[SCENE 2.]
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 have 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 upon lucke. Now will I run and fetch my mistris the Lady Katharine to part their fray. [Exit.
Pem. Good end succeed my early heavynesse!
Three times my feet, as loth to guide me hither,
Have stumbled in a playne and even way.
My sword forsooke his scabbard once or twice;
Bloud from my nostrills thrice hath spowted forth,
And such a dymnesse overrunnes my sight
That I have 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.
Ferd. Good morrow to thy death. Draw, Pembrooke, draw, The ground thou treadst upon must be thy grave.
Pem. Draw upon Ferdinand?
Ferd. I, upon me. Dally not, Pembrooke; I am bent to fight And that with thee for the best blood thou bearst.
Pem. You have some reason for this resolution.
Ferd. My will.
Pem. A sorry argument to kill your friend.
I must have better reason then your will
Or Ile not draw upon my Ferdinand.
Our love is older then of one dayes growth;
A yeres continuance hath united us.
Have we not made an enterchange of othes,
Sworne love to one another twenty times,
Confirmd that friendship by society,
Encreasde it with the simpathy of mind,
Making one pleasure pleasure unto both?
And shall this bond be broken upon will?
Ferd. Then youle not draw?
Pem. Yes, neerer to thy person In friendly sort to embrace thee, Ferdinand.
Ferd. Thou art a coward and thou dar'st not fight.
Pem. Thou knowst the contrary, for we have fought At every weapon to approve our skill.
Ferd. Goe to, you are a villayne and a coward, And by the royall bloud that gave me life Ile kill thee, Pembrooke, though thou do not draw.
Pem. Kill me? thou wilt not wrong thine honour so?
Ferd. 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 perceyve it is my blood thou seekst.
Witnesse, you heavens and all you gracious powers
That stand auspicious to this enterprise,
That Pembrooke drawes forth an unwilling sword.
Ferd. Why, so; now manfully defend thy selfe.
Pem. Another wound? then Pembrook, rowse thy spirit
And beare no longer with this haire-braynd man.
Yet (Ferdinand) resolve me of the cause
That moves thee to this unkind 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 divorce thy love.
Ferd. I hate thee deadly and I seeke thy life:
What other reason, Pembrook, wouldst thou have?
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.
Ferd. I hope I have slayne thee.
Pem. Oh I feare thy life. How fares my Ferdinand?
Ferd. What? liv'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.
Ferd. The like debility my joynts doe feele.
Pem. Then we must both dye. In the latest of death Tell me, oh tell me, whence proceeds this hate?
Ferd. I feare not (Pembrooke) to discover now.
Thou wert my Spokes-man unto Katherine
And treacherously thou stol'st away her heart.
Oh I can say no more, my spirits doe faynt:
Pembrooke, farewell; I have reveng'd my wrong.
Pem. O 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 unto my dying friend.
But death hath layd his num-cold hand upon me:
I am arrested to depart this life.
Deare Ferdinand, although thou be my death,
On thee Ile friendly breathe my latest breath.
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 government's a tyranny[135]
In that wee kill our subjects upon sport.
But stay; what Gentlemen do heere lye slayne?
If any sparke of life doe yet remayne
Ile helpe to fanne it with a nymble hand.
The organ of his hand doth play apace;
He is not so far spent but that with helpe
He may recover to his former state.
How is the other? I doe feel 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 utmost strength
To save their lives. 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 lives there in the brooke!
What pretty traines are made by cunning hands
To intrap the wily watry Citizens[136]!
But what art thou that lyest on 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 save his life
Ile try my utmost cunning. To my house,
Poore Gentleman, Ile beare thee as a ghest,
And eyther cure thy wounds or make thy grave.
[Exit.
Enter Forrester, missing the other taken away, speaks anything, and exit.
Enter Clowne and Katharine.
Clow. Just 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. Have they not slayne one another and buryed themselves?
Kath. Peace, foole; t is 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 jesting 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 leeve leave your sight as your company. Is this my reward for watching and watching? Oh, Mistris, doe not kill mee with unkindnesse[137]: I shall, I shall—
Kath. What shall you?
Clow. Weepe out mine eyes and fill the holes with salt water.
Kath. I prythee leave me; I am not displeasd,
But fayne would vent my sorrowe from my heart.
Hold, take my purse, spend that and leave my presence.
Goe everywhere; 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 eares and entic'de my legs to be walking. Farewell, I will goe, God knows whither, to seeke and to finde both and neyther. Farewell, sweet Mistris. [Exit.
Kath. O Pembrooke, let me kneele unto thy bloud:
And yet I know not whether't be thy bloud,
Save that my soule by a divine instinct
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 grove,
Shall be my receptacle till my last;
My pillow shall be made a banke of mosse,
And what I drinke the silver brooke shall yeeld.
No other campe nor Court will Katharine have
Till fates do limit her a common grave.