_An._ Pardon most gratious Princesse, if you please, 2320 My rude discourse and homelie entertaine, And if my words may sauour any worth, Vouchsafe my counsaile in this waightie cause: Since that our liege hath so vnkindly dealt: Giue him no trust, returne vnto your syre, There may you safelie liue in spight of him. _Doro._ Ah Ladie, so wold worldly counsell work, But constancie, obedience, and my loue, In that my husband is my Lord and chiefe, These call me to compassion of his estate, 2330 Disswade me not, for vertue will not change, _An._ What woonderous constancie is this I heare? If English dames their husbands loue so deer, I feare me in the world they haue no peere. _Na._ Come Princes wend, and let vs change your weede, I long to see you now a Queene indeede. _Exeunt._ _Enter the King of Scots, the English Herauld & Lords._ _V. vi._ _K. of S._ He would haue parly Lords, Herauld say he shall, And get thee gone: goe leaue me to my selfe: 2340 Twixt loue and feare, continuall is the warres: The one assures me of my _Idaes_ loue, The other moues me for my murthred Queene. Thus finde I greefe of that whereon I ioy, And doubt, in greatest hope, and death in weale, Ah lasse what hell may be compared with mine, Since in extreames my comforts do consist? Warre then will cease, when dead ones are reuiued. Some then will yeelde, when I am dead for hope. Who doth disturbe me? _Andrew?_ 2350 _Andrew enter with Slipper._ _Andr._ I my liege. _K. of S._ What newes? _Andr._ I thinke my mouth was made at first, To tell these tragique tales my liefest Lord. _K. of S._ What is _Ateukin_ dead, tell me the worst? _Andr._ No but your _Ida_, shall I tell him all? Is married late (ah shall I say to whom?) My maister sad: (for why he shames the Court) Is fled away? ah most vnhappie flight. 2360 Onelie my selfe, ah who can loue you more? To shew my dutie (dutie past beliefe) Am come vnto your grace (oh gratious liege) To let you know, oh would it weare not thus, That loue is vain, and maids soone lost and wonne. _K. of S._ How haue the partial heauens thẽ dealt with me, Boading my weale, for to abase my power? Alas what thronging thoughts do me oppresse? Iniurious loue is partiall in my right, And flattering tongues by whom I wasmisled, 2370 Haue laid a snare to spoyle my state and me. Methinkes I heare my _Dorotheas_ goast, Howling reuenge for my accursed hate, The gifts of those my subiects that are slaine, Pursue me crying out, woe, woe, to lust, The foe pursues me at my pallace doore: He breakes my rest and spoyles me in my Camp, Ah flattering broode of _Sicophants_ my foes, First shall my dire reuenge begin on you, I will reward thee _Andrew_. 2380