_Rod_. I never heard the like. _Pem_. Pen never writ A worthyer Story to posterity. _Ferd_.--Pen never writ of a more treacherous friend Then, Pembrooke, thou hast prov'd to Ferdinand. _Phil_. Sweet Love, prepare thee to be Philips Bryde; For heere I sweare, as I am royall borne, Ile marry thee before the mornings Sunne Hath runne the third part of his glorious course. Father, good night; deare friends, deare Love, good night: Mariage, I hope, will make my spirits more light. [_Exit_. _Nav_. Good night, sweet son. King Lewes, stay with me; Be thou my comforter, Ile comfort thee. [_Exeunt kings_. _Ferd_. Pembrook, remember that thou faile me not. [_Exit_. _Pem_. O God, what may these moody lookes intend? Me thinks, I should have better from my friend. [_Exit_. _Bel_. Now, Bellamira, thou hast time to thinke Upon these troublous matters. Should I suffer So brave a Gentleman as Philip is To wed himselfe to my unworthy selfe, It would be counted vertue in the Prince But I were worthy of a world of blame. No, Philip, no; thou shalt not wrong thine honour Nor be impeacht by Bellamiraes spots. In some disguise Ile steale away to-night And ne're appeare more in my Philips sight. [_Exit_. _Actus Tertius_. [SCENE 1.] _Enter Dicke Bowyer_. _Bow_. There is no toyle to this walkinge of the Round. S'hart, I have been stumbling up and downe all this night like a Brewers horse that has ne're a good eye in his head. Tis as darke as Pitch: I can resemble our Campe to nothing better then hell, save that in hell they are always waking and heere the villaynes are as drowsie as swyne. Lieutenant Nod! why you might have shot a double Cannon in his eare and never have wakt him. I jogd and I jogd, I showted and I showted, and yet the mungrel snorted, you might heare him to Dover: at last I dragd him by the heeles into a ditch of water and there left the Lobster crawling. A the tother side, Core being appoynted to stand sentynell upon the Wallounes quarter, s'hart the Loach gets me into a Sutlers bath and there sits mee drinking for Joanes best cap: but by this hand, and as Dicke Bowyer is a Soldier and a Cavaliero, he shall sit in the boults for it to morrow. My comfort is in these extremities that I brought Thomasin to her Ladies Tent, leaving her new-come Lover to picke strawes. But, soft: _qui vou la_?[130] _Enter Ferdinand_. _Ferd_. My name is Ferdinand. _Bow_. Stand! _Ferd_. Why, Captayne, thou dost knowe me well inough. _Bow_. Know or not know, without the word you passe not. _Ferd_. Soliman. _Bow_. So, _allie, allie, Monseur_. _Ferd_. First, tell me, sawest thou Pembrooke come this way? _Bow_. I saw him not. _Ferd_. Farewell. [_Exit_.