Dor. I will engraue these preceps in my heart,
And as the wind with calmnesse woes you hence, 180
Euen so I wish the heauens in all mishaps,
May blesse my father with continuall grace.
K. of E. Then son farwell, the fauouring windes inuites vs to depart.
Long circumstance in taking princely leaues,
Is more officious then conuenient.
Brother of Scotland, loue me in my childe,
You greet me well, if so you will her good.
K. of Sc. Then louely Doll, and all that fauor me,
Attend to see our English friends at sea,
Let all their charge depend vpon my purse: 190
They are our neighbors, by whose kind accord,
We dare attempt the proudest Potentate.
Onely faire Countesse, and your daughter stay,
With you I haue some other thing to say.
Exeunt all saue the King, the Countesse,
Ida, Ateukin, in all royaltie.
K. of S. So let them tryumph that haue cause to ioy,
But wretched King, thy nuptiall knot is death:
Thy Bride the breeder of thy Countries ill,
For thy false heart dissenting from thy hand, 200
Misled by loue, hast made another choyce,
Another choyce, euen when thou vowdst thy soule
To Dorithea, Englands choyseff pride,
O then thy wandring eyes bewitcht thy heart,
Euen in the Chappell did thy fancie change,
When periur’d man, though faire Doll had thy hand,
The Scottish Idaes bewtie stale thy heart:
Yet feare and loue hath tyde thy readie tongue
From blabbing forth the passions of thy minde,
Lest fearefull silence haue in suttle lookes 210
Bewrayd the treason of my new vowd loue,
Be faire and louely Doll, but here’s the prize
That lodgeth here, and entred through mine eyes,
Yet how so ere I loue, I must be wise.
Now louely Countesse, what reward or grace,
May I imploy on you for this your zeale,
And humble honors done vs in our Court,
In entertainment of the English King.
Countesse. It was of dutie Prince that I haue done:
And what in fauour may content me most, 220
Is, that it please your grace to giue me leaue,
For to returne vnto my Countrey home.
K. of Scots. But louely Ida is your mind the same?
Ida. I count of Court my Lord, as wise men do,
Tis fit for those that knowes what longs thereto:
Each person to his place, the wise to Art,
The Cobler to his clout, the Swaine to Cart.
K. of Sc. But Ida you are faire, and bewtie shines,
And seemeth best, where pomp her pride refines.
Ida. If bewtie (as I know there’s none in me) 230
Were sworne my loue, and I his life should be:
The farther from the Court I were remoued,
The more I thinke of heauen I were beloued.