[SCENE 2.]
Enter Burbon, Navar, Philip, Bellamira, Rodoricke, and attendants.
Bur. Navar, you sprinckle me with foule reproch And dimme the luster of our royall name With colours of dishonour.
Nav. Heare me, Burbon.
Bur. What words can satisfy so great a wrong? Have you not, with consent of all your Lords, Promis'd your daughter to this generous prince?
Nav. Their true love forst us to it.
Bur. True love? 'tis faynd.
Phil. Ha, Burbon!
Bel. Gentle Philip—
Phil. With my sword Ile prove my love unfayned, thee a false Lord.
Bur. This like a Sanctuary frees thy toung And gives thee childish liberty of speech, Which els would fawne and crouch at Burbons frowne.
Phil. Now by St. Denis—
Bur. Ile not chat with boyes:
Navar, to thee I speak. Thy daughters 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 pleasure to a bloudy Campe,
And with the strength and puissance of our force
To lift thy falling and decayed state
Even to her pristine glory. In thy quarrell,
Burbon hath set himselfe against his king
And soyl'd his greatnesse with a Traytors name,
Now when our worth expected rich reward,
Fayre Bellamira, wonder of her time,
Must Philip have her?
Phil. Burbon, she is mine.
Bur. Mortdew! Ile be reveng'd, by heaven I will,
Or I will pave these plaines with the dead bodies
Of our deare subjects. We have sworne thy fall:
That oathes thy death, our rage thy funerall.
Nav. 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. Navar, this setting Sun, which sees our wrong, Shall e're his morrowes beames gui[l]de the proud East, View Himens rites turnd to a tragick feast. [Exit Burbon.
Nav. His anger beares him hence. Young prince of France,
Since, to reduce our enmity to love
And thereby like a fayre and lovely Bryde
To mary peace to France, we are content
To bring the sea-tost barke of your affects,
Halfe shipwrackt with the tempest of these wars,
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 Northern clime
Where frosty Hyems with an ycie Mace
Strikes dead all living 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.
[Exeunt Phil. Pet. & Rod.
Pet. He shall not, for Ile stay him instantly.
Nav. 'Twere pity to keepe two such loves asunder. Daughter, you & your Ladies to your tent And deck you richly to receive the prince.
[Exit Bella.
Enter Pemb., after him Ferd.
My Lord of Pembrooke, happily returnd!
How doth our sonne? See where he comes himselfe.
Speake, boy: how spedst thou with fayre Katherine?
Ferd. I know not how.—Is trothlesse Pembrooke there?
Nav. 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, have you the charge to see our Captaines
Prepare a martiall welcome to the King.
Ile not be idle: since Navar was crownd
Our heart with so much joy did ne're abound.
[Exit Navar.
Fer. Nor mine with so much hate. Pembrooke, a word.
Pem. What wills your Grace?
Fer. 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 River 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. Revenge, smile on, thou shalt drink bloud thy fill.
[Exeunt.