Lew. O my deare sonne, Thou makest me famous by thy loyalty.
Rod. I never heard the like.
Pem. Pen never writ A worthyer Story to posterity.
Ferd.—Pen never writ of a more treacherous friend Then, Pembrooke, thou hast prov'd to Ferdinand.
Phil. Sweet Love, prepare thee to be Philips Bryde; For heere I sweare, as I am royall borne, Ile marry thee before the mornings Sunne Hath runne the third part of his glorious course. Father, good night; deare friends, deare Love, good night: Mariage, I hope, will make my spirits more light. [Exit.
Nav. Good night, sweet son. King Lewes, stay with me; Be thou my comforter, Ile comfort thee.
[Exeunt kings.
Ferd. Pembrook, remember that thou faile me not. [Exit.
Pem. O God, what may these moody lookes intend? Me thinks, I should have better from my friend. [Exit.
Bel. Now, Bellamira, thou hast time to thinke
Upon these troublous matters. Should I suffer
So brave a Gentleman as Philip is
To wed himselfe to my unworthy selfe,
It would be counted vertue in the Prince
But I were worthy of a world of blame.
No, Philip, no; thou shalt not wrong thine honour
Nor be impeacht by Bellamiraes spots.
In some disguise Ile steale away to-night
And ne're appeare more in my Philips sight.