Makes the gay rainebow girdle to a storme,
So in hearts hollow, friendship (even the sunne[55]
To all good growing in societie)
Makes his so glorious and divine name hold
Collours for all the ill that can be told. Trumpets within.
Mail. Harke! our last troopes are come.
Chal. (Drums beate.) Harke! our last foote.
Mail. Come, let us put all quickly into battaile,60
And send for Clermont, in whose honour all
This martiall preparation wee pretend.