Nav.  No, king of Fraunce:  my bloud’s as hot as thine And this my weapon shall confirme my words. [Fight.

Bow.  Navar, downe too!  ’S hart this fellow hath the tricke of it.  If he be not a witch or some Devill let me be slickt into a Carbinado.[141]

Nav.  Thou sonne of Chivalrie, let me now intreate To know his name for whome thou reapst this honor, Or what he was whose bodie’s heere interde?

Pem.  A valiant Knight, his name yong Ferdinand, Slayne by misfortune of a friendly hand.

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.