KATHARINE

Thy daughter Katharina prays the Like. See that the Tent be ready furnished. By this, my father and those Lords are met, Amongst whom, the noble Pembroke, Like the Sun, Outshines the borrowed glory of the rest: And well I may compare him to the Sun, That but once looked upon with his fair shape, Hath dazzled my poor senses, and left me blind. But sirrah, where's the man I bade you bring? And earnest cause (my friend) importunes me, Wherein I am to crave thy cunningest Art. But are thy colours fresh? thy pencil smooth? Thy hand unwavering? and thy head dislodged Of all unquiet harsh encumbrances? For thou must draw proportion of those parts, Whose worth to tell, my tongue wants utterance. Fool, indirectly thou describest another: Thats Prince Navarre, Pembroke his plume is Azure, A little intermixed with spotless white, Prefiguring the temper of the Sky, With whose hie motion his great mind does move. Why, thats as much as may be, is it not? I prithee peace, and with thy ignorance Draw not the Painter likewise into error. Here take thy stand, thou knowest him by these marks I lately spoke of: seem to excel thine Art, And I will study to requite thy pains. My Lord, I do That with the Congy of a bent knee: But this with my true hearts loyalty. Lords, you are welcome, by my father's leave. He wants then belike sufficient courage. But in affection I survive to none, But only Pembroke. Here lie their weapons, and here flows their blood. Peace, fool 'tis too sure, that they are slain. Thou angrest me, with jesting at my sorrow: Hence from my sighed, my heart is full of grief, And it will break, the burden is so great. What shall you? I prithee leave me, I am not displeased, But fain would vent my sorrow from my heart. Hold, take my purse, spend that, and leave my presence: Go every where, inquire my Pembroke out: And if thou bringest meto his breathless trunk. I will reward thee with a Triple gift. Oh Pembroke, let me kneel unto thy blood: And yet I know not whether't be thy blood, Save that my soul by a divine instinct, Tells me it is the treasure of thy veins. If thou be'st dead, thou mirror of all men, I vow to die with thee: this field, this grove Shall be my receptacle till my last: Content with that that feeds the airy souls, My pillow shall be made a bank of moss, And what I drink, the silver brook shall yield. No other camp nor Court will Katharine have, Till fates do limit her a common graven. Long have I wandered with unquiet mind, To find my Pembroke: that they fought, I hear: That they were wounded both to death, I hear: But whither cured or dead, I cannot hear Nor lives there any (if deceased) can tell, Within what place their bodies are interred. Since therefore all my travel is in vain, Here will I take a truce with former care. This cursed nook was that unlucky plot, Where cursed Ferdinand did kill my Love. What Knight is this? isle question him, perhaps He can resolve me where my Pembroke is: Joy and good fortune, sir, attend your state. Tell me, sir knight, for so you seem to be: Know you this dismal place you do frequent? Or have you herd of that unhappy fight, Was here performed by Pembroke and his foe? Oh tell me, is it Pembroke? if for him You have erected this fair monument, Perpetual honour I will do your state: O, let me know your name, so kindly moved, To dignify my Pembrokes high deserts. A certain soft remorse Creeps to my heart, persuades me he was true, Loving, and virtuous: but my self unkind, Coily to scorn the proffer of his mind. Death was a villain for attempting it, And so was Pembroke for effecting it. No bloody Scythian, or inhumane Turk, But would would trembled to would touched his skin, Or spilled one drop of his Heroic blood. O take it not away: since I have lost The substance, suffer me to keep the shadow: Me thinks, so long as this is in my hand, I clasp my Ferdinand between mine arms: So long as I behold this lively form, So long as I refreshed by his smiles: So long, me thinks, I hear him speak to me. Knew I the Painter drew this counterfeit, I would reward him with a mint of gold. On that condition I will gather flowers, And once a day come straw them at his feet: And once a day pay tribute of choice thanks To you the furtherer of my happiness: Till then, I place the picture where it was. Have patience, Knight, how ever thus deformed, This Lady is the daughter of Navarre. Madam, it joys me I have met you here, Though much laments me of your heavy plighted. There needs no repetition of your wrong: I know, the villain Burbon did the dead, Whom my incensed brother will revenge. Enough, sweet Bellamire, These leprous spots, 'tis time they were removed. Come, go with me. Since I left Aquitayne, And came acquainted with these private walks, It was my happy chance to meet and Hermit, Whose skill in Physic warrants present cure, And pure refining of your poisoned blood: I'll bring you thither: afterwards select Delicious sweets, to deck your brother's tomb. Come, sirrah, follow us. I fear I have detracted time too long, In my determinde service to my Love: But I'll redeem my fault with double care. See where his statue is set up: kind Knight, For ever Katharine will record thy truth. As Like, as if it were himself indeed. And would to God my prayers might be herd, That as the Image of Pygmalion once, Life might descend into this senseless stone: But that was feigned, as my desire is found, Relentless death withholds my Ferdinand; And no entreaty may recover him. In token then I do repent my scorn, That I was cruel to so kind a friend, Thou the presenter of his absent person, Receive these sweets, thy temples be adorned With this fresh garland; thy white Ivory hand Boast of this Ring, which if thou Wertenberg alive, Should bind our faiths up in a nuptial knot: But for thou canst not be revived again, I'll dwell with thee in death: and as my spirit Mounts to the happy mansion of thy spirit: So to accompany thy shadow here, I'll turn my body to a shadow too; And kneeling thus, confront thy silent looks, With my sad looks: this is the Instrument. Now Ferdinand, behold thy Katharine comes. I am ashamed to look him in the face. How sweetly does the Earl of Pembroke speak! Now trust me I am ravished with his voice. Then hither strait with youthful Ferdinand, Nauars stout son, there comes and English Knight, Pembroke they call him, honourably born: Him (while we are in conference) thou shalt mark, And to the life set down his counterfeit. Nor is it needful I should show him thee, The goodliest person in the train, that's he. He stays behind the rest, Oh happy hour! Work on (sweet Painter) to enrich mine eye With that, which else procures my tragedy. I am not (Sir) alone, nor do I starve My appetite with any wilful fast, I have a banquet of sweet pleasing thoughts; That is more precious then the costliest feast. I am sorry I want skill to serve his diet. I have not been instructed to such end. Rather the party grieved first should show Wherein we err, else how can we discern What is our fault, or how we may amend? Is he not able then to speak himself? So puissant in his fortitude with men, And daunted with a silly woman's looks? How can that be? 'Twas well he chosen so good and Orator, To plead the imperfection of his cause. Yes, for your sake we have endured his name; And for your sake we tolerate his suit: But when you cease to speak, then all that praise You have attributed to his desert, Seems borrowed from your self, you are the man Whose eloquence compares with Cceroes. You are the man, whose knightly fortitude Lives in the world unprejudiced of any. You vanquish beauty, and enthral the mind Of female weakness, with no lesser awe, Then Indian vassals stoop unto their Lords. The name of Ferdinand you have mista'ne: Say 'tis your self, and then your whole discourse Observes the perfect method that it should. But for your self would be more acceptable. O pardon me, nor let immodest strain Cleave to my brow, my love is chastely bred, Other then Pembroke, Katharine never vows, Shall be inthronized in her maiden thoughts. Will Pembroke triumph in a woman's fallen? You please me not, to speak of Ferdinand. Stay, Pembroke, Katharine will sue to thee, So shalt thou keep thy faith and loyalty. He will not hear, nor (too unkind) look back. Give me his picture: Image far more kind, Then is the substance, whence thou art derived! Which way soever I divert my self, Thou seemest to follow with a loving eye. Thee will I therefore hold within mine arms, As some small comfort to increasing harms. Thou hast done well indeed, in every partly Thou showest complete & cunning workmanship: His eye, his lip, his cheek are rightly framed; But one thing thou hast grossly overslipped. Where is his stubborn unrelenting heart, That lurks in secret as his master does, Disdaining to regard or pity me? Oh no; for then it would be tractable, Mild and applausive as the others be. Speak then for Pembroke as he did for you, Or else your bootless suit will soon be cold. No matter, fellow, I have here a pledge, Which I will zealously devote me to. There's thy reward, withdraw, my father comes. Back to their Tents, my Lord, as I suppose. But can you tell me if they live or no? Or dead, what hand hath given them burial Herd you him ever speak of such a one? That ruthless mind, that iron savage heart, So greatly loved, and so little loving, Breathes in this breast, 'twas I returned disdain, For deep affection; scorn for loyalty: And now compassionlesse shall pine my self. O Ferdinand, forgive me, Ferdinand: Enjoin me any penance for that wrong; Say I shall tread a tedious pilgrimage To furthest Palestine, and I will do it. But peace, found woma ̄ , these exclaims are vain? Thy Ferdinand is dead and cannot hear, As thou wast sometime deaf, and wouldst not hear. For love of Ferdinand your princely brother, Whose Hearse he guards in honourable Arms. Heaven cast her off, if Katharine prove not so.