_Nano._ Then cease your teares, that haue dismaid you, And crosse the foe before hee haue betrayed you. _Bar._ What needes this long suggestions in this cause? When euery circumstance confirmeth trueth: First let the hidden mercie from aboue, 1430 Confirme your grace, since by a wondrous meanes, The practise of your daungers came to light: Next let the tokens of appooued trueth, Gouerne and stay your thoughts, too much seduc’t, And marke the sooth, and listen the intent, Your highnesse knowes, and these my noble Lords, Can witnesse this, that whilest your husbands sirre In happie peace possest the Scottish Crowne, I was his sworne attendant heere in Court, In daungerous sight I neuer fail’d my Lord. 1440 And since his death, and this your husbands raigne, No labour, dutie, haue I left vndone, To testifie my zeale vnto the Crowne: But now my limmes are weake, mine eyes are dim, Mine age vnweldie and vnmeete for toyle: I came to court in hope for seruice past, To gaine some lease to keepe me beeing olde, There found I all was vpsie turuy turnd, My friends displac’ff, the Nobles loth to craue, Then fought I to the minion of the King, 1450 _Auteukin_, who allured by a bribe, Assur’d me of the lease for which I fought: But see the craft, when he had got the graunt, He wrought to sell it to Sir _Siluester_, In hope of greater earnings from his hands: In briefe, I learnt his craft, and wrought the meanes, By one his needie seruants for reward, To steale from out his pocket all the briefes, Which hee perform’d, and with reward resignd Them when I read (now marke the power of God) 1460 I found this warrant seald among the rest, To kill your grace, whom God long keepe aliue. Thus in effect, by wonder are you sau’d, Trifle not then, bnt seeke a speakie flight, God will conduct your steppes, and shield the right. _Dor._ What should I do, ah poore vnhappy Queen? Borne to indure what fortune can containe, Ah lasse the deed is too apparant now: But oh mine eyes were you as bent to hide, As my poore heart is forward to forgiue. 1470 Ah cruell king, my loue would thee acquite, Oh what auailes to be allied and matcht With high estates that marry but in shewe? Were I baser borne, my meane estate Could warrant me from this impendent harme, But to be great and happie these are twaine. Ah _Rosse_ what shall I do, how shall I worke? _Rosse._ With speedie letters to your father send, Who will reuenge you, and defend your right. _Dor._ As if they kill not me, who with him fight? 1480 As if his brest be toucht, I am not wounded, As if he waild, my ioyes were not confounded: We are one heart, tho rent by hate in twaine: One soule, one essence doth our weale containe: What then can conquer him that kils not me? _Rosse._ If this aduice displease, then Madame flee. _Dor._ Where may I wend or trauel without feare?