395Nor frosty winter, but in her disdayne,

396I cannot blame the Scots that did besiege her,

397For she is all the Treasure of our land:

398But call them cowards that they ran away,

399Hauing so rich and faire a cause to stay.

400Art thou thete Lodwicke, giue me incke and paper?

401Lo: I will my liege.

402K: And bid the Lords hold on their play at Chesse,

403For wee will walke and meditate alone.

404Lo: I will my soueraigne.

405Ki: This fellow is well read in poetrie,

406And hath a lustie and perswasiue spirite:

407I will acquaint him with my passion,

408Which he shall shadow with a vaile of lawne,

409Through which the Queene of beauties Queene shall see,

410Herselfe the ground of my infirmitie.

412Ki: Hast thou pen, inke and paper ready Lodowike,

413Lo: Ready my liege.

414Ki: Then in the sommer arber sit by me,

415Make it our counsel house or cabynet:

416Since greene our thoughts, greene be the conuenticle,

417Where we will ease vs by disburdning them:

418Now Lodwike inuocate some golden Muse,

419To bring thee hither an inchanted pen,

420That may for sighes, set downe true sighes indeed:

421Talking of griefe, to make thee ready grone,

422And when thou writest of teares, encouch the word,

423Before and after with such sweete laments,

424That it may rayse drops in a Torters eye,

425And make a flynt heart Sythian pytifull,

426For so much moouing hath a Poets pen:

427Then if thou be a Poet moue thou so,

428And be enriched by thy soueraigne loue:

429For if the touch of sweet concordant strlngs,

430Could force attendance in the eares of hel: