Quarter'd, their quarters into Cornwall sent,
Examples to the rest, whom we are pleas'd
To pardon, and dismiss from further quest.
My lord of Oxford, see it done.

Oxf. I shall, sir.
K. Hen. Urswick.
Urs. My lord ?

K. Hen. To Dinham, our high-treasurer,
Say, we command commissions be new granted,
For the collection of our subsidies
Through all the west, and that [right] speedily.
Lords, we acknowledge our engagements due
For your most constant services.

Daw. Your soldiers
Have manfully and faithfully acquitted
Their several duties.

K. Hen. For it, we will throw
A largess free amongst them, which shall hearten
And cherish up their loyalties. More yet
Remains of like employment; not a man
Can be dismiss'd, till enemies abroad,
More dangerous than these at home, have felt
The puissance of our arms. Oh, happy kings,
Whose thrones are raised in their subjects hearts!

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Edinburgh.—The Palace.

Enter HUNTLEY and DALYELL. Hunt. Now, sir, a modest word with you, sad

gentleman; Is not this fine, I trow, to see the gambols, To hear the jigs, observe the frisks, be enchanted With the rare discord of bells, pipes, and tabours, Hodge-podge of Scotch and Irish twingle-twan

gles, Like to so many choristers of Bedlam Trowling a catch! The feasts, the manly sto

machs, The healths in usquebaugh, and bonny-clabber, The ale in dishes never fetch'd from China, The hundred thousand knacks not to be spoken of, And all this for king Oberon, and queen Mab, Should put a soul into you. Look ye, good man, How youthful I am grown! but by your leave, This new queen-bride must henceforth be no more My daughter; no, by’r lady, 'tis unfit! And yet you see how I do bear this change; Methinks courageously: then shake off care In such a time of jollity.

Dal. Alas, sir,
How can you cast a mist upon your griefs ?
Which howsoe'er you shadow, but present
To [any] judging eye, the perfect substance
of which mine are but counterfeits.

Hunt. Foh, Dalyell !
Thou interrupt’st the part I bear in music
To this rare bridal feast; let us be merry,
Whilst flattering calms secure us against storms:
Tempests, when they begin to roar, put out
The light of peace, and cloud the sun's bright eye
In darkness of despair; yet we are safe.

Dal. I wish you could as easily forget The justice of your sorrows, as my hopes Can yield to destiny.

Hunt. Pish! then I see Thou dost not know the flexible condition Of my (tough] nature! I can laugh, laugh heartily, When the gout cramps my joints; let but the

stone Stop in my bladder, I am straight a-singing; The quartan fever shrinking every limb, Sets me a-capering straight; do [but] betray me, And bind me a friend ever: what! I trust The losing of a daughter, though I doated On every hair that grew to trim her head, Admits not any pain like one of these.Come, thou’rt deceiv'd in me; give me a blow, A sound blow on the face, I'll thank thee for’t; I love my wrongs: still thou’rt deceiv'd in me.

Dal. Deceiv'd? oh, noble Huntley, my few

years
Have learnt experience of too ripe an age,
To forfeit fit credulity; forgive
My rudeness, I am bold.

Hunt. Forgive me first
A madness of ambition; by example
Teach me humility, for patience scorns
Lectures, which schoolmen use to read to boys
Incapable of injuries: though old,
I could grow tough in fury, and disclaim
Allegiance to my king, could fall at odds
With all my fellow-peers, that durst not stand
Defendants 'gainst the rape done on mine honour:
But kings are earthly gods, there is no meddling
With their anointed bodies; for their actions,
They only are accountable to heaven.
Yet in the puzzle of my troubled brain,
One antidote's reserv'd against the poison
Of my distractions; 'tis in thee to apply it.

Dal. Name it; oh, name it quickly, sir!

Hunt. A pardon
For my most foolish slighting thy deserts ;
I have culld out this time to beg it: prithee,
Be gentle ; had I been so, thou hadst own'd
A happy bride, but now a cast-away,
And never child of mine more.

Dal. Say not so, sir;
It is not fault in her.

Hunt. The world would prate How she was handsome; young I know she was,

Tender, and sweet in her obedience,
But, lost now; what a bankrupt am I made
Of a full stock of blessings !-must I hope
A mercy from thy heart ?

Dal. A love, a service,
A friendship to posterity.

Hunt. Good angels
Reward thy charity! I have no more
But prayers left me now.

Dal. I'll lend you mirth, sir,
If
you

will be in consort. Hunt. 'Thank you truly : I must, yes, yes, I must;-here's yet some ease, A partner in affliction : look not angry. Dal. Good, noble sir!

[Music. Hunt. Oh,hark! we may be quiet, The king, and all the others come; a meeting Of gaudy sights : this day's the last of revels; To-morrow sounds of war; then new exchange; Fiddles must turn to swords. — Unhappy mar

riage!

A Flourish.—Enter King JAMES, WARBECK lead

ing KATHERINE, CRAWFORD and his Countess;
JANE DOUGLAS, and other Ladies. HUNTLEY and
DALYELL fall among them.
K. Ja. Cousin of York, you and your princely

bride
Have liberally enjoy'd such soft delights,
As a new-married couple could forethink;