Chapter II: Part 2

_Slip._ I say sir, that if shee call you shifting knaue, You shall not put her to the proofe.

_Ateu._ And why?

_Slip._ Because sir, liuing by your wit as you doo shifting, is your letters pattents, it were a hard matter for mee to get my dinner that day, wherein my Maister had not solde a dozen of deuices, a case of cogges, and a shute of shifts in the morning: I speak this in your commendation sir, & I pray you so take it.

_Ateu._ If I liue knaue I will bee reuenged, what Gentleman would entertaine a rascall, thus to derogate from his honour? 840

_Ida._ My Lord why are you thus impatient?

_Ateu._ Not angrie _Ida_, but I teach this knaue, How to behaue himselfe among his betters: Behold faire Countesse to assure your stay, I heere present the signet of the king, Who now by mee faire _Ida_ doth salute you: And since in secret I haue certaine things, In his behalfe good Madame to impart, I craue your daughter to discourse a part.

_Count._ Shee shall in humble dutie bee addrest, 850 To do his Highnesse will in what shee may.

_Id._ Now gentle sir what would his grace with me?

_Ateu._ Faire comely Nimph, the beautie of your face, Sufficient to bewitch the heauenly powers, Hath wrought so much in him, that now of late Hee findes himselfe made captiue vnto loue, And though his power and Maiestie requires, A straight commaund before an humble sute, Yet hee his mightinesse doth so abase, As to intreat your fauour honest maid. 860

_Ida._ Is hee not married sir vnto our Queen?

_Ateu._ Hee is.

_Ida._ And are not they by God accurst, That seuer them whom hee hath knit in one?

_Ateu._ They bee: what then? wee seeke not to displace The Princesse from her seate, but since by loue The king is made your owne, shee is resolude In priuate to accept your dalliance, In spight of warre, watch, or worldly eye.

_Ida._ Oh how hee talkes as if hee should not die, 870 As if that God in iustice once could winke, Vpon that fault I am a sham’d to thinke.

_Ateu._ Tut Mistresse, man at first was born to erre, Women are all not formed to bee Saints: Tis impious for to kill our natiue king, Whom by a little fauour wee may saue.

_Ida._ Better then liue vnchaste, to liue in graue.

_Ateu._ Hee shall erect your state & wed you well.

_Ida._ But can his warrant keep my soule from hell?

_Ateu._ He will inforce, if you resist his sute. 880

_Id._ What tho, the world may shame to him account To bee a king of men and worldly pelfe.

_Ateu._ Yet hath to power no rule and guide himselfe, I know you gentle Ladie and the care, Both of your honour and his graces health, Makes me confused in this daungerous state.

_Ida._ So counsell him, but sooth thou not his sinne, Tis vaine alurement that doth make him loue, I shame to heare, bee you a shamde to mooue.

_Count._ I see my daughter growes impatient, 890 I feare me hee pretends some bad intent.

_Ateu._ Will you dispise the king, & scorne him so?

_Ida._ In all alleageance I will serue his grace, But not in lust, oh how I blush to name it?

_Ateu._ An endlesse worke is this, how should I frame it?

_They discourse priuately._

_Slip._ Oh Mistresse may I turne a word vpon you.

_Ateu._ Friend what wilt thou?

_Slip._ Oh what a happie Gentlewoman bee you trulie, the world reports this of you Mistresse, that a man can no sooner 900 come to your house, but the Butler comes with a blacke Iack and sayes welcome friend, heeres a cup of the best for you, verilie Mistresse you are said to haue the best Ale in al _Scotland_.

_Count._ Sirrha go fetch him drinke, how likest thou this?

_Slip._ Like it Mistresse? why this is quincy quarie pepper de watchet, single goby, of all that euer I tasted: Ile prooue in this Ale and tost, the compasse of the whole world. First this is the earth, it ties in the middle a faire browne tost, a goodly countrie for hungrie teeth to dwell vpon: next this is the sea, a fair poole for a drie tṏgue to fish in: now come I, & seing the 910 world is naught, I diuide it thus, & because the sea cãnot stand without the earth, as _Arist._ saith, I put thẽ both into their first _Chaos_ which is my bellie, and so mistresse you may see your ale is become a myracle.

_Eustace._ A merrie mate Madame I promise you.

_Count._ Why sigh you sirrah?

_Slip._ Trulie Madam, to think vppon the world, which since I denoũced, it keepes such a rumbling in my stomack, that vnlesse your Cooke giue it a counterbuffe with some of your rosted Capons or beefe, I feare me I shal become a loose body, so 920 daintie I thinke, I shall neither hold fast before nor behinde.

_Count._ Go take him in and feast this merrie swaine, Syrrha, my cooke is your phisitian. He hath a purge for to disiest the world.

_Ateu._ Will you not, _Ida_, grant his highnesse this?

_Ida._ As I haue said, in dutie I am his: For other lawlesse lusts, that ill beseeme him, I cannot like, and good I will not deeme him.

_Count._ _Ida_ come in, and sir if so you please, Come take a homelie widdowes intertaine. 930

_Ida._ If he haue no great haste, he may come nye. If haste, tho he be gone, I will not crie.

_Exeunt._

_Ateu._ I see this labour lost, my hope in vaine, Yet will I trie an other drift againe.

_Enter the Bishop of S. Andrewes, Earle Douglas, _II. ii._ Morton, with others, one way, the Queene with Dwarfes an other way._

_B. S. Andr._ Oh wrack of Cṏmon-weale! Oh wretched state!

_Doug._ Oh haplesse flocke whereas the guide is blinde? 940

_They all are in a muse._

_Mort._ Oh heedlesse youth, where counsaile is dispis’d.

_Dorot._ Come prettie knaue, and prank it by my side, Lets see your best attendaunce out of hande.

_Dwarfe._ Madame altho my lims are very small, My heart is good, ile serue you therewithall.

_Doro._ How if I were assaild, what couldst thou do?

_Dwarf._ Madame call helpe, and boldly fight it to, Altho a Bee be but a litle thing: You know faire Queen, it hath a bitter sting. 950

_Dor._ How couldst thou do me good were I in greefe?

_Dwar._ Counsell deare Princes, is a choyce releefe. Tho _Nestor_ wanted force, great was his wit, And tho I am but weake, my words are fit.

_S. And._ Like to a ship vpon the Ocean seas, Tost in the doubtfull streame without a helme, Such is a Monarke without good aduice, I am ore heard, cast raine vpon thy tongue, _Andrewes_ beware, reproofe will breed a fear.

_Mor._ Good day my Lord. 960

_B. S. And._ Lord _Morton_ well ymet: Whereon deemes Lord _Douglas_ all this while?

_Dou._ Of that which yours and my poore heart doth breake: Altho feare shuts our mouths we dare not speake.

_Dor._ What meane these Princes sadly to consult? Somewhat I feare, betideth them amisse, They are so pale in lookes, so vext in minde: In happie houre the Noble Scottish Peeres Haue I incountred you, what makes you mourne?

_B. S. And._ If we with patience may attentiue gaine, 970 Your Grace shall know the cause of all our griefe.

_Dor._ Speake on good father, come and sit by me: I know thy care is for the common good.

_B. S. And._ As fortune mightie Princes reareth some, To high estate, and place in Common-weale, So by diuine bequest to them is lent, A riper iudgement and more searching eye: Whereby they may discerne the common harme, For where importunes in the world are most, Where all our profits rise and still increase, 980 There is our minde, thereon we meditate, And what we do partake of good aduice, That we imploy for to concerne the same.) To this intent these nobles and my selfe, That are (or should bee) eyes of Common-weale, Seeing his highnesse reachlesse course of youth His lawlesse and vnbridled vaine in loue, His to intentiue trust too flatterers, His abiect care of councell and his friendes, Cannot but greeue, and since we cannot drawe 990 His eye or Iudgement to discerne his faults Since we haue spake and counsaile is not heard, I for my part, (let others as they list) Will leaue the Court, and leaue him to his will: Least with a ruthfull eye I should behold, His ouerthrow which sore I feare is nye.

_Doro._ Ah father are you so estranged from loue, From due alleageance to your Prince and land, To leaue your King when most he needs your help, The thriftie husbandmen, are neuer woont 1000 That see their lands vnfruitfull, to forsake them: But when the mould is barraine and vnapt, They toyle, they plow, and make the fallow fatte: The pilot in the dangerous seas is knowne, In calmer waues the sillie sailor striues, Are you not members Lords of Common-weale, And can your head, your deere annointed King, Default ye Lords, except your selues do faile? Oh stay your steps, returne and counsaile him.

_Doug._ Men seek not mosse vpon a rowling stone, 1010 Or water from the siue, or fire from yce: Or comfort from a rechlesse monarkes hands. Madame he sets vs light that seru’d in Court, In place of credit in his fathers dayes, If we but enter presence of his grace, Our payment is a frowne, a scoffe, a frumpe, Whilst flattering _Gnato_ prancks it by his side, Soothing the carelesse King in his misdeeds, And if your grace consider your estate, His life should vrge you too if all be true. 1020

_Doug._ Why _Douglas_ why?

_Doug._ As if you haue not heard His lawlesse loue to _Ida_ growne of late, His carelesse estimate of your estate.

_Doro._ Ah _Douglas_ thou misconstrest his intent, He doth but tempt his wife, he tryees my loue: This iniurie pertaines to me, not to you. The King is young, and if he step awrie, He may amend, and I will loue him still. Should we disdaine our vines becauso they sprout 1030 Before their time? or young men if they straine Beyṏd their reach? no vines that bloome and spread Do promise fruites, and young men that are wilde, In age growe wise, my freendes and Scottish Peeres, If that an English Princesse may preuaile, Stay, stay with him, lo how my zealous prayer Is plead with teares, fie Peeres will you hence?

_S. And._ Madam tis vertue in your grace to plead, But we that see his vaine vntoward course, Cannot but flie the fire before it burne, 1040 And shun the Court before we see his fall.

_Doro._ Wil you not stay? then Lordings fare you well. Tho you forsake your King, the heauens I hope Will fauour him through mine incessant prayer.

_Dwar._ Content you Madam, thus old _Ouid_ sings. Tis foolish to bewaile recurelesse things.

_Dorothea._ Peace Dwarffe, these words my patience moue.

_Dwar._ All tho you charme my speech, charme not my loue

_Exeunt Nano Dorothea._

_Enter the King of Scots, Arius, the nobles spying 1050 him, returnes._

_K. of S._ _Douglas_ how now? why changest thou thy cheere?

_Dougl._ My priuate troubles are so great my liege, As I must craue your licence for a while: For to intend mine owne affaires at home. _Exit._

_King._ You may depart, but why is _Morton_ sad?

_Mor._ The like occasion doth import me too, So I desire your grace to giue me leaue.

_K. of S._ Well sir you may betake you to your ease, When such grim syrs are gone, I see no let 1060 To worke my will.

_8. Atten._ What like the Eagle then, With often flight wilt thou thy feathers loose? O King canst thou indure to see thy Court, Of finest wits and Iudgements dispossest, Whilst cloking craft with soothing climbes so high, As each bewailes ambition is so bad? Thy father left thee with estate and Crowne, A learned councell to direct thy Court, These careleslie O King thou castest off, 1070 To entertaine a traine of Sicophants: Thou well mai’st see, although thou wilt not see, That euery eye and eare both sees and heares The certaine signes of thine inconstinence: Thou art alyed vnto the English King, By marriage a happie friend indeed, If vsed well, if not a mightie foe. Thinketh your grace he ean indure and brooke, To haue a partner in his daughters loue? Thinketh your grace the grudge of priuie wrongs 1080 Will not procure him chaunge his smiles to threats? Oh be not blinde to good, call home your Lordes, Displace these flattering Gnatoes, driue them hence: Loue and with kindnesse take your wedlocke wife Or else (which God forbid) I feare a change, Sinne cannot thriue in courts without a plague.

_K. of S._ Go pack thou too, vnles thou mẽd thy talk: On paine of death proud Bishop get you gone, Vnlesse you headlesse mean to hoppe away.

_8. Atten._ Thou god of heauẽ preuent my countries fall. 1090

_Exeunt._

_K. of S._ These staies and lets to pleasure, plague my thoughts, Forcing my greeuous wounds a new to bleed: Bur care that hath transported me so farre, Faire _Ida_ is disperst in thought of thee: Whose answere yeeldes me life, or breeds my death: Yond comes the messenger of weale or woe.

_Enter Gnato._

_Ateukin_ What newes?

_Ateu._ The adament o King will not be filde, 1100 But by it selfe, and beautie that exceeds, By some exeeding fauour must be wrought, _Ida_ is coy as yet, and doth repine, Obiecting marriage, honour, feare, and death, Shee’s holy, wise, and too precise for me.

_K. of S._ Are these thy fruites of wits, thy sight in Art? Thine eloquence? thy pollicie? thy drift? To mocke thy Prince, thẽ catiue packe thee hence, And let me die deuoured in my loue.

_Ateu._ Good Lord how rage gainsayeth reasons power, 1110 My deare, my gracious, and beloued Prince, The essence of my sute, my God on earth, Sit downe and rest your selfe, appease your wrath, Least with a frowne yee wound me to the death: Oh that I were included in my graue, That eyther now to saue my Princes life, Must counsell crueltie, or loose my King.

_K. of S._ Why sirrha, is there meanes to mooue her minde?

_Ateu._ Oh should I not offend my royall liege.

_K. of S._ Tell all, spare nought, so I may gaine my loue. 1120

_Ateu._ Alasse my soule why art thou torne in twaine, For feare thou talke a thing that should displease?

_K. of S._ Tut, speake what so thou wilt I pardon thee.

_Ateu._ How kinde a word, how courteous is his grace: Who would not die to succour such a king? My liege, this louely mayde of modest minde, Could well incline to loue, but that shee feares, Faire _Dorotheas_ power, your grace doth know, Your wedlocke is a mightie let to loue: Were _Ida_ sure to bee your wedded wife, 1130 That then the twig would bowe, you might command. Ladies loue, presents pompe and high estate.

_K. of S._ Ah _Ateukin_, how shuld we display this let?

_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._

_Enter Bohan with Obiron._ _III. Chor._

3. _Act._

_Boh._ So _Oberon_, now it beginnes to worke in kinde, The auncient Lords by leauing him aliue, Disliking of his humors and respight, Lets him run headlong till his flatterers, Sweeting his thoughts of lucklesse lust, 1170 With vile perswations and alluring words, Makes him make way by murther to his will, Iudge fairie king, hast heard a greater ill?

_Ober._ Nor send more vertue in a countrie mayd, I tell the _Bohan_ it doth make me merrie, To thinke the deeds the king meanes to performe.

_Boha._ To change that humour stand and see the rest, I trow my sonne _Slipper_ will shewes a iest.

_Enter Slipper with a companion, bog, or wench, dauncing a hornpipe, and daunce out againe._ 1180

_Boha._ Now after this beguiling of our thoughts, And changing them from sad to better glee, Lets to our sell, and sit and see thee rest, For I beleeue this Iig will prooue no iest. _Exeunt._

_Chorus Actus 3. Schena Prima._ _III. i._

_Enter Slipper one way, and S. Bartram another way._

_Bar._ Ho fellow, stay and let me speake with thee.

_Sli._ Fellow, frend thou doest disbuse me, I am a Gentlemã.

_Bar._ A Gentleman, how so?

_Slip._ Why I rub horses sir. 1190

_Bar._ And what of that?

_Sip._ Oh simple witted, marke my reason, they that do good seruice in the Common-weale are Gentlemen, but such as rub horses do good seruice in the Common-weale, Ergo tarbox Maister Courtier, a Horse-keeper is a Gentleman.

_Bar._ Heere is ouermuch wit in good earnest: But sirrha where is thy Maister?

_Slip._ Neither aboue ground nor vnder ground, Drawing out red into white, Swallowing that downe without chawing, 1200 That was neuer made without treading.

_Bar._ Why where is hee then?

_Slip._ Why in his seller, drinking a cup of neate and briske claret, in a boule of siluer: Oh sir the wine runnes trillill down his throat, which cost the poore viutnerd many a stampe before it was made: but I must hence sir, I haue haste.

_Bar._ Why whither now I prithee?

_Slip._ Faith sir, to Sir _Siluester_ a Knight hard by, vppon my Maisters arrand, whom I must certifie this, that the lease of _Est Spring_ shall bee confirmed, and therefore must I bid him 1210 prouide trash, for my Maister is no friend without mony.

_Bar._ This is the thing for which I sued so long, This is the lease which I by _Guatoes_ meanes, Sought to possesse by pattent from the King: But hee iniurious man, who liues by crafts, And selles kings fauours for who will giue most, Hath taken bribes of mee, yet couertly Will sell away the thing pertaines to mee: But I haue found a present helpe I hope, For to preuent his purpose and deceit: 1220 Stay gentle friend.

_Slip._ A good word, thou haste won me, This word is like a warme candle to a colde stomacke.

_Bar._ Sirra wilt thou for mony and reward, Conuay me certaine letters out of hand, From out thy maisters pocket.

_Slip._ Will I sir, why, were it to rob my father, hang my mother, or any such like trifles, I am at your commaundement sir, what will you giue me sir?

_S. Bar._ A hundreth pounds. 1230

_Slip._ I am your man, giue me earnest, I am dead at a pocket sir, why I am a lifter maister, by my occupation.

_S. Bar._ A lifter, what is that?

_Slip._ Why sir, I can lift a pot as well as any man, and picke a purse assoone as any theefe in my countrie.

_S. Bar._ Why fellow hold, heere is earnest, Ten pound to assure thee, go dispatch, And bring it me to yonder Tauerne thou seest, And assure thy selfe thou shalt both haue Thy skin full of wine, and the rest of thy mony. 1240

_Slip._ I will sir. Now roome for a Gentleman, my maisters, who giues mee mony for a faire new Angell, a trimme new Angell?

_Exeunt._

_Enter Andrew and Purueyer._ _III. ii._

_Pur._ Sirrha, I must needes haue your maisters horses, The king cannot bee vnserued.

_And._ Sirrha you must needs go without them, Because my Maister must be serued.

_Pur._ Why I am the kings Purueyer, 1250 And I tell thee I will haue them.

_And._ I am _Ateukins_ seruant, Signior _Andrew_, And I say thou shalt not haue them.

_Pur._ Heeres my ticket, denie it if thou darst.

_And._ There is the stable, fetch them out if thou darst.

_Pur._ Sirrha, sirrha, tame your tongue, least I make you.

_And._ Sirrha, sirrha, hold your hand, least I bum you.

_Pur._ I tell thee, thy Maisters geldings are good, And therefore fit for the king.

_An._ I tell thee, my Maisters horses haue gald backes, 1260 And therefore cannot fit the King. Purueyr, Purueyer, puruey thee of more wit, darst thou presume to wrong my Lord _Ateukins_, being the chiefest man in Court.

_Pur._ The more vnhappie Common-weale, Where flatterers are chiefe in Court.

_And._ What sayest thou?

_Pur._ I say thon art too presumptuous, And the officers shall schoole thee.

_And._ A figge for them and thee Purueyer, 1270 They seeke a knot in a ring, that would wrong My maister or his seruants in this Court.

_Enter Iaques._

_Pur._ The world is at a wise passe, When Nobilitie is a fraid of a flatterer.

_Iaq._ Sirrha, what be you that parley, contra Monsieur my Lord _Ateukin_, _en bonne foy_, prate you against syr _Altesse_, mee maka your test to leap from your shoulders, per ma foy cy fere ie.

_And._ Oh signior Captaine, you shewe your selfe a forward 1280 and friendly Gentleman in my Maisters behalfe, I will cause him to thanke you.

_Iaq._ _Poultron_ speake me one parola against my bon Gentilhome, I shal estrampe your guttes, and thumpe your backa, that you no poynt mannage this tenne ours.

_Pur._ Sirrha come open me the stable, And let mee haue the horses: And fellow, for all your French bragges I will doo my dutie.

_And._ Ile make garters of thy guttes, Thou villaine if thou enter this office. 1290

_Iaq._ Mort lieu, take me that cappa Pour nostre labeur, be gonne villein in the mort.

_Pur._ What will you resist mee then? Well the Councell fellow, Shall know of your insolency.

_Exit._

_Andr._ Tell them what thou wilt, and eate that I can best spare from my backe partes, and get you gone with a vengeance.

_Enter Gnato._

_Ateu._ _Andrew._ 1300

_Andr._ Sir.

_Ateu._ Where be my writings I put in my pocket last night.

_Andr._ Which sir, your annoations vpon Matchauell?

_Ateu._ No sir, the letters pattents for east spring.

_An._ Why sir you talk wonders to me, if you ask that questiṏ.

_Ateu._ Yea sir, and wil work wonders too, which you vnlesse you finde them out, villaine search me them out and bring thẽ me, or thou art but dead.

_Andr._ A terrible word in the latter end of a sessions. Master were you in your right wits yesternight? 1310

_Ateu._ Doest thou doubt it?

_Andr._ I and why not sir, for the greatest Clarkes are not the wisest, and a foole may dance in a hood, as wel as a wise man in a bare frock: besides such as giue themselues to _Plulantia_, as you do maister, are so cholericke of complection, that that which they burne in fire ouer night, they seeke for with furie the next morning. Ah I take care of your worship, this common-weale should haue a great losse of so good a member as you are.

_Ateu._ Thou flatterest me. 1320

_Andr._ Is it flatterie in me sir to speake you faire? What is it then in you to dallie with the King?

_Ateu._ Are you prating knaue, I will teach you bettet nurture? Is this the care you haue of my wardrop? Of my accounts, and matters of trust?

_Andr._ Why alasse sir, in times past your garments haue beene so well inhabited, as your Tenants woulde giue no place to a Moathe to mangle them, but since you are growne greater and your Garments more fine and gaye, 1330 if your garments are not fit for hospitallitie, blame your pride, and commend my cleanlinesse: as for yout writings, I am not for them, nor they for mee.

_Ateu._ Villaine go, flie, finde them out: If thou loosest them, thou loosest my credit.

_And._ Alasse sir? can I loose that you neuer had.

_Ateu._ Say you so, then hold feel you that you neuer felt.

_Ia._ Oh Monsieur, aies patient, pardon your pouure vallet, Me bee at your commaundement.

_Ateu._ Signior _Iaques_ wel met, you shall commaund me, 1340 Sirra go cause my writings be proclamed in the Market place, Promise a great reward to them that findes them, Looke where I supt and euery where.

_And._ I will sir, now are two knaues well met, and three well parted, if you conceiue mine enigma, Gentlemen what shal I bee then, faith a plaine harpe shilling. _Exeunt._

_Ateu._ _Sieur Iaques_, this our happy meeting hides, Your friends and me, of care and greeuous toyle, For I that looke into deserts of men, And see among the souldiers in this court, 1350 A noble forward minde, and iudge thereof, Cannot but seeke the meanes to raise them vp: Who merrit credite in the Common-weale. To this intent friend _Iaque_ I haue found A meanes to make you great, and well esteemd, Both with the king, and with the best in Court: For I espie in you a valiant minde, Which makes mee loue, admire, and honour you: To this intent (if so your trust and faith, Your secrecie be equall with your force) 1360 I will impart a seruice to thy selfe, Which if thou doest effect, the King, my selfe, And what or hee, and I with him can worke, Shall be imployd in what thou wilt desire.

_Iaq._ Me sweara by my ten bones, my singniar, to be loyal to your Lordships intents, affaires, ye my monsignieur, _qui non fera ic pour_. Yea pleasure? By my sworda me be no babie Lords.

_Ateu._ Then hoping one thy truth, I prithe see, How kinde _Ateukin_ is to forward mee, 1370 Hold take this earnest pennie of my loue. And marke my words, the King by me requires, No slender seruice _Iaques_ at thy hands. Thou must by privie practise make a way, The Queene faire _Dorethea_ as she sleepes: Or how thou wilt, so she be done to death: Thou shalt not want promotion heare in Court.

_Iaq._ Stabba the woman, per ma foy, monsignieur, me thrusta my weapon into her belle, so me may be gard per le roy. Mee de your seruice. 1380 But me no be hanged pur my labor.

_Ateu._ Thou shalt haue warrant _Iaques_ from the King, None shall outface, gainsay and wrong my friend. Do not I loue thee _Iaques_? feare not then, I tell thee who so toucheth thee in ought, Shall iniure me, I loue, I tender thee: Thou art a subiect fit to serue his grace, _Iaques_, I had a written warrant once, But that by great misfortune late is lost, Come wend we to S. _Andrewes_, where his grace 1390 Is now in progresse, where he shall assure Thy safetie, and confirme thee to the act.

_Iaques._ We will attend your noblenesse.

_Exeunt._

_Enter Sir Bartram, Dorothea, the Queene, _III. iii._
Nano, Lord Ross. Ladies
attendants._

_Doro._ Thy credite _Bartram_ in the Scottish Court,, Thy reuerend yeares, the stricknesse of thy vowes, All these are meanes sufficient to perswade, 1400 But loue the faithfull lincke of loyall hearts, That hath possession of my constant minde, Exiles all dread, subdueth vaine supect, Me thinks no craft should harbour in that brest, Where Maiestie and vertue is mstaled: Me thinke my beautie should not cause my death.

_Bar._ How gladly soueraigne Princesse would I erre, And binde my shame to saue your royall life: Tis Princely in your selfe to thinke the best, To hope his grace is guiltlesse of this crime, 1410 But if in due preuention you default, How blinde are you that were forwarnd before.

_Doro._ Suspition without cause deserueth blame.

_Bar._ Who sees, and shunne not harmes, deserue the same: Beholde the tenor of this traiterous plot.

_Doro._ What should I reade? Perhappes he wrote it not.

_Bar._ Heere is his warrant vnder seale and signe, To _Iaques_ borne in _France_ to murther you.

_Doro._ Ah carelesse King, would God this were not thine What tho I reade? Ah should I thinke it true? 1420

_Rosse._ The hand and seale confirmes the deede is his.

_Doro._ What know I tho, if now he thinketh this?

_Nauo._ Madame _Lucretius_ faith, that to repent, Is shildish wisdome to preuent.

_Doro._ What tho?

_Nano._ Then cease your teares, that haue dismaid you, And crosse the foe before hee haue betrayed you.

_Bar._ What needes this long suggestions in this cause? When euery circumstance confirmeth trueth: First let the hidden mercie from aboue, 1430 Confirme your grace, since by a wondrous meanes, The practise of your daungers came to light: Next let the tokens of appooued trueth, Gouerne and stay your thoughts, too much seduc’t, And marke the sooth, and listen the intent, Your highnesse knowes, and these my noble Lords, Can witnesse this, that whilest your husbands sirre In happie peace possest the Scottish Crowne, I was his sworne attendant heere in Court, In daungerous sight I neuer fail’d my Lord. 1440 And since his death, and this your husbands raigne, No labour, dutie, haue I left vndone, To testifie my zeale vnto the Crowne: But now my limmes are weake, mine eyes are dim, Mine age vnweldie and vnmeete for toyle: I came to court in hope for seruice past, To gaine some lease to keepe me beeing olde, There found I all was vpsie turuy turnd, My friends displac’ff, the Nobles loth to craue, Then fought I to the minion of the King, 1450 _Auteukin_, who allured by a bribe, Assur’d me of the lease for which I fought: But see the craft, when he had got the graunt, He wrought to sell it to Sir _Siluester_, In hope of greater earnings from his hands: In briefe, I learnt his craft, and wrought the meanes, By one his needie seruants for reward, To steale from out his pocket all the briefes, Which hee perform’d, and with reward resignd Them when I read (now marke the power of God) 1460 I found this warrant seald among the rest, To kill your grace, whom God long keepe aliue. Thus in effect, by wonder are you sau’d, Trifle not then, bnt seeke a speakie flight, God will conduct your steppes, and shield the right.

_Dor._ What should I do, ah poore vnhappy Queen? Borne to indure what fortune can containe, Ah lasse the deed is too apparant now: But oh mine eyes were you as bent to hide, As my poore heart is forward to forgiue. 1470 Ah cruell king, my loue would thee acquite, Oh what auailes to be allied and matcht With high estates that marry but in shewe? Were I baser borne, my meane estate Could warrant me from this impendent harme, But to be great and happie these are twaine. Ah _Rosse_ what shall I do, how shall I worke?

_Rosse._ With speedie letters to your father send, Who will reuenge you, and defend your right.

_Dor._ As if they kill not me, who with him fight? 1480 As if his brest be toucht, I am not wounded, As if he waild, my ioyes were not confounded: We are one heart, tho rent by hate in twaine: One soule, one essence doth our weale containe: What then can conquer him that kils not me?

_Rosse._ If this aduice displease, then Madame flee.

_Dor._ Where may I wend or trauel without feare?

_Na._ Where not, in changing this attire you weare?

_Dor._ What shall I clad me like a Country maide?

_Na._ The pollicie is base I am affraide. 1490

_Dor._ Why _Nano_?

_Na._ Aske you why? what may a Queene March foorth in homely weede and be not seene? The Rose although in thornie shrubs she spread: Is still the Rose, her beauties waxe not dead. And noble mindes altho the coate be bare, Are by their semblance knowne, how great they are

_Bar._ The Dwarfe saith true.

_Dor._ What garments likste thou than?

_Na._ Such as may make you seeme a proper man. 1500

_Dor._ He makes me blush and smile, tho I am sad.

_Na._ The meanest coat for safetie is not bad.

_Dor._ What shall I iet in breeches like a squire? Alasse poore dwarfe, thy Mistresle is vnmeete.

_Na._ Tut, go me thus, your cloake before your face, Your sword vpreard with queint & comely grace, If any come and question what you bee, Say you a man, and call for witnesse mee.

_Dor._ What should I weare a sword, to what intent?

_Na._ Madame for shewe, it is an ornament, 1510 If any wrong you, drawe a shining blade Withdrawes a coward theese that would inuade.

_Dor._ But if I strike, and hee should strike againe, What should I do? I feare I should bee slaine.

_Nano._ No, take it single on your dagger so, Ile teach you Madame how to ward a blow.

_Do._ How litle shapes much substance may include? Sir _Bartram_, _Rosse_, yee Ladies and my friends, Since presence yeelds me death, and absence life, Hence will I flie disguised like a squire, 1520 As one that seekes to liue in Itish warres, You gentle _Rosse_, shal furnish my depart.

_Ross._ Yea Prince, & die with you with all my hart, Vouchsafe me then in all extreamest states, To waight on you and serue you with my best.

_Dor._ To me pertaines the woe, liue then in rest: Friends fare you well, keepe secret my depart, _Nano_ alone shall my attendant bee.

_Nan._ Then Madame are you mand, I warrant ye, Giue me a sword, and if there grow debate, 1530 Ile come behinde, and breake your enemies pate.

_Ross._ How sore wee greeue to part so soone away.

_Dor._ Greeue not for those that perish if they stay.

_Nano._ The time in words mispent, is litle woorth, Madam walke on, and let them bring vs foorth.

_Exeunt._

_Chorus._ _IV. Chor._

_Ent. Boha._ So these sad motions makes the faire sleepe, And sleep hee shall in quiet and content, For it would make a marbell melt and weepe 1540 To see these treasons gainst the innocent: But since shee scapes by flight to saue her life, The king may chance repent she was his wife: The rest is ruthfull, yet to beguilde the time, Tis interlast with merriment and rime.

_Exeuut._

_Actus Quartus. Schena Prima._ _IV. i._

_After a noyse of hornes and showtings, enter certaine Huntsmen, if you please, singing one way: another way Ateukin and Iaques, Gnato._ 1550

_Ateu._ Say Gentlemen, where may wee finde the king?

_Hunts._ Euen heere at hand on hunting. And at this houre hee taken hath a stand, To kill a Deere.

_Ateu._ A pleasant worke in hand, Follow your sport, and we will seeke his grace.

_Hunts._ When such him seeke, it is a wofull case.

_Exeunt Huntsman one way, Ateu. and Iaq. another,
Enter Eustace, Ida, and the Countesse._ _IV. ii._

_Count._ Lord _Eustace_, as your youth & vertuous life, 1560 Deserues a faire, more faire and richer wife, So since I am a mother, and do wit What wedlocke is, and that which longs to it, Before I meane my daughter to bestow, Twere meete that she and I your state did know.

_Eust._ Madame if I consider _Idas_ woorth, I know my portions merrit none so faire, And yet I hold in farme and yearly rent, A thousand pound, which may her state content.

_Count._ But what estate my Lord shall she possesse? 1570

_Eust._ All that is mine, graue Countesse & no lesse. But _Ida_ will you loue?

_Ida._ I cannot hate.

_Eust._ But will you wedde?

_Ida._ Tis Greeke to mee my Lord, Ile wish you well, and thereon take my word.

_Eust_. Shall I some signe of fauour then receiue?

_Ida._ I, if her Ladiship will giue me leaue.

_Count._ Do what thou wilt.

_Ida._ Then noble English Peere, 1580 Accept this ring, wherein my heart is set, A constant heart, with burning flames befret: But vnder written this: _O morte dura_: Heereon when so you looke with eyes _Pura_, The maide you fancie most will fauour you.

_Eust._ Ile trie this heart, in hope to finde it true.

_Enter certaine Huntsmen and ladies._

_Hunts._ Widdowe Countesse well ymet, Euer may thy ioyes bee many, Gentle _Ida_ faire beset, 1590 Faire and wise, not fairer any: Frolike Huntsmen of the game, Willes you well, and giues you greeting.

_Ida._ Thanks good Woodman for the same, And our sport and merrie meeting.

_Hunts._ Vnto thee we do present, Siluer heart with arrow wounded.

_Eust._ This doth shadow my lament, Both feare and loue confounded.

_Ladies._ To the mother of the mayde, 1600 Faire as th’lillies, red as roses, Euen so many goods are saide, As her selfe in heart supposes.

_Count._ What are you friends, that thus doth wish vs wel?

_Hunts._ Your neighbours nigh, that haue on hunting beene, Who vnderstanding of your walking foorth, Prepare this traine to entertaine you with, This Ladie _Douglas_, this Sir _Egmond_ is.

_Count._ Welcome ye Ladies, and thousand thanks for this, Come enter you a homely widdowes house, 1610 And if mine entertainment please you let vs feast.

_Hunts._ A louely ladie neuer wants a guest.

_Exeunt Manet, Eustace, Ida._

_Eust._ Stay gentle _Ida_, tell me what you deeme, What doth this hast, this tender heart beseeme?

_Ida._ Why not my Lord, since nature teacheth art, To sencelesse beastes to cure their greeuous smart. _Dictanum_ serues to close the wound againe.

_Eust._ What helpe for those that loue?

_Ida._ Why loue againe. 1620

_Eust._ Were I the Hart,

_Ida._ Then I the hearbe would bee. You shall not die for help, come follow me.

_Exeunt._

_Enter Andrew and Iaques._ _IV. iii._

_Iaq._ _Mon Deiu_, what _malheure_ be this, me come a the chamber, Signior _Andrew_, _Mon Deiu_, taka my _poinyard en mon maine_, to giue the _Estocade_ to the _Damoisella, per ma foy, there was no person, elle cest en alle_.

_And._ The woorse lucke _Iaques_, but because I am thy friend 1630 I will aduise the somewhat towards the attainement of the gallowes.

_Iaq._ Gallowes, what be that?

_An._ Marrie sir, a place of great promotion, where thou shalt by one turne aboue ground, rid the world of a knaue, & make a goodly ensample for all bloodie villaines of thy profession.

_Que ditte vous, Monsieur Andrew?_

_And._ I say _Iaques_, thou must keep this path, and high thee, for the Q. as I am certified, is departed with her dwarfe, apparelled like a squire, ouertake her Frenchman, stab her, Ile 1640 promise thee this dubblet shall be happy. _Iaq._ _Purquoy?_

_And._ It shall serue a iolle Gentleman, Sir _Dominus Monsignior_ Hangman.

_Iaq._ _Cest tout_, _vn_ me will _rama pour le monoy_.

_And._ Go, and the rot consume thee? Oh what a trim world is this? My maister lius by cousoning the king, I by fllattering him: _Slipper_ my fellow by stealing: and I by lying: is not this a wylie accord, Gentlemen. This last night our iolly horsekeeper beeing well stept in licor, confessed to me the stealing of my Maisters writings, and his great reward: now dare I not 1650 bewraye him, least he discouer my knauerie, but thus haue I wrought: I vnderstand he will passe this way, to prouide him necessaries, but if I and my fellowes faile not, wee will teach him such a lesson, as shall cost him a chiefe place on pennilesse bench for his labour: but yond he comes.

_Enter Slipper with a Tailor, a Shoomaker, and a Cutler._

_Slip._ Taylor. _Tayl._ Sir.

_Slip._ Let my dubblet bee white Northren, fiue groates the yard, I tell thee I will bee braue.

_Tayl._ It shall sir. 1660

_Slip._ Now sir, cut it me like the battlements of a Custerd, ful of round holes: edge me the sleeues with Couentry-blew, and let the lynings bee of tenpenny locorum.

_Tayl._ Very good sir.

_Slip._ Make it the amorous cut, a flappe before.

_Tayl._ And why so? that fashion is stale.

_Slip._ Oh friend, thou art a simple fellow, I tell thee, a flap is a great friend to a storrie, it stands him in stead of cleane napery, and if a mans shert bee torne, it is a present penthouse to defend him from a cleane huswifes scoffe. 1670

_Tay._ You say sooth sir.

_Slip._ Holde take thy mony, there is seuen shillings for the dubblet, and eight for the breeches, seuen and eight, birladie thirtie sixe is a faire deale of mony.

_Tayl._ Farwell sir.

_Slip._ Nay but stay Taylor.

_Tayl._ Why sir?

_Slipper._ Forget not this speciall mate, Let my back parts bee well linde, For there come many winter stormes from a windie bellie, 1680 I tell thee Shoo-maker.

_Shoe-ma._ Gentleman what shoo will it please you to haue?

_Slip._ A fine neate calues leather my friend.

_Shoo._ Oh sir, that is too thin, it will not last you.

_Slip._ I tell thee, it is my neer kinsman, for I am _Slipper_, which hath his best grace in summer to bee suted in lakus skins, Guidwife Clarke was my Grandmother, and Goodman Neatherleather mine Vnckle, but my mother good woman. Alas, she was a Spaniard, and being wel tande and drest by a good-fellow, an Englishman, is growne to some wealth: as when I 1690 haue but my vpper parts, clad in her husbands costlie Spannish leather, I may bee bold to kisse the fayrest Ladies foote in this contrey.

_Shoo._ You are of high birth sir, But haue you all your mothers markes on you?

_Slip._ Why knaue?

_Shoomaker._ Because if thou come of the bloud of the _Slippers_, you should haue a Shoomakers Alle thrust through your eare.

_Exit._ 1700

_Slip._ Take your earnest friend and be packing, And meddle not with my progenators _Cutler_.

_Cutler._ Heare sir.

_Slip._ I must haue a Rapier and Dagger.

_Cutler._ A Rapier and Dagger you meane sir?

_Slipper._ Thou saiest true, but it must haue a verie faire edge,

_Cutler._ Why so sir?

_Slip._ Because it may cut by himselfe, for trulie my freende, I am a man of peace, and weare weapons but for facion.

_Cutler._ Well sir, giue me earnest I will fit you. 1710

_Slip._ Hold take it, I betrust thee friend, let me be wel armed.

_Cutler._ You shall. _Exit Cutler._

_Slip._ Nowe what remaines? theres twentie Crownes for a house, three crownes for houshol stuffe, six pence to buie a Constables staffe: nay I will be the chiefe of my parish, there wants nothing but a wench, a cat, a dog, a wife and a seruant, to make an hole familie, shall I marrie with _Alice_, good mã _Grimshaues_ daughter, shee is faire, but indeede her tongue is like Clocks on Shrouetuesday, alwaies out of temper? shall I wed _Sisley_ of the Whightṏ? Ohn, o she is like a frog in a parcely bed, 1720 as scittish as an ele, if I seek to hãper her, she wil horne me: but a wench must be had maister _Slip_. Yea and shal be deer friend.

_And._ I now wil driue him from his contemplations. Oh my mates come forward, the lamb is vnpent, the fox shal preuaile.

_Enter three Antiques, who dance round, and take Slipper with them._

_Slip._ I will my freend, and I thanke you heartilie, pray keepe your curtesie, I am yours in the way of an hornepipe, they are strangers, I see they vnderstand not my language, wee wee. 1730

_VVhilest they are dauncing, Andrew takes away his money, and the other Antiques depart._

_Slip._ Nay but my friends, one hornpipe, further a refluence backe, and two doubles forward: what not one crosse point against Sundayes. What ho sirrha, you gone, you with the nose like an Eagle, and you be a right greeke, one turne more, theeues theeues, I am robd theeues. Is this the knauerie of Fidlers? Well, I will then binde the hole credit of their occupatiṏ on a bagpiper, and he for my money, but I will after, and teach them to caper in a halter, that haue cousoned me of my 1740 money.

_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Nano, Dorothea, _in mans apparell._ _IV. iv._

_Doro._ Ah _Nano_, I am wearie of these weedes, Wearie to weeld this weapon that I bare: Wearie of loue, from whom my woe proceedes. Wearie of toyle, since I haue lost my deare, O wearie life, where wanted no distresse, But euery thought is paide with heauinesse.

_Na._ Too much of wearie madame, if you please, 1750 Sit downe, let wearie dye, and take your ease.

_Dorot._ How looke I _Nano_ like a man or no?

_Nano._ If not a man, yet like a manlie shrowe.

_Doro._ If any come and meete vs on the way, What should we do if they inforce vs stay.

_Na._ Set cap a huffe, and challenge him the field, Suppose the worst, the weake may fight to yeeld.

_Dorot._ The battaile _Nano_ in this troubled minde, Is farre more fierce then euer we may finde. The bodies wounds by medicines may be eased, 1760 But griefes of mindes, by salues are not appealed.

_Na._ Say Madame, will you heare your _Nano_ sing?

_Dor._ Of woe good boy, but of no other thing:

_Na._ What if I sing of fancie will it please?

_Dor._ To such as hope successe, such noats breede ease.

_Na._ What if I sing like _Damon_ to my sheepe?

_Dor._ Like _Phillis_ I will sit me downe to weepe.

_Na._ Nay since my songs afford such pleasure small, Ile sit me downe, and sing you none at all.

_Doro._ Oh be not angrie _Nano_. 1770

_Nano._ Nay you loath, To thinke on that, which doth content vs both.

_Doro._ And how?

_Nano._ You scorne desport when you are wearie, And loath my mirth, who liue to make you merry.

_Doro._ Danger and fear withdraw me from delight.

_Na._ Tis vertue to contemne fals Fortunes spight.

_Do._ What shuld I do to please thee friendly squire?

_Na._ A smile a day, is all I will require: And if you pay me well the smiles you owe me, 1780 Ile kill this cursed care, or else beshrowe me.

_Doug._ We are descried, oh _Mano_ we are dead.

_Enter Iaques his sword drawne._

_Nano._ Tut yet you walk, you are not dead indeed, Drawe me your sword, if he your way withstand.

_Do._ And I will seeke for rescue out of hand, Run _Nano_ runne, preuent thy Princes death.

_Na._ Feare not, ile run all danger out of breath.

_Iaq._ Ah you _calletta_, you _strumpet_, _ta Matressa Doretie este, vous surprius_ come say your pater noster, _car vous est mort par ma foy_ 1790

_Do._ _Callet_, _me strumpet_, _Catiue_ as thou art But euen a Princesse borne, who scorne thy threats. Shall neuer French man say, an English mayd, Of threats of forraine force will be afraid.

_Iaq._ You no _dire vostre prieges, vrbleme merchants famme_, _guarda_ your _bresta_, _there me make you die on my morglay_,

_Doro._ God sheeld me haplesse princes and a wife.

_They fight, and shee is sore wounded._

And saue my soule, altho I loose my life. Ah I am slaine, some piteous power repay, 1800 This murtherers cursed deed, that doth me stay.

_Iaq._ _Elle est tout mort_, me will runne _pur_ a wager, for feare me be _surpryes_ and _pendu_ for my labour. Be in _Ie meu alera au roy auy cits me affaires, Ie serra vn chiualier_, for this daies trauaile.

_Exit._

_Enter ~Nano~, S. Cutbert Anderson, his sword drawne._

_S. Cutb._ Where is this poore distressed gentleman?

_Nano._ Here laid on ground, and wounded to the death. 1810 Ah gentle heart, how are these beautious lookes, Dimd by the tyrant cruelties of death: Oh wearie soule, breake thou from forth my brest, And ioyne thee with the soule I honoured most.

_S. Cut._ Leaue mourning friend, the man is yet aliue, Some helpe me to conuey him to my house: There will I see him carefully recured, And send priuie search to catch the murtherer.

_Nano._ The God of heauen reward the curteous knight.

_Exeunt._ And they beare out _Dorothea_. 1820

_Enter the King of Scots, ~Iaques~, ~Ateukin~, ~Andrew~, ~Iaques~ _IV. v._ running with his swoord one way, the King with his traine an other way._

_K. of S._ Stay _Iaques_, feare not, sheath thy murthering blade: Loe here thy King and friends are come abroad, To saue thee from the terrors of pursuite: What is she dead?

_Iaq._ Wee Monsieur, elle is blesse per lake teste, oues les espanles, I warrant she no trouble you.

_Ateu._ Oh then my liege, how happie art thou growne, 1830 How fauoured of the heauens, and blest by loue: Mee thinkes I see faire _Ida_ in thine armes, Crauing remission for her late attempt, Mee thinke I see her blushing steale a kisse: Vniting both your soules by such a sweete, And you my King suck Nectar from her lips. Why then delaies your grace to gaine the rest You long desired? why loose we forward time? Write, make me spokesman now, vow marriage, If she deny your fauour let me die. 1840

_Andr._ Mightie and magnificent potentate, giue credence to mine honorable good Lord, for I heard the Midwife sweare at his natiuitie, that the Faieries gaue him the propertie of the Thracian stone, for who toucheth it, is exempted from griefe, and he that heareth my Maisters counsell, is alreadle possessed of happinesse: nay which is more myraculous, as the Noble man in his infancie lay in his Cradle, a swarme of Bees laid honey on his lippes, in token of his eloquence. _For melle dulcier fluit oratio._

_Ateu._ Your grace must beare with imperfections: 1850 This is exceeding loue that makes him speake.

_K. of S._ _Ateukin_ I am rauisht in conceit, And yet deprest againe with earnest thoughts, Me thinkes this murther soundeth in mine eare, A threatning noyse of dire and sharp reuenge. I am incenst with greefe, yet faine would ioy, What may I do to end me of these doubts?

_Ateu._ Why Prince it is no murther in a King, To end an others life to saue his owne, For you are not as common people bee. 1860 Who die and perish with a fewe mans teares, But if you faile, the state doth whole default The Realme is rent in twaine, in such alosse, And _Aristotle_ holdeth this for true, Of euills needs we must chuse the least, Then better were it, that a woman died, Then all the helpe of _Scotland_ should be blent, Tis pollicie my liege, in euerie state, To cut off members that disturbe the head. And by corruption generation growes. 1870 And contraries maintaine the world and state.

_K. of S._ Enough I am confirmed, _Ateukin_ come, Rid me of loue, and rid me of my greefe, Driue thou the tyrant from this tainted brest, Then may I triumph in the height of ioy, Go to mine _Ida_, tell her that I vowe, To raise her head and make her honours great. Go to mine _Ida_, tell her that her haires, Salbe embollished with orient pearles, And Crownes of Saphyrs compassing her browes, 1880 Shall weare with those sweete beauties of her eyes. Go to mine _Ida_, tell her that my soule Shall keepe her semblance closed in my brest, And I in touching of her milke-white mould, Will thinke me deified in such a grace: I like no stay, go write and I will signe. Reward me _Iaques_, giue him store of Crowne. And sirrha _Andrew_, scout thou here in Court: And bring me tydings if thou canst perceiue The least intent of muttering in my traine, 1890 For either those that wrong thy Lord or thee, Shall suffer death. _Exit_ the King.

_Ateu._ How much ô mightie king, Is thy _Ateukin_ bound to honour thee: Bowe thee _Andrew_, bend thine sturdie knees, Seest thou not here thine onely God on earth?

_Iaq._ Mes on est mon argent Signior.