_Jo_. 'Tis the fleete: come they this way?

_Buz_. Yes, th'are ships; I know 'em by their foule linen; now I see
them plainely; they come, they come, they come!

_Hen_. How far off?

_Ten_. Speake, sirra.

_Buz_. If you would peace I might heare what they say; the wind serves
to bring every word they speake: they make towards, yes, towards this
Citty. A great fleete! stay, stay, look to your selves, Don: they spitt
fire allready, and have hung up a thousand flaggs of defyance. They are
at the fort, the castle, at the castle: would I were pelted to death
with Oranges and Lymons.

_Ten_. Here comes _Don Fernando_. What newes?

_Enter Fernando with Eleonora_.

_Fer_. Assured danger, gentlemen, for all our men
Already are in a palsye and doe flye
They know not whither. They are _English_:
The Citty's allmost desperate.

_Ten_. _Don John_, come with me
And helpe to encourage the remayning soldiers.

_Fer_. New supply shall quickly cheare you hearts.--
_Henrico_!