Nav. Is it my sonne thou makst thy valours prise
And striv[e]st to eternize with thy sword?
Let me embrace thee. Not alone my shield,
But I will leave my heart upon his shrine.
My dearest Ferdinand, I would my sighes
Or sad lamenting teares might have the power
Like Balme to quicken thy benummed joynts:
Then would I drowne this marble e're I went
And heat it hote with vapour of my breath.
Lew. Navar, this now may testify thy wrong In false accusing me for his remove.
Nav. Thou maist be guilty still for ought I know;
For though I find him dead I find not yet
The Tragick manner of his haples end.
Thou mayst as well have murdred Ferdinand
As favour him hath poysond Bellamira.
Lew. Injurious king, it was base Ferdinand,
On whom just heavens have shown just vengeance heere,
Ravisht my Katharine and convayed her hence
Where I shall never more behold her face.
Nav. Tis false, and wee'le mayntain it with our swords.
Lew. Tis true, and wee'le mayntain it with our swords.
Pem. By heaven, the toung prophanes the sacred name
Of Ferdinand with any villany,
Ile cut it out or stop his throate with bloud
And so dam in his blasphemous upbraydes.
Nav. Content thee, knight; Ile ease thee of that labor.
To morrow is expir'd the time of truce:
Fraunce, on with thy Battalions to the plaine
Thou wast prepar'd before to pitch upon.
Ile meet thee there.
Lew. And I will meet with thee. Sound Drums and Trumpets: honord knight, farewell: Who shall survive next morn strange newes shall tel.
[Exeunt.