Amongst the minions of the court there was one named Monsieur Chatelar, a Frenchman, that at that time passed all others in credit with the Queen. In dancing of the Purpose (so term they that dance, in the which man and woman talk secretly ...) in this dance, the Queen chose Chatelar, and Chatelar took the Queen. Chatelar had the best dress. All this winter, Chatelar was so familiar in the Queen's cabinet, early and late, that scarcely could any of the nobility have access unto her. The Queen would lie upon Chatelar's shoulder, and sometimes privily she would steal a kiss of his neck. And all this was honest enough; for it was the gentle entreatment of a stranger. But the familiarity was so great, that upon a night, he privily did convoy himself under the Queen's bed; but being espied, he was commanded away. The bruit {report} arising, the Queen called the Earl of Murray, and bursting into a womanly affection, charged him, that, as he loved her, he should slay Chatelar, and let him never speak a word. The other at first made promise so to do ... but returned and fell upon his knees before the Queen and said: Madam, I beseech your Grace cause not me to take the blood of this man upon me; your Grace has entreated him so familiarly before, that you have offended all your nobility; and now, if he shall be secretly slain at your own commandment, what shall the world judge of it? I shall bring him to the presence of justice, and let him suffer by law according to his deserving. "Oh," said the Queen, "you will never let him speak." I shall do (said he), madam, what in me lieth to save your honour. _THE REWARD OF DANCING_ Poor Chatelar was brought back from Kinghorn to St. Andrews, examined, put to an assize, and so beheaded, the 22nd day of February, 1563. He begged license to write to France the cause of his death, which, said he, in his tongue was, _Pour estre trouve en lieu trop suspect_; that is, Because I was found in a place too much suspected. At the place of execution, when he saw that there was no remedy but death, he made a godly confession, and granted that his declining from the truth of God, and following of vanity and impiety, was justly recompensed upon him. But in the end he concluded, looking unto the heavens, with these words, _O cruel dame!_ that is, cruel mistress! What that complaint imported, lovers may divine. And so received Chatelar the reward of his dancing, for he lost his head, that his tongue should not utter the secrets of our Queen. _Deliver us, O Lord, from the rage of such inordinate rulers._ The Famine of 1563. _Laing's Knox_, vol. ii. pp. 369-70.