But words are ayre. Lewis, behold this face:
This prooves our honour cleere from all disgrace.
Lew. My Katharine!
Phil. My deare Sister!
Fer. My fayre Love!
Pem. See, Princes, loves effect: she flies your hand To live imbrac't with her deare Ferdinand.
Lew. And heaven forbid that we should sunder them.
Navar, reach me thy hand: grym war is fled
And peace shall end the same in a nuptiall bed.
Sonne Philip, ratify your sisters choyce.
Phil. Even with my soule; for ever live you blest.
Oh, Bellamira, had not cursed Burbon
For beauty robd thy cheeks with leprosie,
Hadst then but stayd with me, as is their state,
So had bin mine, happy and fortunate.
Enter Clowne attyred like a Gentleman, Bellamira
following with a Scarfe on her face.
Clow. By your leave, sweet blouds: may a Gentleman or so deceyve two or three ounces of words in this assembly?
Lew. You may.