ACT THE THIRD
SCENE I.—Edinburgh.
Enter Slipper one way, and Sir Bartram another way.
Sir Bar. Ho, fellow! stay, and let me speak with thee.
Slip. Fellow! friend, thou dost disbuse me; I am a gentleman.
Sir Bar. A gentleman! how so?
Slip. Why, I rub horses, sir.
Sir Bar. And what of that?
Slip. O simple-witted! mark my reason. They that do good service in the commonweal are gentlemen; but such as rub horses do good service in the commonweal; ergo, tarbox, master courtier, a horse-keeper is a gentleman.
Sir Bar. Here is overmuch wit, in good earnest. But, sirrah, where is thy master?
Slip. Neither above ground nor under ground, drawing out red into white, swallowing that down without chawing that was never made without treading.
Sir Bar. Why, where is he, then?
Slip. Why, in his cellar, drinking a cup of neat and brisk claret, in a bowl of silver. O, sir, the wine runs trillill down his throat, which cost the poor vintner many a stamp before it was made. But I must hence, sir, I have haste.
Sir Bar. Why, whither now, I prithee?
Slip. Faith, sir, to Sir Silvester, a knight, hard by, upon my master's errand, whom I must certify this, that the lease of East Spring shall be confirmed; and therefore must I bid him provide trash, for my master is no friend without money.
Sir Bar. [aside]. This is the thing for which I su'd so long,
This is the lease which I, by Gnatho's means,
Sought to possess by patent from the king;
But he, injurious man, who lives by crafts,
And sells king's favours for who will give most,
Hath taken bribes of me, yet covertly
Will sell away the thing pertains to me:
But I have found a present help, I hope,
For to prevent his purpose and deceit.—
Stay, gentle friend.
Slip. A good word; thou hast won me: this word is like a warm caudle to a cold stomach.
Sir Bar. Sirrah, wilt thou, for money and reward,
Convey me certain letters, out of hand,
From out thy master's pocket?
Slip. Will I, sir? why, were it to rob my father, hang my mother, or any such like trifles, I am at your commandment, sir. What will you give me, sir?
Sir Bar. A hundred pounds.
Slip. I am your man: give me earnest. I am dead at a pocket, sir; why, I am a lifter, master, by my occupation.
Sir Bar. A lifter! what is that?
Slip. Why, sir, I can lift a pot as well as any man, and pick a purse as soon as any thief in my country.
Sir Bar. Why, fellow, hold; here is earnest, ten pound to assure thee. [Gives money]. Go, despatch, and bring it me to yonder tavern thou seest; and assure thyself, thou shalt both have thy skin full of wine and the rest of thy money.
Slip. I will, sir.—Now room for a gentleman, my masters! who gives me money for a fair new angel,[271] a trim new angel? [Exeunt.
SCENE II.—The Same.
Enter Andrew and Purveyor.
Pur. Sirrah, I must needs have your master's horses: the king cannot be unserved.
And. Sirrah, you must needs go without them, because my master must be served.
Pur. Why, I am the king's purveyor, and I tell thee I will have them.
And. I am Ateukin's servant, Signior Andrew, and I say, thou shalt not have them.
Pur. Here's my ticket; deny it if thou darest.
And. There is the stable; fetch them out if thou darest.
Pur. Sirrah, sirrah, tame your tongue, lest I make you.
And. Sirrah, sirrah, hold your hand, lest I bum[272] you.
Pur. I tell thee, thy master's geldings are good, and therefore fit for the king.
And. I tell thee, my master's horses have galled backs, and therefore cannot fit the king. Purveyor, purveyor, purvey thee of more wit: darest thou presume to wrong my Lord Ateukin, being the chiefest man in court?
Pur. The more unhappy commonweal where flatterers are chief in court.
And. What sayest thou?
Pur. I say thou art too presumptuous, and the officers shall school thee.
And. A fig for them and thee, purveyor! They seek a knot in a ring that would wrong my master or his servants in this court.
Enter Jaques.
Pur. The world is at a wise pass when nobility is afraid of a flatterer.
Jaq. Sirrah, what be you that parley contre Monsieur my Lord Ateukin? en bonne foi, prate you against Sir Altesse, me maka your tête to leap from your shoulders, per ma foi c'y ferai-je?
And. O, signior captain, you show yourself a forward and friendly gentleman in my master's behalf: I will cause him to thank you.
Jaq. Poltron, speak me one parola against my bon gentilhomme, I shall estamp your guts, and thump your backa, that you no point manage this ten hours.
Pur. Sirrah, come open me the stable, and let me have the horses;—and, fellow, for all your French brags, I will do my duty.
And. I'll make garters of thy guts, thou villain, if thou enter this office.
Jaq. Mort Dieu, take me that cappa pour votre labeur: be gone, villain, in the mort. [Exit.
Pur. What, will you resist me, then? Well, the council, fellow, shall know of your insolency.
And. Tell them what thou wilt, and eat that I can best spare from my back-parts, and get you gone with a vengeance. [Exit Purveyor.
Enter Ateukin.
Ateu. Andrew.
And. Sir?
Ateu. Where be my writings I put in my pocket last night?
And. Which, sir? your annotations upon Machiavel?
Ateu. No, sir; the letters-patents for East Spring.
And. Why, sir, you talk wonders to me, if you ask that question.
Ateu. Yea, sir, and will work wonders too with you, unless you find them out: villain, search me them out, and bring them me, or thou art but dead.
And. A terrible word in the latter end of a sessions. Master, were you in your right wits yesternight?
Ateu. Dost thou doubt it?
And. Ay, and why not, sir? for the greatest clerks are not the wisest, and a fool may dance in a hood, as well as a wise man in a bare frock: besides, such as give themselves to philautia,[273] as you do, master, are so choleric of complexion that that which they burn in fire over night they seek for with fury the next morning. Ah, I take care of your worship! this commonweal should have a great loss of so good a member as you are.
Ateu. Thou flatterest me.
And. Is it flattery in me, sir, to speak you fair? what is it, then, in you to dally with the king?
Ateu. Are you prating, knave? I will teach you better nurture! Is this the care you have of my wardrobe, of my accounts, and matters of trust?
And. Why, alas, sir, in times past your garments have been so well inhabited as your tenants would give no place to a moth to mangle them; but since you are grown greater, and your garments more fine and gay, if your garments are not fit for hospitality, blame your pride and commend my cleanliness: as for your writings, I am not for them, nor they for me.
Ateu. Villain, go, fly, find them out: if thou losest them, thou losest my credit.
And. Alas, sir, can I lose that you never had?
Ateu. Say you so? then hold, feel you that you never felt. [Beats him.
Re-enter Jaques.
Jaq. O monsieur, ayez patience: pardon your pauvre valet: me be at your commandment.
Ateu. Signior Jaques, well met; you shall command me.—Sirrah, go cause my writings be proclaimed in the market-place; promise a great reward to them that find them; look where I supped and everywhere.
And. I will, sir—[aside]. Now are two knaves well met, and three well parted: if thou conceive mine enigma, gentlemen,[274] what shall I be, then? faith, a plain harp-shilling.[275] [Exit.
Ateu. Sieur Jaques, this our happy meeting rids
Your friends and me of care and grievous toil;
For I, that look into deserts of men,
And see among the soldiers in this court
A noble forward mind, and judge thereof,
Cannot but seek the means to raise them up
Who merit credit in the commonweal.
To this intent, friend Jaques, I have found
A means to make you great, and well-esteem'd
Both with the king and with the best in court:
For I espy in you a valiant mind,
Which makes me love, admire, and honour you.
To this intent, if so your trust, and faith,
Your secrecy be equal with your force,
I will impart a service to thyself,
Which if thou dost effect, the king, myself,
And what or he, or I with him, can work,
Shall be employ'd in what thou wilt desire.
Jaq. Me sweara by my ten bones, my signior, to be loyal to your lordship's intents, affairs: yea, my monseigneur, que non ferai-je pour your pleasure? By my sworda, me be no babillard.[276]
Ateu. Then hoping on thy truth, I prithee see
How kind Ateukin is to forward thee.
Hold [giving money], take this earnest-penny of my love,
And mark my words: the king, by me, requires
No slender service, Jaques, at thy hands.—
Thou must by privy practice make away
The queen, fair Dorothea, as she sleeps,
Or how thou wilt, so she be done to death:
Thou shalt not want promotion here in court.
Jaq. Stabba the woman! par ma foi, monseigneur, me thrusta my weapon into her belly, so me may be guard par le roi. Me do your service: but me no be hanged pour my labour?
Ateu. Thou shalt have warrant, Jaques, from the king:
None shall outface, gainsay, and wrong my friend.
Do not I love thee, Jaques? fear not, then:
I tell thee, whoso toucheth thee in aught
Shall injure me: I love, I tender thee:
Thou art a subject fit to serve his grace.
Jaques, I had a written warrant once,
But that, by great misfortune, late is lost.
Come, wend we to Saint Andrews, where his grace
Is now in progress, where he shall assure
Thy safety, and confirm thee to the act.
Jaq. We will attend your nobleness. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.—The Palace of the King of Scots.
Enter Queen Dorothea, Sir Bartram, Nano, Ross, Ladies, and Attendants.
Q. Dor. Thy credit, Bartram, in the Scottish court,
Thy reverend years, the strictness of thy vows,
All these are means sufficient to persuade;
But love, the faithful link of loyal hearts,
That hath possession of my constant mind,
Exiles all dread, subdueth vain suspect.
Methinks no craft should harbour in that breast
Where majesty and virtue are install'd:
Methinks my beauty should not cause my death.
Sir Bar. How gladly, sovereign princess, would I err,
And bide my shame to save your royal life!
'Tis princely in yourself to think the best,
To hope his grace is guiltless of this crime:
But if in due prevention you default,
How blind are you that were forewarn'd before!
Q. Dor. Suspicion without cause deserveth blame.
Sir Bar. Who see, and shun not, harms, deserve the same.
Behold the tenor of this traitorous plot.
[Gives warrant.
Q. Dor. What should I read? Perhaps he wrote it not.
Sir Bar. Here is his warrant, under seal and sign,
To Jaques, born in France, to murder you.
Q. Dor. Ah, careless king, would God this were not thine!
What though I read? ah, should I think it true?
Ross. The hand and seal confirm the deed is his.
Q. Dor. What know I though if now he thinketh this?
Nano. Madam, Lucretius saith that to repent
Is childish, wisdom to prevent.
Q. Dor. What tho?
Nano. Then cease your tears, that have dismay'd you,
And cross the foe before he have betray'd you.
Sir Bar. What need these long suggestions in this cause,
When every circumstance confirmeth truth?
First, let the hidden mercy from above
Confirm your grace, since by a wondrous means
The practice of your dangers came to light:
Next, let the tokens of approvèd truth
Govern and stay your thoughts, too much seduc'd,
And mark the sooth, and listen the intent.
Your highness knows, and these my noble lords
Can witness this, that whilst your husband's sire
In happy peace possess'd the Scottish crown,
I was his sworn attendant here in court;
In dangerous fight I never fail'd my lord;
And since his death, and this your husband's reign,
No labour, duty, have I left undone,
To testify my zeal unto the crown.
But now my limbs are weak, mine eyes are dim,
Mine age unwieldly and unmeet for toil,
I came to court, in hope, for service past,
To gain some lease to keep me, being old.
There found I all was upsy-turvy turn'd,
My friends displac'd, the nobles loth to crave:
Then sought I to the minion of the king,
Ateukin, who, allurèd by a bribe,
Assur'd me of the lease for which I sought.
But see the craft! when he had got the grant,
He wrought to sell it to Sir Silvester,
In hope of greater earnings from his hands.
In brief, I learn'd his craft, and wrought the means,
By one his needy servants for reward,
To steal from out his pocket all the briefs;
Which he perform'd, and with reward resign'd.
Them when I read,—now mark the power of God,—
I found this warrant seal'd among the rest,
To kill your grace, whom God long keep alive!
Thus, in effect, by wonder are you sav'd:
Trifle not, then, but seek a speedy flight;
God will conduct your steps, and shield the right.
Q. Dor. What should I do? ah, poor unhappy queen,
Born to endure what fortune can contain!
Alas, the deed is too apparent now!
But, O mine eyes, were you as bent to hide
As my poor heart is forward to forgive,
Ah cruel king, my love would thee acquit!
O, what avails to be allied and match'd
With high estates, that marry but in show?
Were I baser born, my mean estate
Could warrant me from this impendent harm:
But to be great and happy, these are twain.
Ah, Ross, what shall I do? how shall I work?
Ross. With speedy letters to your father send,
Who will revenge you and defend your right.
Q. Dor. As if they kill not me, who with him fight!
As if his breast be touch'd, I am not wounded!
As if he wail'd, my joys were not confounded!
We are one heart, though rent by hate in twain;
One soul, one essence doth our weal contain:
What, then, can conquer him, that kills not me?
Ross. If this advice displease, then, madam, flee.
Q. Dor. Where may I wend or travel without fear?
Ross. Where not, in changing this attire you wear?
Q. Dor. What, shall I clad me like a country maid?
Nano. The policy is base, I am afraid.
Q. Dor. Why, Nano?
Nano. Ask you why? What, may a queen
March forth in homely weed, and be not seen?
The rose, although in thorny shrubs she spread,
Is still the rose, her beauties wax not dead;
And noble minds, although the coat be bare,
Are by their semblance known, how great they are.
Sir Bar. The dwarf saith true.
Q. Dor. What garments lik'st thou, than?
Nano. Such as may make you seem a proper man.
Q. Dor. He makes me blush and smile, though I am sad.
Nano. The meanest coat for safety is not bad.
Q. Dor. What, shall I jet[277] in breeches, like a squire?
Alas, poor dwarf, thy mistress is unmeet.
Nano. Tut, go me thus, your cloak before your face,
Your sword uprear'd with quaint and comely grace:
If any come and question what you be,
Say you "A man," and call for witness me.
Q. Dor. What, should I wear a sword? to what intent?
Nano. Madam, for show; it is an ornament:
If any wrong you, draw: a shining blade
Withdraws a coward thief that would invade.
Q. Dor. But, if I strike, and he should strike again,
What should I do? I fear I should be slain.
Nano. No, take it single on your dagger so:
I'll teach you, madam, how to ward a blow.
Q. Dor. How little shapes much substance may include!—
Sir Bartram, Ross, ye ladies, and my friends,
Since presence yields me death, and absence life,
Hence will I fly, disguisèd like a squire,
As one that seeks to live in Irish wars:
You, gentle Ross, shall furnish my depart.
Ross. Yea, prince, and die with you with all my heart!
Vouchsafe me, then, in all extremest states
To wait on you and serve you with my best.
Q. Dor. To me pertains the woe: live then in rest.
Friends, fare you well: keep secret my depart:
Nano alone shall my attendant be.
Nano. Then, madam, are you mann'd, I warrant ye!
Give me a sword, and, if there grow debate,
I'll come behind, and break your enemy's pate.
Ross. How sore we grieve to part so soon away!
Q. Dor. Grieve not for those that perish if they stay.
Nano. The time in words misspent is little worth;
Madam, walk on, and let them bring us forth.
[Exeunt.
CHORUS
Enter Bohan.
Boh. So, these sad motions make the fairy sleep;
And sleep he shall in quiet and content:
For it would make a marble melt and weep,
To see these treasons 'gainst the innocent.
But, since she 'scapes by flight to save her life,
The king may chance repent she was his wife.
The rest is ruthful; yet, to beguile the time,
'Tis interlac'd with merriment and rhyme.
[Exit.