SCENE II.--_Porch to the Castle of the_ COUNTESS OF ARRAN.

_After a solemn service, enter from the_ COUNTESS OF ARRAN'S _house a service, with musical songs of marriages, or a mask, or pretty triumph: to them_ ATEUKIN _and_ JAQUES.

_Ateu._ What means this triumph, friend? why are these feasts?

_First Revel._ Fair Ida, sir, was married yesterday Unto Sir Eustace, and for that intent We feast and sport it thus to honour them: An, if you please, come in and take your part; My lady is no niggard of her cheer. [_Exeunt_ Revellers.

_Jaq. Monseigneur_, why be you so sadda? _faites bonne chere: foutre de ce monde!_

_Ateu._ What, was I born to be the scorn of kin? To gather feathers like to a hopper-crow, And lose them in the height of all my pomp? Accursèd man, now is my credit lost! Where are my vows I made unto the king? What shall become of me, if he shall hear That I have caus'd him kill a virtuous queen, And hope in vain for that which now is lost? Where shall I hide my head? I know the heavens Are just and will revenge; I know my sins Exceed compare. Should I proceed in this, This Eustace must amain be made away. O, were I dead, how happy should I be!

_Jaq. Est ce donc à tel point votre etat?_ faith, then adieu, Scotland, adieu, Signior Ateukin: me will homa to France, and no be hanged in a strange country. [_Exit._

_Ateu._ Thou dost me good to leave me thus alone, That galling grief and I may yoke in one. O, what are subtle means to climb on high, When every fall swarms with exceeding shame? I promis'd Ida's love unto the prince, But she is lost, and I am false forsworn. I practis'd Dorothea's hapless death, And by this practice have commenc'd a war. O cursèd race of men, that traffic guile, And, in the end, themselves and kings beguile! Asham'd to look upon my prince again, Asham'd of my suggestions and advice, Asham'd of life, asham'd that I have err'd, I'll hide myself, expecting for[290] my shame. Thus God doth work with those that purchase fame By flattery, and make their prince their game. [_Exit._