ge of othes,
Sworne love to one another twenty times,
Confirmd that friendship by society,
Encreasde it with the simpathy of mind,
Making one pleasure pleasure unto both?
And shall this bond be broken upon will?

_Ferd_. Then youle not draw?

_Pem_. Yes, neerer to thy person
In friendly sort to embrace thee, Ferdinand.

_Ferd_. Thou art a coward and thou dar'st not fight.

_Pem_. Thou knowst the contrary, for we have fought
At every weapon to approve our skill.

_Ferd_. Goe to, you are a villayne and a coward,
And by the royall bloud that gave me life
Ile kill thee, Pembrooke, though thou do not draw.

_Pem_. Kill me? thou wilt not wrong thine honour so?

_Ferd_. Zounds but I will; &, traitor, take thou that.
[_Wounds him_.

_Pem_. Wound me so desperately? nay, then, Ile draw,
Not to offend but to defend my selfe.
Now I perceyve it is my blood thou seekst.
Witnesse, you heavens and all you gracious powers
That stand auspicious to this enterprise,
That Pembrooke drawes forth an unwilling sword.

_Ferd_. Why, so; now manfully defend thy selfe.

_Pem_. Another wound? then Pembrook, rowse thy spirit
And beare no longer with this haire-braynd man.
Yet (Ferdinand) resolve me of the cause
That moves thee to this unkind enterprise,
And if I satisfie thee not in words
This double wound shall please thee with my bloud;
Nay, with my sword Ile make a score of wounds
Rather then want of bloud divorce thy love.

_Ferd_. I hate thee deadly and I seeke thy life:
What other reason, Pembrook, wouldst thou have?
Prepare, prepare, in this conflict to show
Thou art a knight and canst o'recome thy foe.

_Pem_. And if I spare thee not, impute the cause
To thine owne rashnes and mine aking wounds.

_Fight, and hurt eche other; both fall downe as dead_.

_Ferd_. I hope I have slayne thee.

_Pem_. Oh I feare thy life.
How fares my Ferdinand?

_Ferd_. What? liv'st thou yet?
Then my fare is ill.

_Pem_. I am markt for death,
I feele a generall fayntnesse through my lymmes;
Expence of bloud will soone expend my life.

_Ferd_. The like debility my joynts doe feele.

_Pem_. Then we must both dye. In the latest of death
Tell me, oh tell me, whence proceeds this hate?

_Ferd_. I feare not (Pembrooke) to discover now.
Thou wert my Spokes-man unto Katherine
And treacherously thou stol'st away her heart.
Oh I can say no more, my spirits doe faynt:
Pembrooke, farewell; I hav