Kath.

I acknowledge him

A worthy friend of mine.
Dal.

Your humblest creature.

Hunt. [Aside.] So, so! the game's a-foot; I'm in cold

hunting;

The hare and hounds are parties.
Dal.

Princely lady,

How most unworthy I am to employ
My services in honour of your virtues,
How hopeless my desires are to enjoy

Your fair opinion, and much more your love, —

Are only matter of despair, unless

Your goodness give large warrant to my boldness,

My feeble-winged ambition.

Hunt. [Aside.]

This is scurvy.

Kath. My lord, I interrupt you not.

Hunt. [Aside.]

Indeed!

Now, on my life, she'll court him. - Nay, nay, on, sir.
Dal. Oft have I tuned the lesson of my sorrows

To sweeten discord and enrich your pity;

But all in vain : here had my comforts sunk,

And never risen again to tell a story
Of the despairing lover, had not now,

Even now, the earl your father

Hunt. [Aside.]

He means me, sure.

Dal. After some fit disputes of your condition,

Your highness and my lowness, given a license
Which did not more embolden than encourage

My faulting tongue.

Hunt.

How, how? how's that? embolden!

Encourage! I encourage ye! d'ye hear, sir?

A subtle trick, a quaint one :- will you hear, man?
What did I say to you? come, come, to the point.

Kath. It shall not need, my lord.
Hunt.

Then hear me, Kate.

Keep you on that hand of her, I on this.-
Thou stand'st between a father and a suitor,
Both striving for an interest in thy heart :
He courts thee for affection, I for duty:
He as a servant pleads, but by the privilege
Of nature though I might command, my care

Shall only counsel what it shall not force.
Thou canst but make one choice; the ties of marriage

Are tenures not at will, but during life.

Consider whose thou art, and who; a princess,

A princess of the royal blood of Scotland,

In the full spring of youth and fresh in beauty.
The king that sits upon the throne is young,
And yet unmarried, forward in attempts
On any least occasion to endanger

His person: wherefore, Kate, as I am confident
Thou dar'st not wrong thy birth and education
By yielding to a common servile rage
Of female wantonness, so I am confident
Thou wilt proportion all thy thoughts to side
Thy equals, if not equal thy superiors.
My lord of Dalyell, young in years, is old
In honours, but nor eminent in titles

Nor in estate, that may support or add to
The expectation of thy fortunes.

Settle

Thy will and reason by a strength of judgment ;
For, in a word, I give thee freedom; take it.

If equal fates have not ordained to pitch

Thy hopes above my height, let not thy passion
Lead thee to shrink mine honour in oblivion :

Thou art thine own; I have done.

Dal.

O, you're all oracle,

The living stock and root of truth and wisdom !

Kath. My worthiest lord and father, the indulgence

Of your sweet composition thus commands
The lowest of obedience; you have granted
A liberty so large, that I want skill

To choose without direction of example :
From which I daily learn, by how much more
You take off from the roughness of a father,
By so much more I am engaged to tender
The duty of a daughter. For respects
Of birth, degrees of title, and advancement,
I nor admire nor slight them; all my studies
Shall ever aim at this perfection only,
To live and die so, that you may not blush
In any course of mine to own me yours.

Hunt. Kate, Kate, thou grow'st upon my heart like peace, Creating every other hour a jubilee.

Kath. To you, my lord of Dalyell, I address Some few remaining words: the general fame That speaks your merit, even in vulgar tongues Proclaims it clear; but in the best, a precedent. Hunt. Good wench, good girl, i'faith !

Kath.

For my part, trust me,

I value mine own worth at higher rate
'Cause you are pleased to prize it: if the stream
Of your protested service—as you term it-
Run in a constancy more than a compliment,
It shall be my delight that worthy love
Leads you to worthy actions, and these guide ye
Richly to wed an honourable name :

So every virtuous praise in after-ages

Shall be your heir, and I in your brave mention
Be chronicled the mother of that issue,

That glorious issue.

Hunt.

O, that I were young again !

She'd make me court proud danger, and suck spirit
From reputation.

Kath.

To the present motion
Here's all that I dare answer: when a ripeness
Of more experience, and some use of time,
Resolves to treat the freedom of my youth
Upon exchange of troths, I shall desire
No surer credit of a match with virtue
Than such as lives in you: meantime my hopes are
Preserved secure in having you a friend.

Dal. You are a blesséd lady, and instruct
Ambition not to soar a farther flight
Than in the perfumed air of your soft voice. —
My noble Lord of Huntley, you have lent
A full extent of bounty to this parley;

And for it shall command your humblest servant.

Hunt. Enough: we are still friends, and will continue

A hearty love. —O, Kate, thou art mine own!-
No more :-my Lord of Crawford,

Enter EARL OF CRAWFORD.

Craw.

From the king

I come, my Lord of Huntley, who in council
Requires your present aid.

Hunt,

Some weighty business ?

Craw. A secretary from a Duke of York,
The second son to the late English Edward,
Concealed, I know not where, these fourteen years,
Craves audience from our master; and 'tis said

The duke himself is following to the court.

Hunt. Duke upon duke; 'tis well, 'tis well; here's bustling

For majesty. My lord, I will along with ye.

Craw. My service, noble lady !

Kath.

Please ye walk, sir?

Dal. [Aside.] Times have their changes; sorrow makes men

wise;

The sun itself must set as well as rise ;

Then, why not I?-Fair madam, I wait on ye.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-London. An Apartment in the Tower.

Enter the BISHOP OF DURHAM, SIR ROBERT CLIFFORD, and URSWICK. Lights.

Dur. You find, Sir Robert Clifford, how securely

King Henry, our great master, doth commit

His person to your loyalty; you taste

His bounty and his mercy even in this,
That at a time of night so late, a place
So private as his closet, he is pleased
T' admit you to his favour. Do not falter
In your discovery; but as you covet

A liberal grace, and pardon for your follies,
So labour to deserve 't by laying open

All plots, all persons that contrive against it.

Urs. Remember not the witchcraft or the magic,

The charms and incantations, which the sorceress
Of Burgundy hath cast upon your reason :

Sir Robert, be your own friend now, discharge

Your conscience freely; all of such as love you

Stand sureties for your honesty and truth.

Take heed you do not dally with the king ;

He's wise as he is gentle.

Clif.

If Henry be not merciful.
Urs.

I am miserable,

The king comes.

Enter KING HENRY.

K. Hen. Clifford!

Clif. [Kneels.] Let my weak knees root on the earth,

If I appear as leperous in my treacheries

Before your royal eyes, as to mine own

I seem a monster by my breach of truth.

K. Hen. Clifford, stand up; for instance of thy safety,

I offer thee my hand.

Clif.

A sovereign balm

For my bruised soul, I kiss it with a greediness.

[Kisses the KING'S hand, and rises.

Sir, you're a just master, but I

K. Hen.

Tell me,

Is every circumstance thou hast set down

With thine own hand within this paper true ?

Is it a sure intelligence of all

The progress of our enemies' intents

Without corruption?

Clif.

True, as I wish Heaven,

Or my infected honour white again.

K. Hen. We know all, Clifford, fully, since this meteor,

This airy apparition first discradled

From Tournay into Portugal, and thence
Advanced his fiery blaze for adoration
To the superstitious Irish; since the beard
Of this wild comet, conjured into France,
Sparkled in antic flames in Charles his court;
But shrunk again from thence, and, hid in darkness,
Stole into Flanders flourishing the rag
Of painted power on the shore of Kent,

Whence he was beaten back with shame and scorn,
Contempt, and slaughter of some naked outlaws :
But tell me what new course now shapes Duke Perkin?

VOL. II

Z