_Nav_. Be not dismayd; at length sheele pity thee. Sonne, bid our Officers adorne our Court In her chiefe glory, for this happy night Shall set a period to this smarting war. Your sister shalbe troth-plight to Prince Philip, And France and we made friends about it then. Pembrooke, have you the charge to see our Captaines Prepare a martiall welcome to the King. Ile not be idle: since Navar was crownd Our heart with so much joy did ne're abound. [_Exit Navar_. _Fer_. Nor mine with so much hate. Pembrooke, a word. _Pem_. What wills your Grace? _Fer_. That Pembrooke is a villayne. Looke not so strange: I speake it; not your friend; But hee that in his soule hath sworne thine end. _Pem_. A villayne? and my death? I am amaz'd: Art thou awake, or is all this a dreame. _Fer_. A dreame of death. Meet me to morrow morning, As thou art Pembrooke and a Gentleman, By yon fayre River side which parts our Camps. You know the place: come armde, and so farewell. _Pem_. Deare friend. _Fer_. Push! meet me. _Pem_. Ferdinand, I will. _Fer_. Revenge, smile on, thou shalt drink bloud thy fill. [_Exeunt_. [SCENE 3.] _Enter Peter standing sentronell_. _Pet_. This is my wayting night: tis for no good That I stand sentronell. Well, good or ill, I care not greatly, so I get the gold: Therefore, to avoyd prolixity, here walke I. Here comes the men that must reward my paine. _Enter Burbon and Rodoricke_. _Bur_. Have you the poyson? _Rod_. And a strong one too. Heere's a preservative to save your hand: When Rodoricke fayles your Lordship, heaven shall fayle To illuminate the world with cheereful light. _Bur_. Then here about should Peter wayt for me, For this is the Pavilion of the Princesse. _Pet_. My Lord. _Bur_. Peter. _Pet_. Here is the key that opens to the Tent: I stole it from my sweet heart Thomasin. Enter without prolixity, woo and winne the Lady; But give me gold (my Lord) and Ile to Dice. _Bur_. Hold, take thy fill. _Pet_. And it shall goe as fast. _Bur_. Now, gentle Peter, get thee unto rest. My businesse craves the absence of the world: None but my selfe and Rodoricke shall behold The secret complot that I doe intend. _Pet_. I goe, my Lord. [_Exit_. _Bur_. Now, blessed key, open unto my love, Doe more then loving lynes or words can doe. My letters have bin answerd with disdayne: Her father I have mov'd to gayne my love, But he is frosty in my fervent suite; And now perforce I will obtayne her love Or ease her puling hatred by revenge. _Rod_. You stay too long: Ile help to turne the key. _Discover her sitting in a chayre asleepe_.