Lew.  Homage of me!  Know I am King of France And in subjection to no earthly powers.

Nav.  Thou knowst not what thou sayst to challenge us
Of any such inferiour priviledge. 
What homage is it thou requir’st of us?

Pem.  First to acknowledge him lyes buried here The faythfulst Lover and most valyant Knight That in this time drew sword or manag’d horse.

Bow.  And what was he?  Ascapart[139] or your countreyman Gargantua, that stuft every button of his coate with a load of hay?  ’S hart, wee have met a fellow here’s all mouth, hee speakes nothing but Monarch.  Doest thou heare, King? give me leave to incounter this puckfist,[140] and if I doe not make him cry Peccavi say Dicke Bowyer’s a powdered Mackrell.

Pet.  My bloud beginnes to boyle; I could be pleasd To have this fellow by the eares but that Theres many of my betters heere in place.

Fland.  King of Navarre, let Flanders cope with him.

Burb.  Imperiall France, give Burbon leave to try The hazzard of a combat with this Boaster.

Pem.  Dispatch, Navarre:  one of you come forth To enterchange a warlike blow or two.

Lew.  First let us know what penalty thou setst Upon thy selfe if thou be vanquished.

Pem.  A recantation of my former wordes,
A servitude to him that conquers me;
But who soever is by me subdued
Must leave his Shield to beautifie this shrine.

Bur.  Let not, Navar, my Lord, rob us of honor.  Say Burbon first shall breake a Launce with him.

Rod.  Ascribe that priviledge, my Lord, to mee; And Roderick will have death or victory.

Lew.  No, noble Roderick; Burbon shall begin, And as he speedes we will imploy your power.

Pem.  Provide thee, Burbon, Ile not favour thee.

Bur.  Be sure Ile shew thee like hostility.

Lew.  Hold, the advantage is [up]on thy side; The Duke of Burbon shal hang up his shield.

Pem.  Ide rather have his life then al your shelds.  Who is next?

Bow.  Zounds, I think he has a patten to take up all the shields ith countrey.  Hang me, if thou wantst worke heeres for Navar, the earle of Pembrok and Cavaliero Bowier. [Fight.] A thousand pound to a Taylors bodkin this fellow has a familiar; but howsomever, thou mayst thank my lame legge.  Theres my shield.

Lew.  Now, Roderick, betake you to your taske. [Fight.

Rodor.  My fortune’s answerable to the rest.

Lew.  Since all miscarrie, Fraunce will put his chaunce Upon the hazzard of the Dice for once.

Pem.  You are an Honorable foe, my Lord:  [Fight.  By law of Armes you must hang up your shield.

Lew.  I yeld to law and thy approved valour.  King of Navar, will onely you sit out?