. But from the armed winds an hoast brake forth Which tare their shipps and sav'd ours.

-Thus I have read Two storyes to you; one, why _Spayne_ hates us, T'other why we love not them. 2. Oh, sir, I thank you.

[_Exeunt_. SCENE 3. _Ent.

_Teniente,_Don_John,_Henrico_. _Ten_. I ever feard some ill fate pointed at This Citty.

_Jo_. Makes the fleete this way? _Hen_. _Buzzano_! _Ten_.

I did dreame every night of't, and the Ravens With their unlucky throates never leave croaking Some danger to us all. _Hen_. Where's _Buzzano_? Villaine! _Jo_.

Be not discomforted. _Ten_. Don _Fernando_, too, Hath cut our strength off, taken away our swords Should save our throates.