SCENE I._--Castle of_ SIR CUTHBERT ANDERSON.

_Enter_ QUEEN DOROTHEA _in man's apparel and in a nightgown,_ LADY ANDERSON, _and_ NANO; _and_ SIR CUTHBERT ANDERSON _behind_.

_Lady And._ My gentle friend, beware, in taking air, Your walks grow not offensive to your wounds.

_Q. Dor._ Madam, I thank you of your courteous care: My wounds are well-nigh clos'd, though sore they are.

_Lady And._ Methinks these closèd wounds should breed more grief, Since open wounds have cure, and find relief.

_Q. Dor._ Madam, if undiscover'd wounds you mean, They are not cur'd, because they are not seen.

_Lady And._ I mean the wounds which do the heart subdue.

_Nano._ O, that is love: Madam, speak I not true? [SIR CUTHBERT ANDERSON _overhears._

_Lady And._ Say it were true, what salve for such a sore?

_Nano._ Be wise, and shut such neighbours out of door.

_Lady And._ How if I cannot drive him from my breast?

_Nano._ Then chain him well, and let him do his best.

_Sir Cuth._ [_aside_]. In ripping up their wounds, I see their wit; But if these wounds be cur'd, I sorrow it.

_Q. Dor._ Why are you so intentive to behold My pale and woful looks, by care controll'd?

_Lady And._ Because in them a ready way is found To cure my care and heal my hidden wound.

_Nano._ Good master, shut your eyes, keep that conceit; Surgeons give coin to get a good receipt.

_Q. Dor._ Peace, wanton son; this lady did amend My wounds; mine eyes her hidden griefs shall end.

_Nano._ Look not too much, it is a weighty case Whereas a man puts on a maiden's face; For many times, if ladies 'ware them not, A nine months' wound, with little work is got.

_Sir Cuth._ [_aside_]. I'll break off their dispute, lest love proceed From covert smiles, to perfect love indeed. [_Comes forward._

_Nano._ The cat's abroad, stir not, the mice be still.

_Lady And._ Tut, we can fly such cats, when so we will.

_Sir Cuth._ How fares my guest? take cheer, naught shall default, That either doth concern your health or joy: Use me; my house, and what is mine is yours.

_Q. Dor._ Thanks, gentle knight; and, if all hopes be true, I hope ere long to do as much for you.

_Sir Cuth._ Your virtue doth acquit me of that doubt: But, courteous sir, since troubles call me hence, I must to Edinburgh unto the king, There to take charge, and wait him in his wars.-- Meanwhile, good madam, take this squire in charge, And use him so as if it were myself.

_Lady And._ Sir Cuthbert, doubt not of my diligence: Meanwhile, till your return, God send you health.

_Q. Dor._ God bless his grace, and, if his cause be just, Prosper his wars; if not, he'll mend, I trust. Good sir, what moves the king to fall to arms?

_Sir Cuth._ The King of England forageth his land, And hath besieg'd Dunbar with mighty force. What other news are common in the court. Read you these letters, madam; [_giving letters to_ LADY ANDERSON] tell the squire The whole affairs of state, for I must hence.

_Q. Dor._ God prosper you, and bring you back from thence! [_Exit_ SIR CUTHBERT ANDERSON. Madam, what news?

_Lady And._ They say the queen is slain.

_Q. Dor._ Tut, such reports more false than truth contain.

_Lady And._ But these reports have made his nobles leave him.

_Q. Dor._ Ah, careless men, and would they so deceive him?

_Lady And._ The land is spoil'd, the commons fear the cross; All cry against the king, their cause of loss: The English king subdues and conquers all.

_Q. Dor._ Alas, this war grows great on causes small!

_Lady And._ Our court is desolate, our prince alone, Still dreading death.

_Q. Dor._ Woe's me, for him I mourn! Help, now help, a sudden qualm Assails my heart!

_Nano._ Good madam, stand his friend: Give us some liquor to refresh his heart.

_Lady And._ Daw thou him up,[289] and I will fetch thee forth Potions of comfort, to repress his pain. [_Exit._

_Nano._ Fie, princess, faint on every fond report! How well-nigh had you open'd your estate! Cover these sorrows with the veil of joy, And hope the best; for why this war will cause A great repentance in your husband's mind.

_Q. Dor._ Ah, Nano, trees live not without their sap, And Clytie cannot blush but on the sun; The thirsty earth is broke with many a gap, And lands are lean where rivers do not run: Where soul is reft from that it loveth best, How can it thrive or boast of quiet rest? Thou know'st the prince's loss must be my death, His grief, my grief; his mischief must be mine. O, if thou love me, Nano, hie to court! Tell Ross, tell Bartram, that I am alive; Conceal thou yet the place of my abode: Will them, even as they love their queen, As they are chary of my soul and joy, To guard the king, to serve him as my lord. Haste thee, good Nano, for my husband's care Consumeth me, and wounds me to the heart.

_Nano._ Madam, I go, yet loth to leave you here.

_Q. Dor._ Go thou with speed: even as thou hold'st me dear, Return in haste. [_Exit_ NANO.

_Re-enter_ LADY ANDERSON.

_Lady And._ Now, sir, what cheer? come taste this broth I bring.

_Q. Dor._ My grief is past, I feel no further sting.

_Lady And._ Where is your dwarf? why hath he left you, sir?

_Q. Dor._ For some affairs: he is not travell'd far.

_Lady And._ If so you please, come in and take your rest.

_Q. Dor._ Fear keeps awake a discontented breast. [_Exeunt._