[Exit Mountney.]

SCENE II.

An Ante-Chamber at the Danish Court.

[Enter Marques Lubeck and Mariana.]

Mariana. 
Trust me, my Lord, I am sorry for your hurt.

Lubeck. 
Gramercie, Madam; but it is not great: 
Only a thrust, prickt with a Rapiers point.

Mariana. 
How grew the quarrel, my Lord?

Lubeck.  Sweet Lady, for thy sake.  There was this last night two masks in one company, my self the formost.  The other strangers were:  amongst the which, when the Musick began to sound the Measures, each Masker made choice of his Lady; and one, more forward than the rest, stept towards thee, which I perceiving, thrust him aside, and took thee my self.  But this was taken in so ill part that at my coming out of the court gate, with justling together, it was my chance to be thrust into the arm.  The doer thereof, because he was the original cause of the disorder at that inconvenient time, was presently committed, and is this morning sent for to answer the matter.  And I think here he comes.

[Here enters Sir Robert of Windsor with a Gaylor.]

What, Sir Robert of Windsor, how now?

Sir Robert. 
Yfaith, my Lord, a prisoner:  but what ails your arm?

Lubeck. 
Hurt the last night by mischance.

Sir Robert. 
What, not in the mask at the Court gate?

Lubeck. 
Yes, trust me, there.

Sir Robert. 
Why then, my Lord, I thank you for my nights lodging.

Lubeck. 
And I you for my hurt, if it were so.  Keeper, away, I
discharge you of your prisoner.

[Exit the Keeper.]

Sir Robert. 
Lord Marques, you offered me disgrace to shoulder me.

Lubeck.  Sir, I knew you not, and therefore you must pardon me, and the rather it might be alleged to me of mere simplicity to see another dance with my Maistris, disguised, and I my self in presence.  But seeing it was our happs to damnify each other unwillingly, let us be content with our harms, and lay the fault where it was, and so become friends.

Sir Robert. 
Yfaith, I am content with my nights lodging, if you be content
with your hurt.

Lubeck. 
Not content that I have it, but content to forget how I came
by it.

Sir Robert. 
My Lord, here comes Lady Blaunch, lets away.

[Enter Blaunch.]

Lubeck. 
With good will.  Lady, you will stay?

[Exit Lubeck and Sir Robert.]

Mariana. 
Madam—­

Blaunch.  Mariana, as I am grieved with thy presence:  so am I not offended for thy absence; and were it not a breach to modesty, thou shouldest know before I left thee.