_Iaq._ Me sweara by my ten bones, my singniar, to be loyal to your Lordships intents, affaires, ye my monsignieur, _qui non fera ic pour_. Yea pleasure? By my sworda me be no babie Lords. _Ateu._ Then hoping one thy truth, I prithe see, How kinde _Ateukin_ is to forward mee, 1370 Hold take this earnest pennie of my loue. And marke my words, the King by me requires, No slender seruice _Iaques_ at thy hands. Thou must by privie practise make a way, The Queene faire _Dorethea_ as she sleepes: Or how thou wilt, so she be done to death: Thou shalt not want promotion heare in Court. _Iaq._ Stabba the woman, per ma foy, monsignieur, me thrusta my weapon into her belle, so me may be gard per le roy. Mee de your seruice. 1380 But me no be hanged pur my labor. _Ateu._ Thou shalt haue warrant _Iaques_ from the King, None shall outface, gainsay and wrong my friend. Do not I loue thee _Iaques_? feare not then, I tell thee who so toucheth thee in ought, Shall iniure me, I loue, I tender thee: Thou art a subiect fit to serue his grace, _Iaques_, I had a written warrant once, But that by great misfortune late is lost, Come wend we to S. _Andrewes_, where his grace 1390 Is now in progresse, where he shall assure Thy safetie, and confirme thee to the act. _Iaques._ We will attend your noblenesse. _Exeunt._ _Enter Sir Bartram, Dorothea, the Queene, _III. iii._ Nano, Lord Ross. Ladies attendants._ _Doro._ Thy credite _Bartram_ in the Scottish Court,, Thy reuerend yeares, the stricknesse of thy vowes, All these are meanes sufficient to perswade, 1400 But loue the faithfull lincke of loyall hearts, That hath possession of my constant minde, Exiles all dread, subdueth vaine supect, Me thinks no craft should harbour in that brest, Where Maiestie and vertue is mstaled: Me thinke my beautie should not cause my death. _Bar._ How gladly soueraigne Princesse would I erre, And binde my shame to saue your royall life: Tis Princely in your selfe to thinke the best, To hope his grace is guiltlesse of this crime, 1410 But if in due preuention you default, How blinde are you that were forwarnd before. _Doro._ Suspition without cause deserueth blame. _Bar._ Who sees, and shunne not harmes, deserue the same: Beholde the tenor of this traiterous plot. _Doro._ What should I reade? Perhappes he wrote it not. _Bar._ Heere is his warrant vnder seale and signe, To _Iaques_ borne in _France_ to murther you. _Doro._ Ah carelesse King, would God this were not thine What tho I reade? Ah should I thinke it true? 1420 _Rosse._ The hand and seale confirmes the deede is his. _Doro._ What know I tho, if now he thinketh this? _Nauo._ Madame _Lucretius_ faith, that to repent, Is shildish wisdome to preuent. _Doro._ What tho?