SCENE IV.--_The Forest near Edinburgh.

_Enter_ QUEEN DOROTHEA _in man's apparel, and_ NANO.

_Q. Dor._ Ah, Nano, I am weary of these weeds, Weary to wield this weapon that I bear, Weary of love from whom my woe proceeds, Weary of toil, since I have lost my dear. O weary life, where wanteth no distress, But every thought is paid with heaviness!

_Nano._ Too much of weary, madam: if you please, Sit down, let weary die, and take your ease.

_Q. Dor._ How look I, Nano? like a man or no?

_Nano._ If not a man, yet like a manly shrow.[285]

_Q. Dor._ If any come and meet us on the way, What should we do, if they enforce us stay?

_Nano._ Set cap a-huff, and challenge him the field: Suppose the worst, the weak may fight to yield.

_Q. Dor._ The battle, Nano, in this troubled mind Is far more fierce than ever we may find. The body's wounds by medicines may be eas'd, But griefs of mind, by salves are no appeas'd.

_Nano._ Say, madam, will you hear your Nano sing?

_Q. Dor._ Of woe, good boy, but of no other thing.

_Nano._ What if I sing of fancy?[286] will it please?

_Q. Dor._ To such as hope success such notes breed ease.

_Nano._ What if I sing, like Damon, to my sheep?

_Q. Dor._ Like Phillis, I will sit me down to weep.

_Nano._ Nay, since my songs afford such pleasure small, I'll sit me down, and sing you none at all.

_Q. Dor._ O, be not angry, Nano!

_Nano._ Nay, you loathe To think on that which doth content us both.

_Q. Dor._ And how?

_Nano._ You scorn disport when you are weary, And loathe my mirth, who live to make you merry.

_Q. Dor._ Danger and fear withdraw me from delight.

_Nano._ 'Tis virtue to contemn false fortune's spite.

_Q. Dor._ What should I do to please thee, friendly squire?

_Nano._ A smile a-day is all I will require; And, if you pay me well the smiles you owe me, I'll kill this cursèd care, or else beshrow me.

_Q. Dor._ We are descried; O, Nano, we are dead!

_Enter_ JAQUES, _his sword drawn._

_Nano._ Tut, yet you walk, you are not dead indeed. Draw me your sword, if he your way withstand, And I will seek for rescue out of hand.

_Q. Dor._ Run, Nano, run, prevent thy princess' death.

_Nano._ Fear not, I'll run all danger out of breath. [_Exit._

_Jaq._ Ah, you _calletta_! you _strumpetta! Maitressa Doretie, êtes vous surprise?_ Come, say your paternoster, _car vous êtes morte, par ma foi_.

_Q. Dor._ Callet! me strumpet! Caitiff as thou art! But even a princess born, who scorns thy threats: Shall never Frenchman say an England maid Of threats of foreign force will be afraid.

_Jaq._ You no _dire votres prières? morbleu, mechante femme_, guarda your breasta there: me make you die on my Morglay.[287]

_Q. Dor._ God shield me, helpless princess and a wife, And save my soul, although I lose my life! [_They fight, and she is sore wounded._ Ah, I am slain! some piteous power repay This murderer's cursèd deed, that doth me slay!

_Jaq. Elle est tout morte._ Me will run _pour_ a wager, for fear me be _surpris_ and _pendu_ for my labour. _Bien, je m'en allerai au roi lui dire mes affaires. Je serai un chevalier_ for this day's travail. [_Exit._

[_Re-enter_ NANO, _with_ SIR CUTHBERT ANDERSON, _his sword drawn, and_ Servants.

_Sir Cuth._ Where is this poor distressèd gentleman?

_Nano._ Here laid on ground, and wounded to the death. Ah, gentle heart, how are these beauteous looks Dimm'd by the tyrant cruelties of death! O weary soul, break thou from forth my breast, And join thee with the soul I honour'd most!

_Sir Cuth._ Leave mourning, friend, the man is yet alive. Some help me to convey him to my house: There will I see him carefully recur'd, And send privy search to catch the murderer.

_Nano._ The God of heaven reward thee, courteous knight! [_Exeunt, bearing out_ QUEEN DOROTHEA.