THIS GALLANT Cavaliero Dick Bowyer, Newly acted.  
LONDON Printed by Simon Stafford for Nathaniel Butter, and are to be sold at his shop in Paul's Churchyard, near S. Austin's gate. 1605.   

The History of the trial of Chivalry.  Enter Lewes, King of France, Philip his son, Katherine, his daughter, Rodorick, and Flaunders with Drum & colours, and soldiers at one door: at the other, enter Navarre, Ferdinand, Bellamira, and the Earl of Pembroke, and Bourbon. 
Duke Rodorick, and my noble cousin Flaunders,  
Are your Battalions ready for the charge?  Rod. 
Ten thousand men of Orleans I command,  
And those are bravely marshalled on the plain,  
Ready to be commanded by your Highness,  Flaund. 
As many of the warlike brood of Mar●  
Do call me General: those, my gracious Lord,  
Together with myself I recommend,  
To be commanded by your Majesty.  Lew. 
Thanks, Earl of Flaunders, Duke of Orleans, thanks,  
What lets us that we charge not on the Foe?  Navar. 
My Lord of Pembroke, are your Englishmen  
Squadroned with ours, and ready for the charge?  Pem. 
The French and English make one warlike body,  
Whereof your Highness is the moving head:  
Or peace or war, as pleaseth you, direct.  Nau. 
Then war; and give the signal through the Host.  Lew. 
Navarre, Navarre, submission were more meet,  
Then to add blood to wrong.  Nau. 
What wrong, King Lewes?  
The Kingdom of Navarre we will acknowledge  
To hold of none but of the King of Kings.  Lew. 
Three hundred years prescriptions on our sides▪  
So long thy Ancestors by ●●al●y  
Have held thy Kingdom of the Crown of France.  Pem. 
Talk not of years, years limit not a Crown,  
There's no prescriptions to enthrall a King:  
He finds it written in the Rolls of time,  
navar's a Kingdom solely absolute,  
And by collusion of the Kings of France,  
Because it lies so fitly upon France,  
The people speaking all one mother tongue,  
It hath been wrested for a Royalty,  
Untruly due unto the Crown of France.  
That Pembroke speaks the truth, behold my sword,  
Which shall approve my words substantial.  Rod. 
Pembroke, you are too plain in your discourse.  Bur. 
I tell thee, Roderick, Pembroke soldierlike  
Hath truly opened, what ten thousand lives  
Will hardly do, if war be made the judge.  Ro. 
If war be judge? why, shallow-witted Bourbon,  
Who shall decide this difference, but war?  
Hath not the judge put on his Scarlet rob?  
Is not the field prepared? our men in armour?  
The Trumpets ready for the sound of death?  
And nothing hinders us but our own words?  
Leave idle parley, my dread sovereign Lord,  
And soon resolve the Duke in fire and smoke,  
That he maintains a title false and forged,  
And that Navarre is a usurping Lord.  Na. 
On that i'll hazard all these valiant lives.  
Sound Drums and Trumpets, make King Lewes know,  
He makes his best friend prove his greatest foe.  Lew. 
Why pause our drums? our trumpets, speak as loud,  
Till the bright air be made a purple cloud.  Phil. 
Pause, gracious father.  Ferd. 
Noble father, pause.  
Let Ferdinand thy son so far prevail,  
That peace, not war▪ may end this difference.  Bel. 
For Bellamira's sake▪ abstain from war.  Phil. 
Philip▪ thy son▪ humbly desires a peace.  
Let not my father sheath his warlike sword  
Within the bowels of his Countrymen.  Kath. 
Thy daughter Katherine prays the like.  Nau. 
From whence proceeds this sudden sound of peace?  
Comes it from me? what, from my Ferdinand?  
From Bellamira my sweet second self?  Lew. 
Or rather comes it (Lewes) from thy soul?  
Thy Philip, the true Image of thyself?  
Thy Katherine, thy hearts chiefest joy?  Rod. 
Princes, you ask, you know not what yourselves.  Pem. 
Rodorick, they ask a sweet and pleasing boon.  Rod. 
Why, they ask peace, and we are set for war.  Fer. 
'tis a bad peace exceeds not a just war.  Phil. 
We will not rise from this submissive ground,  
Till we obtain, if not a peace, a truce.  Fer. 
Nor shall our feet be guilty of new steps,  
Till I obtain a truce from murdering war.  Lew. 
Show me some reason (son) for this demand.  Nau. 
Show me some reason (children) for this prayer.  Fer. 
I love the daughter of thine enemy.  
Fair Katherine hath enthralled my heart.  Phil. 
I love the daughter of thine enemy,  
Fair Bellamira hath enthralled my heart.  Pem. 
Is love the cause? then wherefore wage we war?  
What matter ist who wears both Diadems,  
When the Succession lives in either's heir?  
If Ferdinand be crowned King of Navarre,  
Fair Katherine shallbe crowned his Queen:  
If Philip wear the Diadem of France,  
Fair Bellamira, made his lovely Queen,  
Sways half the Sceptre. See what heaven can do,  
Provide for peace, even in the jaws of war!  Kat. 
How sweetly doth the Earl of Pembroke speak!  
Now, trust me, I am ravished with his voice.  Lew. 
What says Navarre? what, ist war or peace?  Na. 
A truce for three months, so it please your Highness;  
During which time our children shall have leave,  
With Drum and Trumpet to survey the Camp,  
To Court our daughters, and to feast themselves,  
As fits the sons of honourable foes:  
And if it prove a match between them both,  
There end all difference, I'll bequeath my Crown,  
As a rich offering to their nuptial Rites.  Lew. 
Here, strike the truce upon my kingly hand,  
Which is as surely ratified in this,  
As by the testimonial of a world.  
So now, for three months space all wars surcease,  
Our thoughts are wholly fixed on love and peace. Exeunt.  Manent Rodorick, and Bourbon. Rod. 
Zounds, here's a truce made up by miracle.  Burb. 
I'll cross it by a wi●y stratagem.  Rod. 
What stratagem?  Burb. 
By love to Bellamira.  
Oh could I dive into the Prince's heart,  
By any insinuation ne'er so base,  
How easily might I effect my plot,  
To make the Kingdom of Navarre mine own.  
'Twere but a dram or so unto the son,  
And a small thing would send the old man hence.  
What, noble Rodorick, to gain a Crown,  
A Duke would do much.  Rod. 
More than poison two:  
But you, my Lord, forget yourself too far;  
Know you to whom you have disclosed your heart?  Burb. 
Why, to the Duke of Orleans.  Rod. 
The dear friend of Lewes the French King.  Burb. 
King me no Kings,  
Although we seem to be of several sides,  
Rodorick, we love together like true friends.  
This Truce gives aim to our intention:  
Assist me (worthy Orleans) to effect,  
First, my desired love, and next the Crown.  Rod. 
Peter de Lions is your Lordship's servant,  
A boon companion, and a lusty Knave:  
He is in love with Bellamira's maid,  
And by that love he may bestead your Highness,  
More than your best friends in your best designs,  
Call him forth. Enter Peter.  Burb. 
What Peter.  Pet. 
Here, my Lord.  Burb. 
Why dost thou look so wildly?  Pet. 
Not with drink, nor yet with rage.  Rod. 
His looks are wild with love.  Pet. 
With love surreverence? can there be a face  
In all the world patched up with eyes and lips,  
A forehead, and a pair of Crimson cheeks,  
To make me dote on, to make me look wild?  Rod. 
Come, come, 'tis known that you love Thomasin.  Pet. 
Zounds, they that know that, know my heart & all;  
I have not the power to deny it, 'tis most true.  Burb. 
And 'tis most true that I love Bellamira:  
Now if thou art in favour of thy wench,  
Many a meeting thou mayst help me to,  
And learn beside what suitors seek her love,  
And whom she most affects. These things once known,  
'twere worth a Dukedom, Peter.  Pet. 
'Sbloud, give me a Dukedom, and i'll warrant you  
The knowledge of these ●●●ngs ten times o'er.  Rod. 
There's Angels f●● thee, Peter, think on them,  
And do thy best to help thy master's ●●ue.  
Well, howsoever I smooth it to the Duke,  
My thoughts are bend on his destruction.  Pet. 
You have my heart in your purse, i'll do any thing for you.  Bur. 
And thou shalt want no gold, & so farewell. Exeunt.  Pet. 
I cannot choose but farewell, and have the good Angels to comfort me; yet I am melancholy. Heeres gold to make me merry: O but (hay ho) here's love to make me sad. To avoid prolixity, I am crossed with a Suitor, that wants a piece of his tongue, and that makes him come lisping home: they call him Cavaliero Bowyer, he will have no nay, but the ●●●ch. By these hilts, such another swashbuckler lives not in the nine quarters of the world: why, he came over with the Earl of Pembroke; and he limps, and he limps, & he devours more French ground at two paces, than will serve Thomasin at nineteen. If ever he speak French, to avoid prolixity, he will murder the tongue. I'll provide for him, there's but small choice, either he shall renounce the wench, or forsake his lame legs, his lisping tongue, and his life to●for by S. Denis, I had rather die in a ditch, then be bobbed of my fair Thomasin. Exit.  Enter at one door Philip and Rodorick, a Drummer before them, with his Drum at his back: at the other door, Ferdinand and Pembroke with their Drummer. Ferd. 
Whither goes royal Philip thus prepared?  Phil. 
On what adventure goes Prince Ferdinand?  Fer. 
To conquer all the world, fair Katherine,  
Whose beauty in mine eye surmounts it far.  
Virtue and love conducts me to your sister.  Phil. 
On the like voyage are my fortunes bound,  
I go to win thy sister.  Ferd. 
Some fair Star,  
On our great hopes shine fair and debonair.  Pem. 
Amen, saith Pembroke.  Rod. 
Amen, saith Roderick.  Ferd. 
This way my Love dwells.  Phil. 
In this air breathes mine.  Both. 
Farewell.  Phil. 
Prince Ferdinand, if these cross loves  
Enjoy a wished success, peace here shall dwell.  Ferd. 
And we be friendly Brothers.  Phil. 
True.  Both. 
Farewell. Exeunt Philip, and Roderick.  Pem. 
Pity such true love, which like blessed seed,  
Sown in such fertile soil, his princely breast,  
By the rough stormy brow and winters hate  
Of adverse parents should be timeless nipped,  
And die ere it attain maturity:  
For I have heard, the Princess whom he serves,  
Is hotly courted by the Duke of Bourbon,  
Who to effect his choice, hath in these wars  
Furnished your father with a gallant power:  
His love may haply then disable Philip's.  Fer. 
O no, my father doth affect the Prince:  
Besides, my sister's heart is so combined  
To his in perfect love, that Bourbon's hate,  
Nor all the world that knot can separate.  
Then sorrow not for him, but turn the stream  
Of gentle pity on thy wretched friend,  
Within whose bosom love hath kindled fire,  
So ardent, that the flames will bury me.  
Philip is throved in my sister's eyes:  
But in my love disdain and hatred lies.  Pem. 
Doth she not pay true kindness with the like?  Fer. 
As stepdames, orphans, night, the clear-faced day,  
So doth she hate me, and return my woes,  
Like a steeled Anvil backward on myself.  
She is all hate, yet such a lovely foe,  
That I must kiss the sword that wounds me so.  Pem. 
Inter these thoughts, this is her father's tent.  
Drum, give a friendly summons to the King.  Fer. 
Forbear a while (dear Pembroke:) by our vows,  
Which in the book of heaven are registered,  
By all the rights of friendship, by that love  
Thou bear'st thy native Country, I conjure thee,  
This day to be the Trumpet of my worth,  
To speak the passions of thy grieved friend,  
To Katherine's ears, till those pure ivory gates,  
Pierced with the volley of thy battering words,  
Give way to my laments to touch her heart:  
For this have I extracted the from many,  
Made thee my fellow Pilgrim to her shrine,  
Knowing thy thoughts from loves Religion free,  
When my prayers fail, thy tongue may plead for me.  Pem. 
Must I be spokesman? Pembroke plead for love?  
Whose tongue tuned to the Instruments of war,  
Never knew strain of fancy on my breath:  
Affection never dwelled, but war and death.  
But if thou lov'dst to have thy soldiers fight,  
Or hearten the spent courages of men,  
Pembroke could use a style invincible.  
Lov'dst thou a town, I'd teach thee how to woe her,  
With words of thunder-bullets wrapped in fire,  
Till with thy Cannon battery she relent,  
And humble her proud heart to stoop to thee.  
Or if not this, then mount thee on a Steed,  
Whose courage never awed an iron Bit,  
And thou shalt hear me hollow to the beast,  
And with commanding accents master him:  
This Courtship Pembroke knows; but idle love,  
The slick-faced object of an amorous brain,  
Did never cloth mine eyeballs, never taught  
This tongue enured to broils and stratagems,  
The passionate language of a troubled heart:  
I am too blunt and rude for such nice service.  
Yet since my friend enjoins me to this task,  
Take courage, i'll both speak, plead, woe for thee,  
And when I want fit words to move her mind,  
I'll draw my sword, and swear she must be kind.  
Drummer report our presence to the King.  A parley, and answered. Enter France, Flaunders, and attendants. Lew. 
Prince Ferdinand, and honoured English Pembroke,  
Now by S. Denis, welcome. One run strait,  
And give our daughter notice of these guests.  
What man, we know you come prepared to woe:  
To woe, to win; now by our sacred life,  
We wish in soul our daughter were your wife.  
Our son is with your sister, fair hap wait:  
For peace or war lives in your love or hate.  
Welcome once more; first, we'll go see your love,  
After, to banquet, and from thence to woe.  
Be merry, then we'll share a friendly part,  
But you shall triumph in our daughter's heart. Exeunt,  Enter Katherine, her man Bowyer, and a Painter. Kath. 
See that the Tent be ready furnished.  
By this, my father and those Lords are met,  
'mongst whom, the noble Pembroke, like the Sun.  
Outshines the borrowed glory of the rest:  
And well I may compare him to the Sun,  
That but once looked upon with his fair shape,  
Hat dazzled my poor senses, and left me blind.  
But sirrah, where's the man I bade you bring?  Bow. 
If you can judge of colours (Madam) this is he.  
painter, stand forth.  Kath. 
An earnest cause (my friend) importunes me,  
Wherein I am to crave thy cunningest Arte.  Payn. 
Such as it is, you may command, fair Princess.  Kath. 
But are thy colours fresh? thy pencil smooth?  
Thy hand unwavering? and thy head dislodged  
Of all unquiet harsh encumbrances?  
For thou must draw proportion of those parts,  
Whose worth to tell, my tongue wants utterance.  Payn. 
Fear you not (Madam) I am well prepared.  Kat. 
Then hither straight with youthful Ferdinand,  
Navarre's stout son, there comes an English Knight,  
Pembroke they call him, honourably borne:  
Him (whilst we are in conference) thou shalt mark,  
And to the life set down his counterfeit.  
Nor is it needful I should show him thee,  
The goodliest person in the train, that's he.  Bow. 
Let me alone to give the Painter destruction, I know him as well as the Beggar knows his dish: he wears a white Scarf in his hat, and an Orange tawny feather upon his arm.  Kath. 
Fool, indirectly thou describest another:  
That's Prince Navarre, Pembroke his plume is Azure,  
A little intermixed with spotless white,  
Prefiguring the temper of the Sky,  
With whose high motion his great mind doth move.  Bow. 
Orange tawny and Azure, all's one, all is but feather, there is no difference I am sure but in colour.  Kath. 
Why, that's as much as may be, is it not?  Bow. 
Not so, i'll prove the contrary: You are fair, and I am foul, is that all the difference between you and I? there's another thing in it, if you mark it well.  Kath. 
I prithee peace, and with thy ignorance  
Draw not the Painter likewise into error.  
Here take thy stand, thou know'st him by these marks  
I lately spoke of: seem to excel thine Art,  
And I will study to requite thy pains.  Enter Lewes, Ferdinand, Pembroke, Roderick, and Flaunders. Lew. 
Thus did the Greeks, when they begirt the walls  
Of strong built Troy, sometimes with friendly cheek  
Entertain peace, and spend their frolic hours,  
In courtly feasting of each other foe.  
Welcome (young Ferdinand) I promise you,  
It cheers my spirit we do embrace you here,  
And welcome too (brave Lord) we cannot say,  
As if we were in Paris; we might say,  
Your viands shall be costly: but presume,  
Such as the Camp affords, we'll have the best.  
Daughter, I prithee bid▪ them welcome.  Kath. 
My Lord, I do  
That with the Congee of a bended knee:  
But this with my true heart's loyalty.  
Lords, you are welcome, by my father's leave.  Lew. 
Why, now thou dost content thy father, Kate,  
When wholly unto merriment inclined,  
Thou answer'st with like sympathy of mind.  Fer. 
But yet her looks are haggard and obscure,  
Which makes me doubtful she'll not stoop to lure.  Lew. 
Princes, let's enter: come, I'll lead the way▪  
The feast is mine, you are my guests this day.  Fer. 
Now Pembroke, show thy friendships true effect,  
Obtain her love, my life thou shalt protect. Exeunt.  Kat. 
He stays behind the rest, O happy hour!  
Work on (sweet Painter) to enrich mine eye  
With that, which else procures my tragedy.  Pem. 
Fair Madam, in this confluence of sweet joy,  
When every one resorts unto the feast,  
Me thanks you should not thus retire alone,  
As seeming, your best fare were heavy mo●e.  Kat. 
I am not (Sir) alone, nor do I starve  
My appetite with any wilful fast,  
I have a banquet of sweet pleasing thoughts,  
That is more precious than the costliest feast.  Pem. 
But at your father's board there sits a guest,  
To whom the cup of Ganymede will seem  
But juice of Hemlock, and the daintiest dish,  
As much unsavoury as the Pumice stone,  
Unless your presence season his delight.  Kat. 
I am sorry I want skill to serve his diet.  
I have not been instructed to such end.  Pem 
But I will teach you (Madam) if you please.  Kat. 
Rather the party grieved first should show  
Wherein we err, else how can we discern  
What is our fault, or how we may amend?  Pem. 
That office he commits unto my tongue.  Kat. 
Is he not able then to speak himself?  Pem. 
Yes, Madam, I have heard when Ferdinand,  
With whom in Padua I was conversant,  
So spoke in the assembly of the learned,  
With such a grace and well composed phrase,  
As many thought grave Tully's eloquence  
Flowed like a honey River from his lips.  Kath. 
He wanteth then belike sufficient courage.  Pem. 
Never lived Knight less prejudiced in that,  
Then valiant Ferdinand, whom I have seen,  
Couch his staff Lance with such dexterity,  
As if the god of battle had himself  
Entered the Lists, and pressing to the midst  
Of steel-composed troops, like lightning fly,  
Till he had made a passage with his sword.  Kat. 
So puissant in his fortitude with men,  
And daunted with a silly woman's looks?  
How can that be?  Pem. 
Yes, when you weigh the force  
Of your resistless and controlling beauty,  
It is your beauty: were his power and spirit  
Ten times more haughty venturous than it is,  
Compels it stoop in homage to your foot,  
As trembling Lambs, when they to Lion's couch.  Kat. 
'Twas well he chose so good an Orator,  
To plead the imperfection of his cause.  Pem. 
I should have that opinion of myself,  
If for my sake your Grace would favour him.  Kat. 
Yes, for your sake we have endured his name;  
And for your sake we tolerate his suit:  
But when you cease to speak, than all that praise  
You have attributed to his desert,  
Seems borrowed from yourself, you are the man  
Whose eloquence compares with Cicero's.  
You are the man, whose knightly fortitude  
lives in the world unprejudiced of any.  
You vanquish beauty, and enthrall the mind  
Of female weakness, with no lesser awe,  
Then Indian vassals stoop unto their Lords.  
The name of Ferdinand you have mista'ne:  
Say 'tis yourself, and then your whole discourse  
Observes the perfect method that it should▪  Pem. 
Should I be false and treacherous to my friend?  
I am entreated but to speak for him.  Kat. 
But for yourself would be more acceptable.  
Oh pardon me, nor let immodest strain  
Cleave to my brow, my love is chastely bred,  
Other then Pembroke, Katherine never vows,  
Shall be enthronized in hermayden thoughts.  Pem. 
Mistake me not, I say 'tis Ferdinand  
Dies in affection to your Deity.  Kath. 
But in affection I survive to none,  
But only Pembroke.  Pem. 
Will you be esteemed  
A cruel murderess of a loyal friend?  Kat. 
Will Pembroke triumph in a woman's fall?  Pem. 
You anger me, respect young Ferdinand.  Kat. 
You please me not, to speak of Ferdinand.  Pem. 
Nay, then 'tis time to go, or wrong my friend.  
Since, Madam, what I would I cannot do,  
Mine honour here bids me leave off to woe. Exit.  Kat. 
Stay, Pembroke, Katherine will sue to thee,  
So shalt thou keep thy faith and loyalty.  Bow. 
Tarry, sir, tarry, we want the length of your nose: nay▪ if you will not hear, i'll be so bold as follow your nose. Sir, tarry, tarry. Exit.  Kat. 
He will not hear, nor (too unkind) look back.  Payn. 
But, Madam, spite his heart you shall see this.  Kat. 
Give me his picture: Image far more kind,  
Then is the substance, whence thou art derived!  
Which way soever I divert myself,  
Thou seemest to follow with a loving eye.  
Thee will I therefore hold within mine arms, Enter Ferd.  
As some small comfort to increasing harms.  Fer. 
What means my second self by this long stay?  
I cannot rest till I be certified,  
What good or bad success my suit returns:  
But he is gone, and in fair Katherine's hand  
I see his picture. What may this pretend?  Kat. 
Thou hast done well indeed, in every part  
Thou showst complete & cunning workmanship:  
His eye, his lip, his cheek are rightly framed;  
But one thing thou hast grossly overslipped.  
Where is his stubborn unrelenting heart,  
That lurks in secret as his master doth,  
Disdaining to regard or pity me?  Payn. 
Madam, his heart must be imagined  
By the description of the outward parts.  Kat. 
O no; for than it would be tractable,  
Mild and applausive as the others be.  Fer. 
No Prince, but Pembroke dwells in Katherine's eye,  
Whose that disturbs our pleasing solitude.  Fer. 
Know you not me? my name is Ferdinand,  
Whose faithful love Lord Pembroke late commenced?  Kat. 
Speak then for Pembroke as he did for you,  
Or else your bootless suit will soon be cold.  Fer. 
Why, he was Orator in my behalf:  
If I should speak for him, as he for me,  
Then should I breath forth his passions, not mine own.  
ay, I, 'tis so, the villain, in my name,  
Hath purchased her affection for himself,  
And therefore was he absent from the feast:  
And therefore shuns my sight, and leaves behind  
This counterfeit, to keep him still in mind. Enter Bowyer.  
'tis so, 'tis so, base Traitor, for this wrong  
My sword shall cut out thy perfidious tongue. Exit.  Bow. 
I have run till I sweat, sweat till my shirt cleaves to my back, cried till I am hoarse, and am hoarse till I cannot cry, and yet he will not come back.  Kat. 
No matter, fellow, I have here a pledge, Enter Lewes.  
Which I will zealously devote me to▪  
There's thy reward, withdraw, my father comes.  Lew. 
Where are these Lords? the one hath sat with me,  
And suddenly is risen from the board:  
The other came not at all. Daughter, saw you  
The Prince or Pembroke, which way they are gone?  Kat. 
Back to their Tents, my Lord, as I suppose.  Lew. 
Back to their Tents, and take no leave of us▪  
Nay, than I fear their meaning was too smooth,  
And some black Treason covered in their smiles,  
Which we will seek immediately to prevent. Exeunt.  Enter Dick Bowyer, and soldiers, with Drum and colours. Bow. 
Stand, give the word along, stand.  Lieu. 
Stand there.  Bow. 
Lieutenant.  Lieu. 
Captain.  Bow. 
Is the watch set in the King's quarter yet?  Lieu. 
An hour ago.  Bow. 
Zounds, what foolish Canaanites were they, to run in debt to their eyes for an hours sleep, sooner than they needed? Sergeant.  Ser. 
Anon sir.  Bow. 
Anon sir! s'hart, the Rogue answers like a Drawer: but 'tis the trick of most of these Sergeants, all clincum, clancum. God's dynes, I am an Onion, if I had not rather serve foremost in the forlorn hoop of a battle, or run point blank against the mouth of a double charged Cannon, then come under the arrests of some of their pewter pessels: zounds, 'tis hotter a great deal then hell mouth, & Dives burning in Sulphur: but thou art none of the genealogy of them. Where must we watch to night?  Ser. 
In the furthest Trenches that confront the enemies Campe.  Bow. 
That's the next way to have all our throats cut.  Lieu. 
That cannot be, you know, Captain, there's a peace toward.  Bo. 
A pox a peace, it keeps our Ancient whole; but s'hart our gaberdines go to wrack: but foutra: 'tis well known, since Dick Bowyer came to France, he hath showed himself a gentleman & a Cavaliero, and sets fear at's heels: and I could scape (a pox on it) th'other thing, I might haps return safe & sound to England; but what remedy? all flesh is grass, and some of us must needs be scorched in this hot Country. Lieutenant Core, prithee lead my Band to their quarter, and the Rogues do not as they should, cram thyself, good Core, down their throats, and choke them. Who stand Sentronel to night, sir?  Sol. 
That must I, Captain.  Bow. 
You, Rafe Nod? zounds, soldiers, follow my discipline, say your prayers, you are all dead men, all dust and ashes, all worms meat.  Lieu. 
How so, Captain?  Bow. 
Do you make him Sentronel? s'hart, he●le nod presently: and he do not sleep sitting upon the point of a Spanish needle, Dick Bowyer's a very shuttlecock. Nod! zounds, he is one of the nine sleepers, a very Dormoose: & I had a Pageant to present, of the seven deadly sins, he should play Sloth: and he did not sleep when he should speak his part, I am a Badger.  Soul. 
That's true, you have half the nature of a Badger, for one leg is shorter than another.  Bow. 
Zounds, you Rogue, do not you know that? I'll tell you: s'hart, and I lie, call me jebuzite. Once as I was fight in S. George's fields, and blind Cupid seeing me, and taking me for some valiant Achilles, he took his shaft, and shot me right into the left heel, and ever since, Dick Bowyer hath been lame: but my heart is as sound as a bell, heart of Oak, spirit, spirit. Lieutenant, discharge Nod, and let Cricket stand Sentronel, till I come.  Lieu. 
He shall, Captain.  Bow. 
On afore, strike Drum, march soldier's, keep your place▪ Nod: lusty my hearts, for the honour of England, & our brave General, the Earl of Pembroke. So, I have discharged myself of these. Exeunt soldiers.  
Hot shot! now to my love: some may say, the tale of Venus loving Mars, is a fable: but he that is a true soldier, and a Gent. as Dick Bowyer is, & he do not love some varlet or other, zounds, he is worse than a gaping Oyster without liquor. There's a pretty sweet faced mother that waits on the princess, that I have some mind to; but a whorson Achitophel, a parasite, a rogue, one whose face looks worse than a Tailor's cushion, of old shreds & colours; zounds, like a weavers leg, in an old ditch feeding horseleeches, & this trotter is my rival, & loves Thomasin: his name is Peter de Lions; but s'hart (I will not swear neither) if I do not turn Rich. Cor de Lion with him, if I do not tear out his heart and eat it with mustard, Enter P●ter, 〈…〉 let him say Dick Bowyer's a Mackerell. Yonder he comes with my Property hand in hand. Zounds, I say nothing: but i'll hear what they say, and determine afterward.  Pet. 
Thomasin, you know me, I hate prolixity: in a word, my humour is thus, I love you.  Bow. 
And I do not spoil that humour, so—  Pet. 
Your answer compendiously, & avoid prolixity.  Tom. 
Mary 〈…〉! by jesus, I scorn to humble the least part about me, to give answer to such a trotting question: as I live, it jolts mine ears worse in hearing▪ then the prince's coach on a broken causey.  Pet, 
Thomasin, leave this pace, & take me with you: my Lord loves your Lady, yet I hear say, she is this night betrothed to the Prince of France: so I love you, and shall I lose you? No, I hate prolixity: in a word, the end is, i'll marry you.  Tho. 
Pretty, as God save me! what will Captain Bowyer say to that, if he should know it?  Bow. 
A good Rogue, by jesus.  Pe. 
Bowyer a Captain? a Capon, a button mould, a lame haberdine, a red beard Sprat, a Yellow hammer, a bow case, a very jackdaw with his tongue slit.  Bow. 
Zounds, what a Philistine is this? what a dictionary of proper names hath the Rogue got together? heart, his tongue crawls as fast as the Cheese doth in Germany, I'll pierce you for this, you Lobster.  Pet. 
Bowyer, mordu futra for him; and that sour crab do but leer at thee, I shall squeeze him to vargis.  Bo. 
And you squeeze me, I may haps grow saucy with you, you whoreson burnt Pudding pie, you dry Parsnip: kiss me, Thomasin: so, dare you stand to your word now, and squeeze me?  Pet. 
Stump, I challenge thee for this indignity▪ Bowyer, I will gird myself with thy guts, I am a Soldier and a Captain.  Bow. 
Captain? s'hart, and thou hast under thy charge, any other than Pigmies, I am Gogmagog. Dost thou hear (sowgelder?) and I do not with six Cranes (well marshalled) overrun thee and thy hundred and fifty, say Dick Bowyer's a coward.  Pet. 
For that word, draw.  Tho. 
Hold, Gentlemen.  Bow. 
Peace (good Thomasin) silence, sweet socket. Peter, dost see this sword? this sword killed Sarlaboys, that was one Rogue: now it shall kill thee, that's two Rogues, Whoreson puttock, no garbage serve you but this? have at you.  As they fight, enters Pembroke. Pem. 
Who's this at enmity within our Camps?  
What, Bowyer, and the servant to great Bourbon?  
Both sheath your weapons: by our martial law,  
This act is death.  Bow. 
I'll be hanged then. Dost thou hear, noble General? Dick Bowyer knows what belongs to service: we did not draw of any malice, by this element of iron & steel, but to measure which of our swords were longest. I'll save you for once, you Sarazen, because I see you'll hang scurvily: but the next time—  Pem. 
Good Captain Bowyer, let our English troops  
Keep a strong watch to night: my throbbing heart,  
Like to a Screech-owl in the midnight hour,  
Bodes some black scene of mischief imminent.  Bow. 
Never fear (General) if julius Caesar rise up against us, ere he do my Lord any wrong, zounds, i'll be cut smaller than potherbs. I'll to the trenches, come Thomasin. Leer not, Lobster, lest I thum that russeting face of yours with my sword hilt, till that it look as pied coloured as the Rainbow. By jesus i'll do it, and therefore follow me not. Exeunt.  Pem. 
Why should this load of grief lie on my heart  
With such a ponderous weight? I know no cause,  
Unless it be by thinking on the wrong  
My friend receives in the unmatched love,  
Which Katherine bears me: yet my faith is sound,  
And like a solid Rock shall check her tears.  
Katherine loves me; yet for my friend's delight,  
Pembroke will hate her love, and fly her sight. Exit.  Enter Bourbon, Navarre, Philip, Bellamira, Roderick, and attendants. Bur. 
Navarre, you sprinkle me with foul reproach,  
And dim the lustre of our royal name,  
With colours of dishonour.  Nau. 
Hear me, Bourbon.  Bur. 
What words can satisfy so great a wrong?  
Have you not with consent of all your Lords,  
Promised your daughter to this generous prince?  Nau. 
Their true love forced us to it.  Bur. 
True love? 'tis feigned.  Phil. 
Ha, Bourbon.  Bel. 
Gentle Philip.  Phil. 
With my sword,  
I'll prove my love unfeigned, thee a false Lord.  Bur. 
This like a Sanctuary frees thy tongue,  
And gives thee childish liberty of speech,  
Which else would fawn and crouch at Bourbon's frown.  Phil. 
Now by S. Denis—  Burb. 
I'll not chat with boys.  
Navarre, to thee I speak: thy daughter's looks,  
Like the North Star to the Sea-tossed Mariners,  
Hath brought me through all dangers, made me turn  
Our royal Palace, to this stage of death,  
Our state and pleasures, to a bloody Camp,  
And with the strength and puissance of our force,  
To lift thy falling and decayed state,  
Even to her pristine glory, in thy quarrel  
Bourbon hath set himself against his King,  
And foiled his greatness with a traitors name.  
Now when our worth expected rich reward,  
Fair Bellamira, wonder of her time,  
Must Philip have her?  Phil. 
Bourbon, she is mine.  Bur. 
Mordew: i'll be revenged, by heaven I will,  
Or I will pave these plains with the dead bodies  
Of our dear subjects: we have sworn thy fall,  
That oaths thy death, our rage thy funeral.  Nau. 
Hear our excuse.  Bur. 
We will not credit air.  
Peter, watch Rodorick, when the prince is gone,  
Tell him, I'd speak with him.  Pet. 
Enough, 'tis done.  Bur. 
Navarre, this setting Sun, which sees our wrong,  
Shall ere his morrows beams guide the proud East,  
View Hymen's rites turned to a tragic feast. Exit Bourbon.  Na. 
His anger bears him hence, young prince of France,  
Since to reduce our enmity to love,  
And thereby like a fair and lovely Bride,  
To marry peace to France, we are content,  
To bring the sea-tossed bark of your affects,  
Half shipwrecked with the tempest of these wars,  
To their desired port, as we agreed:  
Go to your father, and inform him thus:  
If personally he'll view our friendly Tents,  
And seal these Articles of peace proposed,  
This night you shall be troths plight to our child.  Phil. 
Were it to search the furthest Northern clime,  
Where frosty Hiems with an yeie Mace,  
Strikes dead all living things, I'd find it out,  
And borrowing fire from those fair sunny eyen,  
Thaw Winter's frost, and warm that dead cold clime:  
But this impose i● nothing, honoured King,  
I'll to my father, and conduct him hither:  
For whilst my soul is parted from her sight,  
This earth is hell, this day a tedious night.  
Come Rodorick, you shall bear me company. Exeunt Phil. Pet. & Rod.  Pet. 
He shall not, for i'll stay him instantly.  Nau. 
'Twere pity to keep two such loves asunder.  
Daughter, you & your Ladies to your tent, Exit Bella.  
And deck you richly to receive the prince. Enter Pemb. after him, Fer.  
My Lord of Pembroke, happily returned:  
How dot● our son? See where he comes himself.  
Speak, boy, how spedst thou with fair Katherine?  Fer. 
I know not how: Is trothless Pembroke there?  Nau. 
Be not dismayed, at length she'll pity thee.  
Son, bid our Officers adorn our Court  
In her chief glory: for this happy night  
Shall set a period to this smarting war.  
Your sister shallbe troth-plight to Prince Philip,  
And France and we made friends about it then.  
Pembroke, have you the charge to see our Captains  
Prepare a martial welcome to the King.  
I'll not be idle: since Navarre was crowned,  
Our heart with so much joy did ne'er abound. Exit Nau●r.  Fer. 
Nor mine with so much hate. Pembroke, a word.  Pem. 
What wills your Grace?  Fer. 
That Pembroke is a villain.  
Look not so strange, I speak it not your friend,  
But he that in his soul hath sworn thine end.  Pem. 
A villain? and my death? I am amazed.  
Art thou awake? or is all this a dream?  Fer. 
A dream of death: meet me to morrow morning,  
As thou art Pembroke and a Gentleman,  
By you fair River side, which parts our Camps.  
You know the place, come armed, and so farewell▪  Pem. 
Dear friend.  Fer. 
Push, meet me.  Pem. 
Ferdinand, I will.  Fer. 
Revenge, smile on, thou shalt drink blood thy fill.  Exeunt. Enter Peter standing sentronell. Pet. 
This is my waiting night, 'tis for no good,  
That I stand Sentronel. Well good or ill,  
I care not greatly, so I get the gold: Enter Bourbon, and Rodorick,  
Therefore to avoid prolixity, here walk I.  
Here comes the men that must reward my pain.  Bur. 
Have you the poison?  Rod. 
And a strong one too.  
here's a preservative to save your hand.  
When Roderick fails your Lordship, heaven shall fail,  
To illuminate the world with cheerful light.  Bur. 
Then here about should Peter wait for me:  
For this is the Pavilion of the Princess.  Pet. 
My Lord.  Bur. 
Peter.  Pet. 
Here is the key that opens to the Tent,  
I stole it from my sweet heart Thomasin.  
Enter without prolixity, woe and win the Lady:  
But give me gold (my Lord) and I'll to Dice▪  Bur. 
Hold, take thy fill.  Pet. 
And it shall go as fast.  Bur. 
Now gentle Peter, get thee unto rest:  
My business craves the absence of the world:  
None but myself and Roderick shall behold  
The secret complot that I do intend.  Pet. 
I go, my lord Exit.  Burb. 
Now blessed key, open unto my love,  
Do more than loving lines or words can do:  
My letters have been answered with disdain:  
Her father I have moved to gain my ●oue,  
But he is frosty in my fervent suit,  
And now perforce I will obtain my love,  
Or ease her puling hatred by revenge.  Ro. 
You stay too long, i'll help to turn the key.  Discover her sitting in a chair asleep. Bur. 
What do I see? the majesty of heaven,  
Sat in a maiden slumber on the earth?  
What, is my Bellamira turned a goddess,  
Within the table of her glorious face!  
Me thinks, the pure extraction of all beauty  
Flows in abundance to my lovesick eye.  
O, Roderick, she is admirably fair:  
And sleeping, if her beauty be so rare,  
How will her eyes enchant me if she wake!  
Here, take the poison, i'll not stain that face,  
For all the treasure of the Western Island.  Rod. 
I see no such admired perfection.  
Waken her, Bourbon, and this loving charm,  
Which now hath led your senses prisoner,  
Will vanish, and her speech full of reproof,  
Beget a new phantasma all of hate:  
Thou wilt detest her when ●he shall deny thee.  Bur. 
Waken her, Rodorick, for I want the power.  Rod. 
I hope I am disguised sufficiently,  
That Bellamira cannot know my face.  
Madam, fair Bellamira.  Bel. 
Here I am, who calls on Bellamira?  Burb. 
ay, fair love,  
The Luke of Bourbon that doth honour thee.  Bel. 
The Duke of Bourbon in my Tent so late▪  
Where is my Guard? what Peter, Thomasin.  Rod. 
Step to her, and restrain her, lest she call:  
I'll be a looker on, and be unknown.  Bur. 
What needs your Highness call for any guard,  
Since you are guarded with a faithful friend?  
Behold me, Madam, humbly on my knee,  
Come to renew my suit, vouchsafe me love,  
Or with this weapon take away my life:  
Much better 'twere a thousand times to die,  
Then live in torment of your scorching eye.  
You have inflamed my heart, oh quench that flame,  
Or into cinders turn my hapless trunk:  
Hapless, in being unbeloved of you.  Bell. 
My Lord of Bourbon, you presume too much  
On th'extremity of passion.  
Have I not answered many an idle letter,  
With full assurance that I cannot love?  
Have I not often, viva voce checked  
Your courtly kindness? frowned upon your smiles▪  
Used you unkindly, all to wean your love?  
And do you still persever in your suit?  
I tell thee, Bourbon, this bold part of thine,  
To break into my Tent at dead of night,  
Deserves severe correction, and the more,  
Because it brings mine honour into question.  
I charge thee, as thou art a Gentleman,  
Betake thee to thine own Pavilion,  
And let this answer satisfy for all:  
Bourbon, I cannot, nor I will not love thee.  Bur. 
Cannot, nor will not? zounds, Madam, but you must.  Bel. 
Must I?  Bur. 
And shall.  Bel. 
You will not force me to it?  Bur. 
Or force that sparkling beauty from your face.  
Look not so fiercely, nor cry out for help:  
For if you do, this makes you cry your last.  
Seeing neither words, kind letters, hearty sighs,  
Humble entreaty, nor a world of pain,  
Can move you to take pity of my love:  
But Tyrantlike, your beauty seeks my life,  
I will blot out that beauty with this juice.  
Thus, thus I wipe away my passions:  
Thus do I heal the torments of my love:  
Thus do I ransom my enthralled eye,  
And by depriving of the cause of life,  
Kill th'effect, which was a world of sorrow.  
Farewell, foul Bellamira, I am pleased  
In this revenge, that no way could be eased. Exit.  Rod. 
Zounds, he has done't: now, Rodorick, joy thy fill▪  
Bourbon is thine, the Dukedom is thine own:  
For only he in the Inheritance  
Stood as an obstacle, to let my claim.  
This deed of his will take away his life:  
And then let me alone to enjoy his land.  
I'll steal away unseen, cause unsuspected:  
I would not for the world be once detected. Exit.  Bel. 
Poison my face! oh most inhuman wretch▪  
Revenge more vile, then to abridge my life▪  
What, Thomasin, what, brother Ferdinand:  
My kingly father: is there none that hears?  
Then Treason, treason, let that waken you:  
For capital is this offence to me.  Enter Navarre, Pembroke, Ferdinand, and Thomasin. Tho. 
O jesus, mistress, what ails your face!  Nau. 
Her face!  Ferd. 
'tis spotted like a Panther's skin.  Pemb. 
O, were those spots as kindly beautiful,  
Then were fair Bellamira undeformed.  Nau. 
O, what divine power hath sent this Leprosy?  Ferd. 
Say, beauteous sister.  Pemb. 
Speak, fair Bellamira.  Tho. 
Speak, my good mistress.  Nau. 
My sweet daughter, speak.  Pem. 
Her silence argues a tormented spirit.  Fer. 
Thy countenance argues a deceitful soul.  Enter Lewes, Philip, Roderick, and Flaunders. Lew. 
Where is Navarre?  Phil. 
Where is fair Bellamira?  Bel. 
My Philip, oh give leave to fly his sight.  Nau. 
Stay, gentle daughter▪ he'll not injure thee.  Lew. 
here are the Articles concluded on,  
I could not rest, till I had signed them,  
And brought them to your Highness. A month hence  
The marriage shall be fully solemnized,  
So please your Majesty and your fair daughter:  
Are you content?  Nau. 
To live in discontent.  Phil. 
Me thinks, this royal presence hath dim looks:  
Is it because they are in the arms of night,  
Which sets a leaden lustre on the eye?  
Or hath some accident accosted them,  
That troubles their aspect with melancholy?  
Is Navarre well? is Ferdinando well?  
Is Pembroke well? Is Bellamira well?  
O, where is Bellamira? tell me, Princes,  
For now my tongue hath struck upon her name.  
I feel a kind of kill ecstasy.  
Where is she? in her Tent?  Bel. 
Deny me, father,  
I would not see Prince Philip with this face.  Phi. 
Why speak you not? what, have I touched the string,  
Whereon the burden of your sorrow lies?  
Father, look round about, see you my love?  
Roderick, look round about, see you my love?  Lew. 
I see her not.  Rod. 
Nor I.  Phil. 
I say not so.  
The garments that she wears, mine eye should know.  
What Lady's this that hides her heavenly face?  
Here are no Basilisks with kill eyes:  
You need not hide your beauty: sweet, look up,  
Me thinks I have an interest in these looks.  
What's here, a Leper amongst Noblemen?  
What creatures this? why stays she in this place?  
Oh, 'tis no marvel though she hide her face:  
For 'tis infectious: let her leave the presence,  
Or Leprosy will cleave unto us all.  Bel. 
O let me leave the presence, gentle father,  
When Philip bids his Bellamira go.  Phil. 
My Bellamira!  Lew. 
How? my sons beloved!  Phil. 
Is this my love? was this your beauteous child?  Nau. 
My child.  Ferd. 
My sister.  Pemb. 
Beauteous Bellamira.  Nau. 
Spotted.  Ferd. 
Disfigured.  Pemb. 
Made a loathsome Leper.  Rod. 
How came this sudden alteration?  
For she was comely, lovely, beautiful,  
When the day left his Chariot to the night.  Na. 
That heaven doth know, and only Bellamira.  
Daughter, I charge thee, tell me how it came.  Bell. 
Bourbon, oh Bourbon.  Lew. 
Did he do the deed?  Bel. 
He came into my Tent at dead of night,  
And rubbed my face with an infectious herb,  
Because I would not grant unto his love.  
I cried for help, but none did succour me.  Rod. 
I know he did, and laugh to think on't.  Lew. 
And he shall rue his treason.  Phil. 
Threaten not,  
Leave the revenge to me whom it concerns,  
'tis I am robbed of a delicious look,  
A heavenly sparkling brow, a starry eye,  
A countenance fairer than Aurora's looks,  
When all the East is guilded with her blush▪  
'tis I will be revenged: but not before  
I have espoused my lovely Bellamira.  Lew. 
Espoused her!  Nau. 
How! marry a face deformed!  Ferd. 
A leprous creature!  Pem. 
An infectious maid!  Ro. 
One, whose sores are perchance incurable!  Phil. 
Be they incurable, it is my Love,  
And for my sake she hath endured this wrong,  
And, should I now forsake her thus distressed,  
I could not merit a true lovers name.  
To show I love her, I will marry her,  
Before the month expire: nay in the morn:  
Delays, perchance, may make her think I scorn.  Bel. 
Marry with me? fetch me a looking glass,  
That I may see how sweet a Bride I am.  
Oh, I detest myself: Dear, hate me too:  
I am not to be married but to death.  
Though I were Empress of the spacious world,  
I'd lay myself and Kingdom at thy feet.  
Live, noble Philip, ioysome happier match:  
'tis my unworthiness makes me deny thee.  Phi. 
Thinkst thou, because thy face is spotted so,  
Thou art not worthy of thy Philip's love?  
Thy face to me was but a Marshal,  
To lodge thy sacred person in my mind,  
Which long ago is surely chambered there:  
And now what needs an outward Harbinger?  
I do affect, not superficially:  
My love extendeth further than the skin.  
The inward Bellamira 'tis I seek,  
And unto her will Philip be espoused.  Nau. 
Oh admirable love!  Lew. 
Oh, my dear son,  
Thou makest me famous by thy loyalty.  Rod. 
I never heard the like.  Pemb. 
Pen never writ  
A worthier Story to posterity.  Fer. 
Pen never writ of a more treacherous friend,  
Then, Pembroke, thou hast proved to Ferdinand.  Phil. 
Sweet Love, prepare thee to be Philip's Bride:  
For here I swear, as I am royal borne,  
I'll marry thee, before the morning's Sun  
Hath run the third part of his glorious course.  
Father, good night: dear friends, dear Love, good night:  
Marriage, I hope, will make my spirits more light. Exit.  Nau. 
Good night, sweet son. King Lewes, stay with me,  
Be thou my comforter, i'll comfort thee. Exeunt Kings.  Fer. 
Pembroke, remember that thou fail me not. Exit.  Pem. 
O God, what may these moody looks intend?  
Me thinks, I should have better from my friend. Exit.  Bel. 
Now, Bellamira, thou hast time to think  
Upon these troublous matters: should I suffer  
So brave a Gentleman as Philip is,  
To wed himself to my unworthy self,  
It would be counted virtue in the Prince;  
But I were worthy of a world of blame.  
No, Philip, no, thou shalt not wrong thine honour,  
Nor be impeached by Bellamira's spots.  
In some disguise i'll steal away to night,  
And ne'er appear more in my Philip's sight. Exit.  Enter Dick Bowyer. Bow. 
There is no toil to this walking of the Round: S'hart, I have been stumbling up and down all this night, like a Brewer's horse, that has ne'er a good eye in his head: 'tis as daarke as Pitch. I can resemble our Camp to nothing better than hell, save that in hell they are always waking, and here the villains are as drowsy as swine. Lieutenant Nod! why, you might have shot a double Cannon in his ear, and never have waked him: I jogged, and I jogged; I shouted, and I shouted; and yet the mongrel snorted, you might hear him to Dover: at last, I dragged him by the heels into a ditch of water, and there left the Lobster crawling. A the other side, Core being appointed to stand Sentinel upon the Walloon's quarter, s'hart, the Loach gets me into a Sutler's bath, and there sits me drinking for joanes best cap: but by this hand, and as Dick Bowyer is a Soldier, and a Cavaliero, he shall sit in the bolts for it to morrow. My comfort is in these extremities, that I brought Thomasin to her La●ies Tent, leaving her newcome Lover to pick straws: but soft, qui v●ula?  Enter Ferdinand. Ferd. 
My name is Ferdinand.  Bow. 
Stand.  Ferd. 
Why, Captain, thou dost know me well enough.  Bow. 
Know, or not know, without the word you pass not.  Ferd. 
Soliman.  Bow. 
So, ally, ally, Monseur.  Ferd. 
First, tell me, sawest thou Pembroke come this way?  Bow. 
I saw him not.  Ferd. 
Farewell. Exit.  Bow. 
As much to you. Zounds, these Frenchmen think to outface us with a card of ten: but, and his beard were made of brass, Dick Bowyer will make him know the discipline of war. Here comes another.  Enter Pembroke. Pem. 
Who's there? Dick Bowyer?  Bow. 
Some call me so, what then?  Pem. 
Pembroke salutes thee.  Bow. 
Oh, good morrow, my Lord, good morrow.  Pem. 
I prithee, Captain, sawst thou Ferdinand,  
Son to Navarre, as thou didst walk the round?  Bow. 
Even now, my Lord, he passed along this way.  Pem. 
Himself alone? or had he company?  Bow. 
Nay questionless, he was alone, my Lord.  Pem. 
Couldst thou discern his face? how did he look?  Bow. 
Faith, scurvily, my Lord, like a green cheese, or the inside of a rotten Pompion.  Pem. 
There is Crowns for thee to drink. Exit Pem.  Bow. 
I thank your Lordship. To see the difference between these French Curs, and our English Cavaliers: there's as much bounty in them, as there's Marchpane in a dish of Almond butter. I might have stood here till my teeth chatter in my head, ere the other Lancepresado would have said, Here, Captain Bowyer, there's a Cardecue, to wash down melancholy. But had I known as much, I would have basted him, till his bones had rattled in his skin.  Enter Core and other Soldiers, bringing in the Clown. All. 
Come, sir, you shall answer your walking before our Captain.  Clow. 
Well, sirs, take heed what you do, I am a Prince's man, if you stay me upon the King's high way, I can ●ay fellowship to your charge.  Core. 
But sirrah, we can lay Treason to thine, for being without the word.  Clow. 
Without the word! O pernicious Frenchman! without the word! why, I have called thee Villain, him Rascal; this, Slave; that, Rogue; and am I still without the word?  Core. 
ay, sir, the word that must serve your turn, the Watchword.  Clow. 
faith, y'are like to watch this twelvemonth, ere you have any other words at my hands.  Bow. 
How now masters, what calf are you dragging to the slaughter-house there? ha?  Core. 
A straggler, and a spy: Captain, I pray examine him.  Bow. 
So, Lieutenant Core, you are crept from your cups at last, I'll talk with you anon: but, sirrah, to you: From whence come you?  Clow. 
I came, sir, from the King of France's camp.  Bow. 
So, what's your name?  Clow. 
My name, sir, is Bow wow.  Bow. 
S'hart, what a name's that! the Hedgehog mocks us: Bow wow, quotha? what kin art thou to the generation of Dogs?  Clow. 
No dog, sir, would you should know it, though I be encompassed with curs.  Bow. 
Zounds, he calls us curs, hang the hodge-podge up in a fathom or two of match.  Clow. 
Not you, sir, I call not you so: I know you to be a very insufficient ill-spoken Gentleman.  Bow. 
Well, sirrah, whom do you serve?  Clow. 
My master, sir, is the Lady Katherine, the French Kings daughter: I have been abroad about some business of hers, and am now going back again.  Bow. 
An honourable Lady, sir: let him go: 'tis against the law of arms to stay him.  Clow. 
Stand of: but soft, I do not know your name, sir, that my Lady may give you thanks.  Bow. 
My name's Dick Bowyer.  Clow. 
Then, master Dick Bowyer, after my hearty commendations, adieu: but as for the rest, I shall, I say no more, I shall— Exit.  Bow. 
How now, Core? how can you answer your being a tippling, when you should stand Sentinel?  Core. 
Believe me, Captain, I had but a whiff or two: for I was passing dry.  Bow. 
Thou art always dry: the whoreson Malt-worm has a throat like the burning Clime, or a Glass-maker's Furnace: But your remove from thence has saved you from the bolts. How now, what Water-spaniel have we here? Enter Nod.  Core. 
'tis Lieutenant Nod.  Nod. 
Captain, deride me not: I protest, I came by this mischance by good service, by following a spy, that came to discover our army.  Bow. 
O notable Rogue! did not I find thee asleep, and threw thee into a ditch?  Nod. 
Was't you? by this light, I took you for a spy.  Bow. 
Yet saw me not, no more than a Molewarp▪ this is an egregious Rogue.  Nod. 
Yes, I saw you well enough, and I did but try how you would use me.  Bow. 
By this flesh and blood, many one that lies in his grave, was not half so senseless: but the Watch breaks up, every one to his quarter, away. Exeunt.  Enter Clown. Clow. 
'tis true, they are gone together, and I am sent to watch Prince Ferdinand, and the Earl of Pembroke: this way they went; but they are got out of sight. I were very bad to be a Hound, that have no better a sent: if they were hares, as they are men, I should think them squatted: but hushed, here comes one of them.  Enter Ferdinand. Ferd. 
The morn looks red: red morns do threat a storm,  
That storm shall light on Pembroke or myself.  
This is our meeting place: here runs the stream  
That parts our camps: the time consorts the place;  
And (Pembroke) if thy reputation hold,  
It is thy q. to enter. Enter Pembroke.  Clow. 
here comes the tother, this is luck upon luck▪ now will I run and fetch my mistress, the Lady Katherine, to part their fray. Exit.  Pem. 
Good end succeed my early heaviness:  
Three times my feet, as loath to guide me hither,  
Have stumbled in a plain and even way,  
My sword forsook his scabbard once or twice,  
Blood from my nostrils thrice hath spouted forth,  
And such a dimness overrunnes my sight,  
That I have ta'en a tree to be a man,  
And questioned with it about serious things▪  
This is the place where I must meet my friend.  
Yonder he stands▪ Good morrow, Ferdinand.  Fer. 
Good morrow to thy death: draw, Pembroke, draw,  
The ground thou treadest upon, must be thy grave.  Pem. 
Draw upon Ferdinand?  Fer. 
ay, upon me.  
Dally not, Pembroke, I am bend to fight,  
And that with thee for the best blood thou bear'st.  Pem. 
You have some reason for this resolution.  Fer. 
My will.  Pem. 
A sorry argument to kill your friend.  
I must have better reason than your will,  
Or i'll not draw upon my Ferdinand:  
Our love is older than of one days growth,  
A years continuance hath united us.  
Have we not made an interchange of oaths,  
Sworn love to one another twenty times,  
Confirmed that friendship by society,  
Increased it with the sympathy of mind,  
Making one pleasure, pleasure unto both?  
And shall this bond be broken upon will?  Fer. 
Then you'll not draw?  Pem. 
Yes, nearer to thy person,  
In friendly sort to embrace thee, Ferdinand.  Fer. 
Thou art a coward, and thou dar'st not fight.  Pem. 
Thou know'st the contrary: for we have fought  
At every weapon, to approve our skill.  Fer. 
Go to, you are a villain and a coward,  
And by the royal blood that gave me life,  
I'll kill thee, Pembroke, though thou do not draw.  Pem. 
Kill me? thou wilt not wrong thine honour so?  Fer. 
Zounds, but I will: & traitor, take thou that. wounds him.  Pem. 
Wound me so desperately? nay then i'll draw,  
Not to offend, but to defend myself.  
Now I perceive it is my blood thou seek'st:  
Witness you heavens, and all you gracious powers,  
That stand auspicious to this enterprise,  
That Pembroke draws forth an unwilling sword.  Fer. 
Why so, now manfully defend thyself.  Pem. 
Another wound? then Pembroke, rouse thy spirit,  
And bear no longer with this harebrained man.  
Yet (Ferdinand) resolve me of the cause,  
That moves thee to this unkind enterprise:  
And if I satisfy thee not in words,  
This double wound shall please thee with my blood.  
Nay, with my sword I'll make a score of wounds,  
Rather than want of blood divorce thy love.  Fer. 
I hate thee deadly, and I seek thy life:  
What other reason, Pembroke, wouldst thou have?  
Prepare, prepare, in this conflict to ●how,  
Thou art a Knight, and canst o'er come thy foe.  Pem. 
And if I spare thee not, impute the cause  
To thine own rashness, and mine aching wounds.  Fight, and hurt each other, both fall down as dead. Fer. 
I hope I have slain thee.  Pem. 
Oh, I fear thy life: how fares my Ferdinand?  Fer. 
What, liv'st thou yet? then my fare is ill.  Pem. 
I am marked for death,  
I feel a general faintness through my limbs:  
Expense of blood will soon expend my life.  Fer. 
The like debility my joints do feel.  Pem. 
Then we must both die in the latest of death.  
Tell me, oh tell me, whence proceeds this hate?  Fer. 
I fear not (Pembroke) to discover now.  
Thou wert my Spokesman unto Katherine,  
And treacherously thou stolest away her heart.  
Oh, I can say no more, my spirits do faint.  
Pembroke, farewell, I have revenged my wrong.  Pem. 
Oh▪ yet a little longer, gracious time,  
Detain his princely spirit to his breast,  
That I may tell him he is misinformed,  
And purge myself unto my dying friend:  
But death hath laid his numb-cold hand upon me:  
I am arrested to depart this life.  
Dear Ferdinand, although thou be my death,  
On thee i'll friendly breath my latest breath.  Enter Forrester. For. 
How full of pleasure is this Forest life!  
My Park I liken to a Common wealth,  
In which, my Bucks and Does are Citizens:  
The Hunter's Lodge, the Court, from whence is sent  
Sentence of life or death, as please the King:  
Only our government's a tyranny,  
In that we kill our subjects upon sport.  
But stay, what Gentlemen do here lie slain▪  
If any spark of life do yet remain,  
I'll help to fan it with a nimble hand:  
The Organ of his arm doth play apace,  
He is not so far spent, but that with help,  
He may recover to his former state.  
How is the other? I do feel soft breath  
Break from between his lips. Oh, for some aid,  
To bear them to the Forest, to my Lodge:  
But as I am, i'll try my utmost strength,  
To save their lives: first seen, shall be the first:  
Patience, and i'll return and fetch the other. Exit.  Enter Fisherman. Fisher. 
My angle-rod is broke, my sport is done;  
But I will fetch my net, to catch some fish:  
To lose both fish and pleasure, is too much.  
Oh what contentment lives there in the brook!  
What pretty trains are made by cunning hands,  
To entrap the wily watery Citizens!  
But what art thou that liest upon the ground?  
Sleepest thou? or art thou slain? hath breathe his last?  
No spark of life appears: yet from his eye,  
Methinks I see a glimmering light break forth,  
Which wanting strength, is like a twilight glimpse.  
If there be any hope to save his life,  
I'll try my utmost cunning. To my house,  
Poor Gentleman, I'll bear thee as a guest,  
And either cure thy wounds, or make thy grave. Exit.  Enter Forrester, missing the other taken away, speak● any thing, and Exit. Enter clown and Katherine. Clow. 
Just in this circle I left the two Princes ready to draw; for I read the whole discourse of the Combat in their red eyes.  Kath. 
here lie their weapons, and here flows their blood.  Clow. 
Have they not slain one another, and buried themselves?  Kath. 
Peace, fool, 'tis too sure, that they are slain.  Clow. 
O Lord, then let me turn myself into a Ballad, and mourn for them.  Kath. 
Thou anger'st me, with jesting at my sorrow:  
Hence from my sight, my heart is full of grief,  
And it will break, the burden is so great.  Clow. 
Go from your sight? then let me go out of your company: for I had as leeve leave your sight as your company. Is this my reward for watching and watching? Oh Mistress, do not kill me with unkindness: I shall, I shall—  Kath. 
What shall you?  Clow. 
Weep out mine eyes, and fill the holes with salt water.  Kath. 
I prithee leave me, I am not displeased,  
But fain would vent my sorrow from my heart.  
Hold, take my purse, spend that, and leave my presence:  
Go every where, inquire my Pembroke out:  
And if thou bringst me to his breathless trunk,  
I will reward thee with a treble gift.  Clow. 
Well, I were best be going, now I am so fairly offered. Mistress, your reward hath stopped my tears, and enticed my legs to be walking. Farewell, I will go, God knows whither, to seek and to find both, and neither. Farewell, sweet Mistress. Exit.  Kath. 
O Pembroke, let me kneel unto thy blood:  
And yet I know not whether't be thy blood,  
Save that my soul by a divine instinct,  
Tells me it is the treasure of thy veins.  
If thou be'st dead, thou mirror of all men,  
I vow to die with thee: this field, this grove  
Shall be my receptacle till my last:  
Content with that that feeds the airy souls,  
My pillow shall be made a bank of moss,  
And what I drink, the silver brook shall yield.  
No other camp nor Court will Katherine have,  
Till fates do limit her a common grave. Exit.  Enter France, Navarre, Philip, Flaunders, Thomasin, and attendants. Nau. 
Our daughter fled! when? whither? which way? how?  Tho. 
I know not.  Phil. 
Bellamira, my lives joy,  
Upon those pinions that support her flight,  
Hovers my heart, you bear away my soul.  
Turn, turn again, and give this earthly frame  
Essential power, which for thine absence dies:  
Thou art the sweet of sweet, the joy of joys:  
For thee was Philip borne. O turn again,  
And Philip is the blessedest of men.  Lew. 
We are glad she's gone, though we dissemble it.  
Son, bridle this affection, cease these laments,  
She did not value them.  Nau. 
Lewes, she did,  
Till savage hate that shape disfigured.  Phil. 
O, she was worthy to be Queen of heaven.  
Her beauty, ere it suffered violence,  
Was like the Sun in his Meridian Throne,  
Too splendent for weak eyes to gaze upon.  
She was too bright before, till being hid  
Under that envious cloud, it took the place  
Of a dark ground, to show a lovelier face.  
That Leprosy in her seem● perfect beauty:  
And she did gild her imperfections o'er  
With virtue, which no ●oule calumnious breath  
Could ever soil, true virtues die is such,  
That malice cannot stain, nor envy tuch.  
Then say not but her worth surmounts these woes.  Nau. 
She grieved to tie you to a hated bed,  
And therefore followed Bourbon for revenge.  Phil. 
Bourbon? who names him? that same verbal sound  
Is like a thunderclap to Philip's cares,  
Frighting my very ●oule. Sure, you said, Bourbon,  
And to that prodigy you joined revenge:  
Revenge, that like a shadow follows him.  
'Twas he that made me bankrupt of all bliss,  
Sued the divorce of that pure white and red,  
Which decked my Bellamira's lovely cheeks:  
And shall he scape unpunished?  Lew. 
join your hands,  
And all with us swear vengeance on the Duke.  Phil. 
Not for the world: who prosecutes his hate  
On Bourbon, injures me: I am his foe,  
And none but I will work his overthrow.  Lew. 
What means our son?  Phil. 
To hunt him for revenge.  
The darkest angle of this universe,  
Shall not contain him through the bounded world:  
I'll prosecute his flight with ceaseless steps:  
And when long travel makes them dull or faint,  
Baiting them fresh with Bellamira's wrongs,  
Like Eagles they shall cut the flaxen air,  
And in an instant bring me where he is.  Lew. 
Where goes our son?  Phil. 
To hell, so that in that kingdom,  
Fate would ascertain me to meet with Bourbon.  
Where ever I confront him, this shall kill him.  Nau. 
Thou shalt have aid to compass thy revenge.  Phil. 
No aid, but this strong arm. Farewell, farewell.  
Since Bellamira hath forsook her friend,  
I seek destruction (Bourbon) and mine end. Exit.  Lew. 
Stay him: this fury will betray thy life.  Nau. 
Poor king made wretched by thy daughter's loss.  Lew. 
Poor king made wretched by thy desperate son.  Enter Messenger. Mess. 
Spend not your woes too fast, but save some tears  
To due the obsequies of your dead son.  Nau. 
What, Ferdinand?  Mess. 
he's slain by Pembroke's hands,  
And Pembroke left breathless by Ferdinand.  
Their quarrel is uncertain, and their bodies  
By some uncivil hands conveyed away,  
And no inquiry can discover them.  Nau. 
Our son slain? Bellamira poisoned?  
Navarre, tear off these hairs, and raging die.  Enter Roderick. Lew. 
More Tragedies at hand, what news brings Roderick?  Rod. 
Such as will make the hearers, senseless trunks.  
Why doth your highness in your foe-men's tents  
Revel away the time, and yield your person,  
To the known malice of your enemies,  
Whilst in your own tents, rapine and foul lust,  
Grasps your fair daughter to dishonour her?  Lew. 
Our daughter?  Rod. 
She is slily stolen from thence,  
Yet none knows whither, save one Sentinel,  
Who doth report he heard a wretched Lady  
Exclaim, false Ferdinand would ravish her.  Lew. 
That was my child dishonoured by thy son.  Nau. 
You wrong him, France.  Lew. 
Thou hast betrayed us, king,  
And trained us to a loathed festival,  
The marriage of thy stained and leprous child.  
Whilst in our absence, Ferdinand unjust,  
Hath stained our daughter's beauty with vild lust.  Flaun. 
If you remember, he & English Pembroke  
Last day forsook your Camp, as discontent.  Lew. 
That proved their loves were feigned, and of set malice,  
He came to view our Camp, how he might act  
That deed of obloquy, and scape with life.  Nau. 
'tis France hath done the wrong: you have commenced  
This deed of death on Pembroke & our son;  
And now to cover it, suggest and fayne  
Our guiltless son a guilty ravisher:  
But render me thei● bodies.  Lew. 
Where's our Child?  Nau. 
Seek her.  Lew. 
Seek Ferdinand.  Nau. 
France.  Lew. 
Petty king,  
For this our wrong, look to be underling.  Nau. 
What Drum is this?  Lew. 
Are we entrapped, Navarre?  Rod. 
Fear not, on yonder hill, whose lofty head  
O'erlooks the under-valleyes, Royal Bourbon,  
Attended by ten thousand Soldiers,  
Craves peace and fair accord with mighty France▪  Nau. 
Bourbon, that was the ruin of my Child?  
Summon our forces strait and charge the slave▪  Fran. 
In Bourbon's rescue draw our forces up.  Nau. 
What means the king of France?  Rod. 
To join with him.  Nau. 
What? with a Traitor and a murderer?  Lew. 
He did a deed of merit and of fame,  
Poisoned the Sister of a ravisher,  
A Tarquin, an incestuous Tereus,  
And our poor Child the wronged Philomel:  
Arraign our Battles strait, and join with Bourbon.  Nau. 
Hear what we'll urge.  Lew. 
Speak then in war and death:  
In other terms, our rage will spend no breath.  Nau. 
And we will speak so loud, that heaven itself  
Shall echo with the clangor: both our children  
we'll raze from our remembrance, and advance  
No other thought, but how to plague proud France.  
Conjoin with Bourbon, ere three Suns shall set,  
In the vast Kingdom of Oreanus:  
In a pitched field we'll meet the King of France,  
And that false Traitor Duke.  Lew. 
Navarre, thou dar'st not.  Nau. 
Now by Saint Denis, and our Grandsire's tomb,  
we'll meet thee.  Lew. 
Welcome. O, bring valiant men.  
we'll think on nought but graves & tombs till then. Exeunt.  Rod. 
Ha, ha: I laugh to see these Kings at jar.  
Now civil discord like a raging flood,  
Swelling above her banks, shall drown this land,  
Whilst Rodorick on her ruins builds his hopes.  
The King of France through my suggestion,  
Thinks Katherine his daughter ravished,  
Who only winged with love, is fled the Camp:  
Pembroke and Ferdinand, in mutual strife,  
Slain by each other, doth confirm my words,  
And for revenge whets keen the two King's swords. Exit.  Enter Pembroke armed, and the Forester. Pem. 
I thank thee, Forester, whose rough grown walks,  
Wild in aspect, afford more courtesy,  
Then places smother for civility.  
My life redeemed by thy industrious hand,  
Remains in love and duty bound to thee.  For. 
Fair Knight, prevention of sad death, by health,  
More joys my soul, than thanks or rich reward.  
But is your armour easy? sits it well?  Pem. 
I never in my life was better fitted.  
This should be that unlucky fatal place,  
Where causeless hate drew blood from Ferdinand.  
Behold the grass, a purple register,  
Still blusheth in remembrance of our fight.  
Why whither not these trees? those herbs and plants?  
And every neighbour branch droop out their grief?  
Poor souls, they do, and have wept out their sap,  
Yet I have paid no duty to my friend.  
Where is the Tomb I willed you to erect?  Forr. 
See, valiant knight, proportioned and set up,  
As well as my poor s●ill would suffer me:  
And here his picture hangs.  Pemb. 
You have done well:  
Your hand I see's a perfect Architect  
In sorrows building: once more let suffice  
I quite your painful travel but with thanks:  
Now leave me to myself, for here I vow  
To spend the remnant of my hapless days:  
No knight nor Prince shall ever pass this way,  
Before his tongue acknowledge Ferdinand  
The faithfullest lover and the lovingest friend  
The world contains: I'll have his Sepulchre  
As yet but naked and ungarnished,  
ere many days hang richer with the spoils  
And vanquished Trophies of proud passengers,  
Then was the Romans wealthy Capitol:  
So, gentle Forester, bequeath thy prayers  
In my assistance; that is all I crave.  Forr. 
The God of power give power unto your arm,  
That you may prove victorious fortunate.  Pem. 
Farewell, kind Host: & now let me embrace  
This empty Monument of my lost friend.  
Oh! were't so happy to enshrine his bones,  
How blessed should Pembroke be? but they are torn  
By the fierce savage Wolf, whose filthy maw  
Is made an unfit grave to bury him.  
But if (without offence) I may desire it,  
I wish his soul from Paradise may see,  
How well his name is kept in memory:  
These eyes that saw him bleed, have wept for him:  
This heart devised his harm, hath sighed for him:  
And now, this hand, that with ungentle force  
Deprived his life, shall with repentant service,  
Make treble satisfaction to his soul.  
Fortune, thou dost me wrong, to suffer me  
So long uncombatted: I prithee send  
Some stubborn Knight, some passenger,  
Whose stout controlling stomach will refuse  
To yield to my prescription, but by force.  
I hate this idle rest of precious time.  
How now! deridest thou my devotion, goddess? Enter Kathar.  
Thou send'st a woman to encounter me.  
Henceforth i'll hold thee for a feigned name,  
And no disposer of my Christian hopes:  
But soft, I know that face: oh! ay, 'tis she  
Was unjust cause of all this misery.  Kath. 
Long have I wandered with unquiet mind,  
To find my Pembroke: that they fought, I hear:  
That they were wounded both to death, I hear:  
But whether cured or dead, I cannot hear:  
Nor lives there any (if deceased) can tell,  
Within what place their bodies are interred.  
Since therefore all my travel is in vain,  
Here will I take a truce with former care.  
This cursed nook was that unlucky plot,  
Where cursed Ferdinand did kill my love.  
What Knight is this? i'll question him, perhaps  
He can resolve me where my Pembroke is:  
joy and good fortune, sir, attend your state.  Pem. 
Your wishes come too late.  
What seek you, Madam?  Kath. 
Tell me, sir knight, for so you seem to be:  
Know you this dismal place you do frequent?  
Or have you heard of that unhappy fight,  
Was here performed by Pembroke and his foe?  Pem. 
Yes, Madam, I have heard of it long since,  
And, to my grief, knew both the Gentlemen.  Kat. 
But can you tell me if they live or no?  
Or dead, what hand hath given them burial?  Pem. 
Rest you assured, Madam, they are dead:  
The one of them to whom I was allied,  
And nearly knit in friendship from my youth,  
By me lies buried here: a braver Knight,  
And truer Lover never breathed in France.  Kath. 
O tell me, is it Pembroke? if for him  
You have erected this fair monument,  
Perpetual honour I will do your state.  Pem. 
Not only, Madam, have I built this tomb  
In his memorial: but myself have sworn  
Continual residence within this Wood:  
And for the love I bore him, wear these arms,  
That whatsoever Knight, adventurer or other,  
Making his journey this way, and refusing  
To do Knight's homage to my breathless friend,  
By this assailing steel may be compelled.  Kath. 
Oh, let me know your name, so kindly moved,  
To dignify my Pembroke's high deserts.  Pem. 
You did not hear me say'twas Pembroke, Madam▪  
What is become of him, I do not know,  
Nor greatly care, since he did wrong my friend,  
And first in kindled this dissentious brawl.  
This buried here, is noble Ferdinand,  
His father's comfort, and his countries hope.  
Oh Madam! had you seen him as I did,  
Begirt with wounds, that like so many mouths,  
Seemed to complain his timeless overthrow:  
And had before been inward with his virtues,  
To think that nature should endure such wrack,  
And at one time so many precious gifts  
Perish by death, would have dissolved your heart.  
He was the very pride of fortitude,  
The house of virtue, and true friendships mirror:  
Look on his picture, in the arms of death,  
When he was ready to give up the ghost,  
I caused it to be drawn: if at that time,  
In that extremity of bitter pangs,  
He looked so lovely, had so fresh a colour,  
So quick a moving eye, sored a lip,  
What was his beauty when he was in health?  
See with what courage he endured the combat,  
Smiling at death for all his tyranny.  
Had death been aught but what he was, stern death▪  
He would have been enamoured with his looks▪  Kath. 
A certain soft remorse  
Creeps to my heart, persuades me he was true,  
Loving, and virtuous: but myself unkind,  
Coily to scorn the proffer of his mind.  Pem. 
O that in justice of her former hate,  
She now would hopeless dote on Ferdinand!  
I'll do the best I can to bring her on:  
Despair and madness, fetch her off again.  
Madam, how say you? waste not a grievous thing,  
So rich a gem, should lie rak't up in dust?  
So sweet a flower, be withered in his prime?  Kath. 
Death was a villain for attempting it,  
And so was Pembroke for effecting it.  
No bloody Scythian, or inhuman Turk,  
But would ha' trembled to ha' touched his skin,  
Or spilled one drop of his Heroic blood.  Pem. 
Had not that Lady then an iron heart?  
A rude ingrateful mind? a savage spirit?  
That knew this virtuous honourable Knight,  
This gracious shape, and unmatched excellence,  
To be entangled with her fervent love,  
To serve her in all loyalty of heart,  
To reverence and adore her very name,  
To be content to kiss the lowly earth,  
Where she did set her foot: and when he sued  
For grace, to scorn him, to deride his sighs,  
And hold his tears and torment in contempt?  
Of all that ever lived, deserved she not,  
The world's reproach, and times perpetual blot?  Kat. 
Herd you him ever speak of such a one?  Pem. 
Oft times: but chiefly then, when he perceived,  
His hurt was mortal, and no way but death.  
At every groan, he called upon her name,  
As if that sound were present remedy:  
And when insulting death drew short his breath,  
And now was ready to close up his eyes:  
Farewell, quoth he, where e'er I find a shrine,  
My soul fly thou to beauteous Katherine.  Kat. 
That ruthless mind, that iron savage heart,  
So greatly loved, and so little loving,  
Breathes in this breast, 'twas I returned disdain,  
For deep affection; scorn for loyalty:  
And now compassionless shall pine myself.  
Oh Ferdinand, forgive me, Ferdinand:  
Enjoin me any penance for that wrong;  
Say I shall tread a tedious pilgrimage  
To furthest Palestine, and I will do it.  
But peace, fond woman, these exclaims are vain:  
Thy Ferdinand is dead and cannot hear,  
As thou wast sometimes deaf, and wouldst not hear.  Pemb. 
A just reward. Come, Madam, have you done?  
Give me the picture I may hang it up.  Kath. 
Oh take it not away: since I have lost  
The substance, suffer me to keep the shadow:  
Methinks, so long as this is in my hand,  
I clasp my Ferdinand between mine arms:  
So long as I behold this lively form,  
So long am I refreshed by his smiles:  
So long, me thinks, I hear him speak to me.  
Knew I the Painter drew this counterfeit,  
I would reward him with a mint of gold.  Pem. 
If such a pleasure you receive by this,  
I tell you, Madam, I shall shortly have  
His whole proportion cut in Alabaster,  
Armed as he was when he encountered here,  
Which kneeling, shall be set upon his tomb.  Kath. 
On that condition I will gather flowers,  
And once a day come straw them at his feet:  
And once a day pay tribute of choice thanks▪  
To you the furtherer of my happiness:  
Till then, I place the picture where it was.  Enter Clown, and Bellamira. Clow. 
Come on, Madam, me thinks now a mask would do well: but I perceive your drift, I smell your policy, you think a bald face hath no need of a black mask. Shall I tell you what you look like? A broiled herring, or a tortured Image made of plaster work.  Bel, 
So, sirrah, you may scoff my misery.  Pem. 
Still haunted with these women? are men vanished?  
Or what occasion leaves the Realm of France,  
So void and empty of adventurous Knights?  Clow. 
Out of peradventure, Madam, the ghost of Saint George is come out of England, to see what hospitality S. Denis keeps in France.  Pem. 
Poor Bellamira, I lament thy state;  
But I must still suppress my discontent.  
What are you so deformed with loathsome spots?  
And what that Antic keeps you company?  Clow. 
Antic! thou liest, and thou wert a Knight of gingerbread: I am no Antic, the whole parish where I was borne will swear, that since the reign of Charlemagne there was not a better face bred or brought up amongst them.  Pem. 
Away, ye russeting.  Kath. 
Have patience, Knight, how ever thus deformed,  
This Lady is the daughter of Navar.  
Madam, it joys me I have met you here,  
Though much laments me of your heavy plight.  
There needs no repetition of your wrong:  
I know, the villain Bourbon did the deed,  
Whom my incensed brother will revenge.  Bel. 
For Philip's sake I have been martyred thus,  
And for his sake left King and Courtly life,  
To entertain a Pilgrims painful habit.  
But on what strange adventure stays this Knight,  
Within this desolate forsaken wood?  Kat. 
For love of Ferdinand your princely brother,  
Whose Hearse he guards in honourable Arms.  Bel. 
Is this my brother's Hearse? is this the place,  
Where I was shipwrecked of a brother's name?  
Oh, let me spend a loving sigh for him,  
And sacrifice a sister's holy rites:  
For ever rest, sweet Ferdinand, in peace,  
Until thy body glorified from heaven,  
Become immortal by thy soul's return.  Pem. 
Poor Bellamira, how I pity thee!  
Yet must forbear to comfort thy distress.  Clow. 
Is my young Lord buried here? I say no more, but  
I pray God send him a joyful insurrection.  Kath. 
Enough, sweet Bellamire,  
These leprous spots, 'tis time they were removed.  
Come, go with me. Since I left Aquitaine,  
And came acquainted with these private walks,  
It was my happy chance to meet an Hermit,  
Whose skill in Physic warrants present cure,  
And pure refining of your poisoned blood:  
I'll bring you thither: afterward select  
Delicious sweets, to deck your brother's tomb.  
Come, sirrah, follow us. Exeunt.  Clow. 
Do not think, Madam, that i'll forsake you. And so, sir, you that walk in pewter vessel, like one of the worthies, will you be ruled by me?  Pem. 
Wherein?  Clow. 
To set a begin for Woodcocks, & catch yourself first. Exit.  Pem. 
Hence, beetlehead. And Pembroke, now bethink  
How great a tide of miseries breaks in.  
First, thou art taxed with the loss of him,  
Whom equal with thyself thou holdest dear:  
Next, Bellamira is become a Leper,  
Whose absence Philip carefully laments▪  
Then treacherous Bourbon joins himself with France,  
And both the Kings are angrily incensed:  
But last, which is some comfort to the rest,  
Disdainful Katherine wastes with fruitless love.  
Would all so minded like mishap might prove.  
But by this signal there are Knights at hand,  
I must provide their valours to withstand.  Enter France, Bourbon, Roderick, Peter de Lions, at one door: at the other, Navarre, Flaunders, Dick Bowyer, and Soldiers, Pembroke between them. Pem. 
Stay your intended march.  Lew. 
What Peer of France,  
Or in the world so haughty resolute,  
Dare breath the word of stay to mighty France?  Na. 
Or what art thou presum'st to stay my course?  Pem. 
A Knight I am, and to adventures bound:  
This monument erected for my friend,  
By me is guarded: If you mean to pass,  
You must do homage, or els●●●ght with me.  Lew. 
Homage of me! Know ● am King of France,  
And in subjection to no earthly power.  Nau. 
Thou know'st not what thou sayst, to challenge us,  
Of any such inferior privilege.  
What homage is it thou requirest of us▪  Pem. 
First, to acknowledge him lies buried here,  
The faithfulst Lover, and most valiant Knight,  
That in this time drew sword, or managed horse.  Bow. 
And what was he? Ascapart, or your Countryman Gargantua, that stuffed every button of his coat with a load of hay▪ 'Shart, we have met a fellow; here's all mouth, he speaks nothing but Monarch. Dost thou hear, King? give me leave to encounter this puckfist: and if I do not make him cry Peccavi, say Dick Bowyer's a powdered Mackerel.  Pet. 
My blood begins to boil, I could be pleased,  
To have this fellow by the ears, but that  
There's many of my betters here in place.  Fland. 
King of Navarre, let Flanders cope with him.  Burb. 
Imperial France, give Bourbon leave to try  
The hazard of a combat with this Boaster.  Pem. 
Dispatch, Navarre, one of you come forth,  
To interchange a warlike blow or two.  Lew. 
First let us know what penalty thou setst  
Upon thyself, if thou be vanquished.  Pem. 
A recantation of my former words,  
A servitude to him that conquers me:  
But who so ever is by me subdued,  
Must leave his Shield to beautify this shrine.  Bur. 
Let not Navarre, my Lord, rob us of honour:  
Say, Bourbon first shall break a Lance with him.  Rod. 
A scribe that privilege, my Lord, to me:  
And Rodorick will have death, or victory.  Lew. 
No, noble Rodorick, Bourbon shall begin,  
And as he speeds, we will employ your power.  Pem. 
Provide thee, Bourbon, I'll not favour thee.  Bur. 
Be sure I'll show thee like hostility.  Lew. 
Hold, the advantage is on thy side,  
The Duke of Bourbon shall hang up his shield.  Pem. 
I'd rather have his life, than all your shields:  
Who is next?  Bow. 
Zounds, I think he has a patten to take up all the Shields i'th' Country, hang me if thou want'st work, here's for Navarre, the earl of Pembroke & Cavaliero Bowyer: Fight A thousand pound to a tailors bodkin, this fellow has a familiar: but howsoever, thou mayst thank my lame leg: there's my shield.  Lew. 
Now Rodorick, betake you to your task. Fight.  Rodor. 
My fortune's answerable to the rest.  Lew. 
Since all miscarry, France will put his chance  
Upon the hazard of the Dice for once.  Pem. 
You are an Honourable foe, my Lord: Fight.  
By law of Arms, you must hang up your shield.  Lew. 
I yield to law and thy approved valour.  
King of Navarre, will only you sit out?  Nau. 
No, king of France, my blood's as hot as thine,  
And this my weapon shall confirm my words. Fight.  Bow. 
Navarre down too! 'Sheart, this fellow hath the trick of it: If he be not a witch or some Devil, let me be sticked into a Carbinado.  Nau. 
Thou son of Chivalry, let me now entreat,  
To know his name, for whom thou reap'st this honour:  
Or what he was, whose body's here interred?  Pem. 
A valiant Knight, his name, young Ferdinand,  
Slain by misfortune of a friendly hand.  Nau. 
Is it my son thou mak'st thy valour's prize,  
And strivest so to eternize with thy sword?  
Let me embrace thee. Not alone my shield,  
But I will leave my heart upon his shrine.  
My dearest Ferdinand, I would my sighs,  
Or sad lamenting tears might have the power,  
Like Balm to quicken thy benumbed joints,  
Then would I drown this marble ere I went,  
And heat it hot with vapour of my breath.  Lew. 
Navarre, this now may testify thy wrong,  
In false accusing me for his remove.  Na. 
Thou mayst be guilty still for aught I know:  
For though I find him dead, I find not yet  
The Tragic manner of his hapless end.  
Thou mayst as well have murdered Ferdinand,  
As favour him hath poisoned Bellamira.  Lew. 
Injurious king, it was base Ferdinand,  
On whom just heavens have shown just vengeance here,  
Ravished my Katharaine and conveyed her hence,  
Where I shall never more behold her face.  Nau. 
'tis false, and we'll maintain it with our swords.  Lew. 
'tis true, and we'll maintain it with our swords.  Pem. 
By heaven, the tongue profanes the sacred name of Ferdinand with any villainy▪  
I'll cut it out, or stop his throat with blood,  
And so damn in his blasphemous upbraydes.  Nau. 
Content thee, knight, I'll ease thee of that labour.  
To morrow is expired the time of truce.  
France, on with thy Battalions to the plain  
Thou wast prepared before to pitch upon,  
I'll meet thee there.  Lew. 
And I will meet with thee.  
Sound Drums and Trumpets: honoured knight, farewell:  
Who shall survive next morn, strange news shall tell. Exeunt.  Pem. 
Thus heady rage, blind in her rash resolve  
Drew Ferdinand and me into the field,  
As now it doth these hot incensed kings.  
Were't not my vows prohibit my desire,  
To stay the inconvenience of this fight,  
I would discover where their Daughters are,  
To show the error they are shrouded in:  
But Time hath run a desperate course with me,  
And desperate let them run to misery:  
Here comes a Straggler of their Army. Stand.  Enter Philip. Phil. 
What voice is that presumes to bid me stand?  Pem. 
His that can force thee, if thou wilt not stand.  Phil. 
By this bright air reflecteth on my sword,  
If the whole Army of Navarre had said  
As much to Philip, yet he would not stand.  
And thou but one, how dar'st thou proffer it,  
Knowing how sharp a Spur doth prick me on,  
The death of Bourbon for my Bellamire?  Pem. 
Hang up thy shield, as other knights have done,  
Upon the Hearse of noble Ferdinand,  
And thou mayest freely pass without control.  Phil. 
The Hearse of Ferdinand! I honour him,  
He was the brother of my dearest Love,  
What's this I see? my father's battered shield!  
The shield of France! of Flaunders! Bourbon's too!  
It can not then impeach or prejudice  
The name of Philip, to consort with such,  
Especially being done for Ferdinand.  
There is my shield: and Knight, but for my haste,  
I would expostulate of other things:  
But after traitorous Bourbon I have slain,  
Knight, look for me, i'll visit thee again.  
Now Rodorick, keep thy word, and I am blest:  
But if thou fail, i'll forward with the rest. Exit.  Pem. 
Successful action sit upon thy sword:  
This net of sorrows, I perceive, entangles  
Not only Pembroke, but the Court of France.  
Navarre and his associates are all touched.  
Time look upon us, and at last determine,  
This heart-dissevering tumults with a peace.  Enter Ferdinand. Ferd. 
Since▪ Ferdinand, by gracious providence,  
Thou art recovered of thy mortal wounds;  
With the new life thy body is revived,  
Revive the ancient passions of thy mind,  
Think on thy friend, on Pembroke take remorse,  
Whose honoured life, thy hasty hand cut off:  
This is the place, as I remember me.  
What's here? a Tomb? who hath prevented me  
In my religious duty to my friend?  
You, Knight, I doubt not, can resolve me.  Pem. 
What art thou? stand.  Ferd. 
A Knight, and fain would know,  
What sacred monument and Tomb this is?  Pem. 
His, whilst he lived, that of the world's increase,  
Was the most loyal friend, and valiant Knight:  
Which thou must likewise ratify with me,  
And hang thy shield up to adorn his Hearse,  
Or venture Combat for denying it.  Fer. 
His name, I pray thee.  Pem. 
Ferdinand.  Fer. 
What's he acquainted with my name? belike some one  
Loved Pembroke, and supposing (wrongfully)  
Me slain by him, to satisfy for that,  
Observes this honour in my memory:  
Be not thou Ferdinand ingrateful then,  
But stand for Pembroke, as this knight for thee.  Pem. 
What answer givest thou? shall I homage have?  Fer. 
Not for his sake thou namest, not for Ferdinand:  
There lived a knight excelled his petty fame,  
As far as costly Pearl the coarsest Pibble:  
An English knight called Pembroke, were his bones  
Interred here, I would confess of him  
Much more than thou requirest, and be content  
To hang both shield and sword upon his Hearse.  Pem. 
How comes this stranger by my name? Belike  
He was affected unto Ferdinand:  
And for his sake (hearing he did me wrong)  
Covets to make amends, or means to prove  
If I embrace him with unfeigned love.  
He shall not doubt of that, once more I say,  
'Twas Ferdinand was the renowned Knight  
Of all the world.  Fer. 
But I deny that saying,  
Giving to Pembroke that pre-eminence.  Pem. 
For Ferdinand my valour will I try.  Fer. 
In Pembroke's valour I will fight and die.  Discover each other in fight. Pem. 
Either I dream, or this is Ferdinand.  Fer. 
My sight deludes me, or stout Pembroke lives.  Pem. 
Thrice happy honoured, I do embrace my friend.  Fer. 
Welcome, oh welcome Pembroke, to mine arms,  
Whom I imagined, death had ta'en from me.  Pem. 
The like did I by Princely Ferdinand:  
But that he lives, my soul confounds with joy.  Fer. 
Tell me, dear friend, since our unlucky fight,  
Have you heard aught of my disdainful Love?  Pem. 
Of her and all the rest: Her father lives:  
This is his shield, and this is great Navarre's:  
This Rodorick's, the Duke of Orleans,  
And this malicious Bourbon's: all the which  
I forced from them, to beautify thy shrine.  
But 'tis of Katherine thou desir'st to hear:  
She likewise hath been here; her flinty heart,  
So much before inclined to cruelty,  
Now waxeth tender: she no sooner saw  
Thy picture here; but by heavens providence,  
Or how I know not, she so dotes on it,  
As I supposed she would a died for love.  Fer. 
Has then my shadow and supposed death  
Brought that to pass my living substance could not?  Pem. 
It hath, and never Lady more enamoured,  
Then now is Katherine of her Ferdinand.  
I told her, and no more than truth I told,  
A cunning Carver had cut out thy shape  
And whole proportion in white Alabaster,  
Which I intended here should be set up.  
She earnestly entreated she might have  
A sight of it, and daily be permitted  
To deck thy tomb and statue with sweet flowers.  
she's but even now departed to that end.  
And will (I know) be quickly here again.  
Now for assurance I dissemble not,  
Instead of thy resemblance cut in stone,  
Kneel here thyself, and hear her piteous moan.  Fer. 
Content, I hold your counsel for the best:  
we'll once conclude our sorrows with a jest.  Pem. 
Soft, there's a cushen: nay, you must be bare,  
And hold your hands up, as the manner is.  Fer. 
What if I held a book, as if I prayed?  Pem. 
'Twere best of all; and now I think upon't,  
Here is a book: so, keep your countenance,  
You must imagine now you are transformed.  
Yonder she comes, in any case stir not.  Enter Katherine. Kath. 
I fear I have detracted time too long.  
In my determined service to my Love:  
But I'll redeem my fault with double care.  
See where his statue is set up: kind Knight,  
For ever Katherine will record thy truth.  Pem. 
How say you, Madam, 1st not very like him?  Kath. 
As like, as if it were himself indeed.  
And would to God my prayers might be heard,  
That as the Image of Pygmalion once,  
Life might descend into this senseless stone:  
But that was feigned, as my desire is fond,  
Relentless death withholds my Ferdinand;  
And no entreaty may recover him.  
In token than I do repent my scorn,  
That I was cruel to so kind a friend,  
Thou the presenter of his absent person,  
Receive these sweets, thy temples be adorned  
With this fresh garland; thy white ivory hand  
Boast of this Ring, which if thou wert alive,  
Should bind our faiths up in a nuptial knot:  
But for thou canst not be reviv'd again,  
I'll dwell with thee in death: and as my spirit  
Mounts to the happy mansion of thy spirit:  
So to accompany thy shadow here,  
I'll turn my body to a shadow too;  
And kneeling thus, confront thy silent looks,  
With my sad looks: this is the Instrument,  
Now Ferdinand, behold thy Katherine comes.  Fer. 
And she is welcome unto Ferdinand.  Pem. 
I'll play the clerk for both, and say Amen.  
Nay, muse not, Madam, 'tis no senseless Image,  
But the true essence of your wished love.  Kath. 
I am ashamed to look him in the face.  Fer. 
Hide not those splendent lights, hereafter be  
A constant wife, it shall suffice for me.  Kat. 
Heaven cast her off, if Katherine prove not so.  Pem. 
Of that no more: now let us haste from hence,  
To quiet the dissension lately sprung  
Between your parents, Philip likewise gone,  
To be revenged on Bourbon's treachery,  
Perhaps may stand in need of friendly aid:  
To him and them our vows must next be paid,  Fer. 
What Pembroke counsels, we consent unto. Exeunt.  Enter Roderick and Philip. Rod. 
Now whilst our Armies wearied with the heat  
That the bright sun casts from his midday throne,  
Abstain from bloody intercourse of war,  
I'll lead thee Philip unto Bourbon's Tent.  Phil. 
Roderick, thou highly favourest me in this,  
And doubt not, if my complot take effect,  
I'll make thee Duke of Bourbon.  Enter Lewes, Flaunders, and Bourbon. Rod. 
Stay your speech, here comes king Lewis.  Phil. 
They can not know me, I am so disguised.  Burb. 
Follow my counsel, and immediately begin the Battle.  Lew. 
Why, the heat's great,  
It burns in our Armour as we march.  Flan. 
It burns the enemy as well as we.  Bur. 
It warms our soldiers spirits & makes them fire:  
I had rather die, then when my blood is hot,  
Be awed by counsel, till it frieze like Ice:  
He is no Soldier, that for fear of heat,  
Will suffer victory to fly the field.  Rod. 
My Lord of Bourbon, ye are more hot than wise.  Bur. 
Rodorick, me thinks you are very peremptory.  Rod. 
It is in zeal of the general good:  
Go to your Tent, refresh your unscorched limbs:  
There draw your battles model: and as soon  
As the cool winds have found the burning Sun,  
And made it tractable for travailers:  
Arm you, and mount upon your barbed Steed,  
Led forth your Soldiers, and in good array,  
Charge bravely on the Army of our foe.  Lew. 
The Duke of Orleans hath counselled well,  
I'll in and recreate me in my Tent.  
Farewell, my Lord, when you resolve to fight,  
Proclaim your meaning by a Canon's mouth,  
And with a volley I will answer you. Exit Lewes.  Bur. 
If you will needs retire, farewell my Lord.  
Ha Roderick, are not we fine Politicians,  
That have so quaintly wrought the King of France  
Unto our faction, that he threatens war,  
Against the almost reconciled Navarre?  Rod. 
But this is nothing to the acts we'll do:  
Come, come, my Lord, you trifle time with words:  
Sat down, sit down, and make your warlike plot:  
But wherefore stand these murderous Glaves so nigh?  Phil. 
Touch them not, Rodorick, prithee let them stand.  Bur. 
Some paper, pen, and ink. Enter Peter.  Peter. 
My Lord.  Bur. 
Post to the Master Gunner,  
And bid him plant his demi culverins  
Against the king's pavilion.  Peter. 
Presently.  Bur. 
But first, bring pen and ink and paper strait.  
Roderick, thou shalt assist me in this plot.  Rod. 
Do it yourself, my Lord, I have a charge  
Of Soldiers, that are very mutinous,  
And long I dare not stay, for fear my absence  
Be cause of their revolt unto Navar.  Bur. 
Then to your Soldiers: I will to my plot.  Phil. 
Away my Lord, leave me unto the Duke.  Rod. 
Kill you the Duke, and after I'll kill thee.  Bur. 
This pen is stabbed, and it will not write,  
The Ink that's in the Standage doth look black,  
This in my pen is turned as red as blood.  Phil. 
The reason that the platform you would make,  
Must by this hand be written with thy blood.  Bur. 
Zounds, what art thou that threatens Bourbon so?  Phil. 
One that's as desperate-careless of his life,  
As thou art timorous, and fearest to die.  Bur. 
Comest thou to kill me?  Phil. 
If I should say no,  
This weapon would condemn me, which I seized  
Of purpose, Bourbon, to bereave thy life.  Bur. 
Why, fond man, mad man, knowst thou what thou dost?  Phil. 
I know it, Bourbon, and I know beside,  
What thou wouldst say, to daunt my resolution.  Burb. 
What would I say?  Phil. 
Why, that this place is death,  
As being thy ●ent, environed with thy slaves;  
Where if I kill thee, 'tis impossible.  
To scape with life: this Bourbon, thou wouldst say:  
But Philip is not to be moved with words.  Burb. 
Philip!  Phil. 
I Philip, Bellamira's Love,  
Whose beauty, villain, thou hast poisoned:  
For which I have vowed thy death, and thou shalt die.  
Therefore betake you to what fence you will,  
Amongst this bundle choose one weapon forth,  
And like a worthy Duke prepare thyself,  
In knightly manner to defend thy life:  
For I will fight with thee, and kill thee too,  
Or thou shalt give an end unto my life.  
But if thou call unto thy slaves for help,  
Bourbon, my sword shall nail thee to the wall:  
And think Prince Philip is a Prince indeed,  
To give thee this advantage for thy life.  Bur. 
Boy, I will scourge your insolence with death.  Phil. 
Come on.  Fight, and kill Bourbon. Bur. 
Oh, I am slain.  Rod. 
Murder, murder, Bourbon the Duke is slain.  Phil. 
Peace, Rodorick, I am Philip thy dear friend.  Rod. 
Thou art a counterfeit, I know thee not.  Phil. 
Didst not thou guide me unto Bourbon's Tent?  Rod. 
I guide thee to the Tent? I know thee not.  
What, murder, ho: will no man hear my voice?  Enter Peter, and 2. or 3. soldiers. Pet. 
Yes, here are those can hear well enough.  
Where is the murdered, and the murderer?  Rod. 
Peter, behold thy masters breathless trunk,  
And there's Prince Philip that hath murdered him.  Pet. 
To avoid prolixity, I'll kill him:  
Yet first give me leave to weep for my master.  Rod. 
First, seize the murderer, and after weep.  Phil. 
He that first ventures to attach my life,  
Let him be sure he hath a life to spare:  
For I will send one breathless to the grave.  Pet. 
You that have nine lives, assault the gentleman.  Rod. 
What peasants, dare you not attach the slave?  
I'll raise the whole Camp, but i'll apprehend him.  
Alarm drums: Soldiers, encircle him,  
And either apprehend or slay the wretch.  Enter Pembroke, and Ferdinand. Pem. 
'tis princely Philip, help to rescue him.  Rod. 
What slaves are these that dare oppose themselves,  
In rescue of a murderer 'gainst an Host?  Fer. 
Such as will make thee, Rodorick, fly for life.  Pet. 
Zounds, men are mortal; to avoid prolixity, my Lord of Orleans, your best course is flying, and therein I will be your follower.  Rod. 
Fly before three, and be thus strong?  
'Twere madness.  Pem. 
We trifle time, let's drive them from the Tent.  Alarm, and drive away Peter and Roderick. Pem. 
Live, worthy Philip, Pembroke bids thee live,  
That did suspect this complot at the tomb,  
When in the honour of Prince Ferdinand,  
You did resign your shield.  Phil. 
Th'earl of Pembroke!  Fer. 
And Ferdinand that loves thee as his soul.  Phil. 
Two lives I owe my stars, beside mine own,  
In sending me two friends of such import.  
Durst you adventure thorough the enemy's Camp,  
And put your lives in danger to save mine?  Pem. 
The rumour of the Duke of Bourbon's death,  
Hath so possessed the Camp with admiration,  
That they regardless suffer all to pass:  
Only this, Rodorick wakens them a little;  
But cannot wean them from their wondering minds.  Phil. 
That Rodorick is a perfect villain turned:  
For though he guided me unto his Tent,  
And gave his liking that the Duke should die;  
Yet how the villain cried to murder me.  
But come, in this confusion let's be gone,  
'tis dangerous to abide in Bourbon's Tent.  
Roderick, thou art the next must taste of death:  
That task once done, we shall with little pain,  
Our angry fathers reconcile again.  Alarm, Enter Navarre, Bowyer, Nod, Core, Soldiers, drum and colours. Nau. 
The Alarm sounded in the enemies Campe.  
Now for Navarre and Fame, stand to it, sirs.  Bow. 
heart, stand to it? here's some of us knows how to run away, and they be put to it: Though we have lost our brave General, the Earl of Pembroke, yet here's Cavaliero Bowyer, Core and Nod, by jesus, sound Cards; and Mahu and Termagant come against us, we'll fight with them. Couragio, my hearts, S. George for the honour of England.  Nau. 
The adverse part comes on, fight gallantly.  Enter France, Flaunders, and Soldiers, with Drum and Colours. Lew. 
Is false Navarre so thirsty to drink blood,  
That he must join the Squadron of his troops,  
Before the signal of the battle's given.  
Belike you thought to take us unpreparde.  
No, king, our wrong hangs like a watch before us,  
And makes us number every short-lived minute,  
Till your lives answer for our Daughter's death;  
Charge, brave spirits: Saint Denis now for France.  Nau. 
Saint Denis for Navarre: Alarm Drums.  Alarm, they fight, France put to the worst, enters Rodorike and Peter, the fight continued, and Navarre driven in. Lew. 
Navarre and his weak forces make retire:  
Pursue them, Sirs, the victory is ours.  Rod. 
Be like starved Lions 'mongst a heard of Beasts,  
Ruthless and bloody slaughters all you meet,  
Till proud Navarre be slain, or kiss your feet:  
Saint Denis, and cry murder through the host.  Alarm, enter Pembroke, Ferdinand & Philip. Pem 
He that steps forward with a murdering thought,  
Marries himself to death. France, cease the fight:  
They are Frenchmen you pursue, French men you should save.  
Dig not for Traitors love your subjects grave.  Lew. 
What frantic knights are those that dare oppose  
Their single force against our multitudes?  Phil. 
Those that wish you and France bright fame's increase.  
So you would chase hence war, and welcome peace.  Rod. 
That was the Traitor, that slew royal Bourbon.  Pet. 
Down with the villains.  Rod. 
Soldiers, seize on him,  
And then pursue Navarre with sudden death.  Fer. 
ere the least hair fall from his kingly head,  
Rodorick, thy base trunk shall be butchered.  Pem. 
Will you accept of peace?  Lew. 
Follow Navar.  Pet. 
Down with that murderer.  Fer. 
Zounds, then inspite,  
we'll save Navarre, and chase you hence in fight.  All. 
Ha, ha.  Pem. 
Nay, smile not, though our number's few,  
Our great hearts tell us, we shall conquer you.  
Alarm, and S. George.  Alarm, they fight. Enter Navarre and his forces: France chaste away. Nau. 
France and his daunted forces gives us ground:  
Charge, charge again, and we are Conquerors.  Phil. 
Stand, or ne'er stir again.  Nau. 
What mean these Knights?  Pem. 
To stop your passage this way, great Navarre▪  
I charge thee, by the duty of a King,  
Thy love to justice, and thy subjects lives,  
You sound retreat, and make a peace with France.  Nau. 
A peace, and have the vantage of the day?  Bow. 
That's a trick, by jesus, to mock an Ape: we'll none of that.  Nau. 
we'll have no peace, but what our swords can make.  
Follow the chase.  Phil. 
Are you grown insolent?  
For one light puff of fortune proves it so▪  
Nay, than our swords turn to your overthrow.  Alarm, they fight, and drive in Navar. Fer. 
That was my father that you fought against.  Phil. 
You did as much to mine.  Pem. 
Princes, agree: force cannot end this war, but policy.  
Therefore disperse yourselves, and let our Squires,  
With Trumpets in their mouths sound loud retreat,  
Where you perceive the fight most violent.  
The strangeness of which act will strait amaze,  
When they shall hear both peace and war denounced,  
And one self instant, they will soon retire.  
To know the issue, Princes, fall to work:  
'tis work of charity, 'twould do me good,  
If we could end this battle without blood.  Fer. 
I hope we shall: farewell, i'll to my charge.  Pem. 
The like will Pembroke.  Phil. 
Philip is not last.  
Yet though I seek the safety of my friends,  
Rodorick shall lose his blood, ere this fight ends.  Alarm, excursions. Enter Peter leading Thomasin. Pet. 
Struggle not, strive not, your sweet heart Bowyer cannot save you. Without prolixity, you must go with me.  Tho. 
Help, help.  Pet. 
And the God of war come in thy defence, my humour is to kill him. Come away.  Enter Bowyer. Bow. 
By jesus, & you go this way, you must pay custom. Zounds, you pickt-hatch Caualiero petticoat-monger, can you find time now to be catching Thomasin? come, deliver, or by Zenacrib, & the life of king Charlemagne, i'll thrash your coxcomb, as they do hens at Shrovetyde: no, will you not do, you Tan-fat? zounds, then have at you.  They fight, Bowyer hath the wench, rescued by France, recovered by Navarre: Philip meets Rodorick, rescued by Peter: retreat is sounded, the enemies begin to retire, Rodorick chased by Philip: Enter at several doors, after retreat sounded, Pembroke and Ferdinand. Fer. 
Are the Kings severed? will they bow to peace?  Pem. 
Peace is a welcome guest unto their hearts:  
But Roderick, like a greedy envious churl,  
Fearing to spend his wealth, still keeps them back,  
'tis he exasperates the Prince's hate:  
And when our Trumpets call them to retire,  
He with wars clang or sets them on again.  
Unless he be removed, our labour's lost.  Fer. 
It shall not; for i'll seek him through the Host,  
And with this sword pair off the traitors head.  Pem. 
Do, and i'll scour these ranks: if Pembroke's eye  
Encounters his, he meets his Tragedy.  Alarm, Enter Philip, pursuing Roderick. Phil. 
Stay, warlike friends, and aid me in revenge.  Fer. 
That is Roderick.  Pem. 
here's the Traitor, strike him down.  Phil. 
Who lifts his arm at him, strikes at my breast.  Rod. 
Why have you thus ringed me about with swords?  Phil. 
To show thee thou must die.  Rod. 
What have I done,  
That thus you labour my destruction?  Pem. 
Thou were't a party in all Bourbon's wrongs.  Fer. 
Falsely termed Ferdinand a Ravisher.  Pem. 
Set discord 'twixt these Kings.  Phil. 
Practised my death.  Pem. 
Villain, for this, our swords shall stop thy breath.  Fer. 
Stand not to argue, let's all run at him.  Phil. 
Now as you love my love, or prise mine honour,  
Touch not the Traitor, he is Philip's foe;  
And none but I must work his overthrow.  
Thrice in the battle he was rescued from me:  
But now he's fallen into the lions paw,  
From whence the whole world cannot ransom him.  
Preservers of my life, heroic friends,  
Be you my safety, keep the Soldiers off,  
Whilst in the midst by fair and equal fight,  
I send this Traitor to eternal night.  Ferd. 
By heaven agreed.  Pem. 
here Pembroke takes his stand:  
Come France and all the world, I will not start,  
Till Philip's knightly sword pierce Rodorick's heart.  Rod. 
Accursed, I am betrayed, encompassed round:  
Now life and hope and state must kiss the ground.  Phil. 
Rodorick, thou seest, all ways are stopped to fly,  
Be desperate then, fight bravely, and so die.  Alarm▪ they fight: enter to Pembroke Navarre, Bowyer, & Soldiers: to Ferdinand, France, Flaunders & Soldiers: they fight and keep them back: Roderick would scape, still kept in the midst, and killed by Philip. Phil. 
Now are his treacheries repaid with death:  
Philip and Pembroke, sound your retreats  
With better hope; in him all hatred ends:  
The kings will now love peace, & soon be friends▪  Exeunt. Enter Peter wounded, Bowyer following. Bow. 
Zounds, never run for the matter, a scratched face can not serve your turn, we must have bloody noses: stand on your guard: & I do not make haggis puddings of your guts, I'll never domineer in the long Alleys again.  Peter. 
Cymnell, I'll crack you for this, I'll teach you to deal with Peter de Lions, and that without prolixity.  Bow. 
Do: have at you in earnest: S. George, you rogue.  Alarm, fight: Bowyer kills him. Bow. 
So, there's for your prolixities: there's for Thomasin: the Thornbackly slave, and he were made of any thing but gristles, I am a pompion: 'Shart, he had no mettle in him: yet how the villain craked and domineered when he was living: ah, sirrah, never grin for the matter, 'tis Captain Bowyer that speaks it. When thou meetest the great Devil, commend me to him, and say, I sent him thee for a new years gift: and there's one Sarlaboys to, as arrant a bloodsucker, and as notable a coward, as ever drew weapon in a bawdy house: he carries my mark about him: if Dick Bowyer be not writ a bountiful benefactor in hell for my good deeds, in sending thither such Cannibals, I am a Rabbit-sucker: yet I scorn to vaunt of my deeds too. They sound a retreat: farewell, Peter, and learn hereafter what it is to be rival to an English gentleman, Cavaliero Bowyer, one of the nine worthies.  Exit. A retreat. Enter at one door, France, Flaunders, and Soldiers: at the other door Navarre, Bowyer, and Soldiers. Lew. 
Navarre, why have you sounded a retreat?  
Will your proud heart decline and call us Lord?  Nau. 
We thought by the faint language of your drums,  
France would have known his error, and begged peace.  Lew. 
France beg a peace!  Nau. 
Navarre call you his Lord!  Flan. 
Why did you cease the fight, and sound retreat?  Bow. 
Not we, by this beard: not we, by the life of Pharo.  Nau. 
Your Trumpets guided by your fainting breath,  
Dehorted us from war, and sounded peace.  Lew. 
Navarre derides us.  Nau. 
France, 'tis you that do't.  Lew. 
Sound war, and bravely let us once more to't.  Enter in the midst, Pembroke, Ferdinand, and Philip. Pem. 
Kings of Navarre and France, why do you thus  
With civil butchery wound this blessed land,  
Which like a mother, from her melting eyes,  
Sheds crimson tears, to see you enemies?  
Lewes of France, wherein hath great Navarre  
Dangered your state, that you should prosecute  
War with her largest ruin? how hath France  
Sowed such inveterate hate within your breast,  
That to confound him, you will undergo  
The orphans curse, the widows tears & cries,  
Whose husbands in these wars have lost their lives?  
ere you contend, discourse your grievances.  Lew. 
False Ferdinand his son, ravished our child.  Fer. 
Now by my Knighthood, honour, and this gage,  
France, ●le approve you wrong that Ferdinand.  Phil. 
Who can accuse him?  Lew. 
That did Rodorick.  Pem. 
That Traitor, for a deed so false, so foul,  
Hath answered it by this, even with his soul.  Nau. 
Our son, and valour's bloom, th'English Pembroke,  
By Lewes' treachery were butchered.  Phil. 
Were the whole world joined in so false a thing,  
Alone I'd combat all, and clear the King.  Pem. 
France never had design in their two deaths.  Nau. 
He leagued with Bourbon, that destroyed my child.  Lew. 
He poisoned her deservedly.  Phil. 
That deed of shame  
Cut off his life, and razed out Bourbon's name.  Lew. 
His death shallbe thy death; for thy hand slew him.  Nau. 
This other in the battle twice to day,  
Made us retire, France, shall we join in league,  
Till we have venged our malice on these knights?  Lew. 
Navarre, agreed. Soldiers, this killed your Lords.  Nau. 
And this our fame: let's mangle them with swords.  Pem. 
Take truce a while with rage: hear what we'll urges  
This knight flew Bourbon, this enforced you fly;  
Therefore you hate them, and for hate they die.  
Since than true virtue is disfigured,  
Desert trod down, and their heroic worth,  
In justice doomed on traitors merits, Death:  
Behold these two, which thousands could not daunt,  
But your ungratitude, on bended knee,  
Yield up their swords to bide your tyranny.  
'Twas he killed Bourbon: if you love him dead,  
Show it by paring off this valiant head:  
Do you the like: to this revenge apace.  
They fear not threats, and scorn to beg for grace.  Lew. 
And they shall find none.  Nau. 
Knights, triumph in death,  
We are your headsmen, Kings shall stop your breath.  They take off their Helmets. Lew. 
Philip, my son!  Nau. 
Young Ferdinand my joy!  Pem. 
Call them not sons, whom you would fain destroy.  Nau. 
Hold not our age too long in deep suspect.  
Art thou Ferdinand?  Lew. 
And thou Philip?  Fer. 
We are the friendly sons of adverse parents,  
Your long lost children, though supposed slain,  
We live, and come to joy your age again.  Nau. 
Welcome all earthly bliss.  Lew. 
Welcome, dear child,  
Thy presence half our sorrow hath exiled.  Pem. 
How soon this Scene is changed! those that even now  
Were sworn wars servants, now to peace do bow:  
Then Pembroke, strive to make their joys more full.  
See, kingly father, to that princely son.  
Pembroke, the hated murderer of his friend:  
Pembroke, that did divide thee from his sight,  
And cut so many passages of death,  
In his endeared bosom, humbly thus  
Forgets his honour, and from your high hand,  
Invokes revenge for wounding Ferdinand.  Fer. 
Still he surmounts me in an honoured love.  
Rise, friend; or if thou strivest to have the world,  
In me, as in a glass, see a false friend.  
Behold, I kneel, and here proclaim to all,  
My friendship's broke, but thine substantial.  Na. 
Model of virtue, honoured Pembroke's Earl,  
Rise in as dear regard as Ferdinand.  
Oh, had I Bellamira once in hold,  
Age would turn youth, & I should ne'er be old.  Lew. 
Had I my Katherine once again,  
Our joy were then stretched to the highest strain:  
But she was ravished, and then murdered▪  Phil. 
Bear not that hard opinion: Rodorick's tongue  
Slandered that Prince, and did his virtue wrong.  Pem. 
Lewis of France, hear what an English Earl  
Speaks in the front and view of all thy Host:  
If ever Ferdinand stained Katherine's honour,  
I was a party: yet in all your Camp,  
Who dares step forth and call me ravisher?  
No, France, know Pembroke is an Englishman,  
Highly derived, yet higher in my thoughts;  
And for to register mine acts in brass,  
Which all-devouring time shall ne'er raze out,  
Have I through all the Courts of Christendom,  
In knightly trial proved my virtue sound,  
Raised England's fame aloft; and shall I now,  
In her next continent, her neighbour Realm.  
France, on whose bosom I may stand and see  
That blessed soil, that bred and fostered me,  
Soil all my late got honour, to consent  
Unto a royal Prince's ravishment?  
I'd sooner from a mountain cast myself,  
Or from a hungry Lion tear his prey,  
Then dare to act a deed so infamous: Enter Katherine.  
But words are air: Lewis, behold this face;  
This proves our honour clear from all disgrace.  Lew. 
My Katherine!  Phil. 
My dear sister!  Fer. 
My fair Love!  Pem. 
See, Princes, loves effect: she flies your hand,  
To live embraced with her dear Ferdinand.  Lew. 
And heaven forbid that we should sunder them.  
Navarre, reach me thy hand: grim war is fled,  
And peace shall end the same in a nuptial bed.  
Son Philip, ratify your sister's choice.  Phil. 
Even with my soul: for ever live you blest.  
Oh Bellamira, had not cursed Bourbon,  
For beauty robbed thy cheeks with Leprosy:  
Hadst thou but stayed with me, as is their state,  
So had been mine, happy and fortunate.  Enter Clown attired like a Gentleman, Bellamira following with a Scarf on her face. Clow. 
By your leave, sweet bloods: may a Gentleman or so, deceive two or three ounces of words in this assembly?  Lew. 
You may.  Clow. 
Is there not a young King's son amongst you, who treading the steps of his father, is called Philip?  Phil. 
I am the man thou seek'st.  Clow. 
Then the old saying is verified, He that seeks, shall find. here is a poor kinswoman of mine would desire some private conference with you, or so.  Phil. 
With me? whom see I? Bellamira!  Nau. 
Daughter!  Phil. 
Do not deride my woes, speak, speak, I pray.  Pem. 
Look not so strange, it is thy lovely Love,  
Thus managed, to approve thy constancy.  
Embrace her then: and now Navarre and France,  
Here end your strife, and let all hatred fall,  
And turn this war to Hymen's festival.  Nau. 
This Pembroke's counsel we subscribe unto.  Lew. 
The like doth France: Lovers embrace your Loves;  
And Captains, join your Bands, mix power with power,  
And let those swords, which late were drawn for death,  
Sleep in their sheaths. You, worthy Pembroke,  
And all your followers, shall receive our favours,  
In plenteous largesse: so, set on to Court;  
Sound Drums and Trumpets, deaf the air with cries,  
And fill each subjects heart with joys increase,  
T'applaud our children's love, and this days peace.  
FINIS.