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.