_Q. Dor._ Good Nano, stay awhile. Were I not sad, how kindly could I smile, To see how fain I am to leave this weed! And yet I faint to show myself indeed: But danger hates delay; I will be bold.-- Fair lady, I am not [as you] suppose, A man, but even that queen, more hapless I, Whom Scottish king appointed hath to die; I am the hapless princess, for whose right, These kings in bloody wars revenge despite; I am that Dorothea whom they seek, Yours bounden for your kindness and relief; And, since you are the means that save my life, Yourself and I will to the camp repair, Whereas your husband shall enjoy reward, And bring me to his highness once again. _Lady And._ Pardon, most gracious princess, if you please, My rude discourse and homely entertain; And, if my words may savour any worth, Vouchsafe my counsel in this weighty cause: Since that our liege hath so unkindly dealt, Give him no trust, return unto your sire; There may you safely live in spite of him. _Q. Dor._ Ah lady, so would worldly counsel work; But constancy, obedience, and my love, In that my husband is my lord and chief, These call me to compassion of his state: Dissuade me not, for virtue will not change. _Lady And._ What wondrous constancy is this I hear! If English dames their husbands love so dear, I fear me in the world they have no peer. _Nano._ Come, princess, wend, and let us change your weed: I long to see you now a queen indeed. [_Exeunt._ SCENE VI.--_Camp of the_ KING OF SCOTS. _Enter the_ KING OF SCOTS, _the_ English Herald, _and_ Lords. _K. of Scots._ He would have parley, lords. Herald, say he shall, And get thee gone. Go, leave me to myself. [_Exit_ Herald.--_Lords retire._ 'Twixt love and fear, continual is the war; The one assures me of my Ida's love, The other moves me for my murder'd queen: Thus find I grief of that whereon I joy, And doubt in greatest hope, and death in weal. Alas, what hell may be compar'd with mine, Since in extremes my comforts do consist! War then will cease, when dead ones are reviv'd; Some then will yield when I am dead for hope.-- Who doth disturb me? _Enter_ ANDREW _and_ SLIPPER. Andrew? _And._ Ay, my liege. _K. of Scots._ What news? _And._ I think my mouth was made at first To tell these tragic tales, my liefest lord. _K. of Scots._ What, is Ateukin dead? tell me the worst. _And._ No, but your Ida--shall I tell him all?-- Is married late--ah, shall I say to whom?-- My master sad--for why he shames the court-- Is fled away; ah, most unhappy flight! Only myself--ah, who can love you more!-- To show my duty,--duty past belief,-- Am come unto your grace, O gracious liege, To let you know--O, would it were not thus!-- That love is vain and maids soon lost and won.