_K. of Eng._ Long shine the sun of Scotland in her pride, Her father's comfort, and fair Scotland's bride! But, Dorothea, 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 With 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 construèd 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. _Q. Dor._ I will engrave these precepts in my heart: And as the wind with calmness wooes you hence, Even so I wish the heavens, in all mishaps, May bless my father with continual grace. _K. of Eng._ Then, son, farewell: The favouring winds invite us to depart. 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 Scots._ 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, in all royalty, the_ KING OF ENGLAND, QUEEN DOROTHEA _and_ Lords. [_Aside_]. 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, hath made another choice,-- Another choice, even when thou vow'd'st thy soul To Dorothea, England's choicest pride. O, then thy wandering eyes bewitch'd thy heart! Even in the chapel did thy fancy change, When, perjur'd man, though fair Doll had thy hand, The Scottish Ida's beauty stale thy heart: Yet fear and love have tied thy ready tongue From babbling forth the passions of thy mind, 'Less fearful silence have in subtle looks Bewray'd the treason of my new-vow'd love. Be fair and lovely, Doll; but here's the prize, That lodgeth here, and enter'd through mine eyes: Yet, howso'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?