La. And. The land is spoylde, the commons fear the crosse,
All crie against the king, their cause of losse:
The English king subdues and conquers all.
Doro. Ah lasse, this warre growes great, on causes small.
L. And. Our Court is desolate, our Prince alone,
Still dreading death.
Doro. Woes me, for him I moane, 2010
Helpe, now helpe, a suddaine qualme
Assayles my heart.
Nano. Good Madame stand her friend,
Giue vs some licor to refresh her heart.
L. And. Daw thou her vp, ande I will fetch thee foorth
Potions of comfort to represse h r paine.
Exit.
Nano. Fie Princesse, faint on euery fond report,
How well nigh had you opened your effate:
Couer these sorrowes with the vaile of ioy, 2020
And hope the best, for why this warre will cause,
A great repentance in your husbands minde.
Doro. Ah Nano, trees liue not without their sap,
And Clitia cannot blush but on the sunne,
The thirstie earth is broke with many a gap,
And lands are leane, where riuers do not runne,
Where soule is reft from that it loueth best,
How can it thriue or boast of quiet rest?
Thou knowest the Princes losse must be my death,
His griefe, my griefe: his mischiefe must be mine: 2030
Oh if thou loue me, Nano high to court,
Tell Rosse, tell Bartram that I am aliue,
Conceale thou yet, the place of my aboade,
Will them euen as they loue their Queene,
As they are charie of my soule and ioy,
To guard the King, to serue him as my Lord:
Haste thee good Nana, for my husbands care,
Consumeth mee and wounds mee to the heart.
Nano. Madame I go, yet loth to leaue you heere.