_Lady And._ Because in them a ready way is found To cure my care and heal my hidden wound. _Nano._ Good master, shut your eyes, keep that conceit; Surgeons give coin to get a good receipt. _Q. Dor._ Peace, wanton son; this lady did amend My wounds; mine eyes her hidden griefs shall end. _Nano._ Look not too much, it is a weighty case Whereas a man puts on a maiden's face; For many times, if ladies 'ware them not, A nine months' wound, with little work is got. _Sir Cuth._ [_aside_]. I'll break off their dispute, lest love proceed From covert smiles, to perfect love indeed. [_Comes forward._ _Nano._ The cat's abroad, stir not, the mice be still. _Lady And._ Tut, we can fly such cats, when so we will. _Sir Cuth._ How fares my guest? take cheer, naught shall default, That either doth concern your health or joy: Use me; my house, and what is mine is yours. _Q. Dor._ Thanks, gentle knight; and, if all hopes be true, I hope ere long to do as much for you. _Sir Cuth._ Your virtue doth acquit me of that doubt: But, courteous sir, since troubles call me hence, I must to Edinburgh unto the king, There to take charge, and wait him in his wars.-- Meanwhile, good madam, take this squire in charge, And use him so as if it were myself. _Lady And._ Sir Cuthbert, doubt not of my diligence: Meanwhile, till your return, God send you health. _Q. Dor._ God bless his grace, and, if his cause be just, Prosper his wars; if not, he'll mend, I trust. Good sir, what moves the king to fall to arms? _Sir Cuth._ The King of England forageth his land, And hath besieg'd Dunbar with mighty force. What other news are common in the court. Read you these letters, madam; [_giving letters to_ LADY ANDERSON] tell the squire The whole affairs of state, for I must hence. _Q. Dor._ God prosper you, and bring you back from thence! [_Exit_ SIR CUTHBERT ANDERSON. Madam, what news? _Lady And._ They say the queen is slain. _Q. Dor._ Tut, such reports more false than truth contain. _Lady And._ But these reports have made his nobles leave him. _Q. Dor._ Ah, careless men, and would they so deceive him? _Lady And._ The land is spoil'd, the commons fear the cross; All cry against the king, their cause of loss: The English king subdues and conquers all. _Q. Dor._ Alas, this war grows great on causes small! _Lady And._ Our court is desolate, our prince alone, Still dreading death. _Q. Dor._ Woe's me, for him I mourn! Help, now help, a sudden qualm Assails my heart! _Nano._ Good madam, stand his friend: Give us some liquor to refresh his heart. _Lady And._ Daw thou him up,[289] and I will fetch thee forth Potions of comfort, to repress his pain. [_Exit._