But, soft!—Whose pretty boy art thou?
Ned. Sir, I am son unto Sir John-a-Barley,
Eldest, and all that e'er my mother had;
Edward my name.
K. James. And whither art thou going, pretty Ned?
Ned. To seek some birds, and kill them, if I can:
And now my schoolmaster is also gone,
So have I liberty to ply my bow;
For when he comes, I stir not from my book.
K. James. Lord Humes, but mark the visage of this child:
By him I guess the beauty of his mother;
None but Leda could breed Helena.—
Tell me, Ned, who is within with thy mother?
Ned. Naught but herself and household servants, sir:
If you would speak with her, knock at this gate.
K. James. Johnny, knock at that gate.
[John knocks at the gate.
Enter Jane-a-Barley upon the walls.
Jane. O, I'm betray'd! What multitudes be these?
K. James. Fear not, fair Jane, for all these men are mine,
And all thy friends, if thou be friend to me:
I am thy lover, James the King of Scots,
That oft have su'd and woo'd with many letters,
Painting my outward passions with my pen,
Whenas my inward soul did bleed for woe.
Little regard was given to my suit;
But haply thy husband's presence wrought it:
Therefore, sweet Jane, I fitted me to time,
And, hearing that thy husband was from home,
Am come to crave what long I have desir'd.
Ned. Nay, soft you, sir! you get no entrance here,
That seek to wrong Sir John-a-Barley so,
And offer such dishonour to my mother.
K. James. Why, what dishonour, Ned?
Ned. Though young,
Yet often have I heard my father say,
No greater wrong than to be made cuckold.
Were I of age, or were my body strong,
Were he ten kings, I would shoot him to the heart
That should attempt to give Sir John the horn.—
Mother, let him not come in:
I will go lie at Jocky Miller's house.
K. James. Stay him.
Jane. Ay, well said; Ned, thou hast given the king his answer;
For were the ghost of Cæsar on the earth,
Wrapp'd in the wonted glory of his honour,
He should not make me wrong my husband so.
But good King James is pleasant, as I guess,
And means to try what humour I am in;
Else would he never have brought an host of men,
To have them witness of his Scottish lust.
K. James. Jane, in faith, Jane,—
Jane. Never reply,
For I protest by the highest holy God,
That doometh just revenge for things amiss,
King James, of all men, shall not have my love.
K. James. Then list to me: Saint Andrew be my boot,
But I'll raze thy castle to the very ground,
Unless thou open the gate, and let me in.
Jane. I fear thee not, King Jamy: do thy worst.
This castle is too strong for thee to scale;
Besides, to-morrow will Sir John come home.
K. James. Well, Jane, since thou disdain'st King James's love,
I'll draw thee on with sharp and deep extremes;
For, by my father's soul, this brat of thine
Shall perish here before thine eyes,
Unless thou open the gate, and let me in.
Jane. O deep extremes! my heart begins to break:
My little Ned looks pale for fear.—
Cheer thee, my boy, I will do much for thee.
Ned. But not so much as to dishonour me.
Jane. An if thou diest, I cannot live, sweet Ned.
Ned. Then die with honour, mother, dying chaste.
Jane. I am armed:
My husband's love, his honour, and his fame,
Join[304] victory by virtue. Now, King James,
If mother's tears cannot allay thine ire,
Then butcher him, for I will never yield:
The son shall die before I wrong the father.
K. James. Why, then, he dies.
Alarum within. Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My lord, Musgrove is at hand.
K. James. Who, Musgrove? The devil he is! Come, my horse!
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.—The Same.
Enter Musgrove with King James prisoner; Jane-a-Barley on the walls.
Mus. Now, King James, thou art my prisoner.
K. James. Not thine, but fortune's prisoner.
Enter Cuddy.
Cud. Father, the field is ours: their colours we have seiz'd,
And Humes is slain; I slew him hand to hand.
Mus. God and Saint George!
Cud. O father, I am sore athirst!
Jane. Come in, young Cuddy, come and drink thy fill:
Bring in King Jamy with you as a guest;
For all this broil was 'cause he could not enter.
[Exit above.—Exeunt below, the others.