_Doro._ What newes in Court, _Nano_ let vs know it? _Nano._ If so you please my Lord, I straight will shew it: The English king hath all the borders spoyld, Hath taken _Morton_ prisoner, and hath slaine Seuen thousand Scottish Lords, not sarre from _Twearde_. 2260 _Doro._ A wofull murther, and a bloodie deed. _Nano._ Thinking our liege hath sought by many meanes For to appease his enemie by prayers, Nought will preuaile vnlesse hee can restore, Faire _Dorothea_ long supposed dead: To this intent he hath proclaimed late, That who so euer returne the Queene to Court, Shall haue a thousand Markes for his reward. _L. And._ He loues her then I see, altho inforst, That would bestow such gifts for to regaine her: 2270 Why sit you sad, good sir be not dismaide. _Na._ Ile lay my life this man would be a maide. _Dor._ Faine would I shewe my selfe, and change my tire. _And._ Whereon diuine you sir? _Na._ Vppon desire. Madam marke but my skill, ile lay my life, My maister here, will prooue a married wife. _Doro._ Wilt thou bewray me _Nano_? _Nano._ Madam no: You are a man, and like a man you goe. 2280 But I that am in speculation seene, Know you would change your state to be a Queen. _Dor._ Thou art not dwarffe to learne thy mistresse mind: Faine would I with thy selfe disclose my kind, But yet I blush. _Na._ What blush you Madam than, To be your selfe, who are a fayned man? Let me alone. _La. And._ Deceitfull beautie hast thou scornd me so? _Nano._ Nay muse not maiden, for she tels you true. 2290 _La. An._ Beautie bred loue, and loue hath bred my shame. _N._ And womens faces work more wrongs then these: Take comfort Madam to cure our disease. And yet he loues a man as well as you, Onely this difference, she cannot fancie too. _La. An._ Blush, greeue, and die, in thine insaciat lust. _Do._ Nay liue and ioy that thou hast won a friend, That loues thee as his life, by god desert. _La. And._ I ioy my Lord more then my tongue can tell: Alhough not as I desir’d, I loue you well: 2300 But modestie, that neuer blusht before, Discouer my false heart. I say no more. Let me alone. _Doro._ Good _Nano_ stay a while. Were I not sad, how kindlie could I smile, To see how faine I am to leaue this weede: And yet I faint to shewe my selfe indeede. But danger hates delay, I will be bold, Faire Ladie I am not, suppose A man, but euen that Qeene, more haplesse I, 2310 Whom Scottish King appointed hath to die: I am the haplesse Princesse, for whose right, These kings in bloudie warres reuenge dispight. I am that _Dorothea_ whom they seeke, Yours bounden for your kindnesse and releefe: And since you are the meanes that saue my life, Your selfe and I will to the Camp repaire, Whereas your husband shal enioy reward, And bring me to his highnesse once againe.