[_Whilst they are dancing_, ANDREW _takes away_ SLIPPER'S _money, and the other_ Antics _depart._ Nay, but, my friends, one hornpipe further! a refluence back, and two doubles forward! What, not one cross-point against Sundays? What, ho, sirrah, you gone? you with the nose like an eagle, an you be a right Greek, one turn more.--Thieves, thieves! I am robbed! thieves! Is this the knavery of fiddlers? Well, I will then bind the whole credit of their occupation on a bag-piper, and he for my money. But I will after, and teach them to caper in a halter, that have cozened me of my money. [_Exit._ SCENE IV.--_The Forest near Edinburgh._ _Enter_ QUEEN DOROTHEA _in man's apparel, and_ NANO. _Q. 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. _Q. Dor._ How look I, Nano? like a man or no? _Nano._ If not a man, yet like a manly shrow.[285] _Q. 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. _Q. Dor._ The battle, Nano, in this troubled mind Is far more fierce than ever we may find. The body's wounds by medicines may be eas'd, But griefs of mind, by salves are no appeas'd. _Nano._ Say, madam, will you hear your Nano sing? _Q. Dor._ Of woe, good boy, but of no other thing. _Nano._ What if I sing of fancy?[286] will it please? _Q. Dor._ To such as hope success such notes breed ease. _Nano._ What if I sing, like Damon, to my sheep? _Q. 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. _Q. Dor._ O, be not angry, Nano! _Nano._ Nay, you loathe To think on that which doth content us both. _Q. Dor._ And how? _Nano._ You scorn disport when you are weary, And loathe my mirth, who live to make you merry. _Q. Dor._ Danger and fear withdraw me from delight. _Nano._ 'Tis virtue to contemn false fortune's spite. _Q. 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 cursèd care, or else beshrow me. _Q. 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. _Q. Dor._ Run, Nano, run, prevent thy princess' death. _Nano._ Fear not, I'll run all danger out of breath. [_Exit._