Doro. A wofull murther, and a bloodie deed.
Nano. Thinking our liege hath sought by many meanes
For to appease his enemie by prayers,
Nought will preuaile vnlesse hee can restore,
Faire Dorothea long supposed dead:
To this intent he hath proclaimed late,
That who so euer returne the Queene to Court,
Shall haue a thousand Markes for his reward.
L. And. He loues her then I see, altho inforst,
That would bestow such gifts for to regaine her: 2270
Why sit you sad, good sir be not dismaide.
Na. Ile lay my life this man would be a maide.
Dor. Faine would I shewe my selfe, and change my tire.
And. Whereon diuine you sir?
Na. Vppon desire.
Madam marke but my skill, ile lay my life,
My maister here, will prooue a married wife.
Doro. Wilt thou bewray me Nano?
Nano. Madam no:
You are a man, and like a man you goe. 2280
But I that am in speculation seene,
Know you would change your state to be a Queen.
Dor. Thou art not dwarffe to learne thy mistresse mind:
Faine would I with thy selfe disclose my kind,
But yet I blush.