THE SCOTTISH History of james the fourth, slain at Flodden.  
Entermixed with a pleasant Comedy, presented by Oboram King of Fairies: As it hath been sundry times publicly played.  
Written by Robert Green, Master of Arts.  
Omne tulit punctum.  
LONDON Printed by Thomas Creed. 1598.   

THE SCOTTISH History of james the fourth, slain at Flodden.  Music playing within. Enter After Oberon, King of Fairies, an antic, who dance about a Tomb, placest conveniently on the Stage, out of the which, suddenly starts up as they dance, Bohan a Scot, attired like a ridstall man, from whom the antic flies. Oberon Manet. Bohan. 
AY say, what's thou?  Oberon. 
Thy friend Bohan.  Bohan. 
What wot I, or reck I that, whay guide man, I reck no friend, nor ay reck no foe, als e'en to me, get the ganging, and trouble not may wait, or ays gar the reckon me nene of they friend by the marry mass sall I.  Ober. 
Why angry Scot, I visit thee for love: then what moves thee to wrath?  Bohan. 
The de'il a whit reck I thy love. For I know too well, that true love took her flight twenty winter sense to heaven, whither till ay can, we'll I wot, ay shall near find love: an thou lov'st me, leave me to myself. But what were those Puppets that hopped and skipped about me year while?  Oberon. 
My subjects.  Boh. 
They subjects, whay art thou a King?  Ober. 
I am.  Bohan. 
The de'il thou art, whay thou look'st not so big as the king of Clubs, nor so sharp as the king of Spades, nor so fain as the king adaymond's, be the mass ay take thee to be the king of false hearts: therefore I rid thee away, or ayse so curry your Kingdom, that yous be glad to run to save your life.  Ober. 
Why stoical Scot, do what thou dar'st to me, hear is my breast strike.  Boh. 
Thou wilt not threap me, this whiniard has guard many better men to lope than thou: but how now? Gos says what wilt not out? whay thou which, thou de'il, gads fute may whiniard.  Ober. 
Why pull man: but what an twear out how then?  Boh. 
This then, thou wert best begone first: for I'll so lop thy limbs, that thousese go with half a knaves carcase to the de'il  Ober. 
Draw it out, now strike fool, canst thou not?  Boh. 
Bread ay gad, what de'il is in me, whay tell me thou skipjack what art thou?  Ober. 
Nay first tell me what thou wast from thy birth, what thou hast passed hitherto, why thou dwellest in a Tomb, & leavest the world? and then I will release thee of these bonds, before not.  Boh. 
And not before, then needs must needs sal: I was borne a gentleman of the best blood in all Scotland, except the king, when time brought me to age, and death took my parents, I became a Courtier, where though ay list not praise myself, ay engraved the memory of Boughon on the skin-coat of some of them, and reveled with the proudest.  Ober. 
But why living in such reputation, didst thou leave to be a Courtier?  Boh. 
Because my pride was vanity, my expense loss, my reward fair words and large promises, & my hopes spilled, for that after many years service, one outran me, and what the de'il should I then do there. No no, flattering knaves that can cog and prate fastest, speed best in the Court.  Ober. 
To what life didst thou then betake thee?  Boh. 
I then changed the Court for the country, and the wars for a wife: but I found the craft of swains more vile, than the knavery of courtiers: the charge of children more heavy than servants, and wives tongues worse than the wars itself: and therefore I gave over that, & went to the City to dwell, & there I kept a great house with small cheer, but all was near the near.  Ober. 
And why?  Boh. 
because in seeking friends, I found table guests to eat me, & my meat, my wives gossips to bewray the secrets of my heart, kindred to betray the effect of my life, which when I noted, the court ill, the country worse, and the city worst of all, in good time my wife died: ay wood she had died twenty winter sooner by the mass, leaving my two sons to the world, and shutting myself into this Tomb, where if I die, I am sure I am safe from wild beasts, but whilst I live, cannot be free from ill company. Besides, now I am sure give all my friends fail me, I sall have a grave of mine own providing: this is all. Now what art thou?  Ober. 
Oberon King of Fairies, that loves thee because thou hatest the world, and to gratulate thee, I brought those Antiques to show thee some sport in dancing, which thou hast loved well.  Bohan. 
Ha, ha, ha, thinkest thou those puppets can please me? whay I have two sons, that with one scottish gig shall break the neck of thy Antiques.  Ober. 
That would I fain see.  Boha. 
Why thou shalt, how boys. Enter Slipper and Nano .Haud your clacks lads, trattle not for thy life, but gather up your legs and dance me forthwith a gig worth the sight.  Slip. 
Why I must talk on Idy fort, wherefore was my tongue made.  Boha. 
Prattle an thou darest e'en word more, and ais dab this whiniard in thy wembe.  Ober. 
Be quiet Bohan, I'll strike him dumb, and his brother too, their talk shall not hinder our jig, fall to it, dance I say man.  Boh. 
Dance Humer, dance, ay rid thee. The two dance a gig devised for the nonst .Now get you to the wide world with more than my father gave me, that's learning enough, both kinds, knavery & honesty: and that I gave you, spend at pleasure.  Ober. 
Nay for their sport I will give them this gift, to the Dwarf I give a quick wit, pretty of body, and a warrant his preferment to a PRINCE's service, where by his wisdom he shall gain more love than common. And to loggerhead your son, I give a wandering life, and promise he shall never lack: and avow that if in all distresses he call upon me to help him: now let them go.  Exeunt with courtesies. Boh. 
Now King, if thou be a King, I will show thee whay I hate the world by demonstration, in the year 1520. was in Scotland, a king overruled with parasites, misled by lust, & many circumstances, too long to trattle on now, much like our court of Scotland this day, that story have I set down, gang with me to the gallery, & I'll show thee the same in Action, by guide fellows of our country men, and then when thou seest that, judge if any wise man would not leave the world if he could.  Ober. 
That will I see, lead and i'll follow thee.  Exeunt. 

Laus Deo detur in Eternum. Enter the King of England, the King of Scots, Dorithe his Queen, the Countess, Lady Ida, with other Lords. And Ateukin with them aloof .Actus primus. Scena prima.  K. of Scots. 
BRother of England, since our neighbouring land,  
And near alliance doth invite our loves,  
The more I think upon our last accord,  
The more I grieve your sudden parting hence:  
First laws of friendship did confirm our peace,  
Now both the seal of faith and marriage bed,  
The name of father, and the style of friend,  
These force in me affection full confirmed,  
So that I grieve, and this my hearty grief  
The heavens record, the world may witness well  
To lose your presence, who are now to me  
A father, brother, and a vowed friend.  K. of Eng. 
Link all these lovely styles good king in one,  
And since thy grief exceeds in my depart,  
I leave my Dorithea to enjoy, thy whole compact  
Loves, and plighted vows.  
Brother of Scotland, this is my joy, my life,  
Her father's honour, and her country's hope,  
Her mother's comfort, and her husband's bliss:  
I tell thee king, in loving of my Doll,  
Thou bindest her father's heart and all his friends  
In bands of love that death cannot dissolve.  K. of Scots. 
Nor can her father love her like to me,  
My lives light, and the comfort of my soul:  
Fair Dorithea, that wast England's pride,  
Welcome to Scotland, and in sign of love,  
Lo I invest thee with the Scottish Crown.  
Nobles and Ladies, stoop unto your Queen.  
And Trumpets sound, that Heralds may proclaim,  
Fair Dorithea peerless Queen of Scots.  All. 
Long live and prosper our fair Q. of Scots.  install and Crown her. Dor. 
Thanks to the king of kings for my dignity,  
Thanks to my father, that provides so carefully,  
Thanks to my Lord and husband for this honour,  
And thanks to all that love their King and me.  All. 
Long live fair Dorithea our true Queen.  K. of E. 
Long shine the sun of Scotland in her pride,  
Her father's comfort, and fair Scotland's Bride.  
But Dorithea, since I must depart,  
And leave thee from thy tender mother's charge.  
Let me advise my lovely daughter first,  
What best befits her in a foreign land,  
Live Doll, for many eyes shall look on thee,  
Have care of honour and the present state:  
For she that steps to height of Majesty,  
Is even the mark whereat the enemy aims.  
Thy virtues shall be construed to vice,  
Thine affable discourse to abject mind.  
If coy, detracting tongues will call thee proud:  
Be therefore wary in this slippery state,  
Honour thy husband, love him as thy life:  
Make choice of friends, as Eagles of their young,  
Who soothe no vice, who flatter not for gain:  
But love such friends as do the truth maintain.  
Think on these lessons when thou art alone,  
And thou shalt live in health when I am gone.  Dor. 
I will engrave these precepts in my heart,  
And as the wind with calmness woes you hence,  
Even so I wish the heavens in all mishaps,  
May bless my father with continual grace.  K. of E. 
Then son farewell, the favouring winds invites us to  
Long circumstance in taking princely leaves,  
Is more officious than convenient.  
Brother of Scotland, love me in my child,  
You greet me well, if so you will her good.  K. of Sc. 
Then lovely Doll, and all that favour me,  
Attend to see our English friends at sea,  
Let all their charge depend upon my purse:  
They are our neighbours, by whose kind accord,  
We dare attempt the proudest Potentate.  
Only fair Countess, and your daughter stay,  
With you I have some other thing to say.  Exeunt all save the King, the Countess, Ida, Ateukin, in all royalty. K. of S. 
So let them triumph that have cause to joy,  
But wretched King, thy nuptial knot is death:  
Thy Bride the breeder of thy country's ill,  
For thy false heart dissenting from thy hand,  
Misled by love, hast made another choice,  
Another choice, even when thou vowedst thy soul  
To Dorithea, England's choicest pride,  
O then thy wandering eyes bewitched thy heart,  
Even in the Chapel did thy fancy change,  
When perjured man, though fair Doll had thy hand,  
The Scottish Ida's beauty stale thy heart:  
Yet fear and love hath tied thy ready tongue  
From blabbing forth the passions of thy mind,  
Lest fearful silence have in subtle looks  
Bewrayed the treason of my new vowed love,  
Be fair and lovely Doll, but here's the prize  
That lodgeth here, and entered through mine eyes,  
Yet howsoe'er I love, I must be wise.  
Now lovely Countess, what reward or grace,  
May I employ on you for this your zeal,  
And humble honours done us in our Court,  
In entertainment of the English King.  Countess. 
It was of duty Prince that I have done:  
And what in favour may content me most,  
Is, that it please your grace to give me leave,  
For to return unto my Country home.  K. of Scots. 
But lovely Ida is your mind the same?  Ida. 
I count of Court my Lord, as wise men do,  
'tis fit for those that knows what longs thereto:  
Each person to his place, the wise to Art,  
The Cobbler to his clout, the Swain to Cart.  K. of Sc. 
But Ida you are fair, and beauty shines,  
And seemeth best, where pomp her pride refines.  Ida. 
If beauty (as I know there's none in me)  
Were sworn my love, and I his life should be:  
The farther from the Court I were removed,  
The more I think of heaven I were beloved.  K. of Scots. 
And why?  Ida. 
Because the Court is counted Venus' net,  
Where gifts and vows for stales are often set,  
None, be she chaste as Vesta, but shall meet  
A curious tongue to charm her ears with sweet.  K. of Scots. 
Why Ida then I see you set at nought,  
The force of love.  Ida. 
In sooth this is my thought most gracious king,  
That they that little prove  
Are mickle blessed, from bitter sweets of love:  
And we'll I wot, I heard a shepherd sing,  
That like a Bee, Love hath a little sting:  
He lurks in flowers, he percheth on the trees,  
He on king's pillows, bends his pretty knees:  
The Boy is blind, but when he will not spy,  
He hath a leaden foot, and wings to fly:  
Beshrew me yet, for all these strange effects,  
If I would like the Lad, that so infects.  K. of Scots. 
Rare wit, fair face, what heart could more desire!  
But Doll is fair, and doth concern thee near.  
Let Doll be fair, she is won, but I must woe,  
And win fair Ida, there's some choice in two.  
But Ida thou art coy.  Ida. 
And why dread King?  K. of Scots. 
In that you will dispraise so sweet  
A thing, as love, had I my wish.  Ida. 
What then?  K. of Scots. 
Then would I place his arrow here,  
His beauty in that face.  Ida. 
And were Apollo moved and ruled by me,  
His wisdom should be yours, and mine his tree.  K. of Scots. 
But here returns our train.  
Welcome fair Doll: how fares our father, is he shipped and gone.  Enters the train back. Dor. 
My royal father is both shipped and gone,  
God and fair winds direct him to his home.  K. of Sc. 
Amen say I, would thou wert with him too:  
Then might I have a fitter time to woo.  
But Countess you would be gone, therefore farewell  
Yet Ida if thou wilt, stay thou behind,  
To accompany my Queen.  
But if thou like the pleasures of the Court,  
Or if she liked me though she left the Court,  
What should I say? I know not what to say,  
You may depart, and you my courteous Queen,  
Leave me a space, I have a weighty cause to think upon:  
Ida, it nips me near:  
It came from thence, I feel it burning here.  Exeunt all saving the King and Ateukin. K. of Scot. 
Now am I free from sight of common eye,  
Where to myself I may disclose the grief  
That hath too great a part in mine affects.  Ateu. 
And now is my time, by wiles & words to rise,  
Greater than those, that thinks themselves more wise.  K. of Scots. 
And first fond King, thy honour doth engrave,  
Upon thy brows, the drift of thy disgrace:  
Thy new vowed love in sight of God and men,  
Link thee to Dorithea, during life.  
For who more fair and virtuous than thy wife,  
Deceitful murderer of a quiet mind,  
Fond love, vile lust, that thus misleads us men,  
To vow our faiths, and fall to sin again.  
But Kings stoop not to every common thought,  
Ida is fair and wise, fit for a King:  
And for fair Ida will I hazard life,  
Venture my Kingdom, Country, and my Crown:  
Such fire hath love, to burn a kingdom down.  
Say Doll dislikes, that I estrange my love,  
Am I obedient to a woman's look?  
Nay say her father frown when he shall hear  
That I do hold fair Ida's love so dear:  
Let father frown and fret, and fret and die,  
Nor earth, nor heaven shall part my love and I.  
Yea they shall part us, but we first must meet,  
And woe, and win, and yet the world not see't.  
Yea there's the wound, & wounded with that thought  
So let me die: for all my drift is nought.  Ateu. 
Most gracious and imperial Majesty,  K. of S. 
A little flattery more were but too much,  
Villain what art thou that thus darest interrupt a PRINCE's secrets.  Ateu. 
Dread King, thy vassal is a man of Art,  
Who knows by constellation of the stars,  
By oppositions and by dry aspects,  
The things are past, and those that are to come.  K. of S. 
But where's thy warrant to approach my presence?  Ateu. 
My zeal and ruth to see your graces wrong,  
Makes me lament, I did detract so long.  K. of S. 
If thou know'st thoughts, tell me what mean I now?  Ateu. 
I'll calculate the cause of those your highness smiles,  
And tell your thoughts.  K. of S. 
But lest thou spend thy time in idleness,  
And miss the matter that my mind aims at,  
Tell me what star was opposite when that was thought?  He strikes him on the ear. Ateu. 
'tis inconvenient mighty Potentate,  
Whose looks resembles jove in Majesty,  
To scorn the sooth of science with contempt,  
I see in those imperial looks of yours,  
The whole discourse of love, Saturn combust,  
With direful looks at your nativity:  
Beheld fair Venus in her silver orb,  
I know by certain exiomies I have read,  
Your grace's griefs, & further can express her name,  
That holds you thus in fancies bands.  K. of S. 
Thou talkest wonders.  Ateu. 
Nought but truth O King,  
'tis Ida is the mistress of your heart,  
Whose youth must take impression of affects,  
For tender twigs will bow, and milder minds  
Will yield to fancy be they followed well.  K. of S. 
What god art thou composed in human shape,  
Or bold Trophonius to decide our doubts,  
How know'st thou this?  Ateu. 
even as I know the means,  
To work your grace's freedom and your love:  
Had I the mind as many Courtiers have,  
To creep into your bosom for your coin,  
And beg rewards for every cap and knee,  
I then would say, if that your grace would give  
This lease, this manor, or this patent sealed,  
For this or that I would effect your love:  
But Ateukin is no Parasite O Prince,  
I know your grace knows scholars are but poor,  
And therefore as I blush to beg a fee,  
Your mightiness is so magnificent  
You cannot choose but cast some gift apart,  
To ease my bashful need that cannot beg,  
As for your love, oh might I be employed,  
How faithfully would Ateukin compass it:  
But Princes rather trust a smoothing tongue,  
Than men of Art that can accept the time.  K. of Scots. 
Ateu. If so thy name, for so thou sayst,  
Thine Art appears in entrance of my love:  
And since I deem thy wisdom matched with truth,  
I will exalt thee, and thyself alone  
Shalt be the Agent to dissolve my grief.  
Sooth is, I love, and Ida is my love,  
But my new marriage nips me near, Ateukin:  
For Dorithea may not brook th'abuse.  Ateu. 
These lets are but as moths against the sun,  
Yet not so great, like dust before the wind:  
Yet not so light. Tut. pacify your grace,  
You have the sword and sceptre in your hand,  
You are are the King, the state depends on you:  
Your will is law, say that the case were mine,  
Were she my sister whom your highness loves,  
She should consent, for that our lives, our goods,  
Depend on you, and if your Queen repine,  
Although my nature cannot brook of blood,  
And Scholars grieve to hear of murderous deeds,  
But if the Lamb should let the lions way,  
By my advise the Lamb should lose her life.  
Thus am I bold to speak unto your grace,  
Who am too base to kiss your royal feet,  
For I am poor, nor have I land nor rent,  
Nor countenance here in Court, but for my love,  
Your Grace shall find none such within the realm.  K. of S. 
Wilt thou effect my love, shall she be mine?  Ateu. 
I'll gather Moly-rocus, and the herbs,  
That heals the wounds of body and the mind,  
I'll set out charms and spells, nought else shallbe left,  
To tame the wanton if she shall rebel,  
Give me but tokens of your highness trust.  K. of S. 
Thou shalt have gold, honour and wealth enough,  
Win my Love, and I will make thee great.  Ateu. 
These words do make me rich most noble Prince,  
I am more proud of them then any wealth,  
Did not your grace suppose I flatter you,  
Believe me I would boldly publish this:  
Was never eye that saw a sweeter face,  
Nor never ear that heard a deeper wit,  
Oh God how I am ravished in your worth.  K. of S. 
Ateu. Follow me, love must have ease.  Ateu. 
I'll kiss your highness feet, march when you please.  Exeunt. Enter Slipper, Nano, and Andrew, with their bills ready written in their hands. Andrew. 
Stand back sir, mine shall stand highest.  Slip. 
Come under mine arm sir, or get a footstool,  
Or else by the light of the Moon, I must come to it.  Nano. 
Agree my masters, every man to his height,  
Though I stand lowest, I hope to get the best master.  Andr. 
Ere I will stoop to a thistle, I will change turns,  
As good luck comes on the right hand, as the left:  
Here's for me, and me, and mine.  Andr. 
But tell me fellows till better occasion come,  
Do you seek masters?  Ambo. 
We do.  Andr. 
But what can you do worthy preferment?  Nano. 
Marry I can smell a knave from a Rat.  Slip. 
And I can lick a dish before a Cat.  Andr. 
And I can find two fools unsought,  
How like you that?  
But in earnest, now tell me of what trades are you two?  Slip. 
How mean you that sir, of what trade?  
Marry I'll tell you, I have many trades,  
The honest trade when I needs must,  
The filching trade when time serves,  
The cozening trade as I find occasion.  
And I have more qualities, I cannot abide a full cup unkissed,  
A fat Capon uncarved,  
A full purse unpicked,  
Nor a fool to prove a justice as you do.  Andr. 
Why sot why call'st thou me fool?  Nano. 
For examining wiser than thyself.  Andr. 
So doth many more than I in Scotland.  Nano. 
Yea those are such, as have more authority than wit,  
And more wealth than honesty.  Slip. 
This is my little brother with the great wit, ware him,  
But what canst thou do, tell me, that art so inquisitive of us?  Andr. 
Any thing that concerns a gentleman to do, that can I do.  Slip. 
So you are of the gentle trade?  Andr. 
True.  Slip. 
Then gentle sir, leave us to ourselves,  
For hear comes one as if he would lack a servant ere he went.  Ent. 
Ateu. Why so Ateukin? this becomes thee best,  
Wealth, honour, ease, and angels in thy chest:  
Now may I say, as many often sing,  
No fishing to the sea, nor service to a king.  
Unto this high promotions doth belong,  
Means to be talked of in the thickest throng:  
And first to fit the humours of my Lord,  
Sweet lays and lines of love I must record.  
And such sweet lines and love lays I'll indite:  
As men may wish for, and my leech delight,  
And next a train of gallants at my heels,  
That men may say, the world doth run on wheels.  
For men of art, that rise by indirection,  
To honour and the favour of their King,  
Must use all means to save what they have got,  
And win their favours whom he never knew.  
If any frown to see my fortunes such,  
A man must bear a little, not too much:  
But in good time these bills partend, I think,  
That some good fellows do for service seek.  Read. 
If any gentleman, spiritual or temporal, will entertain out of his service, a young stripling of the age of 30. years, that can sleep with the soundest, eat with the hungriest, work with the sickest, lie with the loudest, face with the proudest, etc. that can wait in a Gentleman's chamber, when his master is a mile of, keep his stable when 'tis empty, and his purse when 'tis full, and hath many qualities worse than all these, let him write his name and go his way, and attendance shall be given.  Ateu. 
By my faith a good servant, which is he?  Slip. 
Truly sir that am I?  Ateu. 
And why dost thou write such a bill,  
Are all these qualities in thee?  Slip. 
O Lord I sir, and a great many more,  
Some better, some worse, some richer some poorer,  
Why sir do you look so, do they not please you?  Ateu. 
Truly no, for they are nought and so art thou,  
If thou hast no better qualities, stand by.  Slip. 
O sir, I tell the worst first, but and you lack a man,  
I am for you, i'll tell you the best qualities I have.  Ateu. 
Be brief then.  Slip. 
If you need me in your chamber,  
I can keep the door at a whistle, in your kitchen,  
Turn the spit, and lick the pan, and make the fire burn.  
But if in the stable.  Steu. 
Yea there would I use thee.  Slip. 
Why there you kill me, there am I,  
And turn me to a horse & a wench, and I have no peer.  Ateu. 
Art thou so good in keeping a horse,  
I pray thee tell me how many good qualities hath a horse?  Slip. 
Why so sir, a horse hath two properties of a man,  
That is a proud heart, and a hardy stomach,  
four properties of a Lion, a broad breast, a stiff docket,  
Hold your nose master. A wild countenance, and 4. good legs.  
Nine properties of a Fox, nine of a Hare, nine of an Ass,  
And ten of a woman.  Ateu. 
A woman, why what properties of a woman hath a Horse?  Slip. 
O master, know you not that?  
Draw your tables, and write what wise I speak.  
First a merry countenance.  
Second, a soft pace.  
Third, a broad forehead.  
Fourth, broad buttocks.  
Fift, hard of ward.  
sixth, easy to leap upon.  
Seventh, good at long journey.  
Eight, moving under a man.  
Ninth, always busy with the mouth.  
Tenth. Ever chewing on the bridle.  Ateu. 
Thou art a man for me, what's thy name?  Slip. 
An ancient name sir, belonging to the  
Chamber and the night gown. Guess you that.  Ateu. 
What's that, Slipper?  Slip. 
By my faith well guessed, and so 'tis indeed:  
You'll be my master?  Ateu. 
I mean so.  Slip. 
read this first.  Ateu. 
Pleaseth it any Gentleman to entertain  
A servant of more wit than stature,  
Let them subscribe, and attendance shall be given.  
What of this?  Slip. 
He is my brother sir, and we two were borne together,  
Must serve together, and will die together,  
Though we be both hanged.  Ateu. 
What's thy name?  Nano. 
Nano.  Ateu. 
The etymology of which word, is a dwarf:  
Art not thou the old stoics son that dwells in his Tomb?  Ambo. 
We are.  Ateu. 
Thou art welcome to me,  
Wilt thou give thyself wholly to be at my disposition?  Nano. 
In all humility I submit myself.  Ateu. 
Then will I deck thee Princely, instruct thee courtly,  
And present thee to the Queen as my gift.  
Art thou content?  Nano. 
Yes, and thank your honour too.  Slip. 
Then welcome brother, and fellow now.  Andr. 
May it please your honour to abase your eye so low,  
As to look either on my bill or myself.  Ateu. 
What are you?  An. 
By birth a gentleman, in profession a scholar,  
And one that knew your honour in Edinburgh,  
Before your worthiness called you to this reputation.  
By me Andrew Snoord.  Ateu. 
Andrew I remember thee, follow me,  
And we will confer further, for my weighty affairs  
For the king, commands me to be brief at this time.  
Come on Nano, Slipper follow.  Exeunt. Enter sir Bartram with Eustas and others, booted. S. Bar. 
But tell me lovely Eustas as thou lov'st me,  
Among the many pleasures we have passed,  
Which is the rifest in thy memory,  
To draw thee over to thine ancient friend?  Eu. 
What makes Sir Bartram thus inquisitive?  
Tell me good knight, am I welcome or no?  Sir Bar. 
By sweet S. Andrew and may sale I swear,  
As welcome is my honest Dick to me,  
As morning's sun, or as the watery moon,  
In murkiest night, when we the borders track.  
I tell thee Dick, thy sight hath cleared my thoughts,  
Of many baneful troubles that there woond.  
Welcome to sir Bartram as his life:  
Tell me bonny Dick, hast got a wife?  Eust. 
A wife God shield sir Bartram, that were ill  
To leave my wife and wander thus astray:  
But time and good advise ere many years,  
May chance to make my fancy bend that way,  
What news in Scotland? therefore came I hither:  
To see your Country, and to chat together.  Sir Bar. 
Why man our Countries blithe, our king is well,  
Our Queen so, so, the Nobles well, and worse  
And we'll are they that were about the king,  
But better are the Country Gentlemen.  
And I may tell thee Eustace, in our lives,  
We old men never saw so wondrous change:  
But leave this trattle, and tell me what news,  
In lovely England with our honest friends?  Eust. 
The king, the Court, and all our noble friends  
Are well, and God in mercy keep them so.  
The Northern Lords and Ladies hereabouts,  
That knows I came to see your Queen and Court,  
Commends them to my honest friend sir Bartram,  
And many others that I have not seen:  
Among the rest, the Countess Elinor from Carlisle  
Where we merry oft have been,  
Greets well my Lord, and hath directed me,  
By message this fair lady's face to see.  Sir Bar. 
I tell thee Eustace, lest mine old eyes daze,  
This is our Scottish moon and evenings pride:  
This is the blemish of your English Bride:  
Who sails by her, are sure of wind at will.  
Her face is dangerous, her sight is ill:  
And yet in sooth sweet Dick, it may be said,  
The king hath folly, their's virtue in the maid.  Eust. 
But knows my friend this portrait, be advised?  Sir Bar. 
Is it not Ida the Countess of arain's daughters?  Eust. 
So was I told by Elinor of Carlisle,  
But tell me lovely Bartram, is the maid evil inclined,  
Misled, or Concubine unto the King or any other Lord?  Ba. 
Should I be brief & true, then thus my Dick,  
All England's grounds yields not a blyther Lass.  
Nor Europe can art her for her gifts,  
Of virtue, honour, beauty, and the rest:  
But our fond king not knowing sin in lust,  
Makes love by endless means and precious gifts,  
And men that see it dare not say't my friend,  
But we may wish that it were otherwise:  
But I rid thee to view the picture still,  
For by the persons sights there hangs some ill.  Ba. 
Oh good sir Bartram, you suspect I love,  
Then were I mad, he whom I never saw,  
But howsoe'er, I fear not enticings,  
Desire will give no place unto a king:  
I'll see her whom the world admires so much,  
That I may say with them, there lives none such.  Bar. 
Be Gad and sal, both see and talk with her,  
And when thouhast done, whate'er her beauty be,  
I'll warrant thee her virtues may compare,  
With the proudest she that wars upon your Queen.  Eu. 
My Lady entreats your Worship in to supper.  Ba. 
Guid bony Dick, my wife will tell thee more,  
Was never no man in her book before:  
Be Gad she's blithe, fair jewelly, bony, etc.  Exeunt. Enter Bohan and the fairy king after the first act, to them a round of Fairies, or some pretty dance. Boh. 
Be Gad gramersis little king for this,  
This sport is better in my exile life,  
Then ever the deceitful world could yield.  Ober. 
I tell thee Bohan, Oberon is king,  
Of quiet, pleasure, profit, and content,  
Of wealth, of honour, and of all the world,  
Tide to no place, yet all are tide to one,  
Live thou in this life, exiled from world and men,  
And I will show thee wonders ere we part,  Boh. 
Then mark my stay, and the strange doubts,  
That follow flatterers, lust and lawless will,  
And then say I have reason to forsake the world,  
And all that are within the same.  
go shroud us in our harbour where we'll see,  
The pride of folly, as it ought to be.  Exeunt.  
After the first act. Ober. 
Here see I good fond actions in thy jig,  
And means to paint the worlds in constant ways  
But turn thine e'en, see which for I can command.  Enter two battles strongly fighting, the one Simi Ranus, the other, Staurobates, she flies, and her Crown is taken, and she hurt. Boh. 
What gars this din of mink and baleful harm,  
Where every wean is all betaint with blood?  Ober. 
This shows thee Bohan what is worldly pomp.  
Simeranus, the proud Assyrian Queen,  
When Ninus died, did tene in her wars,  
Three millions of footmen to the fight,  
Five hundredth thousand horse, of armed chars,  
A hundredth thousand more yet in her pride  
Was hurt and conquered by S. Tanrobates.  
Then what is pomp?  Bohan. 
I see thou art thine e'en.  
Thou bonny King, if Princes fall from high,  
My fall is past, until I fall to die.  
Now mark my talk, and prosecute my jig.  Ober. 
How should these crafts withdraw thee from the world!  
But look my Bohan, pomp allureth.  Enter Cirus king, humbling themselves: himself crowned by Olive Pat, at last dying, laid in a marble tomb with this inscription 
Who so thou be that passest,  
For I know one shall pass, know I  
I am Cirus of Persia,  
And I prithee leave me not thus like a clod of clay  
Wherewith my body is covered.  All exeunt. Enter the king in great pomp, who reads it, & issueth, crieth vermeum. Boha. 
What meaneth this?  Ober. 
Cirus of Persia,  
Mighty in life, within a marble grave,  
Was laid to rot, whom Alexander once  
Beheld in, and weeping did confess  
Nothing in life could scape from wretchedness:  
Why then boast men?  Boh. 
What reck I then of life,  
Who makes the grave my tomb, the earth my wife:  
But mark me more.  Boh. 
I can no more, my patience will not warp.  
To see these flatteries how they scorn and carp.  Ober. 
Turn but thy head.  Enter our kings carrying Crowns, Ladies presenting odours to Potentates enthroned, who suddenly is slain by his servants, and thrust out, and so they eat. Exeunt. 
Sike is the world, but whilk is he I saw.  Ober. 
Sesostris who was conqueror of the world,  
Slain at the last, and stamped on by his slaves.  Boh. 
How blessed are poor men than that know their grave,  
Now mark the sequel of my Gig.  Boh. 
An he we'll meet ends: the murky and sable night  
Doth leave the pering morn to pry abroad,  
Thou nill me stay, hail than thou pride of kings,  
I ken the world, and wot well worldly things,  
Mark thou my jig, in mirkest terms that tells  
The loath of sins, and where corruption dwells  
Hail me ne mere with shows of goodly sights:  
My grave is mine, that rids me from despites.  
Accept my gig guide King, and let me rest,  
The grave with guide men, is a gay built nest.  Ober. 
The rising sun doth call me hence away,  
Thanks for thy jig, I may no longer stay:  
But if my train, did wake thee from thy rest,  
So shall they sing, thy lullaby to nest.   

Actus Secundus. Schena Prima.  Enter the Countess of Arrain, with Ida her daughter in their porch, sitting at work. A song. Count. 
Fair Ida, might you choose the greatest good  
Midst all the world, in blessings that abound:  
Wherein my daughter should your liking be?  Ida. 
Not in delights, or pomp, or majesty.  Count. 
And why?  Ida. 
Since these are means to draw the mind  
From perfect good, and make true judgement blind.  Count. 
Might you have wealth, and fortune's richest store?  Ida. 
Yet would I (might I choose) be honest poor.  
For she that sits at fortune's feet allow  
Is sure she shall not taste a further woe.  
But those that prank one top of fortune's ball,  
Still fear a change: and fearing catch a fall.  Count. 
Tut foolish maid, each one contemneth need.  Ida. 
Good reason why, they know not good indeed.  Count. 
Many marry then, on whom distress doth lour,  Ida. 
Yes they that virtue deem an honest dower.  
madam, by right this world I may compare,  
Unto my work, wherein with heedful care,  
The heavenly workman plants with curious hand,  
As I with needle draw each thing one land,  
Even as he list, some men like to the Rose,  
Are fashioned fresh, some in their stalks do close,  
And borne do sudden die: some are but weeds,  
And yet from them a secret good proceeds:  
I with my needle if I please may blot,  
The fairest rose within my cambric plot,  
God with a beck can change each worldly thing,  
The poor to earth, the beggar to the king.  
What then hath man, wherein he well may boast,  
Since by a beck he lives, a lover is lost?  Enter Eustace with letters. Count. 
Peace Ida, here are strangers near at hand.  Eust. 
madam God speed.  Count. 
I thank you gentle squire.  Eust. 
The country Countess of Northumberland,  
Doth greet you well, and hath requested me,  
To bring these letters to your Ladyship.  He carries the letter. Count. 
I thank her honour, and yourself my friend.  she receives and peruseth them. 
I see she means you good brave Gentleman,  
Daughter, the Lady Elinor salutes  
yourself as well as me, then for her sake  
'twere good you entertained that courtier well.  Ida. 
As much salute as may become my sex,  
And he in virtue can vouchsafe to think,  
I yield him for the courteous countess sake.  
Good sir sit down, my mother here and I,  
Count time misspent, an endless vanity.  Eust. 
Beyond report, the wit, the fair, the shape,  
What work you here, fair Mistress may I see it?  Id. 
Good Sir look on, how like you this compact?  Eust. 
methinks in this I see true love in act:  
The Woodbines with their leaves do sweetly spread,  
The Roses blushing prank them in their red,  
No flower but boasts the beauties of the spring,  
This bird hath life indeed if it could sing:  
What means fair Mistress had you in this work?  Ida. 
My needle sir.  Eust. 
In needles then there lurks,  
Some hidden grace I deem beyond my reach.  Id. 
Not grace in them good sir, but those that teach.  Eust. 
Say that your needle now were Cupid's sting,  
But ah her eye must be no less,  
In which is heaven and heavenliness,  
In which the food of God is shut,  
Whose powers the purest minds do glut.  Ida. 
What if it were?  Eust. 
Then see a wondrous thing,  
I fear me you would paint in Teneus' heart,  
Affection in his power and chiefest parts.  Ida. 
Good Lord sir no, for hearts but pricked soft,  
Are wounded sore, for so I hear it oft.  Eust. 
what recks the second,  
Where but your happy eye,  
May make him live, whom jove hath judged to die.  Ida. 
Should life & death within this needle lurk,  
I'll prick no hearts, I'll prick upon my work.  Enter Ateuken, with Slipper the Clown. Cous. 
Peace Ida, I perceive the fox at hand.  Eust. 
The fox? why fetch your hounds & chase him hence.  Count. 
Oh sir these great men bark at small offence.  Ateu. 
Come will it please you to enter gentle sir?  Offer to exeunt. 
Stay courteous Ladies, favour me so much,  
As to discourse a word or two apart.  Count. 
Good sir, my daughter learns this rule of me,  
To shun resort, and strangers company:  
For some are shifting mates that carry letters,  
Some such as you too good, because our betters.  Slip. 
Now I pray you sir what a kin are you to a pickerel?  Ateu. 
Why knave?  Slip. 
By my troth sir, because I never knew a proper situation fellow of your pitch, fitter to swallow a gudgeon.  Ateu. 
What meanst thou by this?  Slip. 
Shifting fellow sir, these be thy words, shifting fellow:  
This Gentlewoman I fear me, knew your bringing up.  Ateu. 
How so?  Slip. 
Why sir your father was a Miller,  
That could shift for a peck of grist in a bushel,  
And you a fair spoken Gentleman, that can get more land by a lie, than an honest man by his ready money.  Ateu. 
caitiff what sayest thou?  Slip. 
I say sir, that if she call you shifting knave,  
You shall not put her to the proof.  Ateu. 
And why?  Slip. 
Because sir, living by your wit as you do shifting, is your letters patents, it were a hard matter for me to get my dinner that day, wherein my Master had not sold a dozen of devices, a case of cogs, and a shoot of shifts in the morning: I speak this in your commendation sir, & I pray you so take it.  Ateu. 
If I live knave I will be revenged, what Gentleman would entertain a rascal, thus to derogate from his honour?  Ida. 
My Lord why are you thus impatient?  Ateu. 
Not angry Ida, but I teach this knave,  
How to behave himself among his betters:  
Behold fair Countess to assure your stay,  
I here present the signet of the king,  
Who now by me fair Ida doth salute you:  
And since in secret I have certain things,  
In his behalf good madam to impart,  
I crave your daughter to discourse a part.  Count. 
She shall in humble duty be addressed,  
To do his highness will in what she may.  Id. 
Now gentle sir what would his grace with me?  Ateu. 
Fair comely Nymph, the beauty of your face,  
Sufficient to bewitch the heavenly powers,  
Hath wrought so much in him, that now of late  
He finds himself made captive unto love,  
And though his power and Majesty requires,  
A straight command before an humble suit,  
Yet he his mightiness doth so abase,  
As to entreat your favour honest maid.  Ida. 
Is he not married sir unto our Queen?  Ateu. 
He is.  Ida. 
And are not they by God accursed,  
That sever them whom he hath knit in one?  Ateu. 
They be: what then? we seek not to displace  
The Princess from her seat, but since by love  
The king is made your own, she is resolved  
In private to accept your dalliance,  
In spite of war, watch, or worldly eye.  Ida. 
Oh how he talks as if he should not die,  
As if that God in justice once could wink,  
Upon that fault I am ashamed to think.  Ateu. 
Tut Mistress, man at first was born to err,  
Women are all not formed to be Saints:  
'tis impious for to kill our native king,  
Whom by a little favour we may save.  Ida. 
Better then live unchaste, to live in grave.  Ateu. 
He shall erect your state & wed you well.  Ida. 
But can his warrant keep my soul from hell?  Ateu. 
He will enforce, if you resist his suit.  Id. 
What tho, the world may shame to him account  
To be a king of men and worldly pelf.  Ateu. 
Yet hath to power no rule and guide himself,  
I know you gentle Lady and the care,  
Both of your honour and his grace's health,  
Makes me confused in this dangerous state.  Ida. 
So counsel him, but soothe thou not his sin,  
'tis vain allurement that doth make him love,  
I shame to hear, be you a shamed to move,  Count. 
I see my daughter grows impatient,  
I fear me he pretends some bad intent.  Ateu. 
Will you despise the king, & scorn him so?  Ida. 
In all allegiance I will serve his grace,  
But not in lust, oh how I blush to name it?  Ateu. 
An endless work is this, how should I frame it?  They discourse privately. Slip. 
Oh Mistress may I turn a word upon you.  Ateu. 
Friend what wilt thou?  Slip. 
Oh what a happy Gentlewoman be you truly, the world reports this of you Mistress, that a man can no sooner come to your house, but the Butler comes with a black jack and says welcome friend, here's a cup of the best for you, verily Mistress you are said to have the best Ale in all Scotland.  Count. 
Sirrah go fetch him drink, how likest thou this?  Slip. 
Like it Mistress? why this is quincy quarie pepper de watchet, single goby, of all that ever I tasted: I'll prove in this Ale and tossed, the compass of the whole world. First this is the earth, it ties in the middle a fair brown tossed, a goodly country for hungry teeth to dwell upon: next this is the sea, a fair pool for a dry tongue to fish in: now come I, & seeing the world is nought, I divide it thus, & because the sea cannot stand without the earth, as Arist. saith, I put them both into their first Chaos which is my belly, and so mistress you may see your ale is become a miracle.  Eustace. 
A merry mate madam I promise you.  Count. 
Why sigh you sirrah?  Slip. 
Truly Madam, to think upon the world, which since I denounced, it keeps such a rumbling in my stomach, that unless your Cook give it a counterbuff with some of your roasted Capons or beef, I fear me I shall become a loose body, so dainty I think, I shall neither hold fast before nor behind.  Count. 
Go take him in and feast this merry swain,  
sirrah, my cook is your physician.  
He hath a purge for to digest the world.  Ateu. 
Will you not, Ida, grant his highness this?  Ida. 
As I have said, in duty I am his:  
For other lawless lusts, that ill beseem him,  
I cannot like, and good I will not deem him.  Count. 
Ida come in, and sir if so you please,  
Come take a homely widows entertain.  Ida. 
If he have no great haste, he may come nigh.  
If haste, though he be gone, I will not cry.  Exeunt. Ateu. 
I see this labour lost, my hope in vain,  
Yet will I try another drift again.  Enter the Bishop of S. Andrew's, Earl Douglas, Morton, with others, one way, the Queen with dwarves another way. B. S. Andr. 
Oh wrack of Commonweal! Oh wretched state!  Doug. 
Oh hapless flock whereas the guide is blind?  They all are in a muse. Mort. 
Oh heedless youth, where counsel is despised.  Dorot. 
Come pretty knave, and prank it by my side.  
Let's see your best attendance out of hand.  Dwarf. 
madam although my limbs are very small,  
My heart is good, i'll serve you there withal.  Doro. 
How if I were assailed, what couldst thou do?  Dwarf. 
madam call help, and boldly fight it to,  
Although a Bee be but a little thing:  
You know fair Queen, it hath a bitter sting.  Dor. 
How couldst thou do me good were I in grief?  Dwar. 
Counsel dear Princes, is a choice relief.  
Though Nestor wanted force, great was his wit,  
And though I am but weak, my words are fit.  S. And. 
Like to a ship upon the Ocean seas,  
tossed in the doubtful stream without a helm,  
Such is a Monarch without good advice,  
I am over heard, cast rain upon thy tongue,  
Andrew's beware, reproof will breed a scar.  Mor. 
Good day my Lord.  B. S. And. 
Lord Morton well ymet:  
Whereon deems Lord Douglas all this while?  Dou. 
Of that which yours and my poor heart doth break:  
Although fear shuts our mouths we dare not speak.  Dor. 
What mean these Princes sadly to consult?  
Somewhat I fear, betideth them amiss,  
They are so pale in looks, so vexed in mind:  
In happy hour the Noble Scottish Peers  
Have I encountered you, what makes you mourn?  B. S. And. 
If we with patience may attentive gain,  
Your Grace shall know the cause of all our grief.  Dor. 
Speak on good father, come and sit by me:  
I know thy care is for the common good.  B. S. And. 
As fortune mighty Princes reareth some,  
To high estate, and place in Commonweal,  
So by divine bequest to them is lent,  
A riper judgement and more searching eye:  
Whereby they may discern the common harm,  
For where importunes in the world are most,  
Where all our profits rise and still increase,  
There is our mind, thereon we meditate,  
And what we do partake of good advice,  
That we employ for to concern the same.)  
To this intent these nobles and myself,  
That are (or should be) eyes of Commonweal,  
Seeing his highness reckless course of youth  
His lawless and unbridled vain in love,  
His to intentive trust too flatterers,  
His abject care of council and his friends,  
Cannot but grieve, and since we cannot draw  
His eye or judgement to discern its faults  
Since we have spoken and counsel is not heard,  
I for my part, (let others as they list)  
Will leave the Court, and leave him to his will:  
lest with a ruthful eye I should behold,  
His over throw which sore I fear is nigh.  Doro. 
Ah father are you so estranged from love,  
From due allegiance to your Prince and land,  
To leave your King when most he needs your help,  
The thrifty husbandmen, are never wont  
That see their lands unfruitful, to forsake them:  
But when the mould is barren and unapt,  
They toil, they blow, and make the fallow fat:  
The pilot in the dangerous seas is known,  
In calmer waves the silly sailor strives,  
Are you not members Lords of Commonweal,  
And can your head, your dear anointed King,  
Default ye Lords, except yourselves do fail?  
Oh stay your steps, return and counsel him.  Doug. 
Men seek not moss upon a rolling stone,  
Or water from the siue, or fire from ice:  
Or comfort from a reckless monarch hands.  
madam he sets us light that served in Court,  
In place of credit in his father's days,  
If we but enter presence of his grace,  
Our payment is a frown, a scoff, a frump,  
Whilst flattering Gnato pranks it by his side,  
Soothing the careless King in his misdeeds,  
And if your grace consider your estate,  
His life should urge you too if all be true.  Doug. 
Why Douglas why?  Doug. 
As if you have not heard  
His lawless love to Ida grown of late,  
His careless estimate of your estate.  Doro. 
Ah Douglas thou misconstruest his intent,  
He doth but tempt his wife, he tries my love:  
This injury pertains to me, not to you.  
The King is young, and if he step awry,  
He may amend, and I will love him still.  
should we disdain our vines because they sprout  
Before their time? or young men if they strain  
Beyond their reach? no vines that bloom and spread  
Do promise fruits, and young men that are wild,  
In age grow wise, my friends and Scottish Peers,  
If that an English Princess may prevail,  
Stay, stay with him, lo how my zealous prayer  
Is pled with tears, fie Peers will you hence?  S. And. 
Madam 'tis virtue in your grace to plead,  
But we that see his vain untoward course,  
Cannot but fly the fire before it burn,  
And shun the Court before we see his fall.  Doro. 
will you not stay? they Lordings fare you well.  
Though you forsake your King, the heavens I hope  
Will favour him through mine incessant prayer.  Dwar. 
Content you Madam, thus old Ovid sings.  
'tis foolish to bewail recureless things.  Dorothea. 
Peace Dwarf, these words my patience move.  Dwar. 
All tho you charm my speech, charm not my love  Exeunt Nano Dorothea. Enter the King of Scots, Arius, the nobles spying him, returns. K. of S. 
Douglas how now? why changest thou thy cheer?  Dougl. 
My private troubles are so great my liege,  
As I must crave your licence for a while:  
For to intend mine own affairs at home.  Exit. King. 
You may depart, but why is Morton sad?  Mor. 
The like occasion doth import me too,  
So I desire your grace to give me leave.  K. of S. 
Well sir you may betake you to your ease,  
When such grim sirs are gone, I see no let  
To work my will.  S. Atten. 
What like the Eagle then,  
With often flight wilt thou thy feathers lose?  
O King canst thou endure to see thy Court,  
Of finest wits and judgements dispossessed,  
Whilst cloaking craft with soothing climbs so high,  
As each bewails ambition is so bad?  
Thy father left thee with estate and Crown,  
A learned council to direct thy Court,  
These careless O King thou castest off,  
To entertain a train of sycophants:  
Thou well may'st see, although thou wilt not see,  
That every eye and ear both sees and hears  
The certain signs of thine incontinence:  
Thou art allied unto the English King,  
By marriage a happy friend indeed,  
If used well, if not a mighty foe.  
Thinketh your grace he can endure and brook,  
To have a partner in his daughter's love?  
Thinketh your grace the grudge of privy wrongs  
Will not procure him change his smiles to threats?  
Oh be not blind to good, call home your Lords,  
Displace these flattering Gnatoes, drive them hence:  
Love and with kindness take your wedlock wife.  
Or else (which God forbid) I fear a change,  
Sin cannot thrive in courts without a plague.  K. of S. 
Go pack thou too, unless thou mend thy talk:  
On pain of death proud Bishop get you gone,  
Unless you headless mean to hop away.  8. Atten. 
Thou god of heaven prevent my country's fall.  Exeunt. K. of S. 
These stays and lets to pleasure, plague my thoughts,  
Forcing my grievous wounds a new to bleed:  
But care that hath transported me so far,  
Fair Ida is dispersed in thought of thee:  
Whose answer yields me life, or breeds my death:  
Yond comes the messenger of weal or woe.  Enter Gnate. 
Ateukin What news?  Ateu. 
The adamant o King will not be filled,  
But by itself, and beauty that exceeds,  
By some exceeding favour must be wrought,  
Ida is coy as yet, and doth repine,  
Objecting marriage, honour, fear, and death,  
she's holy, wise, and too precise for me.  K. of S. 
Are these thy fruits of wits, thy sight in Art?  
Thine eloquence? thy policy? thy drift?  
To mock thy Prince, then caitiff pack thee hence, Art?  
And let me die devoured in my love.  Ateu. 
Good Lord how rage gainsayeth reasons power,  
My dear, my gracious, and beloved Prince,  
The essence of my suit, my God on earth,  
Sit down and rest yourself, appease your wrath,  
lest with a frown ye wound me to the death:  
Oh that I were included in my grave,  
That either now to save my PRINCE's life,  
Must counsel cruelty, or lose my King.  K. of S. 
Why sirrah, is there means to move her mind?  Ateu. 
Oh should I not offend my royal liege.  K. of S. 
Tell all, spare nought, so I may gain my love.  Ateu. 
Alas my soul why art thou torn in twain,  
For fear thou talk a thing that should displease?  K. of S. 
Tur, speak what so thou wilt I pardon thee.  Ateu. 
How kind a word, how courteous is his grace:  
Who would not die to succour such a king?  
My liege, this lovely maid of modest mind,  
Could well incline to love, but that she fears,  
Fair Dorothea's power, your grace doth know,  
Your wedlock is a mighty let to love:  
Were Ida sure to be your wedded wife,  
That then the twig would bow, you might command.  
Lady's love, presents pomp and high estate.  K. of S. 
Ah Ateukin, how should we display this let?  Ateu. 
Tut mighty Prince, oh that I might be whist  K. of S. 
Why dalliest thou?  Ateu. 
I will not move my Prince,  
I will prefer his safety before my life:  
Hear me o king, 'tis Dorothea's death,  
Must do you good.  K. of S. 
What, murder of my Queen?  
Yet to enjoy my love, what is my Queen?  
Oh but my vow and promise to my Queen:  
I but my hope to gain a fairer Queen,  
With how contrarious thoughts am I with drawn?  
Why linger I twixt hope and doubtful fear:  
If Dorothy die, will Ida love?  Ateu. 
She will my Lord.  K. of S. 
Then let her die.  
Devise, advise the means,  
All likes me well that lends me hope in love.  Ateu. 
What will your grace consent, then let me work:  
There's here in Court a Frenchman jaques called,  
A fit performer of our enterprise,  
Whom I by gifts and promise will corrupt,  
To slay the Queen, so that your grace will seal  
A warrant for the man to save his life.  K. of S. 
Nought shall he want, write thou and I will sign  
And gentle Gnato, if my Ida yield,  
Thou shalt have what thou wilt, I'll give the straight,  
A barony, an Earldom for reward.  Ateu. 
Frolic young king, the Lass shall be your own,  
I'll make her blithe and wanton by my wit.  Exeunt.  

Enter Bohan with Obiron .3. Act.  Boh. 
So Oberon, now it begins to work in kind,  
The ancient Lords by leaving him alive,  
Disliking of his humours and respite,  
Let's him run headlong till his flatterers,  
Sweeting his thoughts of luckless lust,  
With vile persuasions and alluring words,  
Makes him make way by murder to his will,  
judge fair king, hast heard a greater ill?  Ober. 
Nor send more virtue in a country maid,  
I tell the Bohan it doth make me merry,  
To think the deeds the king means to perform.  Boha. 
To change that humour stand and see the rest,  
I trow my son Slipper will shows a jest.  Enter Slipper with a companion, bog, or wench, dancing a hornpipe, and dance out again. Boha. 
Now after this beguiling of our thoughts,  
And changing them from sad to better glee,  
Let's to our cell, and sit and see thee rest,  
For I believe this jig will prove no jest.  Exeunt.  

Chorus Actus 3. Schena Prima.  Enter Slipper one way, and S. Bartram another way. Bar. 
Ho fellow, stay and let me speak with thee.  Sli. 
Fellow, friend thou dost disbuse me, I am a Gentleman.  Bar. 
A Gentleman how so?  Slip. 
Why I rub horses sir.  Bar. 
And what of that?  Sip. 
Oh simple witted, mark my reason, they that do good service in the Commonweal are Gentlemen, but such as rub horses do good service in the Commonweal, Ergo tarbox Master Courtier, a Horse-keeper is a Gentleman.  Bar. 
Here is overmuch wit in good earnest:  
But sirrah where is thy Master?  Slip. 
Neither above ground nor under ground,  
Drawing out red into white,  
Swallowing that down without chawing,  
That was never made without treading.  Bar. 
Why where is he then?  Slip. 
Why in his seller, drinking a cup of neat and brisk claret, in a bowl of silver: Oh sir the wine runs trillill down his throat, which cost the poor vintnered many a stamp before it was made: but I must hence sir, I have haste.  Bar. 
Why whither now I prithee?  Slip. 
Faith sir, to Sir Silvester a Knight hard by, upon my masters errand, whom I must certify this, that the lease of Est Spring shall be confirmed, and therefore must I bid him provide trash, for my Master is no friend without money.  Bar. 
This is the thing for which I sued so long,  
This is the lease which I by Gnato's means,  
Sought to possess by patent from the King:  
But he injurious man, who lives by crafts,  
And sells kings favours for who will give most,  
Hath taken bribes of me, yet covertly  
Will sell away the thing pertains to me:  
But I have found a present help I hope,  
For to prevent his purpose and deceit:  
Stay gentle friend.  Slip. 
A good word, thou hast won me,  
This word is like a warm candle to a cold stomach.  Bar. 
Sirrah wilt thou for money and reward,  
Convey me certain letters out of hand,  
From out thy masters pocket.  Slip. 
Will I sir, why, were it to rob my father, hang my mother, or any such like trifles, I am at your commandment sir, what will you give me sir?  S. Bar. 
A hundredth pounds.  Slip. 
I am your man, give me earnest, I am dead at a pocket sir, why I am a lifter master, by my occupation.  S. Bar. 
A lifter, what is that?  Slip. 
Why sir, I can lift a pot as well as any man, and pick a purse assoon as any thief in my country.  S. Bar. 
Why fellow hold, here is earnest,  
Ten pound to assure thee, go dispatch,  
And bring it me to yonder Tavern thou seest,  
And assure thyself thou shalt both have  
Thy skin full of wine, and the rest of thy money.  Slip. 
I will sir. Now room for a Gentleman, my masters, who gives me money for a fair new Angel, a trim new Angel?  Exeunt. Enter Andrew and Purueyer. Pur. 
Sirrah, I must needs have your masters horses,  
The king cannot be unserved.  And. 
Sirrah you must needs go without them,  
Because my Master must be served.  Pur. 
Why I am the king's Purveyor,  
And I tell thee I will have them.  And. 
I am Ateukins servant, signor Andrew,  
And I say thou shalt not have them.  Pur. 
here's my ticket, deny it if thou darest.  And. 
There is the stable, fetch them out if thou darest.  Pur. 
Sirrah, sirrah, tame your tongue, lest I make you.  And. 
Sirrah, sirrah, hold your hand, lest I bum you.  Pur. 
I tell thee, thy masters geldings are good,  
And therefore fit for the king.  An. 
I tell thee, my masters horses have galled backs,  
And therefore cannot fit the King.  
purveyor, Purueyer, purvey thee of more wit, darest thou presume to wrong my Lord Ateukins, being the chiefest man in Court.  Pur. 
The more unhappy Commonweal,  
Where flatterers are chief in Court.  And. 
What say sayest thou?  Pur. 
I say thou art too presumptuous,  
And the officers shall school thee.  And. 
A fig for them and thee Purueyer,  
They seek a knot in a ring, that would wrong  
My master or his servants in this Court.  Enter jaques. Pur. 
The world is at a wise pass,  
When Nobility is afraid of a flatterer.  Iaq. 
Sirrah, what be you that parley, contra Monsieur my Lord Ateukin, en bonne foy, prate you against sir Altesse, me maka your test to leap from your shoulders, per ma foy cy fere je.  And. 
Oh signor Captain, you show yourself a forward and friendly Gentleman in my masters behalf, I will cause him to thank you.  Iaq. 
Poltroon speak me one parola against my bon Gentilhome, I shall estrampe your guts, and thump your backa, that you no point manage this ten ours.  Pur. 
Sirrah come open me the stable,  
And let me have the horses:  
And fellow, for all your French brags I will do my duty.  And. 
I'll make garters of thy guts,  
Thou villain if thou enter this office.  Iaq. 
Mort am, take me that cappa  
Pour nostre labeur, be gone villain in the mort.  Pur. 
What will you resist me then?  
Well the Council fellow, Shall know of your insolency.  Exit. Andr. 
Tell them what thou wilt, and eat that I can best spare from my back parts, and get you gone with a vengeance.  Enter Gnato. Ateu. 
Andrew.  Andr. 
Sir.  Ateu. 
Where be my writings I put in my pocket last night.  Andr. 
Which sir, your annotations upon Machiavel?  Ateu. 
No sir, the letters patents for east spring.  An. 
Why sir you talk wonders to me, if you ask that question.  Ateu. 
Yea sir, and will work wonders too, which you unless you find them out, villain search me them out and bring them me, or thou art but dead.  Andr. 
A terrible word in the latter end of a session's. Master were you in your right wits yesternight?  Ateu. 
Dost thou doubt it?  Andr. 
I and why not sir, for the greatest Clerks are not the wisest, and a fool may dance in a hood, as well as a wise man in a bare frock: besides such as give themselves to Plulantia, as you do master, are so choleric of complexion, that that which they burn in fire over night, they seek for with fury the next morning. Ah I take care of your worship, this commonweal should have a great loss of so good a member as you are.  Ateu. 
Thou flatterest me.  Andr. 
Is it flattery in me sir to speak you fair?  
What is it then in you to dally with the King?  Ateu. 
Are you prating knave,  
I will teach you better nurture?  
Is this the care you have of my wardrobe?  
Of my accounts, and matters of trust?  Andr. 
Why alas sir, in times past your garments have been so well inhabited, as your Tenants would give no place to a Moathe to mangle them, but since you are grown greater and your Garments more fine and gay, if your garments are not fit for hospitality, blame your pride, and commend my cleanliness: as for your writings, I am not for them, nor they for me.  Ateu. 
Villain go, fly, find them out:  
If thou losest them, thou losest my credit.  And. 
Alas sir? can I lose that you never had.  Ateu. 
Say you so, then hold feel you that you never felt.  Ia. 
Oh Monsieur, aies patient, pardon your powre vallet,  
Me be at your commandment.  Ateu. 
signor jaques well met, you shall command me, vallet,  
Sirrah go cause my writings be proclaimed in the Market place,  
Promise a great reward to them that finds them,  
Look where I supped and everywhere.  And. 
I will sir, now are two knaves well met, and three well parted, if you conceive mine enigma, Gentlemen what shall I be then, faith a plain harp shilling.  Exeunt. Ateu. 
Sieur jaques, this our happy meeting hides,  
Your friends and me, of care and grievous toil,  
For I that look into deserts of men,  
And see among the soldiers in this court,  
A noble forward mind, and judge thereof,  
Cannot but seek the means to raise them up:  
Who merit credit in the Commonweal.  
To this intent friend jaque I have found  
A means to make you great, and well esteemed  
Both with the king, and with the best in Court:  
For I espy in you a valiant mind,  
Which makes me love, admire, and honour you:  
To this intent (if so your trust and faith,  
Your secrecy be equal with your force)  
I will impart a service to thyself,  
Which if thou dost effect, the King, myself,  
And what or he, and I with him can work,  
Shall be employed in what thou wilt desire.  Iaq. 
Me sweara by my ten bones, my signior, to be loyal to your Lordship's intents, affairs, ye my monsignieur, qui non fera ic pour. Yea pleasure?  
By my sworda me be no baby Lords.  Ateu. 
Then hoping one thy truth, I prithee see,  
How kind Ateukin is to forward me,  
Hold take this earnest penny of my love.  
And mark my words, the King by me requires,  
No slender service jaques at thy hands.  
Thou must by privy practice make a way,  
The Queen fair Dorothea as she sleeps:  
Or how thou wilt, so she be done to death:  
Thou shalt not want promotion hear in Court.  Iaq. 
Stabba the woman, per ma foy, monsignieur, me thrusta my weapon into her bell, so me may be guard per le roy.  
Me de your service.  
But me no be hanged pur my labour.  Ateu. 
Thou shalt have warrant jaques from the King,  
None shall outface, gainsay and wrong my friend.  
Do not I love thee jaques? fear not then,  
I tell thee who so toucheth thee in aught,  
Shall injure me, I love, I tender thee:  
Thou art a subject fit to serve his grace,  
jaques, I had a written warrant once,  
But that by great misfortune late is lost,  
Come wend we to S. Andrew's, where his grace  
Is now in progress, where he shall assure  
Thy safety, and confirm thee to the act.  jaques. 
We will attend your nobleness.  Exeunt. Enter sir Bartram, Dorothea, the Queen, Nano, Lord Ross. ladies' attendants. Doro. 
Thy credit Bartram in the Scottish Court,  
Thy reverend years, the strictness of thy vows,  
All these are means sufficient to persuade,  
But love the faithful link of loyal hearts,  
That hath possession of my constant mind,  
Exiles all dread, subdueth vain suspect,  
methinks no craft should harbour in that breast,  
Where Majesty and virtue is installed:  
methink my beauty should not cause my death.  Bar. 
How gladly sovereign Princess would I err,  
And bind my shame to save your royal life:  
'tis Princely in yourself to think the best,  
To hope his grace is guiltless of this crime,  
But if in due prevention you default,  
How blind are you that were forewarned before.  Doro. 
Suspicion without cause deserveth blame.  Bar. 
Who sees, and shun not harms, deserve the same:  
Behold the tenor of this traitorous plot.  Doro. 
What should I read? Perhaps he wrote it not.  Bar. 
Here is his warrant under seal and sign,  
To jaques borne in France to murder you.  Doro. 
Ah careless King, would God this were not thine  
What tho I read? Ah should I think it true?  Rosse. 
The hand and seal confirms the deed is his.  Doro. 
What know I tho, if now he thinketh this?  Nauo. 
madam Lucretius saith, that to repent,  
Is childish wisdom to prevent.  Doro. 
What tho?  Nano. 
Then cease your tears, that have dismayed you,  
And cross the foe before he have betrayed you.  Bar. 
What needs this long suggestions in this cause?  
When every circumstance confirmeth truth:  
First let the hidden mercy from above,  
Confirm your grace, since by a wondrous means,  
The practice of your dangers came to light:  
Next let the tokens of approved truth,  
Govern and stay your thoughts, too much seduced,  
And mark the sooth, and listen the intent,  
Your highness knows, and these my noble Lords,  
Can witness this, that whilst your husband's sir  
In happy peace possessed the Scottish Crown,  
I was his sworn attendant here in Court,  
In dangerous fight I never failed my Lord.  
And since his death, and this your husband's reign,  
No labour, duty, have I left undone,  
To testify my zeal unto the Crown:  
But now my limbs are weak, mine eyes are dim,  
Mine age unwieldy and unmeet for toil:  
I came to court in hope for service past,  
To gain some lease to keep me being old,  
There found I all was upsy-turvy turned,  
My friends displaced, the Nobles loath to crave,  
Then sought I to the minion of the King,  
Ateukin, who allured by a bribe,  
Assured me of the lease for which I sought:  
But see the craft, when he had got the grant,  
He wrought to sell it to Sir Silvester,  
In hope of greater earnings from his hands:  
In brief, I learned his craft, and wrought the means,  
By one his needy servants for reward,  
To steal from out his pocket all the briefs,  
Which he performed, and with reward resigned  
Them when I read now mark the power of God)  
I found this warrant sealed among the rest,  
To kill your grace, whom God long keep alive.  
Thus in effect, by wonder are you saved,  
Trifle not then, but seek a speedy flight,  
God will conduct your steps, and shield the right.  Dor. 
What should I do, ah poor unhappy Queen?  
Born to endure what fortune can contain,  
Ah lass the deed is too apparent now:  
But oh mine eyes were you as bent to hide,  
As my poor heart is forward to forgive.  
Ah cruel king, my love would thee acquit,  
Oh what avails to be allied and matched  
With high estates that marry but in show?  
Were I baser borne, my mean estate  
Could warrant me from this impendent harm,  
But to be great and happy these are twain.  
Ah Rosse what shall I do, how shall I work?  Rosse. 
With speedy letters to your father send,  
Who will revenge you, and defend your right.  Dor. 
As if they kill not me, who with him fight?  
As if his breast be touched, I am not wounded,  
As if he wailed, my joys were not confounded:  
We are one heart, though rent by hate in twain:  
One soul, one essence doth our weal contain:  
What then can conquer him that kills not me?  Rosse. 
If this advice displease, than madam flee.  Dor. 
Where may I wend or travel without fear?  Na. 
Where not, in changing this attire you wear?  Dor. 
What shall I clad me like a Country maid?  Na. 
The policy is base I am afraid.  Dor. 
Why Nano?  Na. 
Ask you why? what may a Queen  
March forth in homely weed and be not seen?  
The Rose although in thorny shrubs she spread:  
Is still the Rose, her beauties wax not dead.  
And noble minds although the coat be bare,  
Are by their semblance known, how great they are  Bar. 
The Dwarf saith true.  Dor. 
What garments lik'st thou then?  Na. 
Such as may make you seem a proper man.  Dor. 
He makes me blush and smile, though I am sad.  Na. 
The meanest coat for safety is not bad.  Dor. 
What shall I jet in breeches like a squire?  
Alas poor dwarf, thy Mistress is unmeet.  Na. 
Tut, go me thus, your cloak before your face,  
Your sword upreared with quaint & comely grace,  
If any come and question what you be,  
Say you a man, and call for witness me.  Dor. 
What should I wear a sword, to what intent:  Na. 
madam for show, it is an ornament,  
If any wrong you, draw a shining blade  
Withdraws a coward thief that would invade.  Dor. 
But if I strike, and he should strike again,  
What should I do? I fear I should be slain.  Nano. 
No, take it single on your dagger so,  
I'll teach you madam how to ward a blow.  Do. 
How little shapes much substance may include?  
Sir Bartram, Rosse, ye Ladies and my friends,  
Since presence yields me death, and absence life,  
Hence will I fly disguised like a squire,  
As one that seeks to live in Irish wars,  
You gentle Rosse, shall furnish my depart.  Ross. 
Yea Prince, & die with you with all my heart,  
Vouchsafe me then in all extremest states,  
To weight on you and serve you with my best.  Dor. 
To me pertains the woe, live then in rest:  
Friends fare you well, keep secret my depart,  
Nano alone shall my attendant be.  Nan. 
Then madam are you manned, I warrant ye,  
Give me a sword, and if there grow debate,  
I'll come behind, and break your enemy's pate.  Ross. 
How sore we grieve to part so soon away.  Dor. 
Grieve not for those that perish if they stay.  Nano. 
The time in words misspent, is little worth,  
Madam walk on, and let them bring us forth.  Exeunt.  

Chorus.  Ent. Boha. 
So these sad motions makes the fair sleep,  
And sleep he shall in quiet and content,  
For it would make a maybell melt and weep  
To see these treasons 'gainst the innocent:  
But since she scapes by flight to save her life,  
The king may chance repent she was his wife:  
The rest is ruthful, yet to beguiled the time,  
'tis interlaced with merriment and rhyme.  Exeunt.  

Actus Quartus. Schena Prima.  After a noise of hernes and showtings, enter certain Huntsmen, if you please, singing one way: another way Ateukin and jaques, Gnato. Ateu. 
Say Gentlemen, where may we find the king?  Hunts. 
even here at hand on hunting.  
And at this hour he taken hath a stand,  
To kill a deer.  Ateu. 
A pleasant work in hand,  
Follow your sport, and we will seek his grace.  Hunts. 
When such him seek, it is a woeful case.  Exeunt Huntsman one way, Ateu. and Iaq. another, Enter Eustace, Ida, and the Countess. Count. 
Lord Eustace, as your youth & virtuous life,  
Deserves a fair, more fair and richer wife,  
So since I am a mother, and do wit  
What wedlock is, and that which longs to it,  
Before I mean my daughter to bestow,  
'twere meet that she and I your state did know.  Eust. 
madam if I consider Ida's worth,  
I know my portions merit none so fair,  
And yet I hold in farm and yearly rent,  
A thousand pound, which may her state content.  Count. 
But what estate my Lord shall she possess?  Eust. 
All that is mine, grave Countess & no less.  
But Ida will you love?  Ida. 
I cannot hate.  Eust. 
But will you wed?  Ida. 
'tis Greek to me my Lord,  
I'll wish you well, and thereon take my word.  Eust. 
Shall I some sign of favour then receive?  Ida. 
ay, if her Ladyship will give me leave.  Count. 
Do what thou wilt.  Ida. 
Then noble English Peer,  
Accept this ring, wherein my heart is set,  
A constant heart, with burning flames befret:  
But under written this: O morte dura:  
Hereon when so you look with eyes Pura,  
The maid you fancy most will favour you.  Eust. 
I'll try this heart, in hope to find it true.  Enter certain Huntsmen and Ladies. Hunts. 
Widow Countess well ymet,  
Ever may thy joys be many,  
Gentle Ida fair beset,  
Fair and wise, not fairer any:  
Frolic Huntsmen of the game,  
Wills you well, and gives you greeting.  Ida. 
Thanks good Woodman for the same,  
And our sport and merry meeting.  Hunts. 
Unto thee we do present,  
Silver heart with arrow wounded.  Eust. 
This doth shadow my lament,  
Both fear and love confounded.  Ladies. 
To the mother of the maid,  
Fair as th' lilies, red as roses,  
Even so many goods are said,  
As herself in heart supposes.  Count. 
What are you friends, that thus doth wish us well?  Hunts. 
Your neighbours nigh, that have on hunting been,  
Who understanding of your walking forth,  
Prepare this train to entertain you with,  
This Lady Douglas, this Sir Egmond is.  Count. 
Welcome ye Ladies, and thousand thanks for this,  
Come enter you a homely widows house,  
And if mine entertainment please you let us feast.  Hunts. 
A lovely lady never wants a guest.  Exeunt Manet, Eustace, Ida. Eust. 
Stay gentle Ida, tell me what you deem,  
What doth this haste, this tender heart beseem?  Ida. 
Why not my Lord, since nature teacheth art,  
To senseless beasts to cure their grievous smart.  
Dictanum serves to close the wound again.  Eust. 
What help for those that love?  Ida. 
Why love again.  Eust. 
Were I the Heart,  Ida. 
Then I the herb would be.  
You shall not die for help, come follow me.  Exeunt. Enter Andrew and jaques. Iaq. 
Mon Dieu, what malheure be this, me come o' the chamber, signor Andrew, Mon Dieu, take my poniard en mon main, to give the Estocade to the Damoisella, per ma foy, there was no person, elle cest en all.  And. 
The worse luck jaques, but because I am thy friend I will advise the somewhat towards the attainment of the gallows.  Iaq. 
Gallows, what be that?  An. 
Marry sir, a place of great promotion, where thou shalt by one turn above ground, rid the world of a knave, & make a goodly ensample for all bloody villains of thy profession.  
Que ditte vous, Monsieur Andrew?  And. 
I say jaques, thou must keep this path, and high thee, for the Q. as I am certified, is departed with her dwarf, appareled like a squire, overtake her Frenchman, stab her, I'll promise thee this doublet shall be happy.  Iaq. 
Purquoy?  And. 
It shall serve a joll Gentleman,  
Sir Dominus Monsignior Hangman.  Iaq. 
Cest tout, un me will rama pour le money.  And. 
Go, and the rot consume thee? Oh what a trim world is this? My master lives by cozening the king, I by flattering him: Slipper my fellow by stealing: and I by lying: is not this a wily accord, Gentlemen. This last night our jolly horse-keeper being well stepped in liquor, confessed to me the stealing of my masters writings, and his great reward: now dare I not bewray him, lest he discover my knavery, but thus have I wrought: I understand he will pass this way, to provide him necessaries, but if I and my fellows fail not, we will teach him such a lesson, as shall cost him a chief place on penniless bench for his labour: but yond he comes.  Enter Slipper with a Tailor, a Shoemaker, and a Coulter. Slip. 
Taylor.  Tayl. 
Sir.  Slip. 
Let my doublet be white Northern, five groats the yard, I tell thee I will be brave.  Tayl. 
It shall sir.  Slip. 
Now sir, cut it me like the battlements of a costard, full of round holes: edge me the sleeves with Coventry-blue, and let the linings be of tenpenny locorum.  Tayl. 
Very good sir.  Slip. 
Make it the amorous cut, a flap before.  Tayl. 
And why so? that fashion is stale.  Slip. 
Oh friend, thou art a simple fellow, I tell thee, a flap is a great friend to a story, it stands him in stead of clean nappery, and if a man's shirt be torn, it is a present penthouse to defend him from a clean housewives scoff.  Tay. 
You say sooth sir.  Slip. 
Hold take thy money, there is seven shillings for the doublet, and eight for the breeches, seven and eight, by’r lady thirty six is a fair deal of money.  Tayl. 
Far well sir.  Slip. 
Nay but stay tailor.  Tayl. 
Why sir?  Slipper. 
Forget not this special mate,  
Let my back parts be well lined,  
For there come many winter storms from a windy belly,  
I tell thee Shoemaker.  Shoe-ma. 
Gentleman what shoe will it please you to have?  Slip. 
A fine neat calves leather my friend.  Shoo. 
Oh sir, that is too thin, it will not last you.  Slip. 
I tell thee, it is my near kinsman, for I am Slipper, which hath his best grace in summer to be suited in lakus' skins, Goodwife Clarke was my Grandmother, and Goodman Neatherleather mine Uncle, but my mother good woman. Alas, she was a Spaniard, and being well tanned and dressed by a goodfellow, an Englishman, is grown to some wealth: as when I have but my upper parts, clad in her husband's costly Spanish leather, I may be bold to kiss the fairest lady's foot in this country.  Shoo. 
You are of high birth sir,  
But have you all your mother's marks on you?  Slip. 
Why knave?  Shoemaker. 
Because if thou come of the blood of the Slippers, you should have a shoemakers awl thrust through your care.  Exit. Slip. 
Take your earnest friend and be packing,  
And meddle not with my progenitor's Cutler.  Cutler. 
Hear sir.  Slip. 
I must have a Rapier and Dagger.  Cutler. 
A Rapier and Dagger you mean sir?  Slipper. 
Thou sayest true, but it must have a very fair edge,  Cutler. 
Why so sir?  Slip. 
Because it may cut by himself, for truly my friend, I am a man of peace, and wear weapons but for fashion.  Cutler. 
Well sir, give me earnest I will fit you.  Slip. 
Hold take it, I betrust thee friend, let me be well armed.  Cutler. 
You shall.  Exit Cutler. Slip. 
Now what remains? there's twenty Crowns for house, three crowns for household stuff, six pence to buy a Constable's staff: nay I will be the chief of my parish, there wants nothing but a wench, a cat, a dog, a wife and a servant, to make an whole family, shall I marry with Alice, good man grimshave's daughter, she is fair, but indeed her tongue is like Clocks on Shrove-Tuesday, always out of temper? shall I wed Sisley of the whighten? Oh, no she is like a frog in a parsley bed, as skittish as an eel, if I seek to hamper her, she will home me: but a wench must be had master Slip. Yea and shall be dear friend.  And. 
I now will drive him from his contemplations. Oh my mates come forward, the lamb is unpenned, the fox shall prevail.  Enter three Antiques, who dance round, and take Slipper with them. Slip. 
I will my friend, and I thank you heartily, pray keep your courtesy, I am yours in the way of an hornpipe, they are strangers, I see they understand not my language, we we.  Whilst they are dancing, Andrew takes away his money, and the other Antiques depart. Slip. 
Nay but my friends, one hornpipe, further a refluence back, and two doubles forward: what not one cross point against Sundays. What ho sirrah, you gone, you with the nose like an Eagle, and you be a right greek, one turn more, thieves thieves, I am robbed thieves. Is this the knavery of Fiddlers? Well, I will then bind the hole credit of their occupation on a bagpiper, and he for my money, but I will after, and teach them to caper in a halter, that have cozened me of my money.  Exeunt. Enter Nano, Dorothea, in man's apparel. Doro. 
Ah Nano, I am weary of these weeds,  
Weary to wield this weapon that I bore:  
Weary of love, from whom my woe proceeds.  
Weary of toil, since I have lost my dear,  
O weary life, where wanted no distress,  
But every thought is paid with heaviness.  Na. 
Too much of weary madame, if you please,  
Sit down, let weary die, and take your ease.  Dorot. 
How look I Nano like a man or no?  Nano. 
If not a man, yet like a manly shrew.  Doro. 
If any come and meet us on the way,  
What should we do if they enforce us stay.  Na. 
Set cap a-huff, and challenge him the field,  
Suppose the worst, the weak may fight to yield.  Dorot. 
The battle Nano in this troubled mind,  
Is far more fierce than ever we may find.  
The bodies wounds by medicines may be eased,  
But griefs of minds, by salves are not appeased.  Na. 
Say madam, will you hear your Nano sing?  Dor. 
Of woe good boy, but of no other thing:  Na. 
What if I sing of fancy will it please?  Dor. 
To such as hope success, such notes breed ease.  Na. 
What if I sing like Damon to my sheep?  Dor. 
Like Phillis I will sit me down to weep.  Na. 
Nay since my songs afford such pleasure small,  
I'll sit me down, and sing you none at all.  Doro. 
Oh be not angry Nano.  Nano. 
Nay you loath,  
To think on that, which doth content us both.  Dore. 
And how?  Nano. 
You scorn disport when you are weary,  
And loathe my mirth, who live to make you merry.  Doro. 
Danger and fear withdraw me from delight.  Na. 
'tis virtue to contemn false Fortune's spite.  Do. 
What should I do to please thee friendly squire?  Na. 
A smile a day, is all I will require:  
And if you pay me well the smiles you owe me,  
I'll kill this cursed care, or else beshrew me.  Doug. 
We are descried, oh Mano we are dead.  Enter jaques his sword drawn. Nano. 
Tut yet you walk, you are not dead indeed,  
Draw me your sword, if he your way withstand.  Do. 
And I will seek for rescue out of hand,  
Run Nano run, prevent thy PRINCE's death.  Na. 
Fear not, i'll run all danger out of breath.  Iaq. 
Ah you calletta, you strumpet, ta Matressa Doretie este, vous surprius come say your pater noster, car vous est mort par ma foy  Do. 
Callet, me strumpet, caitiff as thou art  
But even a Princess borne, who scorn thy threats.  
Shall never French man say, an English maid,  
Of threats of foreign force will be afraid.  Iaq. 
You no dire vostre prieges, vrbleme merchants famme guarda your bresta, there me make you die on my morglay,  Doro. 
God shield me hapless princes and a wife.  
They fight, and she is sore wounded.  
And save my soul, although I lose my life.  
Ah I am slain, some piteous power repay,  
This murderers cursed deed, that doth me slay.  Iaq. 
Elle est tout mort, me will run pur a wager, for fear me be surpryes and pendu for my labour. Be in je meu alera au roy auy cits me affairs, je serra un chevalier, for this days travail.  Exit. Enter Nano, S. Cutbert Anderson, his sword drawn. S. Cutb. 
Where is this poor distressed gentleman?  Nano. 
Here laid on ground, and wounded to the death.  
Ah gentle heart, how are these beauteous looks,  
Dimmed by the tyrant cruelties of death:  
Oh weary soul, break thou from forth my breast,  
And join thee with the soul I honoured most.  S. Cut. 
Leave mourning friend, the man is yet alive,  
Some help me to convey him to my house:  
There will I see him carefully recured,  
And send privy search to catch the murderer.  Nano. 
The God of heaven reward the courteous knight.  Exeunt. 
And they bear out Dorothea.  Enter the King of Scots, laques, Ateukin, Andrew, jaques running with his sword one way, the King with his train another way. K. of S. 
Stay jaques, fear not, sheath thy murdering blade:  
Lo here thy King and friends are come abroad,  
To save thee from the terrors of pursuit:  
What is she dead?  Iaq. 
we Monsieur, elle is bless per lake testae, ouesles espanles, I warrant she no trouble you.  Ateu. 
Oh then my liege, how happy art thou grown,  
How favoured of the heavens, and blessed by love:  
methinks I see fair Ida in thine arms,  
Craving remission for her late attempt,  
methink I see her blushing steal a kiss:  
Uniting both your souls by such a sweet,  
And you my King suck Nectar from her lips.  
Why then delays your grace to gain the rest  
You long desired? why lose we forward time?  
Write, make me spokesman now, vow marriage,  
If she deny your favour let me die.  Andr. 
Mighty and magnificent potentate, give credence to mine honourable good Lord, for I heard the Midwife swear at his nativity, that the Fairies gave him the property of the Thracian stone, for who toucheth it, is exempted from grief, and he that heareth my masters counsel, is already possessed of happiness: nay which is more miraculous, as the Noble man in his infancy lay in his Cradle, a swarm of Bees laid honey on his lips, in token of his eloquence. For melle dulcier fluit oratio.  Ateu. 
Your grace must bear with imperfections:  
This is exceeding love that makes him speak.  K. of S. 
Ateukin I am ravished in conceit,  
And yet depressed again with earnest thoughts,  
methinks this murder soundeth in mine ear,  
A threatening noise of dire and sharp revenge.  
I am incensed with grief, yet fain would joy,  
What may I do to end me of these doubts?  Ateu. 
Why Prince it is no murder in a King,  
To end another's life to save his own,  
For you are not as common people be.  
Who die and perish with a few man's tears,  
But if you fail, the state doth whole default  
The Realm is rent in twain, in such a loss,  
And Aristotle holdeth this for true,  
Of evils needs we must choose the least,  
Then better were it, that a woman died,  
Than all the help of Scotland should be blent,  
'tis policy my liege, in every state,  
To cut off members that disturb the head.  
And by corruption generation grows.  
And contraries maintain the world and state.  K. of S. 
Enough I am confirmed, Ateukin come,  
Rid me of love, and rid me of my grief,  
Drive thou the tyrant from this tainted breast,  
Then may I triumph in the height of joy,  
Go to mine Ida, tell her that I vow,  
To raise her head and make her honours great.  
Go to mine Ida, tell her that her hairs,  
shallbe embellished with orient pearls,  
And Crowns of sapphires compassing her brows,  
Shall wear with those sweet beauties of her eyes.  
Go to mine Ida, tell her that my soul  
Shall keep her semblance closed in my breast,  
And I in touching of her milk-white mould,  
Will think me deified in such a grace:  
I like no stay, go write and I will sign.  
Reward me jaques, give him store of Crown.  
And sirrah Andrew, scout thou here in Court:  
And bring me tidings if thou canst perceive  
The least intent of muttering in my train,  
For either those that wrong thy Lord or thee,  
Shall suffer death.  Exit the King. Ateu. 
How much o mighty king,  
Is thy Ateukin bound to honour thee:  
Bow thee Andrew, bend thine sturdy knees,  
Seest thou not here thine only God on earth?  Iaq. 
Mes on est mon argent signor.  Ateu. 
Come follow me, his grave I see is made,  
That thus on sudden he hath left us here.  
Come jaques, we will have our packet soon dispatched  
And you shall be my mate upon the way.  Iaq. 
Come vous plera Monsieur.  Exeunt. Andr. 
Was never such a world I think before,  
When sinners seem to dance within a net,  
The flatterer and the murderer they grow big,  
By hook of crook promotion now is sought,  
In such a world where men are so missed,  
What should I do? but as the Proverb saith,  
Run with the Hare, and hunt with the Hound.  
To have two means, beseems a witty man:  
Now here in Court I may aspire and climb,  
By subtlety for my masters death.  
And if that fail, well fare another drift:  
I will in secret certain letters send  
Unto the English King, and let him know  
The order of his daughters over throw.  
That if my master crack his credit here,  
As I am sure long flattery cannot hold,  
I may have means within the English Court  
To scape the scourge that waits on bad advice.  Exit.  

Chorus.  Enter Bohan and Obiron. Ober. 
Believe me bonny Scot, these strange events,  
Are passing pleasing, may they end as well.  Boha. 
Else say that Bohan hath a barren skull,  
If better motions yet then any past,  
Do not more glee to make the fairy greet,  
But my small son made pretty handsome shift,  
To save the Queen his Mistress by his speed.  Obiro. 
Yea you Lady for his sport he made,  
Shall see when least he hopes, I'll stand his friend,  
Or else he capers in a halter's end.  Boha. 
What hang my son? I trow not Obiran:  
I'll rather die, then see him woe begone.  Enter around, or some dance at Pleasure. Ober. 
Bohan be pleased, for do they what they will,  
Here is my hand, I'll save thy son from ill.  Exit.  

Actus Quintus. Schena Prima.  Enter the Queen in a nightgown, Lady Anderson, and Nano. La. And. 
My gentle friend beware in taking air,  
Your walks grow not offensive to your wounds.  Do. 
madam I thank you of your courteous care,  
My wounds are well nigh closed, though sore they are.  L. And. 
methinks these closed wounds should breed more grief,  
Since open wounds have cure, and find relief.  Dor. 
madam, if undiscovered wounds you mean,  
They are not cured, because they are not seen.  L. And. 
I mean the wounds which do the heart subdue.  Nano. 
Oh that is love, madam speak I not true?  Lady Anderson overheares. La. And. 
Say it were true, what salve for such a sore?  Nano. 
Be wise, and shut such neighbours out of door.  La. And. 
How if I cannot drive him from my breast?  Nano. 
Then chain him well, and let him do his best.  S. Cutb. 
In ripping up their wounds, I see their wit,  
But if these wounds be cured I sorrow it.  Doro. 
Why are you so intentive to behold,  
My pale and woeful looks, by care controlled?  La. And. 
Because in them a ready way is found,  
To cure my care, and heal my hidden wound.  Nano. 
Good Master shut your eyes, keep that conceit,  
Surgeons give, quoin, to get a good receipt.  Doro. 
Peace wanton son, this Lady did amend  
My wounds: mine eyes her hidden grief shall end,  
Look not too much, it is a weighty case.  Nano. 
Where as a man puts on a maiden's face,  
For many times if Ladies wear them not,  
A nine months wound with little work is got.  S. Cutb. 
I'll break off their dispute, least love proceed,  
From covert smiles, to perfect love indeed.  Nano. 
The cats abroad, stir not, the mice be still,  L. And. 
Tut, we can she such cats when so we will.  S. Cutb. 
How fares my guest, take cheer, nought shall default,  
That either doth concern your health or joy,  
Use me, my house, and what is mine is yours.  Doro. 
Thanks gentle knight, and if all hopes be true,  
I hope ere long to do as much for you.  S. Cutb. 
Your virtue doth acquit me of that doubt:  
But courteous sit, since troubles calls me hence,  
I must to Edinburgh unto the king,  
There to take charge, and weight him in his wars:  
meanwhile good madam take this squire in charge,  
And use him so as if it were myself.  L. And. 
Sir Cutbert doubt not of my diligence:  
meanwhile, till your return God send you health.  Doro: 
God bless his grace, and if his cause be just,  
Prosper his wars: if not he'll mend I trust:  
Good sir what moves the king to fall to arms?  S. Cutb. 
The king of England forageth his land,  
And hath besieged Dambar with mighty force:  
What other news are common in the Court,  
Read you these letters madam tell the squire,  
The whole affairs of state, for I must hence.  Exit. Doro. 
God prosper you, and bring you back from thence:  
madam what news?  La. And. 
They say the Queen is slain.  Doro. 
Tut, such reports more false than truth contain.  L. And. 
but these reports have made his Nobles leave him.  Doro. 
Ah careless men, and would they so deceive him?  La. And. 
The land is spoiled, the commons fear the cross,  
All cry against the king, their cause of loss:  
The English king subdues and conquers all.  Doro, 
Ah lass, this war grows great, on causes small.  L. And. 
Our Court is desolate, our Prince alone,  
Still dreading death.  Doro. 
Woes me, for him I moan,  
Help, now help, a sudden qualm.  
Assails my heart.  Nano. 
Good madam stand her friend,  
Give us some liquor to refresh her heart.  L. And. 
Daw thou her up, and I will fetch thee forth  
Potions of comfort to repress her pain.  Exit. Nano. 
Fie Princess, faint on every fond report,  
How well nigh had you opened your estate:  
Cover these sorrows with the vail of joy,  
And hope the best, for why this war will cause,  
A great repentance in your husband's mind.  Doro. 
Ah Nano, trees live not without their sap,  
And Clitia cannot blush but on the sun,  
The thirsty earth is broke with many a gap,  
And lands are lean, where rivers do not run,  
Where soul is reft from that it loveth best,  
How can it thrive or boast of quiet rest?  
Thou knowest the PRINCE's loss must be my death,  
His grief, my grief: his mischief must be mine:  
Oh if thou love me, Nano high to court,  
Tell Rosse, tell Bartram that I am alive,  
Conceal thou yet, the place of my abode,  
Will them even as they love their Queen,  
As they are chary of my soul and joy,  
To guard the King, to serve him as my Lord:  
Haste thee good Nana, for my husband's care,  
Consumeth me and wounds me to the heart.  Nano. 
madam I go, yet loath to leave you here.  Exeunt. Dor. 
Go thou with speed, even as thou hold'st me dear,  
Return in haste.  Enter Lady Anderson. L. An. 
Now sir, what cheer? come taste this broth I bring.  Doro. 
My grief is past, I feel no further sting.  L. And. 
Where is your dwarf? Why hath he left you sir?  Doro. 
For some affairs, he is not traveled far.  L. And. 
If so you please, come in and take your rest.  Doro. 
Fear keeps awake a discontented breast.  Exeunt. After a solemn service, enter from the widows house a service, musical songs of marriages, or a mask, or what pretty triumph you list, to them, Ateukin and Gnato. Ate. 
What means this triumph friend? why are these feasts?  Serui. 
Fair Ida sir, was married yesterday,  
Unto sir Eustace, and for that intent,  
we feast and sport it thus to honour them:  
And if you please, come in and take your part,  
My Lady is no niggard of her cheer.  Exit. Iaq. 
Monsigneur, why be you so sadda, fette bon cheer fontre de ce monde.  Ateu. 
What? was I borne to be the scorn of kin?  
To gather feathers like to a hopper crow,  
And lose them in the height of all my pomp:  
Accursed man now is my credit lost:  
Where is my vows I made unto the king?  
What shall become of me, if he shall hear,  
That I have caused him kill a virtuous Queen?  
And hope in vain for that which now is lost:  
Where shall I hide my head? I know the heavens  
Are just, and will revenge: I know my sins  
Exceed compare: should I proceed in this?  
This Eustace must a man be made away:  
Oh were I dead, how happy should I be?  Iaq. 
Est ce donque a tell point vostre estate, faith then adieu Scotland, adieu signor Ateukin, me will homa to France, and no be hanged in a strange country.  Exit. Ateu. 
Thou dost me good to leave me thus alone,  
That galling grief and I may yoke in one:  
Oh what are subtle means to climb on high?  
When every fall swarms with exceeding shame?  
I promised Ida's love unto the Prince,  
But she is lost, and I am false forsworn:  
I practised Dorothea's hapless death,  
And by this practice have commenced a war.  
Oh cursed race of men that traffic guile,  
And in the end, themselves and kings beguile:  
A shamed to look upon my Prince again:  
A shamed of my suggestions and advise:  
A shamed of life: a shamed that I have erred:  
I'll hide myself, expecting for my shame.  
Thus God doth work with those, that purchase fame  
By flattery, and make their Prince their gain.  Exeunt. Enter the King of England, Lord Percy, Samles, and others. Arius. 
Thus far the English Peers have we displayed,  
Our waving Ensigns with a happy war,  
Thus nearly hath our furious rage revenged,  
My daughter's death upon the traitorous Scot,  
And now before Dambar our camp is pitched,  
Which if it yield not to our compromise,  
The place shall furrow where the palace stood,  
And fury shall envy so high a power,  
That mercy shall be banished from our swords.  Doug. 
What seeks the English King?  Arius. 
Scot open those gates, and let me enter in,  
Submit thyself and thine unto my grace,  
Or I will put each mother's son to death,  
And lay this City level with the ground.  Doug. 
For what offence? for what default of ours?  
Art thou incensed so sore against our state?  
Can generous hearts in nature be so stern  
To pray on those that never did offend?  
What though the Lion, (king of brutish race,  
Through outrage sin, shall lambs be therefore slain?  
Or is it lawful that the humble die,  
Because the mighty do gainsay the right?  
O English King, thou bearest in thy breast,  
The King of beasts, that harms not yielding ones,  
The Roseal cross is spread within thy field,  
A sign of peace, not of revenging war:  
Be gracious then unto this little town,  
And though we have withstood thee for a while,  
To show allegiance to our liefest liege,  
Yet since we know no hope of any help,  
Take us to mercy, for we yield ourselves.  Ari. 
What shall I enter then and be your Lord?  Doug. 
We will submit us to the English king.  
They descend down, open the gates, and humble them.  Arius. 
Now life and death dependeth on my sword:  
This hand now reared, my Douglas if I list,  
Could part thy head and shoulders both in twain:  
But since I see thee wise and old in years,  
True to thy king, and faithful in his wars,  
Live thou and thine, Dambar is too too small.  
To give an entrance to the English king,  
I Eaglelike disdain these little fowls,  
And look on none but those that dare resist,  
Enter your town as those that live by me,  
For others that resist, kill, forage, spoil:  
Mine English soldiers, as you love your king,  
Revenge his daughter's death, and do me right.  Exeunt, Enter the Lawyer, the Merchant, and the Divine. Lawyer. 
My friends, what think you of this present state,  
Were ever seen such changes in a time?  
The manners and the fashions of this age,  
Are like the Ermine skin so full of spots,  
As soon may the moor be washed white,  
Than these corruptions banished from this Realm.  Merch. 
What sees mas. Lawyer in this state amiss?  Law. 
A wresting power that makes a nose of wax,  
Of grounded law, a damned and subtle drift,  
In all estates to climb by other's loss,  
An eager thrift of wealth, forgetting truth,  
Might I ascend unto the highest states,  
And by descent discover every crime,  
My friends I should lament, and you would grieve  
To see the hapless ruins of this Realm.  Diu. 
O Lawyer, thou hast curious eyes to pry,  
Into the secrets maims of their estate,  
But if thy vail of error were unmasked,  
thyself should see your sect, do maim her most:  
Are you not those that should maintain the peace,  
Yet only are the patrons of our strife?  
If your profession have his ground and spring,  
First from the laws of God, then countries right,  
Not any ways inverting natures power,  
Why thrive you by contentions? Why devise you  
Clauses, and subtle reasons to except:  
Our state was first before you grew so great,  
A Lantern to the world for unity:  
Now they that are befriended, and are rich,  
Or press the poor, come Homer without quoin,  
He is not heard: What shall we term this drift?  
To say the poor man's cause is good and just,  
And yet the rich man gains the best in law:  
It is your guise, (the more the world laments)  
To quoin Provisoes to beguile your laws,  
To make a gay pretext of due proceeding,  
When you delay your common pleas for years:  
Mark what these dealings lately here have wrought:  
The crafty men have purchased greatmen's lands  
They poll, they pinch, their tenants are undone:  
If these complain by you they are undone,  
You fleece them of their quoin, their children beg,  
And many want, because you may be rich,  
This scar is mighty master Lawyer,  
Now man hath gotten head within this land,  
Mark but the guise, the poor man that is wronged,  
Is ready to rebel: he spoils, he pills,  
We need no foes to forage that we have,  
The law (say they) in peace consumed us,  
And now in war we will consume the law:  
Look to this mischief, lawyer's conscience knows  
You live amiss, amend it, lest you end.  Law. 
Good Lord, that their Divines should see so far  
In others' faults, without amending theirs?  
Sir, sir, the general defaults in state,  
(If you would read before you did correct)  
Are by a hidden working from above,  
By their successive changes still remained,  
Were not the law by contraries maintained,  
How could the truth from falsehood be discerned?  
Did we not taste the bitterness of war?  
How could we know the sweet effects of peace?  
Did we not feel the nipping winter frosts,  
How should we know the sweetness of the spring?  
Should all things still remain in one estate,  
Should not in greatest arts some scars be found,  
Were all upright and changed, what world were this?  
A Chaos, made of quiet, yet no world,  
Because the parts there of did still accord,  
This matter craves a variance not a speech,  
But sir Divine to you, look on your maims,  
Divisions, sects, your summonies and bribes:  
Your cloaking with the great, for fear to fall,  
You shall perceive you are the cause of all.  
Did each man know there were a storm at hand,  
Who would not clothe him well, to shun the wet?  
Did Prince and Peer, the Lawyer and the least,  
Know what were sin, without a partial gloze,  
we need no long discovery then of crimes,  
For each would mend, advised by holy men:  
Thus but slightly shadow out your sins,  
But if they were depainted out for life,  
Alas we both had wounds enough to heal.  Merch. 
None of you both I see but are in fault,  
Thus simple men as I do swallow flies,  
This grave Divine can tell us what to do.  
But we may say: Physician mend thyself,  
This Lawyer hath a pregnant wit to talk,  
But all are words, I see no deeds of worth.  Law. 
Good Merchant lay your fingers on your mouth,  
Be not a blab, for fear you bite yourself,  
What should I term your state, but even the way  
To every ruin in this Commonweal,  
Your bring us in the means of all excess,  
You rate it, and retailed it as you please,  
You swear, forswear, and all to compass wealth,  
Your money is your God, your hoard your heaven,  
You are the ground work of contention:  
First heedless youth, by you is overreached,  
we are corrupted by your many crowns:  
The Gentlemen whose titles you have bought,  
Lose all their father's toil within a day,  
Whilst Hob your son, and Sib your nutbrown child,  
Are Gentle folks, and Gentles are beguiled:  
This makes so many Noble maids to stray,  
And take sinister courses in the state.  Enter a Scout. Scout. 
My friends begone and if you love your lives,  
The King of England marcheth here at hand,  
Enter the camp for fear you be surprised.  Divine. 
Thanks gentle scout, God mend that is amiss,  
And place true, zeal whereas corruption is.  Exeun. Enter Dorothea, Lady Anderson and Nano. Doro. 
What news in Court, Nano let us know it?  Nano. 
If so you please my Lord, I straight will show it:  
The English king hath all the borders spoiled,  
Hath taken Morton prisoner, and hath slain  
Seven thousand Scottish Lords, not far from Tweards.  Doro. 
A woeful murder, and a bloody deed.  Nano. 
Thinking our liege hath sought by many means  
For to appease his enemy by prayers,  
Nought will prevail unless he can restore,  
Fair Dorothea long supposed dead:  
To this intent he hath proclaimed late,  
That whosoever return the Queen to Court,  
Shall have a thousand Marks for his reward.  L. And. 
He loves her then I see although enforced,  
That would bestow such gifts for to regain her:  
Why sit you sad, good sir be not dismayed.  Na. 
I'll lay my life this man would be a maid.  Dor. 
fain would I show myself, and change my tire.  And. 
Whereon divine you sir?  Na. 
Upon desire.  
Madam mark but my skill, i'll lay my life,  
My master here, will prove a married wife.  Doro. 
Wilt thou bewray me Nano?  Nano. 
Madam no:  
You are a man, and like a man you go.  
But I that am in speculation seen,  
Know you would change your state to be a Queen.  Dor. 
Thou art not dwarf to learn thy mistress: mind.  
fain would I with thyself disclose my king,  
But yet I blush.  Na. 
What blush you Madam than,  
To be yourself, who are a feigned man?  
Let me alone.  La. And. 
Deceitful beauty hast thou scorned me so?  Nano. 
Nay muse not maiden, for she tells you true.  La. An. 
Beauty bred love, and love hath bred my shame.  N. 
And women's faces work more wrongs then these:  
Take comfort Madam to cure our disease.  
And yet he loves a man as well as you,  
Only this difference, she cannot fancy too.  La. An. 
Blush, grieve, and die, in thine insatiate lust.  Do. 
Nay live and joy that thou hast won a friend,  
That loves thee as his life, by god desert.  La. And. 
I joy my Lord more than my tongue can tell:  
Although not as I desired, I love you well:  
But modesty, that never blushed before,  
Discover my false heart. I say no more.  
Let me alone.  Doro. 
Good Nano stay a while.  
Were I not sad, how kindly could I smile,  
To see how fain I am to leave this weed:  
And yet I faint to show myself indeed.  
But danger hates delay, I will be bold,  
Fair Lady I am not, suppose  
A man, but even that queen, more hapless I,  
Whom Scottish King appointed hath to die:  
I am the hapless Princess, for whose right,  
These kings in bloody wars revenge despite.  
I am that Dorothea whom they seek,  
Yours bounden for your kindness and relief:  
And since you are the means that save my life,  
yourself and I will to the Camp repair,  
Whereas your husband shall enjoy reward,  
And bring me to his highness once again.  An. 
Pardon most gracious Princess, if you please,  
My rude discourse and homely entertain,  
And if my words may savour any worth,  
Vouchsafe my counsel in this weighty cause:  
Since that our liege hath so unkindly dealt:  
Give him no trust, return unto your sire,  
There may you safely live in spite of him.  Doro. 
Ah Lady, so would worldly counsel work,  
But constancy, obedience, and my love,  
In that my husband is my Lord and chief,  
These call me to compassion of his estate,  
Dissuade me not, for virtue will not change,  An. 
What wondrous constancy is this I hear?  
If English dames their husband's love so dear,  
I fear me in the world they have no peer.  Na. 
Come Princes wend, and let us change your weed,  
I long to see you now a Queen indeed.  Exeunt. Enter the King of Scots, the English Herald & Lords. K. of S. 
He would have parley Lords, Herald say he shall,  
And get thee gone: go leave me to myself:  
Twixt love and fear, continual is the wars:  
The one assures me of my Ida's love,  
The other moves me for my murdered Queen.  
Thus find I grief of that whereon I joy,  
And doubt, in greatest hope, and death in weal,  
Ah lass what hell may be compared with mine,  
Since in extremes my comforts do consist?  
War then will cease, when dead ones are revived.  
Some then will yield, when I am dead for hope.  
Who doth disturb me? Andrew?  Andrew enter with Slipper. Andr. 
I my liege.  K. of S. 
What news?  Andr. 
I think my mouth was made at first,  
To tell these tragic tales my liefest Lord.  K. of S. 
What is Ateukin dead, tell me the worst?  Andr. 
No but your Ida, shall I tell him all?  
Is married late (ah shall I say to whom?)  
My master sad: (for why he shames the Court)  
Is fled away? ah most unhappy flight.  
Only myself, ah who can love you more?  
To show my duty (duty past belief)  
Am come unto your grace (oh gracious liege)  
To let you know, oh would it wear not thus,  
That love is vain, and maids soon lost and won.  K. of S. 
How have the partial heavens then dealt with me,  
Boding my weal, for to abase my power?  
Alas what thronging thoughts do me oppress?  
Injurious love is partial in my right,  
And flattering tongues by whom I was misled,  
Have laid a snare to spoil my state and me.  
Methinks I hear my Dorothea's ghost,  
Howling revenge for my accursed hate,  
The gifts of those my subjects that are slain,  
Pursue me crying out, woe, woe, to lust,  
The foe pursues me at my palace door:  
He breaks my rest and spoils me in my Camp,  
Ah flattering brood of sycophants my foes,  
First shall my dire revenge begin on you,  
I will reward thee Andrew.  Slip. 
Nay sir if you be in your deeds of charity, remember me  
I rubbed M. Ateukins horse heels, when he rid to the meadows.  K. of S. 
And thou shalt have thy recompense for that.  
Lords bear them to the prison, chain them fast,  
Until we take some order for their deaths.  And. 
If so your grace in such sort give rewards,  
Let me have nought, I am content to want.  Slip. 
Then I pray sir give me all, I am as ready for a reward as an oyster for a fresh tide, spare not me sir.  K. of S. 
Then hang them both as traitors to the King.  Slip. 
The case is altered, sir, i'll none of your gifts, what I take a reward at your hands? Master, faith sir no: I am a man of a better conscience.  K. of S. 
Why dally you? go draw them hence away.  Slip. 
Why alas sir, I will go away I thank you gentle friends. I pray you spare your pains, I will not trouble his honours mastership, i'll run away.  Enter Adam, and Antiques, and carry away the Clown, he makes pots, and sports, and scorns. 
Why stay you? move me not, let search be made,  
For vile Ateukin, who so finds him out,  
Shall have five hundredth marks for his reward.  
Away with the Lords troops about my tent,  
Let all our soldiers stand in battle ray,  
For lo the English to their parley come.  March over bravely first the English host, the sword carried before the King by Percy. The Scottish on the otherside, with all their pomp bravely. K. of S. 
What seeks the King of England in this land?  K. of Eng. 
False traitorous Scot, I come for to revenge  
My daughter's death: I come to spoil thy wealth,  
Since thou hast spoiled me of my marriage joy.  
I come to heap thy land with Carcases,  
That this thy thrifty soil choked up with blood,  
May thunder forth revenge upon thy head.  
I come to quit thy loveless love with death,  
In brief, no means of peace shall ere be found,  
Except I have my daughter or thy head.  K. of S. 
My head proud King t'abase thy pranking plains,  
So striving fondly, mayest thou catch thy grave.  
But if true judgement do direct thy course,  
These lawful reasons should divide the war,  
Faith not by my consent thy daughter died.  K. of E. 
Thou liest false Scot, thy agents have confessed it.  
These are but fond delays, thou canst not think  
A means for to reconcile me for thy friend,  
I have thy parasites confession penned:  
What then canst thou allege in thy excuse?  K. of S. 
I will repay the ransom for her blood.  K. of E. 
What thinkst thou caitiff, I will sell my child,  
No if thou be a Prince and man at arms,  
In single combat come and try thy right,  
Else will I prove thee recreant to thy face.  K. of S. 
I took no combat false injurious King,  
But since thou needless art inclined to war,  
Do what thou darest we are in open field.  
Arming thy battles I will fight with thee.  K. of E. 
Agreed, now trumpets sound a dreadful charge  
Fight for your Princess, brave English men:  
Now for your lands your children and your wives,  
My Scottish Peers, and lastly for your King.  Alarum sounded, both the battles offer to meet, & as the Kings are joining battle, Enter sir Cutber to his Lady Cutbert, with the Queen Dorothea richly attired. S. Cut. 
Stay Princes wage not war, a privy grudge  
Twixt such as you (most high in Majesty)  
Afflicts both nocent and the innocent,  
How many sword dear Princes see I drawn?  
The friend against his friend, a deadly friend:  
A desperate division in those lands,  
Which if they join in one, command the world.  
Oh stay with reason mitigate your rage,  
And let an old man humbled on his knees,  
Entreat a boon good Princes of you both.  K. of En. 
I condescend, for why thy reverend years  
Import some news of truth and consequence,  
I am content, for Anderson I know.  K. of S. 
Thou art my subject and dost mean me good.  S. Cut. And. 
But by your gracious favours grant me this,  
To swear upon your sword to do me right.  K. of Eng. 
See by my sword, and by a PRINCE's faith,  
In every lawful sort I am thine own.  K. of S. 
And by my Sceptre and the Scottish Crown,  
I am resolved to grant thee thy request.  Cutb. 
I see you trust me Princes who repose,  
The weight of such a war upon my will.  
Now mark my suit, a tender lions whelp,  
This other day came straggling in the woods,  
Attended by a young and tender hind,  
In courage haughty, yet tired like a lamb,  
The Prince of beasts had left this young in keep,  
To foster up as lovemate and compear,  
Unto the lions mate a neighbour friend,  
This stately guide seduced by the fox,  
Sent forth an eager Wolf bred up in France,  
That gripped the tender whelp, and wounded it.  
By chance as I was hunting in the woods,  
I heard the moan the hind made for the whelp,  
I took them both, and brought them to my house,  
With chary care I have recured the one,  
And since I know the lions are at strife,  
About the loss and damage of the young,  
I bring her home, make claim to her who list.  He discovereth her. Doro. 
I am the whelp, bred by this Lion up,  
This royal English king my happy sire,  
Poor Nano is the hind that tended me:  
My father Scottish king, gave me to thee:  
A hapless wife, thou quite misled by youth,  
Haste sought sinister loves and foreign joys,  
The fox Ateukin, cursed Parasite,  
Incensed your grace to send the wolf abroad,  
The French borne jaques, for to end my days,  
He traitorous man, pursued me in the woods,  
And left me wounded, where this noble knight,  
Both rescued me and mine, and saved my life.  
Now keep thy promise, Dorothea lives:  
Give Anderson his due and just reward:  
And since you kings, your wars began by me,  
Since I am safe, return surcease your fight.  K. of S. 
Durst I presume to look upon those eyes,  
Which I have tired with a world of woes,  
Or did I think submission were enough,  
Or sighs might make an entrance to my soul:  
You heavens, you know how willing I would weep:  
You heavens can tell, how glad I would submit:  
You heavens can say, how firmly I would sigh.  Do. 
Shame me not Prince, companion in thy bed,  
Youth hath misled: tut but a little fault,  
'tis kingly to amend what is amiss:  
Might I with twice as many pains as these,  
Unite our hearts, then should my wedded Lord,  
See how incessant labours I would take.  
My gracious father govern your affects,  
Give me that hand, that oft hath blessed this head,  
And clasp thine arms, that have embraced this,  
About the shoulders of my wedded spouse:  
Ah mighty Prince, this king and I am one,  
Spoil thou his subjects, thou despoilest me:  
Touch thou his breast, thou dost attaint this heart,  
Oh be my father then in loving him.  K. of Eng. 
Thou provident kind mother of increase,  
Thou must prevail, ah nature thou must rule:  
Hold daughter, join my hand and his in one,  
I will embrace him for to favour thee,  
I call him friend, and take him for my son.  Dor. 
Ah royal husband, see what God hath wrought,  
Thy foe is now thy friend: good men at arms,  
Do you the like, these nations if they join,  
What Monarch with his liegemen in this world,  
Dare but encounter you in open fields?  K. of S. 
All wisdom joined with godly piety,  
Thou English king, pardon my former youth,  
And pardon courteous Queen my great misdeed:  
And for assurance of mine after life,  
I take religious vows before my God,  
To honour thee for favour, her for wife.  L. And. 
But yet my bones good Princes are not past,  
First English king I humbly do request,  
That by your means our Princess may unite,  
Her love unto mine alder truest love,  
Now you will love, maintain and help them both.  K. of Eng. 
Good Anderson, I grant thee thy request.  L. And. 
But you my Prince must yield me mickle more:  
You know your Nobles are your chiefest stays,  
And long time have been banished from your Court,  
Embrace and reconcile them to yourself:  
They are your hands, whereby you ought to work.  
As for Ateukin, and his lewd compeers,  
That soothed you in your sins and youthly pomp,  
Exile, torment, and punish such as they,  
For greater vipers never may be found  
Within a state, than such aspiring heads,  
That reck not how they climb, so that they climb.  K. of S. 
Guid Knight I grant thy suit, first I submit  
And humble crave a pardon of your grace:  
Next courteous Queen, I pray thee by thy loves,  
Forgive mine errors past, and pardon me.  
My Lords and Princes, if I have misdone,  
(As I have wronged indeed both you and yours)  
Hereafter trust me, you are dear to me:  
As for Ateukin, who so finds the man,  
Let him have Martial law, and straight be hanged,  
As (all his vain arbiters now are divided)  
And Anderson our Treasurer shall pay,  
Three thousand Marks, for friendly recompense.  L. Andr. 
But Princes whilst you friend it thus in one,  
methinks of friendship, Nano shall have none.  Doro. 
What would my Dwarf, that I will not bestow?  Nano. 
My boon fair Queen is this, that you would go,  
Although my body is but small and neat,  
My stomach after toil requireth meat,  
An easy suit, dread Princes will you wend?  K. of S. 
Art thou a pygmy borne my pretty friend?  Nano. 
Not so great King, but nature when she framed me,  
Was scant of earth, and Nano therefore named me:  
And when she saw my body was so small,  
She gave me wit to make it big withal.  K. 
Till time when,  Dor. 
Eat then.  K. 
My friend it stands with wit,  
To take repast when stomach serveth it.  Dor. 
Thy policy my Nano shall prevail:  
Come royal father, enter we my tent:  
And soldiers feast it, frolic it like friends,  
My Princes bid this kind and courteous train,  
Partake some favours of our late accord.  
Thus wars have end, and after dreadful hate,  
Men learn at last to know their good estate.  Exeunt. 
FINIS.