Though I were Empresse of the spacious world
Ide lay my selfe and kingdome at thy feet.
Live, noble Philip, joy some happy match;
Tis my unworthinesse makes me deny thee.

_Phil_. Thinkst thou, because thy face is spotted, so
Thou art not worthy of thy Philips love?
Thy face to me was but a Mar[e]s[c]hall
To lodge thy sacred person in my mind,
Which long agoe is surely chambred there.
And now what needs an outward Harbinger?
I doe affect, not superficially:
My love extendeth further than the skin.
The inward Bellamira tis I seeke,
And unto her will Philip be espousde.

_Nav_. Oh admirable love!

_Lew_. O my deare sonne,
Thou makest me famous by thy loyalty.

_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