Ferd.—­Thy countenance argues a deceitfull soule.

    Enter Lewes, Philip, Rodoricke and Flaunders.

Lew.  Where is Navar?

Phil.  Where is fayre Bellamira?

Bel.  My Philip! oh give leave to fly his sight.

Nav.  Stay, gentle daughter; heele not injure thee.

Lew.  Heere are the Articles concluded on. 
I could not rest till I had signed them
And brought them to your Highnesse.  A moneth hence
The mariage shall be fully solemnized,
So please your Majesty and your fayre daughter. 
Are you content?

Nav.  To live in discontent.

Phil.  Methinks this royall presence hath dim lookes. 
Is it because they are in the armes of night,
Which sets a leaden lustre in the eye? 
Or hath some accident occoasted [sic] them
That troubles their aspect with melancholy? 
Is Navar well? is Ferdinando well? 
Is Pembrooke well? is Bellamira well?
0 where is Bellamira? tell me, Princes,
For now my tongue hath strooke upon her name
I feele a kind of killing extasie. 
Where is she? in her Tent?

Bel.—­Deny me father.  I would not see Prince Philip with this face.

Phil.  Why speak you not? what, have I toucht the string
Whereon the burden of your sorrow lyes? 
Father, look round about:  see you my love? 
Rodoricke, look round about:  see you my love?

Lew.  I see her not.

Rod.  Nor I.

Phil.  I say not so: 
The garments that she weares mine eye should know. 
What Lady’s this that hides her heavenly face? 
Here are no Basilisks with killing eyes: 
You need not hide your beauty:  sweet, look up,
Me thinks I have an interest in these lookes. 
What’s here? a Leper amongst Noble men? 
What creatures thys? why stayes she in this place? 
Oh, tis no marvell though she hide her face,
For tis infectious:  let her leave the presence,
Or Leprosie will cleave unto us all.

Bel.  O let me leave the presence, gentle father, When Philip bids his Bellamira goe.

Phil.  My Bellamira!

Lew.  How? my sonnes belov’d!

Phil.  Is this my love? was this your beauteous child?

Nav.  My child.

Ferd.  My sister.

Pem.  Beauteous Bellamira.

Nav.  Spotted.

Ferd.  Disfigured.

Pem.  Made a loathsome Leper.

Rod.  How came this sudden alteration? 
For she was comely, lovely, beautiful,
When the day left his Charriot to the night.

Nav.  That heaven doth know, and onely Bellamira.  Daughter, I charge thee, tell me how it came.

Bell.  Burbon, oh Burbon,—­

Lew.  Did he doe the deed?

Bell.  He came into my Tent at dead of night
And rubd my face with an infectuous herbe
Because I would not graunt unto his love. 
I cry’d for helpe, but none did succour me.