Chapter 19

_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_.

_Pem_. Thus heady rage, blind in her rash resolve, Drew Ferdinand and mee into the field As now it doth these hot incensed kings. Wer't not my vowes prohibit my desire, To stay the inconvenience of this fight, I would discover where their Daughters are, To shew the error they are shrouded in: But Time hath run a desperate course with mee And desperate let them runne to misery. Here comes a Straggler of their Army. Stand!

_Enter Philip_.

_Phil_. What voice is that presumes to byd me stand?

_Pem_. His that can force thee if thou wilt not stand.

_Phil_. By this bright ayre reflected on my sword, If the whole army of Navar had said As much to Philip, yet he would not stand. And thou but one, how dar'st thou prefer it, Knowing how sharp a Spurre doth pricke me on, The death of Burbon for my Bellamire?

_Pem_. Hang up thy shield, as other knights have done, Upon the Hearse of noble Ferdinand, And thou mayest freely passe without controule.

_Phil_. The Hearse of Ferdinand! I honor him: He was the brother of my dearest Love. What's this I see? my fathers batterd shield. The shield of Fraunce! of Flaunders! Burbons too? It can not then impeach or prejudice The name of Philip to consort with such, Especially being done for Ferdinand. There is my shield, and, Knight, but for my haste, I would expostulate of other things: But, after traytrous Burbon I have slayne, Knight, looke for me, Ile visit thee agayne. Now, Rodorick, keepe thy word, and I am blest, But if thou fayle Ile forward with the rest. [_Exit_.

_Pem_. Successful action sit upon thy sword![142] This net of sorrowes, I perceyve, intangles Not only Pembrooke but the Court of France; Navar and his associats are all toucht. Time looke upon us and at last determine These heart-dissevering tumults with a peace.

_Enter Ferdinand_.

_Ferd_. Since, Ferdinand, by gracious providence Thou art recovered of thy mortall wounds, With the new life thy body is revivde Revive the ancient passions of thy mind. Think on thy friend, on Pembrook take remorse, Whose honord life thy hasty hand cut off. This is the place, as I remember mee. Whats heere? a Tombe? who hath prevented me In my religious duty to my friend? Yon Knight, I doubt not, can resolve me.

_Pem_. What art thou? stand!

_Ferd_. A Knight, and fayne would know What sacred monument and Tombe this is.

_Pem_. His, whilst he liv'd, that of the worlds increase Was the most loyall friend and valiant Knight; Which thou must likewise ratifie with me And hang thy shield up to adorne his Hearse Or venture Combate for denying it.

_Ferd_. His name, I pray thee.

_Pem_. Ferdinand.

_Ferd_.--What's he Acquainted with my name? belike some one Lov'd Pembroke, and supposing (wrongfully) Me slaine by him, to satisfie for that Observes this honor in my memory. Be not thou, Ferdinand, ingratefull then, But stand for Pembroke as this Knight for thee.

_Pem_. What answer givest thou? shal I homage have?

_Ferd_. Not for his sake thou nam'st, not for Ferdinand. There liv'd a Knight exceld his petty fame As far as costly Pearle the coursest Pebble,-- An English Knight cald Pembroke: were his bones Interred heere, I would confesse of him Much more than thou requir'st, and be content To hang both shield and sword upon his Hearse.

_Pem_. How comes this stranger by my name? Belike He was affected unto Ferdinand, And for his sake (hearing he did me wrong) Covets to make amends, or meanes to prove If I imbrace him with unfayned love. He shall not doubt of that.--Once more I say Twas Ferdinand was the renowned Knight Of all the world.

_Ferd_. But I deny that saying, Giving to Pembroke that preeminence.

_Pem_. For Ferdinand my valour will I try.

_Ferd_. In Pembrooks valour I will fight and die.

[_Discover eche other in fighting_.

_Pem_. Eyther I dreame or this is Ferdinand.

_Ferd_. My sight deludes me or stout Pembroke lyves.

_Pem_. Thrice happy hour[143]! I do embrace my friend.

_Ferd_. Welcome, oh welcome, Pembrok, to myne armes, Whom I imagined death had tane from me.

_Pem_. The like did I by Princely Ferdinand, But that he lives my soule confounds with joy.

_Ferd_. Tell me, deare friend, since our unlucky fight Have you heard ought of my disdainfull Love?

_Pem_. Of her and all the rest. Her Father lives: This is his shield and this is great Navars, This Rodoricks, [this] the Duke of Orleance, And this malicious Burbons: all the which I forc't from them to beautifie thy shrine. But tis of Katharine thou desir'st to heare: She likewise hath bin here; her flinty heart, So much before inclined to cruelty, Now waxeth tender: she no sooner saw Thy picture here, but by heavens providence, Or how I know not, she so doats on it As I supposde she would a dyed for love.

_Ferd_. Has then my shaddow and supposed death Brought that to passe my living substance could not?

_Pem_. It hath, and never Lady more enamour'd Then now is Katharine of her Ferdinand. I told her, and no more then truth I told, A cunning Carver had cut out thy shape. And whole proportion in white alablaster, Which I intended here should be set up. She earnestly entreated she might have A sight of it and dayly be permitted To deck thy tombe and statue with sweet flowers: Shee's but even now departed to that end, And will (I know) be quickly here agayne. Now, for assurance I dissemble not, Instead of thy resemblance cut in stone Kneele here, thyself, and heare her pitious mone.

_Ferd_. Content! I hold your counsell for the best; Weele once conclude our sorrowes with a jest.

_Pem_. Soft there's a cushen: nay, and you must be bare And hold your hands up, as the maner is.

_Ferd_. What if I held a book as if I pray'd?

_Pem_. Twere best of all; and, now I think upon' Here is a booke: so, keepe your countenance; You must imagine now you are transformed. Yonder she comes; in any case stir not.

_Enter Katharine_.

_Kath_. I feare I have detracted time too long In my determinde service to my Love; But Ile redeeme my fault with double care. See where his statue is set up: kind knight, For ever Katharine will record thy truth.

_Pem_. How say you, Madam; ist not very like him!

_Kath_. As like as if it were himselfe indeed. And would to God my prayers might be heard, That, as the image of Pigmalion once, Life might descend into this sencelesse stone: But that was faynd, as my desire is fond; Relentlesse Death withholds my Ferdinand, And no intreaty may recover him. In token, then, I do repent my scorne That I was cruell to so kind a friend, Thou, the presenter of his absent person, Receive these sweets; thy temples be adornd With this fresh garland; thy white ivory hand Boast of this ring, which, if thou wert alive, Should bind our faythes up in a nuptiall knot: But, for thou canst not be reviv'd agayne, He dwell with thee in death, and, as my spirit Mounts to the happy mansion of thy spirit, So, to accompany thy shaddow here, Ile turne my body to a shaddow, too, And, kneeling thus, confront thy silent lookes With my sad looks. This is the Instrument: Now, Ferdinand, behold thy Katharine comes.

_Ferd_. And she is welcome unto Ferdinand.

_Pem_. Ile play the dark for both and say Amen. Nay, muse not, madam: tis no sencelesse Image, But the true essence of your wished Love.

_Kath_. I am asham'd to looke him in the face.

_Ferd_. Hide not those splendant lights: hereafter be A constant wife; it shall suffice for me.

_Kath_. Heaven cast her off if Katharine prove not so.

_Pem_. Of that no more: now let us haste from hence To quiet the dissension lately sprung Betweene your parents. Philip, likewise gone To be reveng'd on Burbons trechery, Perhaps may stand in need of friendly ayd. To him and them our vowes must next be payd.

_Ferd_. What Pembrook counsels we consent unto.

[_Exeunt_.

_Actus Quintus_.

[SCENE 1.]

_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.

_Rod_. My Lord of Burbon, ye are more hot then wise.

_Bur_. Rodorick, me thinkes you are very peremptory.

_Rod_. It is in zeale of the generall good. Go to your Tent, refresh your unscorcht[144] lymmes; There draw your battels modell, and as soone As the coole winds have fand the burning Sunne And made it tractable for travaylers, Arme you and mount upon your barbed Steed, Lead foorth your Souldiers and in good array Charge bravely on the Army of our foe.

_Lew_. The Duke of Orleance hath counseld well. Ile in and recreate me in my tent. Farewell, my Lord: when you resolve to fight, Proclayme your meaning by a Canons mouth And with a volley I will answere you.

[_Exeunt Lewes and Flauuders_.

_Bur_. If you will needs retyre, farewell, my Lord. Ha, Rodoricke, are not we fine Polyticians That have so quaintly wrought the king of Fraunce Unto our faction that he threatens warre Against the almost reconcilde Navar?

_Rod_. But this is nothing to the actes weele do. Come, come, my Lord, you trifle time with words: Sit downe, sit downe, and make your warlike plot.-- But wherefore stand these murderous Glaves so nye?

_Phil_.--Touch them not, Roderick; prythee let them stand.

_Bur_. Some paper, pen, and incke.

_Enter Peter_.

_Pet_. My Lord.

_Bur_. Post to the Master Gunner And bid him plant his demy culverings Against the kings pavilion.

_Peter_. Presently.

_Bur_. But first bring pen and incke and paper straight.

[_Peter sets pen, ink, &c., before Burbon, and exit_[145]

Rodoricke, thou shalt assist mee in this plot.

_Rod_. Do it your selfe, my Lord; I have a charge Of souldiers that are very mutinous, And long I dare not stay for feare my absence Be cause of their revolt unto Navar.

_Bur_. Then to your Souldiers: I will to my plot.

_Phil_.--Away, my Lord, leave me unto the Duke.

_Rod_.--Kill you the Duke (and after Ile kill thee). [_Exit Rod_.

_Bur_. This pen is stabbed and it will not write: The incke that's in the standage[146] doth looke blacke, This in my pen is turnd as red as bloud.

_Phil_. The reason that the platforme[147] you would make Must by this hand be written with thy bloud.

_Bur_. Zounds, what art thou that threatens Burbon so?

_Phil_. One that's as desperat-carelesse of his life As thou art timorous and fearst to dye.

_Bur_. Comest thou to kill me?

_Phil_. If I should say no, This weapon would condemne me, which I seyz'd Of purpose, Burbon, to bereave thy life.

_Bur_. Why, fond man, mad man, know'st thou what thou doest?

_Phil_. I know it, Burbon, and I know besides What thou wouldst say to daunt my resolution.

_Bur_. What would I say?

_Phil_. Why, that this place is death, As being thy Tent, environ'd with thy slaves, Where if I kill thee tis impossible To scape with life: this, Burbon, thou wouldst say. But Philip is not be mov'd with words.

_Bur_. Philip!

_Phil_. I, Philip, Bellamiraes Love, Whose beauty, villayne, thou hast poysoned; For which I have vow'd thy death, and thou shall dye. Therefore betake you to what fence you will; Amongst this bundle chuse one weapon forth And like a worthy Duke prepare thy selfe In knightly manner to defend thy life; For I will fight with thee and kill thee, too, Or thou shalt give an end unto my life. But if thou call unto thy slaves for helpe, Burbon, my sword shall nayle thee to the wall. And thinke Prince Philip is a Prince indeed To give thee this advantage for thy life.

_Bur_. Boy, I will scourge your insolence with death.

_Phil_. Come on. _Fight, and kill Burbon_.

_Bur_. Oh, I am slayne.

[_Enter Rodorick_.]

_Rod_. Murder! murder! Burbon the Duke is slayne!

_Phil_. Peace, Roderick, I am Philip thy deare friend.

_Rod_. Thou art a counterfet, I know thee not.

_Phil_. Didst not thou guide me unto Burbons Tent?

_Rod_. I guide thee to the Tent? I know thee not. What! murder! ho! will no man heare my voyce?

_Enter Peter and 2 or 3 souldiers_.

_Pet_. Yes, here are those [that] can heare well ynough. Where is the murdered and the murderer?

_Rod_. Peter, behold thy masters breathlesse truncke, And there's Prince Philip that hath murdered him.

_Pet_. To avoyd prolixity Ile kill him; yet first give me leave to weepe for my master.

_Rod_. First seyze the murderer and after weepe.

_Phil_. He that first ventures to attach my life Let him be sure he hath a life to spare, For I will send one breathlesse to the grave.

_Pet_. You that have nyne lives assault the gentleman.

_Rod_. What, peasants! dare you not attach the slave? Ile rayse the whole Campe but Ile apprehend him. Alarum, drummes! Souldiers, incircle him, And eyther apprehend or slay the wretch.

_Enter Pembrooke and Ferdinand_.

_Pem_. Tis princely Philip. Helpe to rescue him.

_Rod_. What slaves are these that dare oppose themselves In rescue of a murderer 'gainst an Host?

_Ferd_. Such as will make thee, Roderick, fly for life.

_Pet_. Zounds, men are mortall; to avoyd prolixity, My lord of Orleance, your best course is flying, And therein I will be your follower.

_Rod_. Fly before three, and be thus strong? 'Twere madnesse.

_Pem_. We trifle time; let's drive them from the Tent.

_Alarum and drive away Peter and Rodoricke_.

_Pem_. Live, worthy Philip; Pembrooke bids thee live, That did suspect this complot at the tombe When in the honour of Prince Ferdinand You did resigne your shield.

_Phil_. Th[e] Earle of Pembrooke!

_Ferd_. And Ferdinand that loves thee as his soule.

_Phil_. Two lives I owe my starres beside mine owne In sending me two friends of such import. Durst you adventure thorow the enemies Campe And put your lives in danger to save mine?

_Pem_. The rumour of the Duke of Burbons death Hath so possest the Campe with admiration That they regardlesse suffer all to passe. Only this Roderick wakens them a little, But cannot weane them from their wondring minds.

_Phil_. That Roderick is a perfect villayne turn'd; For though he guided me unto his Tent And gave his liking that the Duke should dye, Yet how the villayne cryed to murder me! But come: in this confusion let's be gone, Tis dangerous to abide in Burbons Tent. Rodoricke, thou art the next must taste of death; That taske once done, we shall with little payne Our angry fathers reconcile agayne.

[_Exeunt_.

[SCENE 2.]

_Alarum. Enter Navar, Bowyer, Nod, Core, Souldiers, [with] drum and colours_.

_Nav_. The Alarum sounded in the enemies Campe; Now for Navar and Fame stand to it, sirs.

_Bow_. Hart, stand to it? heere's some of us knowes how to runne away and they be put to it. Though wee have left our brave Generall, the Earle of Pembrooke, yet here's Cavaliero Bowyer, Core and Nod, by Jesu, sound cards: and Mahound and Termagant[148] come against us, weele fight with them. Couragio, my hearts! S. George for the honour of England!

_Nav_. The adverse part comes on; fight gallantly.

_Enter Fraunce, Flaunders and Souldiers, with Drum and Colours_.

_Lew_. Is false Navar so thirsty to drinke bloud That he must joyne the Squadron of his troops Before the signall of the battel's given? Belike you thought to take us unpreparde. No, king: our wrong hangs like a watch before us, And makes us nomber every short-lyvd minute Till your lives answere for our Daughters death. Charge, brave spirits! Saint Denis now for Fraunce!

_Nav_. Saint Denis for Navar! Alarum, Drums!

_Alarum: they fight, Fraunce put to the worst; enter Rodorike and Peter; the fight continued, and Navar driven in_.

_Lew_. Navar and his weake forces make retire; Pursue them, Sirs, the victorie is ours.

_Rod_. Be like starv'd Lions 'mongst a heard of Beasts, Ruthelesse and bloudy; slaughter[149] all you meete Till proud Navar be slayn or kisse your feet. Saint Denis! and cry murder through the host!

_Alarum. Enter Pembrooke, Ferdinand and Philip_.

_Pem_. He that steps forward with a murdring thought, Marries him selfe to death. Fraunce, cease the fight: They are Frenchmen you pursue, Frenchmen you should save: Dig not for Traytors love your subjects graves.

_Lew_. What franticke knights are those that dare oppose Their single force against our multitudes?

_Phil_. Those that wish you and Fraunce bright fames encrease, So you would chase hence war and welcome peace.

_Rod_. That was the Traytor that slew royall Burbon.

_Pet_. Downe with the villaynes.

_Rod_. Souldiers, seyze on him And then pursue Navar with sudden death.

_Ferd_. Ere the least hayre fall from his kingly head, Rodorick, thy base trunck shall be butchered.

_Pem_. Will you accept of peace?

_Lew_. Follow Navar!

_Pet_. Downe with that murderer!

_Fer_. Zounds, then, in spight Weele save Navar and chase you hence in fight.

_All_. Ha, ha!

_Pem_. Nay, smile not; though our number's few Our great hearts tell us we shall conquere you. Alarum and S. George!

_Alarum: they fight. Enter Navar and his forces, Fraunce chaste away_.

_Nav_. Fraunce and his daunted forces gives us ground. Charge, charge agayne, and we are Conquerours.

_Phil_. Stand or ne're stirre agayne.

_Nav_. What meane these knights?

_Pem_. To stop your passage this way, great Navar. I charge thee by the duty of a king, Thy love to Justice and thy subjects lives, You sound retreat and make a peace with Fraunce.

_Nav_. A peace! and have the vantage of the day!

_Bow_. That's a tricke by Jesu to mocke an Ape: wee'le none of that.

_Nav_. Wee'le have no peace but what our swords can make. Follow the chase.

_Phil_. Are you growne insolent? For one light puffe of fortune proves it so? Nay, then our swords turn to your overthrow.

_Alarum: they fight and drive in Navar_.

_Fer_. That was my father that you fought against.

_Phil_. You did as much to mine.

_Pem_. Princes, agree: Force cannot end this war, but policy. Therefore disperse your selves, and let our Squires With Trumpets in their mouthes sound lowd retreat Where you perceive the fight most violent. The strangenesse of which act will straight amaze; When they shall heare both peace and war denounc'd, And one selfe instant, they will soone retire To know the issue. Princes, fall to worke, Tis worke of charity; 'twould doe me good If we could end this battell without bloud.

_Fer_. I hope we shall: farewell, Ile to my charge.

_Pem_. The like will Pembrooke.

_Phil_. Philip is not last: Yet, though I seeke the safety of my friends, Rodorick shall lose his bloud e're this fight ends.

_Alarum; excursions. Enter Peter leading Thomasin_.

_Pet_. Struggle not, strive not; your sweete heart Bowyer cannot save you. Without prolixity you must goe with mee.

_Tho_. Helpe, helpe.

_Pet_. And the God of warre come in thy defence my humour is to kill him. Come away.

_Enter Bowyer_.

_Bow_. By Jesu, and you go this way you must pay custom. Zounds, you pick-hatch[150] Cavaliero petticote-monger, can you find time to be catching _Thomasin_? come, deliver, or by Zenacrib & the life of king Charlimayne, Ile thrash your coxcombe as they doe hennes at Shrovetyde[151]. No, will you not doe, you Tan-fat? Zounds, then have at you.

_They fight, Bowyer hath the wench, rescued by Fraunce, recovered by Navar. Philip meetes Rodorick, rescued by Peter. Retreat is sounded, the enemies begin to retire, Rodorick chased by Philip. Enter at severall doores, after retreate sounded, Pembrooke and Ferdinand_.

_Ferd_. Are the Kings severd? will they bow to peace?

_Pemb_. Peace is a welcome ghest unto their hearts, But Rodoricke (like a greedy envious churle Fearing to spend his wealth) still keeps them backe. Tis he exasperates the Princes hate, And when our Trumpets call them to retyre He with warres clangor sets them on agayne. Unless he be remoov'd our labour's lost.

_Ferd_. It shall not, for Ile seek him through the Host And with this sword pare off the Traytors head.

_Pem_. Doe, and Ile scoure these ranks: if Pembroks eye Encounters his, he meets his Tragedy.

_Alarum. Enter Philip pursuing Rodoricke_.

_Phil_. Stay, warlike friends, and ayd me in revenge.

_Ferd_. That is Rodoricke.

_Pem_. Heere's the Traytor, strike him downe.

_Phil_. Who lifts his arme at him strikes at my brest.

_Rod_. Why have you thus ring'd me about with swords?

_Phil_. To shew thee thou must dye.

_Rod_. What have I done That thus you labour my destruction?

_Pem_. Thou wer't a party in all Burbons wrongs.

_Ferd_. Falsely term'd Ferdinand a Ravisher.

_Pem_. Set discord 'twixt these kings.

_Phil_. Practised my death.

_Pem_. Villayne for this our swords shall stop thy breath.

_Ferd_. Stand not to argue, let's all runne at him.

_Phil_. Now as you love my love or prize mine honour, Touch not the Traytor; he is Philips foe, And none but I must work his overthrow. Thrice in the battell he was rescued from me, But now hee's fallen into the Lyons paw From whence the whole world cannot ransome him. Preservers of my life, heroick friends, Be you my safety; keepe the souldyers off, Whilst in the midst by fayre and equall fight I send this Traytor to eternal night.

_Ferd_. By heaven agreed.

_Pem_. Heere Pembrooke takes his stand: Come Fraunce and all the world, I will not start Till Philips knightly sword pierce Rodoricks hart.

_Rod_. Accurst, I am betrayd, incompast round; Now lyfe and hope and state must kisse the ground.

_Phil_. Rodorick, thou seest, all wayes are stopt to flie; Be desperat then, fight bravely, and so die.

_Alarum: they fight. Enter to Pembrooke Navar, Bowyer, and Souldiers: to Ferdinand Fraunce, Flaunders, and Souldiers: they fight and keepe them backe. Rodoricke would scape; still kept in the midst, and kild by Philip_.