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.