 | The History of the tryall of Cheualry |  |
Dvke Rodorick, and my noble cozen Flaunders,
Are your Battalions ready for the charge?
Rod.
Ten thousand men of Orleance I commaund,
And those are brauely marshald on the playn,
Ready to be commaunded by your Highnesse.
Flaund.
As many of the warlike brood of Mars
Doe call me Generall: those, my gracious Lord,
Together with my selfe I recommend,
To be commaunded by your Maiesty.
Lew.
Thanks, Earle of Flaunders, Duke of Orleance, thanks,
What lets vs that we charge not on the Foe?
Nauar.
My Lord of Pembrooke, are your Englishmen
Squadron'd with ours, and ready for the charge?
Pem.
The French and English make one warlike body,
Where of your Highnesse is the mouing head:
Or peace or warre, as pleaseth you direct.
Nau.
Then war; and giue the signall through the Host.
Lew.
Nauar, Nauar, submission were more meete,
Then to adde bloud to wrong.
Nau.
What wrong, King Lewes?
The Kingdome of Nauar we will acknowledge
To hold of none but of the King of Kings.
Lew.
Three hundred yeres prescription's on our sides;
So long thy Ancestors by fealty
Haue held thy Kingdome of the Crowne of France.
Pem.
Talke not of yeres, yeres limit not a Crowne;
There's no prescriptions to inthrall a King:
Nauar's a Kingdome solely absolute,
And by collusion of the Kings of France,
Because it lies so fitly vpon France,
The people speaking all one mother toung,
It hath bin wrested for a Royalty,
Vntruly due vnto the Crowne of France.
That Pembrook speaks the truth, behold my sword,
Which shall approue my words substantiall.
Rod.
Pembrooke, you are too plaine in your discourse.
Bur.
I tell thee, Rodoricke, Pembrooke soldier-like
Hath truely opened, what ten thousand liues
Will hardly doe, if warre be made the Iudge.
Ro.
If war be Iudge? why, shallow-witted Burbon,
Who shall decide this difference, but war?
Hath not the Iudge put on his Scarlet Robe?
Is not the field prepar'd? our men in armour?
The Trumpets ready for the sound of death?
And nothing hinders vs but our owne words?
Leaue idle parley, my dread soueraigne Lord,
And soone resolue the Duke in fire and smoke,
That he maintaines a title false and forg'd,
And that Nauar is a vsurping Lord.
Na.
On that ile hazzard all these valiant liues.
Sound Drums and Trumpets, make King Lewes know,
He makes his best friend proue his greatest foe.
Lew.
Why pause our drums? our trūpets, speak as lowd,
Till the bright ayre be made a purple cloud.
Phil.
Pause, gracious father.
Ferd.
Noble father, pause.
Let Ferdinand thy sonne so far preuayle,
That peace, not war, may end this difference.
Bel.
For Bellamiraes sake, abstayne from war.
Phil.
Philip, thy sonne, humbly desires a peace.
Let not my father sheathe his warlike sword
Within the bowels of his Countreymen.
Thy daughter Katharina prayes the like.
Nau.
From whence proceeds this sudden sound of peace?
Comes it from me? what, from my Ferdinand?
From Bellamira my sweet second selfe?
Lew.
Or rather comes it (Lewes) from thy soule?
Thy Philip, the true Image of thy selfe?
Thy Katharina, thy heart's chiefest ioy?
Rod.
Princes, you aske, you know not what your selues.
Pem.
Rodorick, they aske a sweet and pleasing boone.
Rod.
Why, they aske peace, and we are set for war.
Fer.
Tis a bad peace exceeds not a iust war.
Phil.
We will not rise from this submissiue ground,
Till we obtayne, if not a peace, a truce.
Fer.
Nor shall our feet bee guilty of new steps,
Till I obtayne a truce from murdering war.
Lew.
Shew me some reason (sonne) for this demaund.
Nau.
Shew me some reason (children) for this prayer.
Fer.
I loue the daughter of thine enemy.
Fayre Katharina hath inthral'd my heart.
Phil.
I loue the daughter of thine enemy,
Fayre Bellamira hath inthrald my heart.
Pem.
Is loue the cause? then wherfore wage we war?
What matter ist who weares both Diadems,
When the Succession liues in eythers heyre?
If Ferdinand be crown'd King of Nauar,
Fayre Katharina shalbe crownd his Queene:
If Philip weare the Diadem of France,
Fayre Bellamira, made his louely Queene,
Swayes halfe the Scepter. See what heauen can doe,
Prouide for peace, euen in the iawes of war!
Kat.
How sweetly doth the Earle of Pembrooke speake!
Now, trust me, I am rauisht with his voyce.
Lew.
What sayes Nauar? what, ist war or peace?
Na.
A truce for three moneths, so it please your Highnes;
During which time our children shall haue leaue,
With Drum and Trumpet to surueigh the Campe,
As fits the sonnes of honourable foes:
And if it proue a match betweene them both,
There end all difference, Ile bequeath my Crowne,
As a rich offering to their nuptiall Rites.
Lew.
Here, strike the truce vpon my kingly hand,
Which is as surely ratified in this,
As by the testimoniall of a world.
So now, for three moneths space all warres surcease,
Our thoughts are wholy fixt on loue and peace.
Exeunt.
Manent Rodorick, and Burbon.
Rod.
Zounds, here's a truce made vp by miracle.
Burb.
Ile crosse it by a wily stratageme.
Rod.
What stratageme?
Burb.
By loue to Bellamira.
Oh could I diue into the Princes heart,
By any insinuation ne're so base,
How easily might I effect my plot,
To make the Kingdome of Nauarre mine owne.
'Twere but a dram or so vnto the sonne,
And a small thing would send the old man hence.
What, noble Rodorick, to gayne a Crowne,
A Duke would doe much.
Rod.
More then poyson two:
But you, my Lord, forget your selfe too farre;
Know you to whom you haue disclosde your heart?
Burb.
Why, to the Duke of Orleance.
Rod.
The deare friend of Lewes the French King.
Burb.
King me no Kings,
Although we seeme to be of seuerall sides,
Rodorick, we loue together like true friends.
This Truce giues ayme to our intention:
Assist me (worthy Orleance) to effect,
First, my desired loue, and next the Crowne.
Rod.
Peter de Lions is your Lordship's seruant,
A boone companion, and a lusty Knaue:
And by that loue he may bestead your Highnesse,
More then your best friends in your best designes,
Call him forth.
Enter Peter.
Burb.
What Peter.
Pet.
Here, my Lord.
Burb.
Why dost thou looke so wildly?
Pet.
Not with drinke, nor yet with rage.
Rod.
His lookes are wild with loue.
Pet.
With loue surreuerence? can there be a face
In all the world patcht vp with eyes and lips,
A forhead, and a payre of Crimson cheeks,
To make me doat on, to make me looke wild?
Rod.
Come, come, tis knowne that you loue Thomasin.
Pet.
Zounds, they that know that, know my heart & all;
I haue not the power to deny it, tis most true.
Burb.
And tis most true that I loue Bellamira:
Now if thou art in fauour of thy wench,
Many a meeting thou mayst helpe me to,
And learne besides what sutors seeke her loue,
And whom she most affects. These things once knowne,
Twere worth a Dukedome, Peter.
Pet.
'Sbloud, giue me a Dukedome, and ile warrant you
The knowledge of these things ten times o're.
Rod.
Theres Angels for thee, Peter, thinke on them,
And doe thy best to helpe thy master's loue.
Well, howsoeuer I smooth it to the Duke,
My thoughts are bent on his destruction.
Pet.
You haue my heart in your purse, ile doe any thing for you.
Bur.
And thou shalt want no gold, & so farwel.
Exeunt.
Pet.
I cannot chuse but farewell, and haue the good Angels
to comfort me; yet I am melancholy. Heeres gold to
make me merry; O but (hey ho) heres loue to make me sad.
To auoyd prolixity, I am crost with a Sutor, that wants a
piece of his toung, and that makes him come lisping home:
they call him Caualiero Bowyer, he will haue no nay, but the
wench. By these hilts, such another swash-Buckler liues not
the Earle of Pembrooke; and he limps, and he limps, & he
deuoures more French ground at two paces, thē will serue
Thomasin at nineteene. If euer he speake French, to auoyd
prolixity, he will murder the toung. Ile prouide for him,
theres but small choice, either he shall renounce the wēch,
or forsake his lame legs, his lisping toung, and his life to: for
by S. Denis, I had rather dye in a ditch, then be bob'd of
my fayre Thomasin.
Exit.
Enter at one dore Philip and Rodorick, a Drummer before thē, with his Drum at his back: at the other dore, Ferdinand and Pembrooke with their Drummer.
Ferd.
Whither goes royall Philip thus prepar'd?
Phil.
On what aduenture goes Prince Ferdinand?
Fer.
To conquer all the world, fayre Katharine,
Whose beauty in mine eye surmounts it far.
Vertue and loue conducts me to your sister.
Phil.
On the like voyage are my fortunes bound,
I goe to winne thy sister.
Ferd.
Some fayre Starre,
On our great hopes shine fayre and debonaire.
Pem.
Amen, sayth Pembrooke.
Rod.
Amen, sayth Rodoricke.
Ferd.
This way my Loue dwels.
Phil.
In this ayre breathes mine.
Both.
Farewell.
Phil.
Prince Ferdinand, if these crosse loues
Enioy a wishe successe, peace here shall dwell.
Ferd.
And we be friendly Brothers.
Phil.
True.
Both.
Farewell.
Exeunt Philip, and Rodoricke.
Pem.
Pity such true loue, which like blessed seed,
Sowne in such fertile soyle, his princely brest,
By the rough stormy brow and winters hate
And dye e're it attayne maturity:
For I haue heard, the Princesse whom he serues,
Is hotely courted by the Duke of Burbon,
Who to effect his choyce, hath in these warres
Furnisht your father with a gallant power:
His loue may haply then disable Philips.
Fer.
O no; my father doth affect the Prince:
Besides, my sisters heart is so combin'd
To his in perfect loue, that Burbon's hate,
Nor all the world that knot can separate.
Then sorrow not for him, but turne the streame
Of gentle pity on thy wretched friend,
Within whose bosome loue hath kindled fire,
So ardent, that the flames will bury me.
Philip is throned in my sister's eyes:
But in my loue disdayne and hatred lyes.
Pem.
Doth she not pay true kindnesse with the like?
Fer.
As stepdames, orphanes, night, the cleer-fac't day,
So doth she hate me, and returne my woes,
Like a steel'd Anuill backward on my selfe.
She is all hate, yet such a louely foe,
That I must kisse the sword that wounds me so.
Pem.
Interre these thoughts, this is her father's tent.
Drum, giue a friendly summons to the King.
Fer.
Forbeare a while (deare Pembrooke:) by our vowes,
Which in the booke of heauen are registred,
By all the rightes of friendship, by that loue
Thou bear'st thy natiue Countrey, I coniure thee,
This day to be the Trumpet of my worth,
To speake the passions of thy grieued friend,
To Katharine's eares, till those pure Iuory gates,
Pearst with the volley of thy battring words,
Giue way to my laments to touch her heart:
For this haue I extracted thee from many,
Made thee my fellow Pilgrim to her shrine,
When my prayers fayle, thy tongue may plead for me.
Pem.
Must I be spokesman? Pembrooke plead for loue?
Whose toung tunde to the Instruments of war,
Neuer knew straine of fancy on my breath:
Affection neuer dwelt, but war and death.
But if thou lou'dst to haue thy soldiers fight,
Or hearten the spent courages of men,
Pembrooke could vse a stile inuincible.
Lou'dst thou a towne, Ide teach thee how to woo her,
With words of thunder-bullets wrapt in fire,
Till with thy Cannon battry she relent,
And humble her proud heart to stoop to thee.
Or if not this, then mount thee on a Steed,
Whose courage neuer awde an yron Bit,
And thou shalt heare me hollow to the beast,
And with commaunding accents master him:
This Courtship Pembrooke knowes; but idle loue,
The slicke-fac't obiect of an amorous brayne,
Did neuer clothe mine eye-balls, neuer taught
This toung inurde to broyles and stratagems,
The passionate language of a troubled heart:
I am too blunt and rude for such nice seruice.
Yet since my friend inioynes me to this taske,
Take courage, ile both speake, plead, woo for thee,
And when I want fit words to moue her mind,
Ile draw my sword, and sweare she must be kind.
Drummer report our presence to the King.
A parley, and answered. Enter France, Flaunders, and attendants.
Lew.
Prince Ferdinand, and honour'd English Pembrooke,
Now by S. Denis, welcome. One runne straight,
And giue our daughter notice of these ghests.
What man, we know you come prepar'd to woo:
We wish in soule our daughter were your wife.
Our sonne is with your sister, faire hap wayt:
For peace or war liues in your loue or hate.
Welcome once more; first, weele go see your loue,
After, to banquet, and from thence to woo.
Be merry, then weele share a friendly part,
But you shall tryumph in our daughter's heart.
Exeunt.
Enter Katharina, her man Bowyer, and a Paynter.
Kath.
See that the Tent be ready furnished.
By this, my father and those Lords are met,
Mongst whom, the noble Pembrooke, like the Sunne,
Out-shines the borrowed glory of the rest:
And well I may compare him to the Sunne,
That but once lookt vpon with his fayre shape,
Hath dazled my poore sences, and left me blind.
But, sirra, where's the man I bade you bring?
Bow.
If you can iudge of colours (Madam) this is he.
Paynter, stand forth.
Kath.
An earnest cause (my friend) importunes me,
Wherein I am to craue thy cunningst Arte.
Payn.
Such as it is, you may commaund, faire Princesse.
Kath.
But are thy colours fresh? thy pensill smoothe?
Thy hand vnwauering? and thy head dislodg'd
Of all vnquiet harsh incumbrances?
For thou must draw proportion of those parts,
Whose worth to tell, my toung wants vtterance.
Payn.
Feare you not (Madam) I am well prepar'd.
Kat.
Then hither strait with youthfull Ferdinand,
Nauar's stout sonne, there comes an English Knight,
Pembrooke they call him, honourably borne:
Him (whilst we are in conference) thou shalt marke,
And to the life set downe his counterfet.
The goodliest person in the traine, that's he.
Bow.
Let me alone to giue the Paynter destruction, I
know him as well as the Begger knowes his dish: he weares
a white Scarfe in his hat, and an Orange tawny feather vpon
his arme.
Kath.
Foole, indirectly thou describ'st another:
Thats Prince Nauar, Pembrooke his plume is Azure,
A little intermixt with spotlesse white,
Prefiguring the temper of the Sky,
With whose hye motion his great mind doth moue.
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; ile proue the contrary: You are fayre, and
I am foule; is that all the difference betweene you and I?
there's another thing in it, if you marke it well.
Kath.
I prythee peace, and with thy ignorance
Draw not the Paynter likewise into errour.
Here take thy stand, thou knowst him by these markes
I lately spake of: seeme to excell thine Arte,
And I will study to requite thy paynes.
Enter Lewes, Ferdinand, Pembrooke, Rodoricke, and Flaunders.
Lew.
Thus did the Greeks, when they begirt the walles
Of strong built Troy, sometimes with friendly cheeke
Entertayne peace, and spend their frollick houres,
In courtly feasting of each other foe.
Welcome (young Ferdinand) I promise you,
It cheeres my spirit we doe imbrace you here,
And welcome too (braue 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, weele haue the best.
Daughter, I prythee bid them welcome.
My Lord, I doe
That with the Congy of a bended knee:
But this with my true hearts loyalty.
Lords, you are welcome, by my father's leaue.
Lew.
Why, now thou dost content thy father, Kate,
When wholy vnto merryment inclin'd,
Thou answerst with like simpathy of mind.
Fer.
But yet her lookes are haggard and obscure,
Which makes me doubtfull sheele not stoop to lure.
Lew.
Princes, let's enter: come, Ile lead the way:
The feast is mine, you are my ghests this day.
Fer.
Now Pembrooke, shew thy friendships true effect,
Obtayne her loue, my life thou shalt protect.
Exeunt.
Kat.
He stayes behind the rest; O happy houre!
Worke on (sweet Paynter) to inrich mine eye
With that, which els procures my tragedy.
Pem.
Fayre Madam, in this confluence of sweet ioy,
When euery one resorts vnto the feast,
Me thinkes you should not thus retyre alone,
As seeming, your best fare were heauy mone.
Kat.
I am not (Sir) alone, nor do I starue
My appetite with any wil-full fast;
I haue a banquet of sweet pleasing thoughts,
That is more precious then the costliest feast.
Pem.
But at your father's boord there sits a ghest,
To whom the cup of Ganimedo will seeme
But iuice of Hemlocke; and the daintiest dish,
As much vnsauory as the Pomice stone,
Vnlesse your presence season his delight.
Kat.
I am sory I want skill to serue his dyet.
I haue not bin instructed to such end.
Pem.
But I wil teach you (Madam) if you please.
Kat.
Rather the party grieued first should shew
Wherein we erre, els how can we discerne
What is our fault, or how we may amend?
Pem.
That office he commits vnto my toung.
Is he not able then to speake himselfe?
Pem.
Yes, Madam, I haue heard when Ferdinand,
With whom in Padua I was conuersant,
So spake in the assembly of the learn'd,
With such a grace and well composed phrase,
As many thought graue Tullies eloquence
Flowed like a hony Riuer from his lips.
Kath.
He wanteth then belike sufficient courage.
Pem.
Neuer liu'd Knight lesse preiudic'd in that,
Then valiant Ferdinand, whom I haue seene,
Couch his staffe Launce with such dexterity,
As if the god of battell had himselfe
Entred the Lists, and preassing to the midst
Of steele-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 weygh the force
Of your resistlesse and controwling beauty,
It is your beauty: were his power and spirit
Ten times more hauty ventrous then it is,
Compels it stoope in homage to your foot,
As trembling Lambs, when they to Lions couch.
Kat.
'Twas well he chose so good an Orator,
To plead the imperfection of his cause.
Pem.
I should haue that opinion of my selfe,
If for my sake your Grace would fauour him.
Kat.
Yes, for your sake we haue indur'd his name;
And for your sake we tolerate his suite:
But when you cease to speake, then all that prayse
You haue attributed to his desert,
Seemes borrowed from your selfe, you are the man
Whose eloquence compares with Ciceroes.
You are the man, whose knightly fortitude
Liues in the world vnpreiudic'd of any.
Of female weaknesse, with no lesser awe,
Then Indian vassayles stoop vnto their Lords.
The name of Ferdinand you haue mista'ne:
Say tis your selfe, and then your whole discourse
Obserues the perfect method that it should.
Pem.
Should I be false and trecherous to my friend?
I am intreated but to speake for him.
Kat.
But for your selfe would be more acceptable.
Oh pardon me, nor let immodest strayne
Cleaue to my brow, my loue is chastely bred,
Other then Pembrooke, Katharine neuer vowes,
Shall be inthroniz'd in her mayden thoughts.
Pem.
Mistake me not, I say tis Ferdinand
Dyes in affection to your Deity.
Kath.
But in affection I suruiue to none,
But onely Pembrooke.
Pem.
Will you be esteem'd
A cruell murdresse of a loyall friend?
Kat.
Will Pembrooke triumph in a womans fall?
Pem.
You anger me, respect young Ferdinand.
Kat.
You please me not, to speake of Ferdinand.
Pem.
Nay, then tis time to go, or wrong my friend.
Since, Madam, what I would I cannot doe,
Mine honour here bids me leaue off to woo.
Exit.
Kat.
Stay, Pembrooke, Katharine will sue to thee,
So shalt thou keepe thy fayth and loyalty.
Bow.
Tary, sir, tary, we want the length of your nose: nay,
if you will not heare, ile be so bold as follow your nose.
Sir, tary, tary.
Exit.
Kat.
He will not heare, nor (too vnkind) looke backe.
Payn.
But, Madam, spight his heart you shall see this.
Kat.
Giue me his picture: Image far more kind,
Then is the substance, whence thou art deriu'd!
Which way soeuer I diuert my selfe,
Thou seemst to follow with a louing eye.
Enter Ferd.
As some small comfort to increasing harmes.
Fer.
What meanes my second selfe by this long stay?
I cannot rest till I be certified,
What good or bad successe my suite returnes:
But he is gone, and in faire Katharine's hand
I see his picture. What may this pretend?
Kat.
Thou hast done well indeed, in euery part
Thou shewst complete & cunning workmanship:
His eye, his lip, his cheeke are rightly fram'd;
But one thing thou hast grosly ouer-slipt.
Where is his stubborne vnrelenting heart,
That lurkes in secret as his master doth,
Disdayning to regard or pity me?
Payn.
Madam, his heart must be imagined
By the description of the outward parts.
Kat.
O no; for then it would be tractable,
Mild and applausiue as the others be.
Fer.
No Prince, but Pembrooke dwels in Katharines eye,
Kath.
Whose that disturbs our pleasing solitude.
Fer.
Know you not me? my name is Ferdinand,
Whose faithfull loue Lord Pembrooke late commenc't?
Kat.
Speake then for Pembrooke as he did for you,
Or els your bootlesse suite will soone be cold.
Fer.
Why, he was Orator in my behalfe:
If I should speake for him, as he for me,
Then should I breathe forth his passions, not mine owne.
I, I, tis so; the villaine, in my name,
Hath purchas'd her affection for himselfe,
And therefore was he absent from the feast:
And therefore shuns my sight, and leaues behind
This counterfet, to keepe him still in mind.
Enter Bowyer.
Tis so, tis so; base Traytor, for this wrong
My sword shall cut out thy perfidious toung.
Exit.
Bow.
I hane runne till I sweat, sweat till my shirt cleaues
to my backe, cryed till I am hoarse, and am hoarse till I
Kat.
No matter, fellow, I haue here a pledge,
Which I will zealously deuote me to.
Enter Lewes.
There's thy reward, withdraw, my father comes.
Lew.
Where are these Lords? the one hath sate with me,
And suddenly is risen from the boord:
The other came not at all. Daughter, saw you
The Prince or Pembrooke, which way they are gone?
Kat.
Backe to their Tents, my Lord, as I suppose.
Lew.
Backe to their Tents, and take no leaue of vs?
Nay, then I feare their meaning was too smoothe,
And some blacke Treason couer'd in their smiles,
Which we will seeke immediately to preuent.
Exeunt.
Enter Dicke Bowyer, and soldiers, with Drum and colours.
Bow.
Stand, giue the word along, stand.
Lieu.
Stand there.
Bow.
Lieutenant.
Lieu.
Captayne.
Bow.
Is the watch set in the King's quarter yet?
Lieu.
An howre agoe.
Bow.
Zounds, what foolish Canaanits were they, to run
in debt to their eyes for an houres sleepe, sooner then they
needed? Sergeant.
Ser.
Anon sir.
Bow.
Anon sir! s'hart, the Rogue answers like a Drawer:
but tis the tricke of most of these Sergeants, all clincum,
clancum. Gods dynes, I am an Onyon, if I had not rather
serue formost in the forlorne hoope of a battell, or runne
poynt blancke against the mouth of a double charged Cannon,
then come vnder the arrests of some of their pewter
pessels: zounds, tis hotter a great deale then hell mouth, &
Diues burning in Sulphur: but thou art none of the genealogy
of them. Where must we watch to night?
In the furthest Trenches that confront the enemies
Campe.
Bow.
Thats the next way to haue all our throats cut.
Lieu.
That cannot be, you know, Captaine, there's a peace
toward.
Bo.
A pox a peace, it keeps our Ancient whole; but s'hart
our gaberdines go to wrack: but futra: tis well known, since
Dick Bowyer came to Fraunce, he hath shewed himselfe a
gentleman & a Caualiero, and sets feare at's heeles: and I
could scape (a pox on it) th'other thing, I might haps return
safe & sound to England; but what remedy? al flesh is grasse,
and some of vs must needes be scorcht in this hote Countrey.
Lieutenant Core, prithee lead my Band to their quarter,
and the Rogues do not as they should, cram thy selfe,
good Core, downe their throats, and choak them. Who
stand Sentronell to night, sir?
Sol.
That must I, Captayne.
Bow.
You, Rafe Nod? zounds, soldiers, follow my discipline,
say your prayers, you are all dead men, all dust and ashes,
all wormes meat.
Lieu.
How so, Captayne?
Bow.
Doe you make him Sentronell? s'hart, heele nod
presently: and he do not sleepe sitting vpon the poynt of a
Spanish needle, Dicke Bowyer's a very shittlecocke. Nod!
zounds, he is one of the nine sleepers, a very Dormouse: &
I had a Pageant to present, of the seuen deadly sinnes, hee
should play Slouth: and he did not sleepe when he should
speake his part, I am a Badger.
Soul.
That's true, you haue halfe the nature of a Badger,
for one leg is shorter then another.
Bow.
Zounds, you Rogue, doe not you know that? Ile tell
you: s'hart, and I lye, call me Iebuzite. Once as I was fighting
in S. Georges fields, and blind Cupid seeing me, and
taking me for some valiant Achilles, he tooke his shaft, and
shot me right into the left heele, and euer since, Dick Bowyer
hath beene lame: but my heart is as sound as a bell,
heart of Oake, spirit, spirit. Lieutenant, discharge Nod,
Lieu.
He shall, Captayne.
Bow.
On afore, strike Drum, march soldiers, keepe your
place, Nod: lusty my harts, for the honor of England, & our
braue Generall, the Earle of Pembrooke. So, I haue discharg'd
my selfe of these.
Hot shot! now to my loue: some may say, the tale of Venus
louing Mars, is a fable: but he that is a true soldier, and
a Gent. as Dick Bowyer is, & he do not loue some varlet or
other, zounds, he is worse then a gaping Oyster without liquor.
There's a prety sweet fac't mother that waits on the
princesse, that I haue some mind to; but a whorso Achitophel,
a parasite, a rogue, one whose face looks worse thē a Tailors
cushen, of old shreds & colours; zounds, like a weauers leg,
in an old ditch feeding horseleaches, & this trotter is my ryual,
& loues Thomasin: his name is Peter de Lions; but s'hart
(I will not sweare neither) if I do not turne Rich. Cor de Lion
with him, if I do not teare out his heart and eate it with mustard,
let him say Dick Bowyer's a Mackarell. Yonder hee
Enter Peter,
and
Thomasin
comes with my Property had in hand. Zoūds, I say nothing:
but ile heare what they say, and determine afterward.
Pet.
Thomasin, you know me, I hate prolixity: in a word,
my humour is thus, I loue you.
Bow.
And I do not spoyle that humour, so—
Pet.
Your answere compendiously, & auoyd prolixity.
Tom.
Mary muffe! by Iesu, I scorne to humble the least
part about me, to giue answere to such a trotting question: as
I liue, it ioults mine cares worse in hearing, then the princes
coach on a broken cawsey.
Pet.
Thomasin, leaue this pace, & take me with you: my
Lord loues your Lady, yet I heare say, she is this night betrothed
to the Prince of France: so I loue you, and shall I lose
you? No, I hate prolixity: in a word, the end is, ile mary you.
Tho.
Prety, as God saue me! what will Captaine Bowyer
say to that, if he should know it?
Bow.
A good Rogue, by Iesu.
Bowyer a Captayn? a Capon, a button mould, a lame
haberdine, a red beard Sprat, a Yellow hammer, a bow case,
a very Iackdaw with his toung slit.
Bow.
Zounds, what a Philistine is this? what a dictionary
of proper names hath the Rogue got together? heart, his
toung crawles as fast as the Cheese doth in Germany. Ile
pearce you for this, you Lobster.
Pet.
Bowyer, mordu futra for him; and that sowre crab do
but leere at thee, I shall squeeze him to vargis.
Bo.
And you squeeze me, I may haps grow saucy with you,
you whorson burnd Pudding pye, you dry Parsnip: kisse
me, Thomasin: so, dare you stand to your word now, and
squeeze me?
Pet.
Stumps, I challenge thee for this indignity, Bowyer,
I will gyrd my selfe with thy guts, I am a Souldiour and a
Captayne.
Bow.
Captayne? s'hart, and thou hast vnder thy charge,
any other then Pigmies, I am Gogmagog. Dost thou heare
(sowgelder?) and I do not with sixe Cranes (wel marshald)
ouerrunne 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 kild Sarlaboys, that was one
Rogue; now it shall kill thee, that's two Rogues. Whorson
puttock, no garbage serue you but this? haue at you.
As they fight, enters Pembrooke.
Pem.
Who's this at enmity within our Camps?
What, Bowyer, and the seruant to great Burbon?
Both sheathe your weapons: by our martiall law,
This act is death.
Bow.
Ile be hangd then. Doest thou heare, noble Generall?
Dick Bowyer knowes what belongs to seruice: we did
not draw of any malice, by this element of yron & steele,
but to measure which of our swords were longest. Ile saue
but the next time—
Pem.
Good Captayne Bowyer, let our English troops
Keepe a strong watch to night: my throbbing heart,
Like to a Scritchowle in the midnight houre,
Bodes some blacke scene of mischiefe imminent.
Bow.
Neuer feare (Generall) if Iulius Cæsar rise vp against
vs, e're he do my Lord any wrong, zounds, ile be cut smaller
then pot-hearbs. Ile to the trenches, come Thomasin. Leere
not, Lobster, lest I thum that russeting face of yours with my
sword hilt, till that it looke as pyde colourd as the Rainbow.
By Iesu ile do it, and therefore follow me not.
Exeunt.
Pem.
Why should this load of griefe lye on my heart
With such a ponderous waight? I know no cause,
Vnlesse it be by thinking on the wrong
My friend receyues in the vnmatched loue,
Which Katharine beares me: yet my fayth is sound,
And like a solid Rock shall check her teares.
Katharine loues me; yet for my friends delight,
Pembrooke will hate her loue, and flye her sight.
Exit.
Enter Burbon, Nauar, Philip, Bellamira, Rodoricke, and attendants.
Bur.
Nauar, you sprinckle me with foule reproch,
And dimme the lustre of our royall name,
With colours of dishonour.
Nau.
Heare me, Burbon.
Bur.
What words can satisfy so great a wrong?
Haue you not with consent of all your Lords,
Promisd your daughter to this generous prince?
Nau.
Their true loue forst vs to it.
Bur.
True loue? tis fayn'd.
Phil.
Ha, Burbon.
Bel.
Gentle Philip.
Phil.
With my sword,
Ile proue my loue vnfayned, thee a false Lord.
This like a Sanctuary frees thy toung,
And giues thee childish liberty of speach,
Which els would fawne and crouch at Burbons frowne.
Phil.
Now by S. Denis—
Burb.
Ile not chat with boyes.
Nauar, to thee I speak: thy daughter's looks,
Like the North Star to the Sea-tost Mariners,
Hath brought me through all dangers, made me turne
Our royall Palace, to this stage of death,
Our state and pleasures, to a bloudy Campe,
And with the strength and puissance of our force,
To lift thy falling and decayed state,
Euen to her pristine glory, in thy quarrell
Burbon hath set himselfe against his King,
And soyl'd his greatnesse with a Traytor's name.
Now when our worth expected rich reward,
Fayre Bellamira, wonder of her time,
Must Philip haue her?
Phil.
Burbon, shee is mine.
Bur.
Mordew: ile be reueng'd, by heauen I will,
Or I will paue these plaines with the dead bodies
Of our deare subiects: we haue sworne thy fall,
That oathes thy death, our rage thy funerall.
Nau.
Heare our excuse.
Bur.
We will not credit ayre.
Peter, watch Rodorick, when the prince is gone,
Tell him, Ide speake with him.
Pet.
Enough, tis done.
Bur.
Nauar, this setting Sun, which sees our wrong,
Shall e're his morrowes beames guide the proud East,
View Himens rites turnd to a tragick feast.
Exit Burbon.
Na.
His anger beares him hence, young prince of France,
Since to reduce our enmity to loue,
And thereby like a fayre and louely Bryde,
To mary peace to France, we are content,
To bring the sea-tost barke of your affects,
To their desired port, as we agreed:
Go to your father, and informe him thus:
If personally heele view our friendly Tents,
And seale these Articles of peace proposde,
This night you shall be troth-plight to our child.
Phil.
Were it to search the furthest Northerne clime,
Where frosty Hyems with an ycie Mace,
Strikes dead all liuing things, Ide find it out,
And borrowing fire from those fayre sunny eyne,
Thaw Winters frost, and warme that dead cold clime:
But this impose is nothing, honour'd King,
Ile to my father, and conduct him hither:
For whilst my soule is parted from her sight,
This earth is hell, this day a tedious night.
Come, Rodorick, you shall beare me company.
Pet.
He shall not, for ile stay him instantly.
Exeūt Phil. Pet. & Rod.
Nau.
Twere pity to keepe two such loues asunder.
Daughter, you & your Ladies to your tent,
Exit Bella.
And deck you richly to receiue the prince.
Enter Pemb. after him, Fer.
My Lord of Pembrooke, happily return'd:
How doth our sonne? See where he comes himselfe.
Speake, boy, how spedst thou with fayre Katharine?
Fer.
I know not how: Is trothlesse Pembrooke there?
Nau.
Be not dismayd, at length sheele pity thee.
Sonne, bid our Officers adorne our Court
In her chiefe glory: for this happy night
Shall set a period to this smarting war.
Your sister shalbe troth-plight to Prince Philip,
And France and we made friends about it then.
Pembrooke, haue you the charge to see our Captaines
Prepare a martiall welcome to the King.
Ile not be idle: since Nauar was crownd,
Our heart with so much ioy did ne're abound.
Exit Nauar.
Fer.
Nor mine with so much hate. Pembrooke, a word.
Pem.
What wills your Grace?
That Pembrooke is a villayne.
Looke not so strange, I speake it not your friend,
But hee that in his soule hath sworne thine end.
Pem.
A villayne? and my death? I am amaz'd.
Art thou awake? or is all this a dreame?
Fer.
A dreame of death: meet me to morrow morning,
As thou art Pembrooke and a Gentleman,
By yon fayre Riuer side, which parts our Camps.
You know the place, come armde, and so farewell.
Pem.
Deare friend.
Fer.
Push, meet me.
Pem.
Ferdinand, I will.
Fer.
Reuenge, smile on, thou shalt drink bloud thy fill.
(Exeunt.
Enter Peter standing sentronell.
Pet.
This is my wayting night, tis for no good,
That I stand Sentronell. Well, good or ill,
I care not greatly, so I get the gold:
Therefore to auoyd prolixity, here walke I.
Enter Burbon, and Rodorick.
Here comes the men that must reward my paine.
Bur.
Haue you the poyson?
Rod.
And a strong one too.
Heere's a preseruatiue to saue your hand.
When Rodoricke fayles your Lordship, heauen shall fayle,
To illuminate the world with cheerefull light.
Bur.
Then here about should Peter wayt for me:
For this is the Pauilion of the Princesse.
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, woo and winne the Lady:
But giue me gold (my Lord) and Ile to Dice.
Bur.
Hold, take thy fill.
Pet.
And it shall goe as fast.
Bur.
Now gentle Peter, get thee vnto rest:
None but my selfe and Rodoricke shall behold
The secret complot that I doe intend.
Pet.
I goe, my Lord.
Exit.
Burb.
Now blessed key, open vnto my loue,
Doe more then louing lynes or words can doe:
My letters haue bin answerd with disdayne:
Her father I haue mou'd to gayne my loue,
But he is frosty in my feruent suite,
And now perforce I will obtayne my loue,
Or ease her puling hatred by reuenge.
Ro.
You stay too long, ile help to turne the key.
‘Discouer her sitting in a chayre asleepe.
Bur.
What do I see? the maiesty of heauen,
Sit in a mayden slumber on the earth?
What, is my Bellamira turnd a goddesse,
Within the table of her glorious face!
Me thinks, the pure extraction of all beauty
Flowes in abundance to my loue-sicke eye.
O, Rodoricke, she is admirably fayre:
And sleeping, if her beauty be so rare,
How will her eyes inchaunt me if she wake!
Here, take the poyson, ile not stayne that face,
For all the treasure of the Westerne Iland.
Rod.
I see no such admired perfection.
Waken her, Burbon, and this louing charme,
Which now hath led your sences prisoner,
Will vanish, and her speach full of reproofe,
Beget new phantasma all of hate:
Thou wilt detest her when she shall deny thee.
Bur.
Wakē her, Rodorick, for I want the power.
Rod.
I hope I am disguisde sufficiently,
That Bellamira cannot know my face.
Madam, fayre Bellamira.
Bel.
Here I am, who calls on Bellamira?
Burb.
I, fayre loue,
The Duke of Burbon that doth honour thee.
The Duke of Burbon in my Tent so late?
Where is my Gard? what Peter, Thomasin.
Rod.
Step to her, and restrayne her, lest she call:
Ile be a looker on, and be vnknowne.
Bur.
What needs your Highnesse call for any gard,
Since you are garded with a faythfull friend?
Behold me, Madam, humbly on my knee,
Come to renew my suite, vouchsafe me loue,
Or with this weapon take away my life:
Much better 'twere a thousand times to dye,
Then liue in torment of your scorching eye.
You haue inflam'd my heart, oh quench that flame,
Or into cinders turne my haplesse truncke:
Haplesse, in being vnbelou'd of you.
Bell.
My Lord of Burbon, you presume too much
On th'extremity of passion.
Haue I not answerd many an idle letter,
With full assurance that I cannot loue?
Haue I not often, viua voce checkt
Your courtly kindnes? frownd vpon your smiles?
Vsde you vnkindly; all to weane your loue?
And doe you still perseuer in your suite?
I tell thee, Burbon, this bold part of thine,
To breake into my Tent at dead of night,
Deserues seuere correction, and the more,
Because it brings mine honour into question.
I charge thee, as thou art a Gentleman,
Betake thee to thine owne Pauilion,
And let this answere satisfie for all:
Burbon, I cannot, nor I will not loue thee.
Bur.
Cannot, nor wil not: zoūds, 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.
Looke not so fiercely, nor cry out for helpe:
For if you doe, this makes you cry your last.
Humble intreaty, nor a world of payne,
Can moue you to take pitty of my loue:
But Tyrant-like, your beauty seeks my life,
I will blot out that beauty with this iuice.
Thus, thus I wipe away my passions:
Thus doe I heale the torments of my loue:
Thus doe I ransome my inthralled eye,
And by depriuing of the cause of life,
Kill th'effect, which was a world of sorrow.
Farewell, foule Bellamira, I am pleasde
In this reuenge, that no way could be easde.
Exit.
Rod.
Zounds, he has don't: now, Rodorick, ioy thy fill.
Burbon is thine, the Dukedome is thine owne:
For onely he in the Inheritance
Stood as an obstacle, to let my clayme.
This deed of his will take away his life:
And then let me alone to inioy his land.
Ile steale away vnseene, cause vnsuspected:
I would not for the world be once detected.
Exit.
Bel.
Poyson my face! oh most inhumane wretch!
Reuenge more vile, then to abbridge my life.
What, Thomasin, what, brother Ferdinand:
My kingly father: is there none that heares?
Then Treason, treason, let that waken you:
For capitall is this offence to me.
Enter Nauar, Pembrooke, Ferdinand, and Thomasin.
Tho.
O Iesu, mistris, what ayles your face!
Nau.
Her face!
Ferd.
Tis spotted like a Panthers skin.
Pemb.
O, were those spots as kindly beautifull,
Then were fayre Bellamira vndeform'd.
Nau.
O, what diuine power hath sent this Leprosy?
Ferd.
Say, beautious sister.
Speake, fayre Bellamira.
Tho.
Speake, my good mistris.
Nau.
My sweet daughter, speake.
Pem.
Her silence argues a tormented spirit.
Fer.
Thy countenance argues a deceitful soule.
Enter Lewes, Philip, Rodoricke, and Flaunders.
Lew.
Where is Nauar?
Phil.
Where is fayre Bellamira?
Bel.
My Philip, oh giue leaue to fly his sight.
Nau.
Stay, gentle daughter, heele not iniure thee.
Lew.
Heere are the Articles concluded on,
I could not rest, till I had signed them,
And brought them to your Highnesse. A moneth hence
The mariage shall be fully solemnized,
So please your Maiesty and your fayre daughter:
Are you content?
Nau.
To liue in discontent.
Phil.
Me thinks, this royall presence hath dim lookes:
Is it because they are in the armes of night,
Which sets a leaden lustre on the eye?
Or hath some accident occoasted them,
That troubles their aspect with melancholy?
Is Nauar well? is Ferdinando well?
Is Pembrooke well? Is Bellamira well?
O, where is Bellamira? tell me, Princes,
For now my tongue hath strook vpon her name.
I feele a kind of killing extasie.
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, haue I toucht the string,
Whereon the burden of your sorrow lyes?
Father, looke round about, see you my loue?
Rodoricke, looke round about, see you my loue?
Lew.
I see her not.
Rod.
Nor I.
Phil.
I say not so.
What Lady's this that hides her heauenly face?
Here are no Basilisks with killing eyes:
You need not hide your beauty: sweet, looke vp,
Me thinks I haue an interest in these lookes.
What's here, a Leper amongst Noble men?
What creatures this? why stayes she in this place?
Oh, tis no maruell though she hide her face:
For tis infectuous: let her leaue the presence,
Or Leprosie will cleaue vnto vs all.
Bel.
O let me leaue the presence, gentle father,
When Philip bids his Bellamira goe.
Phil.
My Bellamira!
Lew.
How? my sonnes belou'd!
Phil.
Is this my loue? was this your beauteous child?
Nau.
My child.
Ferd.
My sister.
Pemb.
Beauteous Bellamira.
Nau.
Spotted.
Ferd.
Disfigured.
Pemb.
Made a lothsome Leper.
Rod.
How came this sudden alteration?
For she was comely, louely, beautifull,
When the day left his Charriot to the night.
Na.
That heauen doth know, and onely Bellamira.
Daughter, I charge thee, tell me how it came.
Bell.
Burbon, oh Burbon.
Lew.
Did he doe the deed?
Bel.
He came into my Tent at dead of night,
And rubd my face with an infectuous herbe,
Because I would not graunt vnto his loue.
I cry'd for helpe, but none did succour me.
Rod.
I know he did, and laugh to thinke on't.
Lew.
And he shall rue his treason.
Phil.
Threaten not,
Leaue the reuenge to me whom it concernes,
Tis I am robd of a delicious looke,
A heauenly sparkling brow, a starry eye,
When all the East is guilded with her blush.
Tis I will be reueng'd: but not before
I haue espousde my louely Bellamira.
Lew.
Espoused her!
Nau.
How! marry a face deform'd!
Ferd.
A leprous creature!
Pem.
An infectuous mayd!
Ro.
One, whose sores are perchance incureable!
Phil.
Be they incureable, it is my Loue,
And for my sake she hath indur'd this wrong,
And, should I now forsake her thus distrest,
I could not merit a true Louers name.
To shew I loue her, I will marry her,
Before the moneth expire: nay in the morne:
Delayes, perchance, may make her think I scorne.
Bel.
Marry with me? fetch me a looking glasse,
That I may see how sweet a Bride I am.
Oh, I detest my selfe: Deare, hate me too:
I am not to be maryed but to death.
Though I were Empresse of the spacious world,
Ide lay my selfe and Kingdome at thy feet.
Liue, noble Philip, ioy some happyer match:
Tis my vnworthinesse makes me deny thee.
Phi.
Thinkst thou, because thy face is spotted so,
Thou art not worthy of thy Philips loue?
Thy face to me was but a Marshall,
To lodge thy sacred person in my mind,
Which long agoe is surely chambred there:
And now what needs an outward Harbinger?
I doe affect, not superficially:
My loue extendeth further then the skin.
The inward Bellamira tis I seeke,
And vnto her will Philip be epousde.
Nau.
Oh admirable loue!
Lew.
Oh, my deare sonne,
Thou makest me famous by thy loyalty.
I neuer heard the like.
Pemb.
Pen neuer writ
A worthyer Story to posterity.
Fer.
Pen neuer writ of a more treacherous friend,
Then, Pembrooke, thou hast prou'd to Ferdinand.
Phil.
Sweet Loue, prepare thee to be Philips Bryde:
For heere I sweare, as I am royall borne,
Ile marry thee, before the mornings Sunne
Hath runne the third part of his glorious course.
Father, good night: deare friends, deare Loue, good night:
Mariage, I hope, will make my spirits more light.
Exit.
Nau.
Good night, sweet son, King Lewes, stay with me,
Be thou my comforter, ile comfort thee.
Exeunt Kings.
Fer.
Pembrook, remember that thou faile me not.
Exit.
Pem.
O God, what may these moody lookes intend?
Me thinks, I should haue better from my friend.
Exit.
Bel.
Now, Bellamira, thou hast time to thinke
Vpon these troublous matters: should I suffer
So braue a Gentleman as Philip is,
To wed himselfe to my vnworthy selfe,
It would be counted vertue in the Prince;
But I were worthy of a world of blame.
No, Philip, no, thou shalt not wrong thine honour,
Nor be impeacht by Bellamiraes spots.
In some disguise ile steale away to night,
And ne're appeare more in my Philips sight.
Exit.
Enter Dicke Bowyer.
Bow.
There is no toyle to this walking of the Round:
S'hart, I haue beene stumbling vp and downe all this
night, like a Brewers horse, that has ne're a good eye in
his head: Tis as darke as Pitch, I can resemble our
Campe to nothing better then hell, saue that in hell they
are alwayes waking, and heere the villaynes are as drowsie
as swyne. Lieutenant Nod! why, you might haue shot
a double Cannon in his eare, and neuer haue wakte him:
mungrel snorted, you might heare him to Douer: at last,
I dragd him by the heeles into a ditch of water, and there
left the Lobster crawling. A the tother side, Core being
appoynted to stand Sentynell vpon the Wallounes
quarter, s'hart, the Loach gets me into a Sutlers bath, and
there sits mee drinking for Ioanes best cap: but by this
hand, and as Dicke Bowyer is a Soldier, and a Caualiero,
he shall sit in the boults for it to morrow. My comfort is
in these extremities, that I brought Thomasin to her Ladies
Tent, leauing her new-come Louer to picke strawes:
but soft, qui voula?
Enter Ferdinand.
Ferd.
My name is Ferdinand.
Bow.
Stand.
Ferd.
Why, Captayne, thou dost know me well inough.
Bow.
Know, or not know, without the word you passe
not.
Ferd.
Soliman.
Bow.
So, allie, allie, Monseur.
Ferd.
First, tell me, sawest thou Pembrooke come this way?
Bow.
I saw him not.
Ferd.
Farewell.
Exit.
Bow.
As much to you. Zounds, these Frenchmen think
to out-face vs with a card of ten: but, and his beard were
made of brasse, Dicke Bowyer will make him know the
discipline of war. Here comes another.
Enter Pembrooke.
Pem.
Who's there? Dick Bowyer?
Bow.
Some call me so, what then?
Pem.
Pembrooke salutes thee.
Bow.
Oh, good morrow, my Lord, good morrow.
Pem.
I prythee, Captayne, sawst thou Ferdinand,
Sonne to Nauar, as thou didst walke the round?
Bow.
Euen now, my Lord, he past along this way.
Pem.
Himselfe alone? or had he company?
Bow.
Nay questionlesse, he was alone, my Lord.
Couldst thou discerne his face? how did he looke?
Bow.
Faith, scuruily, my Lord, like a greene cheese, or the
inside of a rotten Pumpian.
Pem.
There is Crownes for thee to drinke.
Bow.
I thanke your Lordship. To see the difference betweene
these French Curres, and our English Caualiers:
there's as much bounty in them, as there's Marchpane in a
dish of Almond butter. I might haue stood heere till my
teeth chatter in my head, e're the tother Launceprisado
would haue sayd, Here, Captayne Bowyer, there's a Cardicue,
to wash downe melancholy. But had I knowne as
much, I would haue basted him, till his bones had rattled
in his skin.
Enter Core and other Souldiers, bringing in the Clowne.
All.
Come, sir, you shall answere your walking before
our Captayne.
Clow.
Well, sirs, take heed what you doe, I am a Princes
man, if you stay me vpon the Kings hye way, I can lay fellowship
to your charge.
Core.
But sirra, wee can lay Treason to thine, for being
without the word.
Clow.
Without the word! O pernicious Frenchman!
without the word! why, I haue call'd thee Villayne, him
Rascall; this, Slaue; that, Rogue; and am I still without
the word?
Core.
I, sir, the word that must serue your turne, the
Watch-word.
Clow.
Fayth, y'are like to watch this tweluemoneth, ere
you haue any other words at my hands.
Bow.
How now masters, what calfe are you dragging to
the slaughter-house there? ha?
Core.
A straggler, and a spy: Captayne, I pray examine
him.
Bow.
So, Lieutenant Core, you are crept from your cups
at last, Ile talke with you anon: but, sirra, to you: From
whence come you?
I came, sir, from the King of Fraunces campe.
Bow.
So, what's your name?
Clow.
My name, sir, is Bow wow.
Bow.
S'hart, what a name's that! the Hedge-hog mocks
vs: Bow wow, quotha? what kin art thou to the generation
of Dogges?
Clow.
No dog, sir, would you should know it, though I
be encompast with curres.
Bow.
Zounds, he calls vs curres, hang the hotch-potch
vp 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, sirra, whom do you serue?
Clow.
My master, sir, is the Lady Katharine, the French
Kings daughter: I haue bin abroad about some businesse of
hers, and am now going backe againe.
Bow.
An honorable Lady, sir: let him goe: tis against the
law of armes to stay him.
Clow.
Stand of: but soft, I doe not know your name, sir,
that my Lady may giue you thanks.
Bow.
My name's Dick Bowyer.
Clow.
Then, master Dicke Bowyer, after my heartie
commendations, adue: 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.
Beleeue me, Captayne, I had but a whiffe or two:
for I was passing dry.
Bow.
Thou art alwayes dry: the whorson Mault-worm
has a throat like the burning Clyme, or a Glasse-makers
Furnace: But your remoue from thence has sau'd you
from the boults. How now, what Water-Spanyell haue
we heere?
Enter Nod.
Core.
Tis Lieutenant Nod.
Nod.
Captayne, deride me not: I protest, I came by this
mischaunce by good seruice, by following a spy, that came
to discouer our army.
O notable Rogue! did not I find thee asleepe, and
threw thee into a ditch?
Nod.
Was't you? by this light, I tooke you for a spy.
Bow.
Yet saw me not, no more then a Molewarp: this is
an egregicus Rogue.
Nod.
Yes, I saw you well ynough, and I did but try how
you would vse me.
Bow.
By this flesh and bloud, many one that lyes in his
graue, was not halfe so sencelesse: but the Watch breakes
vp, euery one to his quarter, away.
Exeunt.
Enter Clowne.
Clow.
Tis true, they are gone together, and I am sent to
watch Prince Ferdinand, and the Earle of Pembrooke:
this way they went; but they are got out of sight. I were
very bad to be a Hound, that haue no better a sent: if they
were hares, as they are men, I should think them squatted:
but husht, here comes one of them.
Enter Ferdinand.
Ferd.
The morne lookes red: red mornes doe threat a storme,
That storme shall light on Pembrooke or my selfe.
This is our meeting place: here runnes the streame
That parts our camps: the time consorts the place;
And (Pembrooke) if thy reputation hold,
It is thy q. to enter.
Enter Pembrooke.
Clow.
Heere comes the tother, this is lucke vpon lucke:
now will I run and fetch my mistris, the Lady Katharine,
to part their fray.
Exit.
Pem.
Good end succeed my early heauynesse:
Three times my feet, as loth to guide me hither,
Haue stumbled in a playne and euen way,
My sword forsooke his scabberd once or twice,
Bloud from my nostrilles thrice hath spowted forth,
And such a dymnesse ouerrunnes my sight,
That I haue tane a tree to bee a man,
And question'd with it about serious things.
This is the place where I must meet my friend.
Yonder he stands, Good morrow, Ferdinand.
Good morrow to thy death: draw, Pēbrook, draw,
The ground thou treadst vpon, must be thy graue.
Pem.
Draw vpon Ferdinand?
Fer.
I, vpon me.
Dally not, Pembrooke, I am bent to fight,
And that with thee for the best blood thou bearst.
Pem.
You haue some reason for this resolution.
Fer.
My will.
Pem.
A sorry argument to kill your friend.
I must haue better reason then your will,
Or ile not draw vpon my Ferdinand:
Our loue is older then of one dayes growth,
A yeres continuance hath vnited vs.
Haue we not made an enterchange of othes,
Sworne loue to one another twenty times,
Confirmd that friendship by society,
Encreasde it with the simpathy of mind,
Making one pleasure, pleasure vnto both?
And shall this bond be broken vpon will?
Fer.
Then youle not draw?
Pem.
Yes, neerer to thy person,
In friendly sort to imbrace thee, Ferdinand.
Fer.
Thou art a coward, and thou dar'st not fight.
Pem.
Thou knowst the contrary: for we haue fought
At euery weapon, to approue our skill.
Fer.
Goe to, you are a villayne and a coward,
And by the royall bloud that gaue me life,
Ile kill thee, Pembrooke, 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 ile draw,
Not to offend, but to defend my selfe.
Now I perceyue it is my bloud thou seekst:
Witnesse you heauens, and all you gracious powers,
That stand auspicious to this enterprise,
That Pembrooke drawes forth an vnwilling sword.
Fer.
Why so, now manfully defend thy selfe.
Another woūd? then Pembrook, rowse thy spirit,
And beare no longer with this haire-braynd man.
Yet (Ferdinand) resolue me of the cause,
That moues thee to this vnkind enterprise:
And if I satisfie thee not in words,
This double wound shall please thee with my bloud.
Nay, with my sword Ile make a score of wounds,
Rather then want of bloud diuorce thy loue.
Fer.
I hate thee deadly, and I seeke thy life:
What other reason, Pembrook, wouldst thou haue?
Prepare, prepare, in this conflict to show,
Thou art a Knight, and canst o'recome thy foe.
Pem.
And if I spare thee not, impute the cause
To thine owne rashnes, and mine aking wounds.
Fight, and hurt eche other, both fall downe as dead.
Fer.
I hope I haue slayne thee.
Pem.
Oh, I feare thy life: how fares my Ferdinand?
Fer.
What, liu'st thou yet? then my fare is ill.
Pem.
I am markt for death,
I feele a generall fayntnesse through my lymmes:
Expence of bloud will soone expend my life.
Fer.
The like debility my ioynts doe feele.
Pem.
Then we must both dye in the latest of death.
Tell me, oh tell me, whence proceeds this hate?
Fer.
I feare not (Pembrooke) to discouer now.
Thou wert my Spokes-man vnto Katharine,
And treacherously thou stol'st away her heart.
Oh, I can say no more, my spirits doe faynt.
Pembrooke, farewell, I haue reueng'd my wrong.
Pem.
Oh, yet a little longer, gracious time,
Detayne his princely spirit in his brest,
That I may tell him he is misse-inform'd,
And purge my selfe vnto my dying friend:
But death hath layd his num-cold hand vpon me:
I am arrested to depart this life.
Deare Ferdinand, although thou be my death,
Enter Forrester.
For.
How full of pleasure is this Forrest life!
My Parke I liken to a Common wealth,
In which, my Bucks and Does are Citizens:
The Hunters Lodge, the Court, from whence is sent
Sentence of life or death, as please the King:
Onely our gouernment's a tyranny,
In that wee kill our subiects vpon sport.
But stay, what Gentlemen doe heere lye slayne?
If any sparke of life doe yet remayne,
Ile helpe to fanne it with a nymble hand:
The Organ of his arme doth play apace,
He is not so far spent, but that with helpe,
He may recouer to his former state.
How is the other? I doe feele soft breath
Breake from between his lips. Oh, for some ayd,
To beare them to the Forrest, to my Lodge:
But as I am, ile try my vtmost strength,
To saue their liues: first seene, shall be the first:
Patience, and ile returne 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 liues there in the brooke!
What prety traines are made by cunning hands,
To intrap the wily watry Citizens!
But what art thou that lyest vpon the ground?
Sleepst thou? or art thou slaine? hath breath his last?
No sparke of life appeares: yet from his eye,
Me thinks I see a glymmering light breake forth,
Which wanting strength, is like a twilight glimse.
If there be any hope to saue his life,
Ile try my vtmost cunning. To my house,
Poore Gentleman, Ile beare thee as a ghest,
And eyther cure thy wounds, or make thy graue.
Exit.
Enter Clowne and Katharine.
Clow.
Iust in this circle I left the two Princes ready to
draw; for I read the whole discourse of the Combate in
their red eyes.
Kath.
Heere lye their weapons, and heere flowes their
bloud.
Clow.
Haue they not slayne one another, and buryed
themselues?
Kath.
Peace, foole; tis too sure, that they are slayne.
Clow.
O Lord, then let mee turne my selfe into a Ballad,
and mourne for them.
Kath.
Thou angrest me, with iesting at my sorrow:
Hence from my sight, my heart is full of griefe,
And it will breake, the burthen is so great.
Clow.
Goe from your sight? then let me goe out of your
company: for I had as leeue leaue your sight as your
company. Is this my reward for watching and watching?
Oh Mistris, doe not kill mee with vnkindnesse: I
shall, I shall—
Kath.
What shall you?
Clow.
Weepe out mine eyes, and fill the holes with salt water.
Kath.
I prythee leaue me, I am not displeasd,
But fayne would vent my sorrowe from my heart.
Hold, take my purse, spend that, and leaue my presence:
Go euery where, enquire my Pembrooke out:
And if thou bringst me to his breathlesse truncke,
I will reward thee with a treble gift.
Clow.
Well, I were best bee going, now I am so fayrely
offred. Mistris, your reward hath stopt my teares, and entic'de
my legges to be walking. Farewell, I will goe, God
knowes whither, to seeke and to finde both, and neyther.
Farewell, sweet Mistris.
Exit.
Kath.
O Pembrooke, let me kneele vnto thy bloud:
And yet I know not whether't be thy bloud,
Tells me it is the treasure of thy veynes,
If thou beest dead, thou mirrour of all men,
I vow to dye with thee: this field, this groue
Shall be my receptacle till my last:
Content with that that feeds the ayry soules,
My pillow shall be made a banke of mosse,
And what I drinke, the siluer brooke shall yeeld.
No other campe nor Court will Katharine haue,
Till fates do limit her a common graue.
Exit.
Enter Fraunce, Nauar, Philip, Flaunders, Thomasin, and attendants.
Nau.
Our daughter fled! whē? whither? which way? how?
Tho.
I know not.
Phil.
Bellamira, my liues ioy,
Vpon those pinnyons that support her flight,
Houers my heart, you beare away my soule.
Turne, turne agayne, and giue this earthly frame
Essentiall power, which for thine absence dyes:
Thou art the sweet of sweets, the ioy of ioyes:
For thee was Philip borne. O turne agayne,
And Philip is the blessedest of men.
Lew.
We are glad she's gone, though we dissemble it.
Sonne, bridle this affection, cease these laments,
Shee did not value them.
Nau.
Lewes, she did,
Till sauage hate that shape disfigured.
Phil.
O, she was worthy to be Queene of heauen.
Her beauty, e're it suffred violence,
Was like the Sunne in his Meridian Throne,
Too splendant for weake eyes to gaze vpon,
Shee was too bright before, till being hid
Vnder that enuious cloud, it tooke the place
Of a darke ground, to show a louelyer face.
That Leprosie in her seemd perfect beauty:
With vertue, which no foule calumnious breath
Could euer soyle, true vertues dye is such,
That malice cannot stayne, nor enuy tuch.
Then say not but her worth surmoūts these woes.
Nau.
She grieu'd to tye you to a hated bed,
And therefore followed Burbon for reuenge.
Phil.
Burbon? who names him? that same verball sound
Is like a thunder clap to Philips eares,
Frighting my very soule. Sure, you said, Burbon,
And to that prodegie you ioynd reuenge:
Reuenge, that like a shaddow followes him.
'Twas he that made me bankrout of all blisse,
Sude the diuorce of that pure white and red,
Which deckt my Bellamiraes louely cheeks:
And shall he scape vnpunisht?
Lew.
Ioyne your hands,
And all with vs sweare vengeance on the Duke.
Phil.
Not for the world: who prosecutes his hate
On Burbon, iniures me: I am his foe,
And none but I will worke his ouerthrow.
Lew.
What meanes our sonne?
Phil.
To hunt him for reuenge.
The darkest angle of this vniuerse,
Shall not contayne him through the bounded world:
Ile prosecute his flight with ceaslesse steps:
And when long trauell makes them dull or faynt,
Bayting them fresh with Bellamiraes wrongs,
Like Eagles they shall cut the flaxen ayre,
And in an instant bring me where he is.
Lew.
Where goes our sonne?
Phil.
To hell, so that in that kingdome,
Fate would assertayne me to meet with Burbon.
Where euer I confront him, this shall kill him.
Nau.
Thou shalt haue ayd to compasse thy reuenge.
Phil.
No ayd, but this strong arme. Farewell, farewell.
Since Bellamira hath forsooke her friend,
(Exit.
Lew.
Stay him: this fury will betray thy life.
Nau.
Poore king made wretched by thy daughters losse.
Lew.
Poore king made wretched by thy desperat sonne.
Enter Messenger.
Mess.
Spēd not your woes too fast, but saue some teares
To dew the obsequies of your dead sonne.
Nau.
What, Ferdinand?
Mess.
Hee's slaine by Pembrokes hands,
And Pembroke left breathles by Ferdinand.
Their quarrell is vncertain, and their bodies
By some vnciuill hands conuayed away,
And no inquiry can discouer them.
Nau.
Our sonne slaine? Bellamira poysoned?
Nauarre, teare off these hayres, and raging die.
Enter Rodoricke.
Lew.
More Tragedies at hand, what newes brings Rodoricke?
Rod.
Such as will make the hearers, sencelesse truncks.
Why doth your highnes in your foe-mens tents
Reuell away the time, and yeld your person,
To the knowne malice of your enemies,
Whilst in your owne tents, rapine and soule lust,
Graspes your fayre daughter to dishonour her?
Lew.
Our daughter?
Rod.
She is slily stolne from thence,
Yet none knowes whither, saue one Sentinell,
Who doth report he heard a wretched Lady
Exclaime, false Ferdinand would rauish her.
Lew.
That was my child dishonor'd by thy sonne.
Nau.
You wrong him, Fraunce.
Lew.
Thou hast betrayed vs, king,
And traynd vs to a loathed festiuall,
The mariage of thy staynd and leprous child,
Whilst in our absence, Ferdinand vniust,
Hath staind our daughters beautie with vild lust.
Flaun.
If you remember, he & English Pembroke
Last day forsooke your Campe, as discontent.
That proou'd their loues were faynd, and of set malice,
He came to view our Campe, how he might act
That deed of obloquy, and scape with lyte.
Nau.
Tis Fraunce hath done the wrong: you haue cōmenst
This deed of death on Pembrook & our son;
And now to couer it, suggest and fayne
Our guiltlesse sonne a guilty rauisher:
But render me their bodies.
Lew.
Where's our Child?
Nau.
Seeke her.
Lew.
Seeke Ferdinand.
Nau.
Fraunce.
Lew.
Petty king,
For this our wrong, looke to be vnderling.
Nau.
What Drum is this?
Lew.
Are we intrapt, Nauar?
Rod.
Feare not, on yonder hill, whose lofty head
Orelookes the vnder-valleyes, Royall Burbon,
Attended by ten thousand Souldiers,
Craues peace and faire accord with mighty Fraunce.
Nau.
Burbon, that was the ruyne of my Child?
Summon our forces straight and charge the slaue.
Fran.
In Burbons rescue draw our forces vp.
Nau.
What meanes the king of Fraunce?
Rod.
To ioyne with him.
Nau.
What? with a Traytor and a murtherer?
Lew.
He did a deed of merit and of fame,
Poysoned the Sister of a rauisher,
A Tarquin, an incestuous Tereus,
And our poore Child the wronged Philomell:
Arayne our Battailes straight, and ioyne with Burbon.
Nau.
Heare what wee'le vrge.
Lew.
Speake then in warre and death:
In other termes, our rage will spend no breath.
Nau.
And we will speake so lowd, that heauen it selfe
Shall eccho with the clanger: both our children
Weele race from our remembrance, and aduaunce
Conioyne with Burbon, e're three Sunnes shall set,
In the vast Kingdome of Oreanus:
In a pitcht field weele meet the King of Fraunce,
And that false Traytor Duke.
Lew.
Nauar, thou dar'st not.
Nau.
Now by Saynt Denis, and our Grandsires tombe,
Weele meet thee.
Lew.
Welcome. O, bring valiant men.
Weel think on nought but graues & tōbs til then.
Exeunt.
Rod.
Ha, ha: I laugh to see these Kings at iarre.
Now ciuill discord like a raging floud,
Swelling aboue her banks, shall drowne this land,
Whilst Rodorick on her ruines builds his hopes.
The King of Fraunce through my suggestion,
Thinks Katharine his daughter rauished,
Who onely wingd with loue, is fled the Campe:
Pembrooke and Ferdinand, in mutuall strife,
Slayne by eche other, doth confirme my words,
And for reuēge whets keene the two Kings swords.
Exit.
Enter Pembrooke armde, and the Forrester.
Pem.
I thāk thee, Forrester, whose rough grown walks,
Wild in aspect, afford more courtesy,
Then places smoother for ciuility.
My life redeemd by thy industrious hand,
Remaynes in loue and duty bound to thee.
For.
Fayre Knight, preuention of sad death, by health,
More ioyes my soule, then thanks or rich reward.
But is your armour easy? sits it well?
Pem.
I neuer in my life was better fitted.
This should be that vnlucky fatall place,
Where causlesse hate drew bloud from Ferdinand.
Behold the grasse, a purple register,
Still blusheth in remembrance of our fight.
Why wither not these trees? those herbs and plants?
Poore soules, they do, and haue wept out their sap,
Yet I haue paid no duety to my friend.
Where is the Tombe I wild you to erect?
Forr.
See, valiant knight, proportiond and set vp,
As well as my poore skill would suffer mee:
And here his picture hangs.
Pemb.
You haue done well:
Your hand I see's a perfect Architect
In sorrowes building: once more let suffice
I quite your painfull trauell but with thanks:
Now leaue me to my selfe, for here I vow
To spend the remnant of my haples dayes:
No knight nor Prince shall euer passe this way,
Before his tongue acknowledge Ferdinand
The faythfullest louer and the louingst friend
The world contaynes: Ile haue his Sepulcher
As yet but naked and vngarnished,
E're many dayes hang richer with the spoyles
And vanquisht Tropheyes of proud passengers,
Then was the Romanes wealthy Capitoll:
So, gentle Forrester, bequeath thy prayers
In my assistance; that is all I craue.
Forr.
The God of power giue power vnto your arme,
That you may proue victorious fortunate.
Pem.
Farewel, kind Host: & now let me embrace
This empty Monument of my lost friend.
Oh! wer't so happy to enshrine his bones,
How blest should Pembrooke be? but they are torne
By the fierce sauadge Wolfe, whose filthy mawe
Is made an vnfit graue to bury him.
But if (without offence) I may desire it,
I wish his soule from Paradise may see,
How well his name is kept in memorie:
These eyes that saw him bleed, haue wept for him:
This heart deuisde his harme, hath sigh'd for him:
And now, this hand, that with vngentle force
Make treble satisfaction to his soule.
Fortune, thou dost me wrong, to suffer me
So long vncombatted: I prythee send
Some stubborne Knight, some passenger,
Whose stout controuling stomacke wil refuse
To yeeld to my prescription, but by force.
I hate this idle rest of precious time.
How now! derid'st thou my deuotion, goddesse?
Enter Kathar.
Thou sendst a woman to incounter me.
Henceforth ile hold thee for a fayned name,
And no disposer of my Christian hopes:
But soft, I know that face: oh! I, tis she
Was vniust cause of all this misery.
Kath.
Long haue I wandred with vnquiet mind,
To find my Pembrook: that they fought, I heare:
That they were wounded both to death, I heare:
But whether cur'de or dead, I cannot heare:
Nor liues there any (if deceasde) can tell,
Within what place their bodies are interr'd.
Since therefore all my trauell is in vayne,
Here will I take a truce with former care.
This cursed nooke was that vnlucky plot,
Where cursed Ferdinand did kill my Loue.
What Knight is this? ile question him, perhaps
He can resolue me where my Pembroke is:
Ioy and good fortune, sir, attend your state.
Pem.
Your wishes come too late.
VVhat seeke you, Madam?
Kath.
Tel me, sir knight, for so you seeme to be:
Know you this dismall place you do frequent?
Or haue you heard of that vnhappy fight,
VVas here perform'd by Pembrook and his foe?
Pem.
Yes, Madam, I haue heard of it long since,
And, to my griefe, knew both the Gentlemen.
Kat.
But can you tell me if they liue or no?
Or dead, what hand hath giuen them buryall?
Rest you assured, Madam, they are dead:
The one of them to whom I was allyed,
And neerely knit in friendship from my youth,
By melyes buried heere: a brauer Knight,
And truer Louer neuer breathd in Fraunce.
Kath.
O tell me, is it Pembrooke? if for him
You haue erected this fayre monument,
Perpetuall honour I will doe your state.
Pem.
Not only, Madam, haue I built this tombe
In his memoriall: but my selfe haue sworne
Continuall residence within this Wood:
And for the loue I bare him, weare these armes,
That whatsoeuer Knight, aduenturer or other,
Making his iourney this way, and refusing
To do Knights homage to my breathlesse friend,
By this assayling steele may be compeld.
Kath.
Oh, let me know your name, so kindly mou'd,
To dignifie my Pembrookes high deserts.
Pem.
You did not heare me say 'twas Pēbrook, Madame
What is become of him, I doe not know,
Nor greatly care, since he did wrong my friend,
And first inkindled this dissensious brawle.
This buryed here, is noble Ferdinand,
His fathers comfort, and his Countryes hope.
Oh Madam! had you seene him as I did,
Begirt with wounds, that like so many mouthes,
Seem'd to complayne his timelesse ouerthrow:
And had before bin inward with his vertues,
To thinke that nature should indure such wracke,
And at one time so many precious gifts
Perish by death, would haue dissolu'd your heart.
He was the very pride of fortitude,
The house of vertue, and true frendships mirrour:
Looke on his picture, in the armes of death,
When he was ready to giue vp the ghost,
I causde it to be drawne: if at that time,
In that extremity of bitter pangs,
So quick a mouing eye, so red a lip,
What was his beauty when he was in health?
See with what courage he indur'd the combat,
Smiling at death for all his tyranny.
Had death bin ought but what he was, sterne death,
He would haue bin enamour'd with his looks.
Kath.
A certayne soft remorce
Creeps to my heart, perswades me he was true,
Louing, and vertuous: but my selfe vnkind,
Coyly to scorne the proffer of his mind.
Pem.
O that in Iustice of her former hate,
She now would hopelesse doate on Ferdinand!
Ile do the best I can to bring her on:
Despaire and madnesse, fetch her off againe.
Madam, how say you? wast not a grieuous thing,
So rich a Iem, should lye rak't vp in dust?
So sweet a flower, be withred in his prime?
Kath.
Death was a villayne for attempting it,
And so was Pembrooke for effecting it.
No bloudy Scythian, or inhumane Turke,
But would ha trembled to ha toucht his skin,
Or spilt one drop of his Heroick bloud.
Pem.
Had not that Lady then an yron heart?
A rude ingratefull mind? a sauadge spirit?
That knew this vertuous honourable Knight,
This gracious shape, and vnmatcht excellence,
To be intangled with her feruent loue,
To serue her in all loyalty of heart,
To reuerence and adore her very name,
To be content to kisse the lowly earth,
Where she did set her foot: and when he sued
For grace, to scorne him, to deride his sighes,
And hold his teares and torment in contempt?
Of all that euer liu'd, deseru'd she not,
The worlds reproch, and times perpetuall blot?
Kat.
Heard you him euer speak of such a one?
Oft times: but chiefly then, when he perceyu'd,
His hurt was mortall, and no way but death.
At euery groane, he cald vpon her name,
As if that sound were present remedy:
And when insulting death drew short his breath,
And now was ready to close vp his eyes:
Farewell, quoth he, where e're I find a shrine,
My soule fly thou to beautious Katharine.
Kat.
That ruthlesse mind, that iron sauage heart,
So greatly loued, and so little louing,
Breathes in this brest, 'twas I returnd disdaine,
For deepe affection; scorne for loyalty:
And now compassionlesse shall pine my selfe.
Oh Ferdinand, forgiue me, Ferdinand:
Inioyne me any penance for that wrong;
Say I shall tread a tedious pilgrimage
To furthest Palestine, and I will do it.
But peace, fond womā, these exclaimes are vaine:
Thy Ferdinand is dead and cannot heare,
As thou wast somtimes deafe, and wouldst not heare.
Pemb.
A iust reward. Come, Madam, haue you done?
Giue me the picture I may hang it vp.
Kath.
Oh take it not away: since I haue lost
The substance, suffer me to keepe the shaddow:
Me thinks, so long as this is in my hand,
I claspe my Ferdinand betweene mine armes:
So long as I behold this liuely forme,
So long am I refreshed by his smiles:
So long, me thinks, I heare him speake to me.
Knew I the Paynter drew this counterfeyt,
I would reward him with a mynt of gold.
Pem.
If such a pleasure you receyue by this,
I tell you, Madam, I shall shortly haue
His whole proportion cut in Alablaster,
Armd as he was when he encountred here,
Which kneeling, shall be set vpon his tombe.
Kath.
On that condition I will gather flowers,
And once a day pay tribute of choyce thanks,
To you the furtherer of my happinesse:
Till then, I place the picture where it was.
Enter Clowne, and Bellamira.
Clow.
Come on, Madam, me thinks now a maske would
do well: but I perceyue your drift, I smell your policy, you
think a bald face hath no need of a black mask. Shall I tel
you what you looke like? A broyld herring, or a tortur'de
Image made of playster worke.
Bel.
So, sirra, you may scoffe my misery.
Pem.
Still haunted with these women? are men vanisht?
Or what occasion leaues the Realme of Fraunce,
So voyd and empty of aduenturous Knights?
Clow.
Out of peraduenture, Madam, the ghost of Saint
George is come out of England, to see what hospitality S.
Denis keeps in Fraunce.
Pem.
Poore Bellamira, I lament thy state;
But I must still suppresse my discontent.
What are you so deformd with lothsome spots?
And what that Anticke keeps you company?
Clow.
Anticke! thou lyest, and thou wert a Knight of
ginger-bread: I am no Anticke, the whole parish where I
was borne will sweare, that since the raigne of Charlemain
there was not a better face bred or brought vp amongst
them.
Pem.
Away, ye russeting.
Kath.
Haue patience, Knight, how euer thus deform'd,
This Lady is the daughter of Nauar.
Madam, it ioyes me I haue met you heere,
Though much laments me of your heauy plight.
There needs no repetition of your wrong:
I know, the villayne Burbon did the deed,
Whom my incensed brother will reuenge.
Bel.
For Philips sake I haue bin martyrd thus,
And for his sake left King and Courtly life,
To entertayne a Pilgrims paynefull habit.
But on what strange aduenture stayes this Knight,
Kat.
For loue of Ferdinand your princely brother,
Whose Hearse he gards in honourable Armes.
Bel.
Is this my brothers Hearse? is this the place,
Where I was shipwrackt of a brothers name?
Oh, let me spend a louing sigh for him,
And sacrifice a sisters holy rites;
For euer rest, sweet Ferdinand, in peace,
Vntill thy body glorified from heauen,
Become immortall by thy soules returne.
Pem.
Poore Bellamira, how I pity thee!
Yet must forbeare to comfort thy distresse.
Clow.
Is my yong Lord buried here? I say no more, but
I pray God send him a ioyfull insurrection.
Kath.
Inough, sweet Bellamire,
These leprous spots, tis time they were remou'd.
Come, goe with me. Since I left Aquitayne,
And came acquaynted with these priuate walks,
It was my happy chance to meet an Hermit,
Whose skill in Phisike warrants present cure,
And pure refining of your poysoned bloud:
Ile bring you thither: afterward select
Delicious sweets, to decke your brothers tombe.
Come, sirra, follow vs.
Exeunt.
Clow.
Doe not think, Madam, that ile forsake you. And
so, sir, you that walk in pewter vessayle, like one of the worthyes,
will you be rul'd by me?
Pem.
Wherein?
Clow.
To set a gyn for Woodcocks, & catch your selfe first
Exit.
Pem.
Hence, beetle-head. And Pembrook, now bethink
How great a tyde of miseries breakes in.
First, thou art taxed with the losse of him,
Whom equall with thy selfe thou holdest deare:
Next, Bellamira is become a Leper,
Whose absence Philip carefully laments:
Then trecherous Burbon ioynes himselfe with Fraunce,
And both the Kings are angerly incenst:
Disdaynfull Katharine wastes with fruitlesse loue.
Would all so minded like mishap might proue.
But by this signall there are Knights at hand,
I must prouide their valours to withstand.
Enter Fraunce, Burbon, Rodoricke, Peter de Lions, at one dore: at the other, Nauar, Flaunders, 'Dicke Bowyer, and Souldiers, Pembrooke betweene them.
Pem.
Stay your intended march.
Lew.
What Peere of Fraunce,
Or in the world so haughty resolute,
Dare breathe the word of stay to mighty Fraunce?
Na.
Or what art thou presum'st to stay my course?
Pem.
A Knight I am, and to aduentures bound:
This monument erected for my friend,
By me is garded: If you meane to passe,
You must doe homage, or else fight with me.
Lew.
Homage of me! Know I am King of France,
And in subiection to no earthly power.
Nau.
Thou knowst not what thou sayst, to challenge vs,
Of any such inferiour priuiledge.
What homage is it thou requir'st of vs?
Pem.
First, to acknowledge him lyes buryed here,
The faythfulst Louer, and most valyant Knight,
That in this time drew sword, or manag'd horse.
Bow.
And what was he? Ascapart, or your Countreyman
Gargantua, that stuft euery button of his coate with
a load of hay? 'Shart, wee haue met a fellow; here's all
mouth, hee speakes nothing but Monarch. Doest thou
heare, King? giue me leaue to incounter this puckfist: and
if I doe not make him cry Peccaui, say Dicke Bowyer's a
powdred Mackrell.
Pet.
My bloud beginnes to boyle, I could be pleasd,
Theres many of my betters heere in place.
Fland.
King of Nauarre, let Flanders cope with him.
Burb.
Imperiall France, giue Burbon leaue to try
The hazzard of a combat with this Boaster.
Pem.
Dispatch, Nauarre, one of you come foorth,
To enterchange a warlike blow or two.
Lew.
First let vs know what penalty thou setst
Vpon thy selfe, if thou be vanquished.
Pem.
A recantation of my former wordes,
A seruitude to him that conquers me;
But who so euer is by me subdued,
Must leaue his Shield to beautifie this shrine.
Bur.
Let not Nauar, my Lord, rob vs of honor:
Say, Burbon first shall breake a Launce with him.
Rod.
Ascribe that priuiledge, my Lord, to mee:
And Rodorick will haue death, or victory.
Lew.
No, noble Rodorick, Burbon shall begin,
And as he speedes, we will imploy your power.
Pem.
Prouide thee, Burbon, Ile not fauour thee.
Bur.
Be sure Ile shew thee like hostility.
Lew.
Hold, the aduantage is on thy side,
The Duke of Burbon shal hang vp his shield.
Pem.
Ide rather haue his life, then al your shelds:
Who is next?
Bow.
Zounds, I think he has a patten to take vp all the Shields
ith Countrey, hang mee if thou wantst worke, heeres for
Nauar, the earle of Pembrok & Caualiero Bowier:
(Fight
A thousand pound to a Taylors bodkin, this fellow has a
familiar: but howsoeuer, thou mayst thank my lame legge:
theres my shield.
Lew.
Now Rodorick, betake you to your taske.
(Fight.
Rodor.
My fortune's answerable to the rest.
Lew.
Since all miscarrie, Fraunce will put his chaunce
Vpon the hazzard of the Dice for once.
Pem.
You are an Honorable foe, my Lord:
(Fight.
By law of Armes, you must hang vp your shield.
I yeld to law and thy approoued valour.
King of Nauar, will onely you sit out?
Nau.
No, king of Fraunce, my bloud's as hot as thine,
And this my weapon shall confirme my words.
(Fight.
Bow.
Nauar down too! 'Shart, this fellow hath the tricke of it:
If he be not a witch or some Deuill, let me be
Flickt into a Carbinado.
Nau.
Thou sonne of Chiualrie, let me now intreate,
To know his name, for whome thou reapst this honor:
Or what he was, whose bodie's lie ere interde?
Pem.
A valiant Knight, his name, yong Ferdinand,
Slayne by misfortune of a friendly hand.
Nau.
Is it my sonne thou mak'st thy valours prise,
And striu'st so to eternize with thy sword?
Let me imbrace thee. Not alone my shield,
But I will leaue my heart vpon his shrine.
My dearest Ferdinand, I would my sighes,
Or sad lamenting teares might haue the power,
Like Baluie to quicken thy benummed ioynts,
Then would I drowne this marble e're I went,
And heat it hote with vapour of my breath.
Lew.
Nauar this how may testify thy wrong,
In false accusing me for his remoue.
Na.
Thou maist be guilty stil for ought I know:
For though I find him dead, I find not yet
The Tragick maner of his haples end.
Thou mayst as well haue murdred Ferdinand,
As fauour him hath poysond Bellamira.
Lew.
Iniurious king, it was base Ferdinand,
On whom iust heauens haue shown iust vengeance heere,
Rauisht my Katharine and conuayed her hence,
Where I shall neuer more behold her face.
Nau.
Tis false, and wee'le mayntain it with our swords.
Lew.
Tis true, and wee'le mayntain it with our swords.
Pem.
By heauen, the toung prophanes the sacred name
of Ferdinand with any villany,
And so dam in his blasphemous vpbraydes.
Nau.
Content thee, knight, Ile ease thee of that labor.
To morrow is expir'd the time of truce.
Fraunce, on with thy Battalions to the plaine
Thou wast prepar'd before to pitch vpon,
Ile meet thee there.
Lew.
And I will meet with thee.
Sound Drums and Trumpets: honord knight, farewell:
Who shal suruiue next morn, strāge newes shal tel.
Exeūt.
Pem.
Thus heady rage, blind in her rash resolue
Drew Ferdinand and mee into the field,
As now it doth these hot incensed kings.
Wer't not my vowes prohibit my desire,
To stay the inconuenience of this fight,
I would discouer where their Daughters are,
To shew the error they are shrouded in:
But Time hath run a desperate course with mee,
And desperate let them runne to misery:
Here comes a Straggler of their Army. Stand.
Enter Philip.
Phil.
What voice is that presumes to byd me stand?
Pem.
His that can force thee, if thou wilt not stand.
Phil.
By this bright ayre reflecteth on my sword,
If the whole Army of Nauar had said
As much to Philip, yet he would not stand.
And thou but one, how dar'st thou profer it,
Knowing how sharp a Spurre doth pricke me on,
The death of Burbon for my Bellamire?
Pem.
Hang vp thy shield, as other knights haue done,
Vpon the Hearse of noble Ferdinand,
And thou mayest freely passe without controule.
Phil.
The Hearse of Ferdinand! I honor him,
He was the brother of my dearest Loue,
What's this I see? my fathers batterd shield!
The shield of Fraunce! of Flaunders! Burbons too!
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 traytrous Burbon I haue slayne,
Knight, looke for me, ile visit thee agayne.
Now Rodorick, keepe thy word, and I am blest:
But if thou fayle, ile forward with the rest.
Exit.
Pem.
Succesfull action sit vpon thy sword:
This net of sorrowes, I perceyue, intangles
Not only Pembrooke, but the Court of France.
Nauar and his associats are all toucht.
Time looke vpon vs, and at last determine,
This heart-disseuering tumults with a peace.
Enter Ferdinand.
Ferd.
Since, Ferdinand, by gracious prouidence,
Thou art recouered of thy mortall wounds;
With the new life thy body is reuiude,
Reuiue the ancient passions of thy mind,
Think on thy friend, on Pembrook take remorse,
Whose honord life, thy hasty hand cut off:
This is the place, as I remember mee.
Whats heere? a Tombe? who hath preuented me
In my religious duty to my friend?
You, Knight, I doubt not, can resolue me.
Pem.
What art thou? stand,
Ferd.
A Knight, and fayne would know,
What sacred monument and Tombe this is?
Pem.
His, whilst he liu'd, that of the worlds increase,
Was the most loyall friend, and valiant Knight:
Which thou must likewise ratifie with me,
And hang thy shield vp to adorne his Hearse,
Or venture Combate for denying it.
Fer.
His name, I pray thee.
Pem.
Ferdinand.
Fer.
What's he acquainted with my name? belike some one
Me slaine by him, to satisfie for that,
Obserues this honor in my memory:
Be not thou Ferdinand ingratefull then,
But stand for Pembroke, as this knight for thee.
Pem.
What answere giuest thou? shal I homage haue?
Fer.
Not for his sake thou nam'st, not for Ferdinand:
There liu'd a knight exceld his petty fame,
As farre as costly Pearle the coursest Pebble:
An English knight cald Pembroke, were his bones
Interred heere, I would confesse of him
Much more then thou requir'st, and be content
To hang both shield and sword vpon his Hearse.
Pem.
How comes this stranger by my name? Belike
He was affected vnto Ferdinand:
And for his sake (hearing he did me wrong)
Couets to make amends, or meanes to prooue
If I imbrace him with vnfayned loue.
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,
Giuing to Pembroke that preeminence.
Pem.
For Ferdinand my valour will I try.
Fer.
In Pembrooks valour I will fight and die.
Discouer eche other in fighting.
Pem.
Eyther I dreame, or this is Ferdinand.
Fer.
My sight deludes me, or stout Pembroke lyues.
Pem.
Thrice happy honord, I do imbrace my friend.
Fer.
Welcome, oh welcome Pembrok, to myne armes,
Whom I imagined, death had tane from me.
Pem.
The like did I by Princely Ferdinand:
But that he liues, my soule confounds with ioy.
Fer.
Tell me, deare friend, since our vnlucky fight,
Haue you heard ought of my disdainfull Loue?
Pem,
Of her and all the rest: Her father liues:
This is his shield, and this is great Nauars:
And this malicious Burbons: all the which
I forc't from them, to beautifie thy shrine.
But tis of Katharine thou desir'st to heare:
She likewise hath bin here; her flinty heart,
So much before inclind to cruelty,
Now waxeth tender: she no sooner saw
Thy picture here; but by heauens prouidence,
Or how I know not, she so doats on it,
As I supposde she would a dyed for loue.
Fer.
Has then my shaddow and supposed death
Brought that to passe my liuing substance could not?
Pem.
It hath, and neuer Lady more enamour'd,
Then now is Katharine of her Ferdinand.
I told her, and no more then truth I told,
A cunning Caruer had cut out thy shape
And whole proportion in white Alablaster,
Which I intended here should be set vp.
She earnestly entreated she might haue
A sight of it, and dayly be permitted
To deck thy tombe and statue with sweet flowers.
Shee's but euen now departed to that end,
And will (I know) be quickly here agayne.
Now for assurance I dissemble not,
Instead of thy resemblance cut in stone,
Kneele here thy selfe, and heare her pitious mone.
Fer.
Content, I hold your counsell for the best:
Weele once conclude our sorrowes with a iest.
Pem.
Soft, there's a cushē: nay, you must be bare,
And hold your hands vp, as the maner is.
Fer.
What if I held a booke, as if I prayed?
Pem.
'Twere best of all; and now I think vpon't,
Here is a booke: so, keepe your countenance,
You must imagine now you are transform'd.
Yonder she comes, in any case stir not.
Enter Katharine.
Kath.
I feare I haue detracted time too long,
But Ile redeeme my fault with double care.
See where his statue is set vp: kind Knight,
For euer Katharine will record thy truth.
Pem.
How say you, Madam, ist not very like him?
Kath.
As like, as if it were himselfe indeed.
And would to God my prayers might be heard,
That as the Image of Pigmalion once,
Life might descend into this sencelesse stone:
But that was faynd, as my desire is fond,
Relentlesse death withholds my Ferdinand;
And no intreaty may recouer him.
In token then I doe repent my scorne,
That I was cruell to so kind a friend,
Thou the presenter of his absent person,
Receiue these sweets, thy temples be adornd
With this fresh garland; thy white Iuory hand
Boast of this Ring, which if thou wert aliue,
Should bind our faythes vp in a nuptiall knot:
But for thou canst not be reuiu'd agayne,
Ile dwell with thee in death: and as my spirit
Mounts to the happy mansion of thy spirit:
So to accompany thy shaddow here,
Ile turne my body to a shaddow too;
And kneeling thus, confront thy silent lookes,
With my sad looks: this is the Instrument.
Now Ferdinand, behold thy Katharine comes.
Fer.
And she is welcome vnto Ferdinand.
Pem.
Ile play the clark for both, and say Amen.
Nay, muse not, Madam, tis no sencelesse Image,
But the true essence of your wished Loue.
Kath.
I am asham'd to looke him in the face.
Fer.
Hide not those splendāt lights, here after be
A constant wife, it shall suffice for me.
Kat.
Heauen cast her off, if Katharine proue not so.
Pem.
Of that no more: now let vs haste from hence,
To quiet the dissension lately sprung
To be reueng'd on Burbons trechery,
Perhaps may stand in need of friendly ayd:
To him and them our vowes must next be payd.
Fer.
What Pembrook counsels, we cōsent vnto.
Exeunt.
Enter Rodoricke and Philip.
Rod.
Now whilest our Armies wearied with the heat
That the bright sunne casts from his midday throne,
Abstayne from bloudy entercourse of warre,
Ile lead thee Philip vnto Burbons Tent.
Phil.
Rodoricke, thou highly fauourest me in this,
And doubt not, if my complot take effect,
Ile make thee Duke of Burbon.
Enter Lewes, Flaunders, and Burbon.
Rod.
Stay your speach, heere comes king Lewis.
Phil.
They can not know me, I am so disguisde.
Burb.
Follow my counsayle, and immediatly begin the Battayle.
Lew.
Why, the heat's great,
It burnes in our Armour as we march.
Flan.
It burnes the enemy as well as wee.
Bur.
It warmes our Souldiers spirits & makes them fire:
I had rather dye, then when my bloud is hot,
Be awde by counsell, till it freeze like Ice:
He is no Souldier, that for feare of heat,
Will suffer victory to fly the field.
Rod.
My Lord of Burbon, ye are more hot then wise.
Bur.
Rodorick, me thinkes you are very peremptory.
Rod.
It is in zeale of the generall good:
Go to your Tent, refresh your vnscorcht lymmes:
There draw your battels modell: and as soone
As the coole winds haue fand the burning Sunne,
And made it tractable for trauaylers:
Arme you, and mount vpon your barbed Steed,
Charge brauely on the Army of our foe.
Lew.
The Duke of Orleance hath counseld well,
Ile in and recreate me in my Tent.
Farewell, my Lord, when you resolue to fight,
Proclayme your meaning by a Canons mouth,
And with a volley I will answere you.
Exit Lewes.
Bur.
If you will needs retyre, farewell my Lord.
Ha Rodoricke, are not we fine Polyticians,
That haue so quaintly wrought the King of Fraunce
Vnto our faction, that he threatens warre,
Against the almost reconcilde Nauar?
Rod.
But this is nothing to the actes weele do:
Come, come, my Lord, you trifle time with words:
Sit downe, sit downe, and make your warlike plot:
But wherfore stand these murdrous Glaues so nye?
Phil.
Touch them not, Rodorick, prythee let them stand.
Bur.
Some paper, pen, and incke.
Enter Peter.
Peter.
My Lord.
Bur.
Post to the Master Gunner,
And bid him plant his demy culuerings
Against the kings pauilion.
Peter.
Presently.
Bur.
But first, bring pen and incke and paper straight.
Rodoricke, thou shalt assist mee in this plot.
Rod.
Do it your selfe, my Lord, I haue a charge
Of Souldiers, that are very mutinous,
And long I dare not stay, for feare my absence
Be cause of their reuolt vnto Nauar.
Bur.
Then to your Souldiers: I will to my plot.
Phil.
Away my Lord, leaue me vnto the Duke.
Rod.
Kill you the Duke, and after Ile kill thee.
Bur.
This pen is stabbed, and it will not write,
The Incke that's in the Standage doth looke blacke,
This in my pen is turnd as red as bloud.
Phil.
The reason that the platforme you would make,
Must by this hand be written with thy bloud.
Zounds, what art thou that threatens Burbon so?
Phil.
One that's as desperat-carelesse of his life,
As thou art timerous, and fearst to dye.
Bur.
Comest thou to kill me?
Phil.
If I should say no,
This weapon would condemne me, which I seyz'd
Of purpose, Burbon, to bereaue thy life.
Bur.
Why, fond man, mad man, know'st thou what thou doest?
Phil.
I know it, Burbon, and I know besides,
What thou wouldst say, to daunt my resolution.
Burb.
What would I say?
Phil.
Why, that this place is death,
As being thy Tent, enuiron'd with thy flaues;
Where if I kill thee, tis impossible
To scape with life: this, Burbon, thou wouldst say:
But Philip is not to be mou'd with words.
Burb.
Philip!
Phil.
I Philip, Bellamiraes Loue,
Whose beauty, villayne, thou hast poysoned:
For which I haue vow'd thy death, and thou shalt dye.
Therefore betake you to what fence you will,
Amongst this bundle chuse one weapon forth,
And like a worthy Duke prepare thy selfe,
In knightly maner to defend thy life:
For I will fight with thee, and kill thee too,
Or thou shalt giue an end vnto my life.
But if thou call vnto thy slaues for helpe,
Burbon, my sword shall nayle thee to the wall:
And thinke Prince Philip is a Prince indeed,
To giue thee this aduantage for thy life.
Bur.
Boy, I will scourge your insolence with death.
Phil.
Come on.
Fight, and kill Burbon.
Bur.
Oh, I am slayne.
Rod.
Murder, murder, Burbon the Duke is slayne.
Phil.
Peace, Rodorick, I am Philip thy deare friend.
Rod.
Thou art a counterfet, I know thee not.
Didst not thou guide me vnto Burbons Tent?
Rod.
I guide thee to the Tent? I know thee not.
What, murder, ho: will no man heare my voyce?
Enter Peter, and 2. or 3. souldiers.
Pet.
Yes, here are those can heare well ynough.
Where is the murdered, and the murderer?
Rod.
Peter, behold thy masters breathlesse truncke,
And there's Prince Philip that hath murdered him.
Pet.
To auoyd prolixity, Ile kill him:
Yet first giue me leaue to weepe for my master.
Rod.
First, seyze the murderer, and after weepe.
Phil.
He that first ventures to attach my life,
Let him be sure he hath a life to spare:
For I will send one breathlesse to the graue.
Pet.
You that haue nyne liues, assault the gentleman.
Rod.
What peasants, dare you not attach the slaue?
Ile rayse the whole Campe, but ile apprehend him.
Alarum drummes: Souldiers, incircle him,
And eyther apprehend or slay the wretch.
Enter Pembrooke, and Ferdinand.
Pem.
Tis princely Philip, helpe to rescue him.
Rod.
What slaues are these that dare oppose thēselues,
In rescue of a murderer 'gainst an Host?
Fer.
Such as will make thee, Rodorick, fly for life.
Pet.
Zounds, men are mortall; to auoyd prolixity, my
Lord of Orleance, your best course is flying, and therein I
will be your follower.
Rod.
Fly before three, and be thus strong?
'Twere madnesse.
Pem.
We trifle time, let's driue them from the Tent.
Pem.
Liue, worthy Philip, Pembrooke bids thee liue,
That did suspect this complot at the tombe,
When in the honour of Prince Ferdinand,
You did resigne your shield.
Phil.
Th'Earle of Pembrooke!
Fer.
And Ferdinand that loues thee as his soule.
Phil.
Two liues I owe my starres, beside mine owne,
In sending me two friends of such import.
Durst you aduenture thorow the enemies Campe,
And put your liues in danger to saue mine?
Pem.
The rumour of the Duke of Burbons death,
Hath so possest the Campe with admiration,
That they regardlesse suffer all to passe:
Only this, Rodorick wakens them a little;
But cannot weane them from their wondring minds.
Phil.
That Rodorick is a perfect villayne turn'd:
For though he guided me vnto his Tent,
And gaue his liking that the Duke should dye;
Yet how the villayne cryed to murder me.
But come, in this confusion let's be gone,
Tis dangerous to abide in Burbons Tent.
Rodoricke, thou art the next must taste of death:
That taske once done, we shall with little payne,
Our angry fathers reconcile agayne.
Alarum, Enter Nauar, Bowyer, Nod, Core, Souldiers, drum and colours.
Nau.
The Alarum sounded in the enemies Campe.
Now for Nauar and Fame, stand to it, sirs.
Bow.
Hart, stand to it? heere's some of vs knowes how
to runne away, and they be put to it: Though wee haue
lost our braue Generall, the Earle of Pembrooke, yee
Cards; and Mahound and Termagant come against vs,
weele fight with them. Couragio, my hearts, S. George
for the honour of England.
Nau.
The aduerse part comes on, fight gallantly.
Enter Fraunce, Flaunders, and Souldiers, with Drum and Colours.
Lew.
Is false Nauar so thirsty to drinke bloud,
That he must ioyne the Squadron of his troops,
Before the signall of the battel's giuen.
Belike you thought to take vs vnpreparde.
No, king, our wrong hangs like a watch before vs,
And makes vs nomber euery short-lynd minute,
Till your liues answere for our Daughters death;
Charge braue spirits: Saint Denis now for Fraunce.
Nau.
Saint Denis for Nauar: Alarum Drums.
Alarum, they fight, Fraunce put to the worst, enters Rodorike and Peter, the fight continued, and Nauar driuen in.
Lew.
Nauar and his weake forces make retire:
Pursue them, Sirs, the victorie is ours.
Rod.
Be like staru'd Lions 'mongst a heard of Beasts,
Ruthelesse and bloudy slaughters all you meete,
Till proud Nauar be slayn, or kisse your feet:
Saint Denis, and cry murder through the host.
Alarum, enter Pembrooke, Ferdinand & Philip.
Pem.
He that steps forward with a murdring thought,
Marries him selfe to death. Fraunce, cease the fight:
They are Frenchmen you pursue, French men you should saue.
Dig not for Traytors loue your subiects graue.
Lew.
What franticke knights are those that dare oppose
Phil.
Those that wish you and Fraunce bright fames encrease.
So you would chase hence war, and welcome peace.
Rod.
That was the Traytor, that slew royall Burbon.
Pet.
Downe with the villaynes.
Rod.
Souldiers, seyze on him,
And then pursue Nauar with sudden death.
Fer.
E're the least hayre fall from his kingly head,
Rodorick, thy base trunck shall be butchered.
Pem.
Will you accept of peace?
Lew.
Follow Nauar.
Pet.
Downe with that murderer.
Fer.
Zounds, then in spight,
Weele saue Nauar, and chase you hence in fight.
All.
Ha, ha.
Pem.
Nay, smile not, though our number's few,
Our great hearts tell vs, we shall conquere you.
Alarum, and S. George.
Alarum, they fight. Enter Nauar and his forces: Fraunce chaste away.
Nau.
Fraunce and his daunted forces giues vs ground:
Charge, charge agayne, and we are Conquerours.
Phil.
Stand, or ne're stirre agayne.
Nau.
What meane these Knights?
Pem.
To stop your passage this way, great Nauar.
I charge thee, by the duty of a King,
Thy loue to Iustice, and thy subiects liues,
You sound retreat, and make a peace with Fraunce.
Nau.
A peace, and haue the vantage of the day?
Bow.
That's a tricke, by Iesu, to mocke an Ape: wee'le
none of that.
Nau.
Wee'le haue no peace, but what our swords can make.
Follow the chase.
Phil.
Are you growne insolent?
Nay, then our swords turne to your ouerthrow.
Alarum, they fight, and driue in Nauar.
Fer.
That was my father that you fought against.
Phil.
You did as much to mine.
Pem.
Princes, agree: force cānot end this war, but policy.
Therefore dispearse your selues, and let our Squires,
With Trumpets in their mouthes sound lowd retreat,
Where you perceiue the fight most violent.
The strangenesse of which act will straight amaze,
When they shall heare both peace and war denounc'd,
And one selfe instant, they will soone retire.
To know the issue, Princes, fall to worke:
Tis worke of charity, 'twould doe me good,
If we could end this battell without bloud.
Fer.
I hope we shall: farewell, ile to my charge.
Pem.
The like will Pembrooke.
Phil.
Philip is not last.
Yet though I seeke the safety of my frends,
Rodorick shall lose his bloud, e're this fight ends.
Alarum, excursions. Enter Peter leading Thomasin.
Pet.
Struggle not, striue not, your sweete heart Bowyer
cannot saue you. Without prolixity, you must goe
with mee.
Tho.
Helpe, helpe.
Pet.
And the God of warre come in thy defence, my
humour is to kill him. Come away.
Enter Bowyer.
Bow.
By Iesu, & you go this way, you must pay custom.
Zounds, you pickt-hatch Caualiero petticote-monger, can
you find time now to be catching Thomasin? come, deliuer,
or by Zenacrib, & the life of king Charlemayne, ile thrash
will you not doe, you Tan-fat? zounds, then haue at you.
They fight, Bowyer hath the wench, rescued by France, recouered by Nauar: Philip meetes Rodorick, rescued by Peter: retreat is sounded, the enemies begin to retire, Rodorick chas'd by Philip: Enter at seuerall doores, after retreate sounded, Pembrooke and Ferdinand.
Fer.
Are the Kings seuerd? will they bow to peace?
Pem.
Peace is a welcome ghest vnto their hearts:
But Rodoricke, like a greedy enuious churle,
Fearing to spend his wealth, still keeps them backe,
Tis he exasperates the Princes hate:
And when our Trumpets call them to retyre,
He with warres clangor sets them on agayne.
Vnlesse he be remoou'd, our labour's lost.
Fer.
It shall not; for ile seeke him through the Host,
And with this sword pare off the Traytors head.
Pem.
Doe, and ile scowre these ranks: if Pembroks eye
Encounters his, he meets his Tragedy.
Alarum, Enter Philip, pursuing Rodoricke.
Phil.
Stay, warlike friends, and ayd me in reuenge.
Fer.
That is Rodoricke.
Pem.
Heere's the Traytor, strike him downe.
Phil.
Who lifts his arme at him, strikes at my brest.
Rod.
Why haue you thus ring'd me about with swords?
Phil.
To shew thee thou must dye.
Rod.
What haue I done,
That thus you labour my destruction?
Pem.
Thou wer't a party in all Burbons wrongs.
Fer.
Falsely term'd Ferdinand a Rauisher.
Pem.
Set discord 'twixt these Kings.
Phil.
Practised my death.
Pem.
Villayne, for this, our swords shall stop thy breath.
Stand not to argue, let's all runne at him.
Phil.
Now as you loue my loue, or prize mine honour,
Touch not the Traytor, he is Philips foe;
And none but I must worke his ouerthrow.
Thrice in the battell he was rescued from me:
But now hee's falne into the Lyons paw,
From whence the whole world cannot ransome him.
Preseruers of my life, heroick friends,
Be you my safety, keepe the Souldyers off,
Whilst in the midst by fayre and equall fight,
I send this Traytor to eternall night.
Ferd.
By heauen agreed.
Pem.
Heere Pembrooke takes his stand:
Come Fraunce and all the world, I will not start,
Til Philips knightly sword pearce Rodoricks hart.
Rod.
Accurst, I am betrayd, incompast round:
Now lyfe and hope and state must kisse the ground.
Phil.
Rodorick, thou seest, all wayes are stopt to flie,
Be desperat then, fight brauely, and so die.
Alarum they fight: enter to Pembrooke Nauar, Bowyer, & Souldiers: to Ferdinand, Fraunce, Flaunders & Souldiers: they fight and keepe them backe: Rodoricke would scape, still kept in the midst, and kild by Philip.
Phil.
Now are his trecheries repaid with death:
Philip and Pembrooke, sound your retreats
With better hope; in him all hatred endes:
The kings will now loue peace, & soone be friends.
Exeunt. Enter Peter wounded, Bowler following.
Bow.
Zounds, neuer runne for the matter, a scratcht face
can not serue your turne, we must haue bloudy noses: stād
on your gard: & I do not make haggasse puddings of your
guttes, Ile neuer dominier in the long Alleyes agayne.
Cymnell, Ile cracke you for this, Ile teach you to
deale with Peter de Lions, and that without prolixitie.
Bow.
Do: haue at you in earnest: S. George, you rogue.
Alarum, fight: Bowyer kills him.
Bow.
So, there's for your prolixities: there's for Thomasin:
the Thornbackly slaue, and he were made of any
thing but gristles, I am a pumpian: 'Shart, he had no mettle
in him: yet how the villayne crak't and dominierd
when he was liuing: ah, sirra, neuer gryn for the matter,
tis Captayne Bowyer that speaks it. When thou meetst
the great Deuill, commend me to him, and say, I sent him
thee for a new yeres gift: and there's one Sarlaboys to, as
arrant a bloud-sucker, and as notable a coward, as euer
drew weapon in a bawdy house: hee carryes my marke about
him: if Dicke Bowyer be not writ a bountifull benefactor
in hell for my good deeds, in sending thither such
Canibals, I am a Rabbit-sucker: yet I scorne to vaunt of
my deeds too. They sound a retreat: farewell, Peter, and
learne hereafter what it is to be riuall to an English gentleman,
Caualiero Bowyer, one of the nyne worthyes.
Exit.
A retreyt. Enter at one dore, Fraunce, Flaunders, and Souldiers: at the other dore Nauar, Bowyer, and Souldiers.
Lew.
Nauar, why haue you sounded a retreyt?
Will your proud heart decline and call vs Lord?
Nau.
We thought by the faynt lāguage of your drums,
Fraunce would haue knowne his errour, and beg'd peace.
Lew.
Fraunce beg a peace!
Nau.
Nauar 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 faynting breath,
Lew.
Nauar derides vs.
Nau.
Fraunce, tis you that doo't.
Lew.
Sound war, and brauely let vs once more too't.
Enter in the middest, Pembrooke, Ferdinand, and Philip.
Pem.
Kings of Nauar and Fraunce, why doe you thus
With ciuill butchery wound this blessed land,
Which like a mother, from her melting eyes,
Sheds crymson teares, to see you enemyes?
Lewes of Fraunce, wherein hath great Nauar
Dangerd your state, that you should prosecute
War with her largest ruine? how hath Fraunce
Sowed such inueterate hate within your brest,
That to confound him, you will vndergoe
The orphants curse, the widdowes teares & cries,
Whose husbands in these warres haue lost their liues?
E're you contend, discourse your grieuances.
Lew.
False Ferdinand his sonne, rauisht our child.
Fer.
Now by my Knighthood, honor, and this gage,
Fraunce, ile approue you wrong that Ferdinand.
Phil.
Who can accuse him?
Lew.
That did Rodorick.
Pem.
That Traytor, for a deed so false, so foule,
Hath answered it by this, euen with his soule.
Nau.
Our sonne, and valours bloome, th'English Pembrooke,
By Lewes trechery were butchered.
Phil.
Were the whole world ioynd in so false a thing,
Alone Ide combat all, and cleere the King.
Pem.
Fraunce neuer had dessigne in their two deaths.
Nau.
He leagu'd with Burbon, that destroyd my child.
Lew.
He poysoned her deseruedly.
Phil.
That deed of shame
Cut off his life, and rac'd out Burbons name.
Lew.
His death shalbe thy death; for thy hand slue him.
Nau.
This other in the battell twice to day,
Till we haue veng'd our malice on these knights?
Lew.
Nauar, agreed. Souldiers, this kyld your Lords.
Nau.
And this our fame: let's mangle them with swords.
Pem.
Take truce a while with rage: heare what wee'le vrge:
This knight slew Burbon, this inforst you fly;
Therfore you hate them, and for hate they die.
Since then true vertue is disfigured,
Desert trod downe, and their heroick worth,
In iustice doomd on Traytors merits, Death:
Behold these two, which thousands could not daunt,
But your vngratitude, on bended knee,
Yeeld vp their swoords to bide your tyranny.
'Twas he kild Burbon: if you loue him dead,
Shew it by paring off this valiant head:
Do you the like; to this reuenge apace.
They feare not threats, and scorne to beg for grace.
Lew.
And they shall find none.
Nau.
Knights, tryumph in death,
We are your headsmen, Kings shall stop your breath.
They take off their Helmets.
Lew.
Philip, my sonne!
Nau.
Young Ferdinand my ioy!
Pem.
Call them not sonnes, whom you would fayne destroy.
Nau.
Hold not our age too long in deepe suspect.
Art thou Ferdinand?
Lew.
And thou Philip?
Fer.
We are the friendly sonnes of aduerse parents,
Your long lost children, though supposed slayne,
We liue, and come to ioy your age agayne.
Nau.
Welcome all earthly blisse.
Lew.
Welcome, deare child,
Thy presence halfe our sorrow hath exil'd.
Pem.
How soon this Scene is chāg'd! those that euē now
Were sworne warres seruants, now to peace do bow:
Then Pembrooke, striue to make their ioyes more full.
See, kingly father, to that princely sonne.
Pembroke, that did deuide thee from his sight,
And cut so many passages of death,
In his indeared bosome, humbly thus
Forgets his honour, and from your hye hand,
Inuokes reuenge for wounding Ferdinand.
Fer.
Still he surmounts me in an honour'd loue,
Rise, friend; or if thou striu'st to haue the world,
In me, as in a glasse, see a false friend.
Behold, I kneele, and here proclayme to all,
My friendship's broke, but thine substantiall.
Na.
Model of vertue, honord Pembroks Earle,
Rise in as deare regard as Ferdinand.
Oh, had I Bellamira once in hold,
Age would turne youth, & I should ne're be old.
Lew.
Had I my Katharina once agayne,
Our ioy were then stretcht to the highest strayne:
But she was rauisht, and then murthered.
Phil.
Beare not that hard opinion: Rodoricks toung
Slaundred that Prince, and did his vertue wrong.
Pem.
Lewis of Fraunce, heare what an English Earle
Speaks in the front and view of all thy Host:
If euer Ferdinand staynd Katharines honour,
I was a party: yet in all your Campe,
Who dares step forth and call me rauisher?
No, Fraunce, know Pembroke is an Englishman,
Highly deriu'd, yet higher in my thoughts;
And for to register mine acts in brasse,
Which all-deuouring time shall ne're race out,
Haue I through all the Courts of Christendome,
In knightly tryall prou'd my vertue sound,
Raisd Englands fame aloft; and shall I now,
In her next continent, her neighbour Realme.
Fraunce, on whose bosome I may stand and see
That blessed soyle, that bred and fostred me,
Soyle all my late got honour, to consent
Vnto a royall Princes rauishment?
Or from a hungry Lyon teare his pray,
Then dare to act a deed so infamous:
Enter Katharina.
But words are ayre: Lewis, behold this face;
This proues our honour cleere from all disgrace.
Lew.
My Katharine!
Phil.
My deare sister!
Fer.
My fayre Loue!
Pem.
See, Princes, loues effect: she flies your hand,
To liue imbrac't with her deare Ferdinand.
Lew.
And heauen forbid that we should sunder them.
Nauar, reach me thy hand: grym war is fled,
And peace shall end the same in a nuptiall bed.
Sonne Philip, ratify your sisters choyce.
Phil.
Euen with my soule: for euer liue you blest.
Oh Bellamira, had not cursed Burbon,
For beauty robd thy cheeks with Leprosie:
Hadst thou but stayd with me, as is their state,
So had bin mine, happy and fortunate.
Enter Clowne attyred like a Gentleman, Bellamira following with a Scarfe on her face.
Clow.
By your leaue, sweet blouds: may a Gentleman
or so, deceyue two or three ounces of words in this
assembly?
Lew.
You may.
Clow.
Is there not a young Kings sonne amongst you,
who treading the steps of his father, is called Philip?
Phil.
I am the man thou seekst.
Clow.
Then the old saying is verified, He that seeks, shall
find. Heere is a poore kinswoman of mine would desire
some priuate conference with you, or so.
Phil.
With me? whom see I? Bellamira?
Nau.
Daughter!
Phil.
Do not deride my woes, speake, speake, I pray.
Pem.
Looke not so strange, it is thy louely Loue,
Embrace her then: and now Nauar and Fraunce,
Here end your strife, and let all hatred fall,
And turne this warre to Hymens festiuall.
Nau.
This Pembrooks counsell we subscribe vnto.
Lew.
The like doth France: Louers imbrace your Loues;
And Captaines, ioyne your Bands, mix power with power,
And let those swords, which late were drawne for death,
Sleepe in their sheathes. You, worthy Pembrooke,
And all your followers, shall receyue our fauours,
In plenteous largesse: so, set on to Court;
Sound Drums and Trumpets, deafe the ayre with cryes,
And fill eche subiects heart with ioyes increase,
T'applaud our childrens loue, and this dayes peace.
FINIS.
| The History of the tryall of Cheualry | |