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To give our cousin York for wife our kinswoman, The lady Katherine: Instinct of sovereignty Designs the honour, though her peevish father Usurps our resolution.

Hunt. Oh, 'tis well,

Exceeding well! I never was ambitious
Of using congées to my daughter queen-
A queen! perhaps, a quean!? Forgive me, Dalyell,
Thou honourable gentleman;-none here

Dare speak one word of comfort?

Dal. Cruel misery!

Craw. The lady, gracious prince, may be hath settled

Affection on some former choice.

Dal. Enforcement

Would prove but tyranny.

Hunt. I thank thee heartily.

Let any yeoman of our nation challenge
An interest in the girl, then the king
May add a jointure of ascent in titles,
Worthy a free consent; now he pulls down
What old desert hath builded.

A queen! perhaps, a quean!] I cannot reconcile myself to this reading, though I have adopted it. The noble Huntley would scarcely use such language of his daughter, however lightly he might be disposed to treat the young pretender to royalty. The passage stands thus in the old copy :

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I never was ambitious

Of using congeys to my Daughter Queene:

A Queene, perhaps a Queene?"

If the last line be read

A queen, perhaps! a queen!

it may seem to express his affected surprize at her advancement ; but let the reader decide.

K. Ja. Cease persuasions.

I violate no pawns of faiths, intrude not

On private loves; that I have play'd the orator For kingly York to virtuous Kate, her grant Can justify, referring her contents

To our provision: the Welsh Harry, henceforth, Shall therefore know, and tremble to acknowledge,

That not the painted idol of his policy

Shall fright the lawful owner from a kingdom.We are resolv'd.

Hunt. Some of thy subjects' hearts,

King James, will bleed for this!

K. Ja. Then shall their bloods

Be nobly spent: no more disputes; he is not
Our friend who contradicts us.

Hunt. Farewell, daughter!

My care by one is lessen'd, thank the king for't! I and my griefs will dance now.

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Enter WARBECK, complimenting with Lady KATHERINE; Countess of CRAWFORD, JANE DOUGLAS, FRION, JOHN A-WATER, ASTLEY, HERON, and SKETON.

Look, lords, look;

Here's hand in hand already!

K. Ja. Peace, old frenzy.

How like a king he looks! Lords, but observe The confidence of his aspéct; dross cannot Cleave to so pure a metal-royal youth! Plantagenet undoubted!

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Hunt. (Aside.) Ho, brave!-Youth;'
But no Plantagenet, by'r lady, yet,
By red rose or by white.

War. An union this way,

Settles possession in a monarchy

Establish'd rightly, as is my inheritance:

Acknowledge me but sovereign of this kingdom, Your heart, fair princess, and the hand of provi

dence

Shall crown you queen of me, and my best fortunes. Kath. Where my obedience is, my lord, a duty, Love owes true service.

War. Shall I ?

K. Ja. Cousin, yes,

Enjoy her; from my hand accept your bride;

[He joins their hands.

And may they live at enmity with comfort,

Who grieve at such an equal pledge of troths!
You are the prince's wife now.

Kath. By your gift, sir.

War. Thus, I take seizure of mine own.

Kath. I miss yet

A father's blessing. Let me find it ;-humbly
Upon my knees I seek it.

Hunt. I am Huntley,

Old Alexander Gordon,' a plain subject,

'Ho, brave!-Youth.] The old copy has lady. The earl evidently meant to repeat the king's last words; the mistake probably arose from the printer's eye having been caught by the word immediately below it.

2 Hunt. I am Huntley,

Old Alexander Gordon.] This appears to be a mistake. The

Nor more nor less; and, lady, if you wish for
A blessing, you must bend your knees to heaven;
For heaven did give me you. Alas, alas!
What would you have me say? may all the hap-
piness

My prayers ever sued to fall upon you,

Preserve you in your virtues!-Prithee, Dalyell,
Come with me; for I feel thy griefs as full
As mine; let's steal away, and cry together.
Dal. My hopes are in their ruins.

[Exeunt HUNT. and DAL.

K. Ja. Good, kind Huntley

Is overjoy'd: a fit solemnity

Shall perfect these delights; Crawford, attend

Our order for the preparation.

[Exeunt all but FRION, HER. SKET.

J. A-WAT. and AST.

Fri. Now, worthy gentlemen, have I not follow'd My undertakings with success? Here's entrance Into a certainty above a hope.

Her. Hopes are but hopes; I was ever confident, when I traded but in remnants, that my stars had reserv'd me to the title of a Viscount at least: honour is honour, though cut out of any stuffs.'

father of Katherine, as is said above, was George Gordon. His father, indeed, was named Alexander, and so was his son and successor; but the latter did not obtain the title till many years after this period.

3 Her. Honour is honour, though cut out of any stuffs.] Ford has made the speakers express themselves characteristically. Heron, or Herne, as Lord Bacon calls him, was a mercer; Sketon, or rather Skelton, was a taylor, and Astley a scrivener: they were all men of broken fortunes, a circumstance to which the poet frequently alludes.

Sket. My brother Heron hath right wisely deliver'd his opinion; for he that threads his needle with the sharp eyes of industry, shall in time go thorough-stitch with the new suit of prefer

ment.

Ast. Spoken to the purpose, my fine witted brother Sketon; for as no indenture but has its counterpane; no noverint but his condition or defeisance; so no right but may have claim, no claim but may have possession, any act of parliament to the contrary notwithstanding.

Fri. You are all read in mysteries of state, And quick of apprehension, deep in judgment, Active in resolution; and 'tis pity

Such counsel should lie buried in obscurity. But why, in such a time and cause of triumph, Stands the judicious mayor of Cork so silent? Believe it, sir, as English Richard prospers, You must not miss employment of high nature.

J. a-Wat. If men may be credited in their mortality, which I dare not peremptorily aver but they may, or not be; presumptions by this marriage are then, in sooth, of fruitful expectation. Or else I must not justify other men's belief, more than other should rely on mine.

Fri. Pith of experience! those that have borne office,

Weigh every word before it can drop from them. But, noble counsellors, since now the present Requires, in point of honour, (pray mistake not,) Some service to our lord; 'tis fit the Scots

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