_Pem_. Pity such true love, which like blessed seed Sowne in such fertile soyle his princely brest, By the rough stormy brow and winters hate Of adverse parents should be timelesse nipt And dye e're it attayne maturity. For I have heard the Princesse whom he serves Is hotely courted by the Duke of Burbon, Who to effect his choyce hath in these warres Furnisht your father with a gallant power; His love may haply then disable _Philip_. _Fer_. O no; my father doth affect the Prince: Besides, my sister's heart is so combin'd To his in perfect love that _Burbon's_ hate Nor all the world that knot can separate. Then sorrow not for him, but turne the streame Of gentle pity on thy wretched friend Within whose bosome love hath kindled fire So ardent that the flames will bury me. _Philip_ is throned in my sister's eyes, But in my love disdayne and hatred lyes. _Pem_. Doth she not pay true kindnesse with the like? _Fer_. As stepdames orphanes, night the cleer-fac't day, So doth she hate me and returne my woes Like a steeld Anvil backward on my selfe. She is all hate, yet such a lovely foe That I must kisse the sword that wounds me so. _Pem_. Interre these thoughts, this is her fathers tent: Drum, give a friendly summons to the king. _Fer_. Forbeare a while (deare _Pembroke_): by our vowes Which in the booke of heaven are registered, By all the rightes of friendship, by that love Thou bear'st thy native Country, I conjure thee This day to be the Trumpet of my worth; To speake the passions of thy grieved friend To _Katharine's_ ears, till those pure ivory gates, Pearst with the volley of thy battring words, Give way to my laments to touch her heart. For this have I extracted thee from many, Made thee my fellow Pilgrim to her shrine, Knowing thy thoughts from loves Religion free: When thy prayers fayle thy tongue may plead for me.