_Kat_. Then hither strait with youthfull _Ferdinand_, _Navar's_ stout sonne, there comes an English Knight, _Pembrooke_ they call him, honourably borne. Him (when we are in conference) thou shalt marke And to the life set doune his counterfet. Nor is it needful I should shew him thee! The goodliest person in the traine, that's he. _Bow_. Let me alone to give the Paynter destruction. I know him as well as the Begger knowes his dish[113]: he weares a white Scarfe in his hat and an Orange tawny feather upon his arme. _Kath_. Foole, indirectly thou describ'st another, Thats Prince _Navar_: _Pembrooke_ his plume is Azure A little intermixt with spotlesse white, Prefiguring the temper of the Sky With whose hye motion his great mind doth move. _Bow_. Orange tawny and Azure, all's one, all is but feather; there is no difference I am sure but in colour. _Kath_. Why, thats as much as may be, is it not? _Bow_. Not so, Ile prove the contrary: You are fayre and I am foule; is it that all the difference betweene you and I? there's another thing in it if you marke it well. _Kath_. I prythee peace and with thy ignorance Draw not the Paynter likewise into errour. Here take thy stand; thou knowst him by these markes I lately spake of. Seeme to excell thine Arte And I will study to requite thy paynes. _Enter Lewes, Ferdinand, Pembrooke, Rodoricke, and Flaunders_. _Lew_. Thus did the Greeks, when they begirt the walles Of strong-built Troy, sometimes with friendly cheeks Entertayne peace and spend their frollick houres In courtly feasting of each other foe. Welcome, young _Ferdinand_! I promise you It cheeres my spirit we doe embrace you here: And welcome too, brave Lord. We cannot say, As if we were in Paris we might say, Your viands shall be costly: but presume, Such as the Camp affords, weele have the best. Daughter, I prythee bid them welcome. _Kath_. My Lord, I doe, That with the Congy of a bended knee, But this with my true hearts[114] loyalty. Lords, you are welcome by my father's leave. _Lew_. Why, now thou dost content thy father _Kate_, When wholy unto merryment inclined Thou answerst with like simpathy of mind. _Ferd_. But yet her looks are haggard and obscure, Which makes me doubtfull sheele not stoop to lure. _Lew_. Princes, let's enter: come, Ile lead the way! The feast is mine, you are my ghests this day. _Ferd_. Now, _Pembrooke_, shew thy friendships true effect; Obtayne her love, my life thou shalt protect. [_Exeunt Lew. Ferd. Rod. & Flaund_. _Kath_.--He stayes behind the rest. O happy houre! Worke on (sweet Paynter) to inrich mine eye With that which els procures my tragedy. _Pem_. Fayre Madam, in this confluence of sweet joy, When every one resorts unto the feast, Me thinkes you should not thus retyre alone, As seeming your best fare were heavy mone.