Lewis.
My lord Melun, let this be copied out,
And keep it safe for our remembrance:
Return the president to these lords again,
That having our fair order written down,
Both they and we perusing o'er these notes,
May know wherefore we took the sacrament,
And keep our faiths firm and inviolable.

Sal.
Upon our sides it never shall be broken.
And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swear
A voluntary zeal and un-urg'd faith
To your proceedings; yet believe me, Prince,
I am not glad that such a sore of time
Should seek a plaister by contemn'd revolt,
And heal th'invet'rate canker of one wound,
By making many. Oh it grieves my soul,
That I must draw this metal from my side
To be a widow-maker: oh, and there
Where honourable rescue, and defence,
Cries out upon the name of Salisbury.
But such is the infection of the time,
That for the health and physick of our right,
We cannot deal but with the very hand
Of stern injustice, and confused wrong.
And is't not pity, oh my grieved friends!
That we, the sons and children of this isle,

Were born to see so sad an hour as this,
Wherein we step after a stranger, march
Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up
Her enemies ranks? I must withdraw and weep
Upon the spot, for this enforced cause,
To grace the gentry of a land remote,
And follow unacquainted colours here!
What here? O nation, that thou could'st remove!
That Neptune's arms who clippeth thee about,
Would bear thee from the knowledge of thy self,
And ^{a note}grapple thee unto a Pagan shore!
Where these two christian armies might combine
The blood of malice in a vein of league,
And not to spend it so un-neighbourly.

Lewis.
A noble temper dost thou shew in this,
And great affection wrestling in thy bosom
Doth make an earthquake of nobility.
Oh what a noble combat hast thou fought,
Between compulsion, and a brave respect!
Let me wipe off this honourable dew,
That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks.
My heart hath melted at a lady's tears,
Being an ordinary inundation:
But this effusion of such manly drops,
This show'r blown up by tempest of the soul,
Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd,
Than had I seen the vaulty top of heav'n
Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors.
Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury,
And with a great heart heave away this storm.
Commend these waters to those baby-eyes
That never saw the giant-world enrag'd;
Nor met with fortune, other than at feasts,

Full-warm of blood, of mirth, of gossipping.
Come, come, for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep
Into the purse of rich prosperity
As Lewis himself; so, nobles, shall you all,
That knit your sinews to the strength of mine.

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