Enter Rodoricke and Philip.
Rod. Now whilest our Armies wearied with the heat
That the bright sunne casts from his midday throne,
Abstayne from bloudy intercourse of war,
He lead thee, Philip, unto Burbons Tent.
Phil. Rodoricke, thou highly favourest me in this And doubt not, if my complot take effect, Ile make thee Duke of Burbon.
Enter Lewes, Flaunders, and Burbon.
Rod. Stay your speach; Heere comes King Lewis.
Phil. They can not know me, I am so disguisde.
Bur. Follow my counsayle and immediately Begin the Battayle.
Lew. Why, the heat's [so] great It burnes [us] in our Armour as we march.
Flaun. It burnes the enemy as well as wee.
Bur. It warmes our Souldiers spirits and makes them fire,
I had rather dye then, when my bloud is hot,
Be awde by counsell till it freeze like Ice:
He is no Souldier that for feare of heat
Will suffer victory to fly the field.