peace?

_Pemb_. Peace is a welcome ghest unto their hearts,
But Rodoricke (like a greedy envious churle
Fearing to spend his wealth) still keeps them backe.
Tis he exasperates the Princes hate,
And when our Trumpets call them to retyre
He with warres clangor sets them on agayne.
Unless he be remoov'd our labour's lost.

_Ferd_. It shall not, for Ile seek him through the Host
And with this sword pare off the Traytors head.

_Pem_. Doe, and Ile scoure these ranks: if Pembroks eye
Encounters his, he meets his Tragedy.

_Alarum. Enter Philip pursuing Rodoricke_.

_Phil_. Stay, warlike friends, and ayd me in revenge.

_Ferd_. That is Rodoricke.

_Pem_. Heere's the Traytor, strike him downe.

_Phil_. Who lifts his arme at him strikes at my brest.

_Rod_. Why have you thus ring'd me about with swords?

_Phil_. To shew thee thou must dye.

_Rod_. What have I done
That thus you labour my destruction?

_Pem_. Thou wer't a party in all Burbons wrongs.

_Ferd_. Falsely term'd Ferdinand a Ravisher.

_Pem_. Set discord 'twixt these kings.

_Phil_. Practised my death.

_Pem_. Villayne for this our swords shall stop thy breath.

_Ferd_. Stand not to argue, let's all runne at him.

_Phil_. Now as you love my love or prize mine honour,
Touch not the Traytor; he is Philips foe,
And none but I must work his overthrow.
Thrice in the battell he was rescued from me,
But now hee's fallen into the Lyons paw
From whence the whole world cannot ransome him.
Preservers of my life, heroick friends,
Be you my safety; keepe the souldyers off,
Whilst in the midst by fayre and equall fight
I send this Traytor to eternal night.

_Ferd_. By heaven agreed.

_Pem_. Heere Pembrooke takes his stand:
Come Fraunce and all the world, I will not start
Till Philips knightly sword pierce Rodoricks hart.

_Rod_. Accurst, I am betrayd, incompast round;
Now lyfe and hope and state must kisse the ground.

_Phil_. Rodorick, thou seest, all wayes are stopt to flie;
Be desperat then, fight bravely, and so die.

_Alarum: they fight. Enter to Pembrooke Navar,
Bowyer, and Souldiers: to Ferdinand Fraunce,
Flaunders, and Souldiers: they fight and keepe
them backe. Rodoricke would scape; still kept in
the midst, and kild by Philip_.

_Phil_. Now are his trecheries repaid with death.
Philip and Pembrooke, sound your retreats
With better hope; in him all hatred ends:
The kings will now love peace and soone be friend