Actus Quartus.

[SCENE 1.]

    Enter [at one door] Duke, Montano, Valentia, Hatto, and Alfred.

    Drumme, Colours, and Souldiers. [At another door
    enter Frederick, Rinaldo, Alberto, with soldiers_.]

Duke.  Our anger long agoe, renowned Lords, Is satisfied in faire Valentias love.  Behold our proud sonne and these traiterous crew That dares confront us in the field of Mars.

Valen.  You have been too patient, my beloved Lord, In calming these tumultuous jarring spirits.  Scourge them with steele, and make the proudest know Tis more then death to have their Prince their foe.

Mon.  Bloody constraints beseemes where dutie failes, And, oratory ceasing, force prevailes.

Hat.  Peace would doe better, so it pleas’d your sonne.

Fred.  In her allurements first [the strife] begun; Banish her from the land, and Ile resigne.

Duke.  Learne thine owne dutie, traitor, I know mine.

Albert.  Then there’s no banishment?

Duke.  None but by death; Thy head is forfeit for that daring breath.

Alfred.  Submit, degenerate and presumptuous Lord.

Albert.  When we are ignorant to weild a sword.

Fred.  Never shall noble knee bend to this ground, As long as that vile strumpet liveth crownd.

Duke.  I cannot stay to heare my love deprav’d.  In few words is it peace, or shall we fight Till our deepe wounds shall dampe the heavenly light, Make the ayre purple with the reaking gore?

Fre.  Fight, whilst life serves you, we will nere give ore; The grasse greene pavement shall be drownd in blood, And yet Ile wade to kill her in the flood.

Duke.  Alarum, Drum! madnesse is on their side, All vertuous counsell is by them defied.  Upon our part strike Drums, Trumpets proclaime Death most assur’d to those that love their shame.

    Alarum, fight lustily, and drive away the Duke;
    Fredericke pursues Valentia over the stage and
    takes her; a Retreate sounded.

Enter at one doore the Duke, Mon., Hatto, and Alfred, with Drum and Colours.—­Enter at the other doore Fredericke leading Valentia prisoner, Rinaldo and Alberto with Drum and Colours.

Duke.  Why doe traitors sound retreate so soone?

Fred.  Behold the cause.

Duke. Valentia prisoner?

Fred.  The firebrand of this tumultuous warre, The originall from whence your subjects bloud Flowes in abundance on[203] this spatious playn.

Valen.  And what of all this?

Fred.  That thy lifes too meane To satisfie the unworthiest of the Campe For the effusion of a loyall drop.

Duke.  Meanes Fredericke then, to kill his fathers heart In faire Valentia’s death?