[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.

Bur. What do I see? the majesty of heaven Sit in a mayden slumber on the earth? What, is my Bellamira turnd a goddesse? Within the table of her glorious face Methinks the pure extraction of all beauty Flowes in abundance to my love-sick eye. O, Rodoricke, she is admirably fayre; And sleeping if her beauty be so rare How will her eyes inchaunt me if she wake. Here, take the poyson; Ile not stayne her face For all the treasure of the Westerne Island.

Rod. I see no such admired perfection. Waken her, Burbon, and this loving charme, Which now hath led your sences prisoner, Will vanish, and her speach, full of reproofe, Beget a new phantasma all of hate. Thou wilt detest her when she shall deny thee.

Bur. Waken her Roderick, for I want the power.

Rod. I hope I am disguisde sufficiently That Bellamira cannot know my face.— Madam, fayre Bellamira!

Bel. Here I am: Who calls on Bellamira?

Bur. I, fayre love; The Duke of Burbon that doth honor thee.

Bel. The Duke of Burbon in my Tent so late! Where is my Gard? what, Peter, Thomasin!

Rod. Step to her and restrayne her lest she call: Ile be a looker on and be unknowne.

Bur. What needs your Highnesse call for any Gard Since you are garded with a faythfull frend? Behold me, Madam, humbly on my knee Come to renew my suite: vouchsafe me love Or with this weapon take away my life. Much better 'twere a thousand times to dye Then live in torment of your scorching eye. You have inflam'd my hearte; oh quench that flame Or into cinders turne my haplesse truncke, Haplesse in being unbelov'd by you.

Bel. My Lord of Burbon, you presume too much On th' extremity of passion. Have I not answerd many an idle letter With full assurance that I cannot love? Have I not often viva voce checkt Your courtly kindnes, frownd upon your smiles, Usde you unkindly, all to weane your love? And doe you still persever in your suite? I tell thee, Burbon, this bold part of thine, To breake into my Tent at dead of night, Deserves severe correction, and the more Because it brings mine honour into question. I charge thee, as thou art a Gentleman, Betake thee to thine own Pavilion, And let this answere satisfie for all: Burbon, I cannot nor I will not love thee.

Bur. Cannot nor will not? Zounds, Madam, but you must.

Bel. Must I?

Bur. And shall.

Bel You will not force me to it?

Bur. Or force that sparkling beauty from your face. Looke not so fiercely nor cry out for helpe, For if you doe this makes you cry your last. Seing neyther words, kind letters, hearty sighes. Humble intreaty nor a world of payne Can move you to take pitty of my love, But Tyrant-like your beauty seeks my life; I will blot out that beauty with this juice. Thus, thus I wipe away my passions, Thus doe I heale the torments of my love, Thus doe I ransome my inthralled eye, And by depriving of the cause of life Kill th' effect, which was a world of sorrow. Farewell, foule Bellamira; I am pleasde In this revenge that no way could be easde. [Exit.

Rod.—Zounds, he has don't: now, Roderick, joy thy fill. Burbon is thine, the Dukedome is thine owne, For only he in the Inheritance Stood as an obstacle to let my clayme. This deed of his will take away his life: And then let me alone to enjoy his land. Ile steale away unseene, cause unsuspected; I would not for the world be once detected. [Exit.

Bel. Poyson my face! oh most inhuman wretche! Revenge more vile then to abbridge my life. What, Thomasin! What, brother Ferdinand! My kingly father! is there none that heares? Then Treason, treason! let that waken you, For capitall is this offence to me.

Enter Navar, Pembrooke, Ferdinand and Thomasin.

Tho. O Jesu! mistris, what ayles your face?

Nav. Her face!

Ferd. Tis spotted like a Panthers skin.

Pem. O were those spots as kindly beautiful Then were fayre Bellamira undeform'd.

Nav. O what divine power hath sent this Leprosy?

Ferd. Say, beautious Sister.

Pem. Speake, fayre Bellamira.

Nav. My sweet daughter, speake.

Pem. Her silence argues a tormented spirit.

Ferd.—Thy countenance argues a deceitfull soule.

Enter Lewes, Philip, Rodoricke and Flaunders.

Lew. Where is Navar?

Phil. Where is fayre Bellamira?

Bel. My Philip! oh give leave to fly his sight.

Nav. Stay, gentle daughter; heele not injure thee.

Lew. Heere are the Articles concluded on. I could not rest till I had signed them And brought them to your Highnesse. A moneth hence The mariage shall be fully solemnized, So please your Majesty and your fayre daughter. Are you content?

Nav. To live in discontent.

Phil. Methinks this royall presence hath dim lookes. Is it because they are in the armes of night, Which sets a leaden lustre in the eye? Or hath some accident occoasted [sic] them That troubles their aspect with melancholy? Is Navar well? is Ferdinando well? Is Pembrooke well? is Bellamira well? 0 where is Bellamira? tell me, Princes, For now my tongue hath strooke upon her name I feele a kind of killing extasie. Where is she? in her Tent?

Bel.—Deny me father. I would not see Prince Philip with this face.

Phil. Why speak you not? what, have I toucht the string Whereon the burden of your sorrow lyes? Father, look round about: see you my love? Rodoricke, look round about: see you my love?

Lew. I see her not.

Rod. Nor I.

Phil. I say not so: The garments that she weares mine eye should know. What Lady's this that hides her heavenly face? Here are no Basilisks with killing eyes: You need not hide your beauty: sweet, look up, Me thinks I have an interest in these lookes. What's here? a Leper amongst Noble men? What creatures thys? why stayes she in this place? Oh, tis no marvell though she hide her face, For tis infectious: let her leave the presence, Or Leprosie will cleave unto us all.

Bel. O let me leave the presence, gentle father, When Philip bids his Bellamira goe.

Phil. My Bellamira!

Lew. How? my sonnes belov'd!

Phil. Is this my love? was this your beauteous child?

Nav. My child.

Ferd. My sister.

Pem. Beauteous Bellamira.

Nav. Spotted.

Ferd. Disfigured.

Pem. Made a loathsome Leper.

Rod. How came this sudden alteration? For she was comely, lovely, beautiful, When the day left his Charriot to the night.

Nav. That heaven doth know, and onely Bellamira. Daughter, I charge thee, tell me how it came.

Bell. Burbon, oh Burbon,—

Lew. Did he doe the deed?

Bell. He came into my Tent at dead of night And rubd my face with an infectuous herbe Because I would not graunt unto his love. I cry'd for helpe, but none did succour me.

Rod.—I know he did and laugh to thinke on [i]t.

Lew. And he shall rue his treason.

Phil. Threaten not; Leave the revenge to me whom it concernes. Tis I am robd of a delicious looke, A heavenly sparkling brow, a starry eye, A countenance fayrer than Auroraes lookes When all the East is guilded with her blush. Tis I will be reveng'd, but not before I have espoused my lovely Bellamira.

Lew. Espoused her!

Nav. How? marry a face deform'd!

Ferd. A leprous creature!

Pem. An infectuous mayd!

Rod. One whose sores are perchance incureable!

Phil. Be they incureable, it is my Love, And for my sake she hath indur'd this wrong; And should I now forsake her thus distrest I could not merit a true Lovers name. To shew I love her I will marry her Before the moneth expire, nay in the morne: Delayes, perchance, may make her think I scorne.

Bel. Marry with me? fetch me a looking glasse That I may see how sweet a bride I am. Oh I detest my selfe. Deare, hate me, too: I am not to be maryed but to death. 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.