_Boh._ Now, king, if thou be a king, I will show thee whay I hate the world by demonstration. In the year fifteen hundred and twenty, was in Scotland a king, over-ruled with parasites, misled by lust, and 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, and I'll show thee the same in action by guid fellows of our country-men; and then, when thou see'st 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 æternum._ ACT THE FIRST SCENE I.--_The Court at Edinburgh._ _Enter the_ KING OF ENGLAND, _the_ KING OF SCOTS, QUEEN DOROTHEA, _the_ COUNTESS OF ARRAN, IDA, _and_ Lords; _with them_ ATEUKIN, _aloof._ _K. of Scots._ Brother of England, since our neighbouring lands And near alliance do 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 confirm'd; 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 vowèd friend. _K. of Eng._ Link all these lovely styles, good king, in one: And since thy grief exceeds in my depart, I leave my Dorothea to enjoy Thy whole compact [of] 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 bind'st 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 life's light, and the comfort of my soul.-- Fair Dorothea, 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 Dorothea peerless Queen of Scots. _All._ Long live and prosper our fair Queen of Scots! [_They install and crown her._ _Q. 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 Dorothea, our true queen!