COUNTESS.
Tis not for fear, and yet you run away.--
O happy comfort, welcome to our house!
The confident and boisterous boasting Scot,
That swore before my walls they would not back
For all the armed power of this land,
With faceless fear that ever turns his back,
Turned hence against the blasting North-east wind
Upon the bare report and name of Arms.

[Enter Mountague.]

O Summer's day! See where my Cousin comes!

MOUNTAGUE.
How fares my Aunt? We are not Scots;
Why do you shut your gates against your friends?

COUNTESS.
Well may I give a welcome, Cousin, to thee,
For thou comst well to chase my foes from hence.

MOUNTAGUE.
The king himself is come in person hither;
Dear Aunt, descend, and gratulate his highness.

COUNTESS.
How may I entertain his Majesty,
To shew my duty and his dignity?