_Bp. of St And._ If we with patience may attention gain, Your grace shall know the cause of all our grief.
_Q. Dor._ Speak on, good father: come and sit by me: I know thy care is for the common good.
_Bp. of St And._ As fortune, mighty princess, reareth some To high estate and place in commonweal, So by divine bequest to them is lent A riper judgment and more searching eye, Whereby they may discern the common harm; For where our fortunes in the world are most, Where all our profits rise and still increase, There is our mind, thereon we meditate,-- And what we do partake of good advice, That we employ for to concern the same. To this intent, these nobles and myself, That are, or should be, eyes of commonweal, Seeing his highness' reckless course of youth, His lawless and unbridled vein in love, His too intentive trust to flatterers, His abject care of counsel and his friends, Cannot but grieve; and, since we cannot draw His eye or judgment to discern his faults, Since we have spoke and counsel is not heard, I, for my part,--let others as they list,-- Will leave the court, and leave him to his will, Lest with a ruthful eye I should behold His overthrow, which, sore I fear, is nigh.
_Q. Dor._ Ah, father, are you so estrang'd from love, From due allegiance to your prince and land, To leave your king when most he needs your help? The thrifty husbandmen are never wont, That see their lands unfruitful, to forsake them; But, when the mould is barren and unapt, They toil, they plow, and make the fallow fat: The pilot in the dangerous seas is known; In calmer waves the silly sailor strives. Are you not members, lords, of commonweal, And can your head, your dear anointed king, Default, ye lords, except yourselves do fail? O, stay your steps, return and counsel him!
_Doug._ Men seek not moss upon a rolling stone, Or water from the sieve, or fire from ice, Or comfort from a reckless monarch's hands. Madam, he sets us light, that serv'd in court, In place of credit, in his father's days: If we but enter presence of his grace, Our payment is a frown, a scoff, a frump; Whilst flattering Gnatho[267] pranks it by his side, Soothing the careless king in his misdeeds: And, if your grace consider your estate, His life should urge you too, if all be true.