_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 depress'd 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: 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, come, Rid me of love, and rid me of my grief; 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 embellishèd 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 closèd in my breast; And I, in touching of her milk-white 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!-- Bow thee, Andrew, bend thine sturdy knees; Seest thou not here thine only God on earth? [_Exit the_ KING. _Jaq. Mais où est mon argent, seigneur?_ _Ateu._ Come, follow me. His grace, I see, is mad,[288] That thus on sudden he hath left us here.-- Come, Jaques: we will have our packet soon despatch'd, And you shall be my mate upon the way.