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?