_Jaq. Comme vous plaira, monsieur._ [_Exeunt_ ATEUKIN _and_ JAQUES. _And._ Was never such a world, I think, before, When sinners seem to dance within a net; The flatterer and the murderer, they grow big; By hook or crook promotion now is sought. In such a world, where men are so misled, What should I do, but, as the proverb saith, Run with the hare, and hunt with the hound? To have two means beseems a witty man. Now here in court I may aspire and climb By subtlety, for my master's death: And, if that fail, well fare another drift; I will, in secret, certain letters send Unto the English king, and let him know The order of his daughter's overthrow, That, if my master crack his credit here, As I am sure long flattery cannot hold, I may have means within the English court To 'scape the scourge that waits on bad advice. [_Exit._ CHORUS _Enter_ BOHAN _and_ OBERON. _Ober._ Believe me, bonny Scot, these strange events Are passing pleasing; may they end as well. _Boh._ Else say that Bohan hath a barren skull, If better motions yet than any past Do not, more glee to make, the fairy greet. But my small son made pretty handsome shift To save the queen his mistress, by his speed. _Ober._ Yea, and yon laddie, for his sport he made, Shall see, when least he hopes, I'll stand his friend, Or else he capers in a halter's end. _Boh._ What, hang my son! I trow not, Oberon: I'll rather die than see him woebegone. _Enter a round, or some dance, at pleasure._ _Ober._ Bohan, be pleas'd, for, do they what they will, Here is my hand, I'll save thy son from ill. [_Exeunt._ ACT THE FIFTH SCENE I._--Castle of_ SIR CUTHBERT ANDERSON. _Enter_ QUEEN DOROTHEA _in man's apparel and in a nightgown,_ LADY ANDERSON, _and_ NANO; _and_ SIR CUTHBERT ANDERSON _behind_. _Lady And._ My gentle friend, beware, in taking air, Your walks grow not offensive to your wounds. _Q. Dor._ Madam, I thank you of your courteous care: My wounds are well-nigh clos'd, though sore they are. _Lady And._ Methinks these closèd wounds should breed more grief, Since open wounds have cure, and find relief. _Q. Dor._ Madam, if undiscover'd wounds you mean, They are not cur'd, because they are not seen. _Lady And._ I mean the wounds which do the heart subdue. _Nano._ O, that is love: Madam, speak I not true? [SIR CUTHBERT ANDERSON _overhears._ _Lady And._ Say it were true, what salve for such a sore? _Nano._ Be wise, and shut such neighbours out of door. _Lady And._ How if I cannot drive him from my breast? _Nano._ Then chain him well, and let him do his best. _Sir Cuth._ [_aside_]. In ripping up their wounds, I see their wit; But if these wounds be cur'd, I sorrow it. _Q. Dor._ Why are you so intentive to behold My pale and woful looks, by care controll'd?