Ateu. Tut mightie Prince, oh that I might bee whist.
K. of S. Why dalliest thou?
Ateu. I will not mooue my Prince,
I will preferre his safetie before my life:
Heare mee ô king, tis Dorotheas death,
Must do you good.
K. of S. What, murther of my Queene? 1140
Yet to enioy my loue, what is my Queene?
Oh but my vowe and promise to my Queene:
I but my hope to gaine a fairer Queene,
With how contrarious thoughts am I with drawne?
Why linger I twixt hope and doubtfull feare:
If Dorothe die, will Ida loue?
Ateu. Shee will my Lord.
K. of S. Then let her die.
Deuise, aduise the meanes,
Al likes me wel that lends me hope in loue. 1150
Ateu. What will your grace consent, then let mee worke:
Theres heere in Court a Frenchman Iaques calde,
A fit performer of our enterprise,
Whom I by gifts and promise will corrupt,
To slaye the Queene, so that your grace will seale
A warrant for the man to saue his life.
K. of S. Nought shall he want, write thou and I wil signe
And gentle Gnato, if my Ida yeelde,
Thon shalt haue what thou wilt, Ile giue the straight,
A Barrony, an Earledome for reward. 1160
Ateu. Frolicke young king, the Lasse shall bee your owne,
Ile make her blyth and wanton by my wit.
Exennt.