Clow. Is there not a young Kings sonne amongst you, who treading the steps of his father is called Philip.
Phil. I am the man thou seekst.
Clow. Then the old saying is verified, He that seeks shall find. Heere is a poore kinswoman of mine would desire some private conference with you, or so.
Phil. With me?—whom see I? Bellamira!
Nav. Daughter!
Phil. Do not deride my woes; speake, speake, I pray.
Pem. Looke not so strange; it is thy lovely Love
Thus manag'd to approve thy constancy.
Embrace her then: and now Navar and Fraunce,
Here end our strife and let all hatred fall
And turne this warre to Hymens festivall.
Nav. This Pembrooks counsell we subscribe unto.
Lew. The like doth Fraunce. Lovers, imbrace your loves
And, Captaines, joyne your bands; mix power with power
And let those swords, which late were drawne for death,
Sleepe in their sheaths. You, worthy Pembrooke[155],
And all your followers, shall receyve our favours
In plenteous largesse. So, set on to Court;
Sound Drums and Trumpets, deafe the ayre with cryes,
And fill eche subjects heart with joyes increase
T'applaud our childrens love and this dayes peace.
[Exeunt.