What lets us that we charge not on the foe? Nav.

Thy daughter Katharina prayes the like. Nav.

Is trothlesse Pembrooke there? Nav.

Are you content? Nav.

was this your beauteous child? Nav.

Beauteous Bellamira. Nav.

Where's our Child? Nav.

What Peere of France Or in the world, so haughty-resolute, Dare breathe the word of "stay" to mighty Fraunce? Nav.

King of Navar, will onely you sit out? Nav.

If he be not a witch or some Devill let me be slickt into a Carbinado. Nav.

Saint Denis now for Fraunce! Nav.

Will your proud heart decline and call us lord? Nav.

Philip, my sonne! Nav.

Bellamira! Nav.

the glass holder answers done!"Bowditch's Nav., p. 128.