Fer. Forbeare a while (deare Pembroke): by our vowes
Which in the booke of heaven are registered,
By all the rightes of friendship, by that love
Thou bear'st thy native Country, I conjure thee
This day to be the Trumpet of my worth;
To speake the passions of thy grieved friend
To Katharine's ears, till those pure ivory gates,
Pearst with the volley of thy battring words,
Give way to my laments to touch her heart.
For this have I extracted thee from many,
Made thee my fellow Pilgrim to her shrine,
Knowing thy thoughts from loves Religion free:
When thy prayers fayle thy tongue may plead for me.
Pem. Must I be spokesman? Pembrooke plead for love?
Whose tounge tuned to the Instruments of war
Never knew straine of fancy; on my breathe
Affection never dwelt, but war and death!
But if thou lov'dst to have thy soldiers fight,
Or hearten the spent courages of men,
Pembrooke could use a stile invincible.
Lov'dst thou a towne, Ide teach thee how to woo her
With words of thunder-bullets wrapt in fire,[112]
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 never awde an yron Bit,
And thou shalt heare me hollow to the beast
And with commanding accents master him.
This courtship Pembrooke knowes, but idle love,
The sick-fac't object of an amorous brayne,
Did never clothe mine eye-balls, never taught
This toung, inurde to broyles and stratagems,
The passionate language of a troubled heart:
I am too blunt and rude for such nice service.
Yet since my friend injoynes me to this taske,
Take courage, Ile both speake, plead, woo for thee,
And when I want fit words to move 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 honourd English Pembrooke,
Now by S. Denis welcome! One runne straight
And give our daughter notice of these ghests.
What, man? we know you come prepar'd to woo,
To woo, to winne: now by our sacred life
We wish in soule our daughter were your wife.
Our sonne is with your sister: faire hap wayt,
For peace or war lives in your love or hate.
Welcome once more: first weele go see your love,
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.
[SCENE 3.]
Enter Katharine, 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 upon 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 judge of colours (madam) this is he. Paynter, stand forth.
Kath. An earnest cause (my friend) importunes me, Wherein I am to crave thy cunningst Arte.