[Exit Lorrain.]
KING DAVID.
Now, Douglas, to our former task again,
For the division of this certain spoil.
DOUGLAS.
My liege, I crave the Lady, and no more.
KING DAVID.
Nay, soft ye, sir; first I must make my choice,
And first I do bespeak her for my self.
DOUGLAS.
Why then, my liege, let me enjoy her jewels.
KING DAVID.
Those are her own, still liable to her,
And who inherits her, hath those with all.
[Enter a Scot in haste.]
MESSENGER.
My liege, as we were pricking on the hills,
To fetch in booty, marching hitherward,
We might descry a might host of men;
The Sun, reflecting on the armour, shewed
A field of plate, a wood of picks advanced.
Bethink your highness speedily herein:
An easy march within four hours will bring
The hindmost rank unto this place, my liege.
KING DAVID.
Dislodge, dislodge! it is the king of England.
DOUGLAS.
Jemmy, my man, saddle my bonny black.