Enter NANO, DOROTHEA, in man's apparel.

DOR. Ah Nano, I am weary of these weeds, Weary to wield this weapon that I bear, Weary of love, from whom my woe proceeds, Weary of toil, since I have lost my dear! O weary life, where wanteth* no distress, But every thought is paid with heaviness! NANO. Too much of weary, madam, if you please : Sit down, let weary die, and take your ease. DOR. How look I, Nano? like a man, or no? NANO. If not a man, yet like a manly shrow.† DOR. If any come and meet us on the way, What should we do, if they enforce us stay.

NANO. Set cap a-huff, and challenge him the field: Suppose the worst, the weak may fight to yield.

DOR. The battle, Nano, in this troubled mind Is far more fierce than ever we may find. The bodies' wounds by medicines may be eas'd, But griefs of minds by salves are not appeas'd. NANO. Say, madam, will you hear your Nano sing? DOR. Of woe, good boy, but of no other thing. NANO. What, if I sing of fancy, will it please? DOR. To such as hope success, such notes breed

ease.

NANO. What, if I sing, like Damon, to my sheep?
DOR. Like Phillis, I will sit me down to weep.
NANO. Nay, since my songs afford such pleasure
small,

I'll sit me down, and sing you none at all.
DOR. O, be not angry, Nano!

NANO. Nay, you loathe

To think on that which doth content us both.

wanteth] The 4to. "wanted."

shrow] i. e. shrew,-so written for the sake of the rhyme. fancy] See note* vol. i. p. 179.

DOR. And how?

NANO. You scorn disport when you are weary, And loathe my mirth, who live to make you merry. DOR. Danger and fear withdraw me from delight. NANO. 'Tis virtue to contemn false fortune's spite. DOR. What should I do to please thee, friendly squire?

NANO. 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 beshrow me. DOR. We are descried; O Nano, 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, And I will seek for rescue out of hand.*

DOR. Run, Nano, run, prevent thy princess' death. NANO. Fear not, I'll run all danger out of breath. [Exit. JAQ. Ah, you calleta, you strumpet! ta Maitressa Doretie, etes vous surprise? Come, say your paternoster, car vous etes morte par ma foi.

DOR. Callet, me strumpet! caitiff as thou art!
But even a princess born, who scorn thy threats:
Shall never Frenchman say, an English maid
Of threats of foreign force will be afraid.

JAQ. You no dire votres prieges? morbleu, mechante femme,+ guarda your breasta: there, me make you die on my morglay.‡

* And I will, &c.] The 4to. gives this line to Dorothea. t morbleu, mechante femme] Old copy "urbleme merchants famme."

morglay] The name of the sword of Sir Beris of Southampton;
"And how fair Josian gave him Arundel his steed,
And morglay his good sword.'

Drayton's Poly-Olbion, Song Second.

DOR. God shield me, hapless princess, and a wife, And save my soul, although I lose my life!

[They fight, and she is sore wounded. Ah, I am slain! some piteous power repay This murderer's cursed deed, that doth me slay!

JAQ. Elle est tout morte: me will run pour a wager, for fear me be surpris and pendu for my labour. Bien, je m'en allerai au roi lui dire * mes affaires. serai un chevalier, for this day's travail.

Je

[Exit.

Enter NANO, and SIR CUTHBERT ANDERSON, his sword drawn.

SIR CUTH. Where is this poor distressed gentleman? NANO. Here laid on ground, and wounded to the

death.

Ah gentle heart, how are these beauteous looks
Dimm'd by the tyrant cruelties of death!
O weary soul, break thou from forth my breast,
And join thee with the soul I honour'd most!
SIR CUTH. Leave mourning, friend, the man is
yet alive.

Some help me to convey him to my house:

There will I see him carefully recur'd,

And send privy search to catch the murderer. NANO. The God of heaven reward thee, courteous knight !

[Exeunt; and they bear out Dorothea.

Enter the KING OF SCOTS, JAQUES, ATEUKIN, ANDREW; Jaques running with his sword one way, the King with his train another way.

K. OF SCOTS. Stay, Jaques, fear not, sheathe thy
murdering blade:

Lo, here thy king and friends are come abroad,
To save thee from the terrors of pursuit.

What, is she dead?

JAQ. Oui, Monsieur, elle est blessée par . . . . la tête sur les épaules:* I warrant, she no trouble you. ATEU. O then, my liege, how happy art thou grown, How favour'd of the heavens, and blest by love! Methinks I see fair Ida in thine arms,

Craving remission for her late contempt; †
Methinks 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 desir'd? why lose we forward time?
Write, make me spokesman now, vow marriage:
If she deny your favour, let me die.

AND. 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 master's counsel, is already possessed of happiness; nay, which is more miraculous, as the nobleman in his infancy lay in his cradle, a swarm of bees laid honey on his lips in token of his eloquence, for melle dulcior fluit oratio.

ATEU. Your Grace must bear with imperfections: This is exceeding love that makes him speak.

K. OF SCOTS. Ateukin, I am ravish'd in conceit, And yet deprest again with earnest thoughts. Methinks, this murder soundeth in mine ear A threatening noise of dire and sharp revenge: I am incens'd 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:

* par.... la tête sur les épaules] The 4to. " per lake teste oues les espanles," of which I can make nothing: I suppose some words are wanting.

t contempt] The 4to. "attempt."

*

For you are not as common people be,
Who die and perish with a few men'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 SCOTS. Enough, I am confirm'd. Ateukin,
Rid me of love, and rid me of my grief; [come,
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
Shall be embellished with orient pearls,
And crowns of sapphires compassing her brows,
Shall war 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 milkwhite 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 crowns. ‡
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.

ATEU. How much, O mighty king,
Is thy Ateukin bound to honour thee!

men's] The 4to. "mans." t blent] See note ‡ vol. i. p. 77.

crowns] The 4to. "crown.'

war] The 4to. "wear."