I will not have God's judgment gripe my throat When I am dead, to hale me into hell For a man's sake slain on this wise. Take heed.
See you to that.
[Exit.]
QUEEN.
One of you maidens there Bid my lord hither. Now by Mary's soul, He shall not die and bring me into shame.
There's treason in you like a fever, hot, My holy-natured brother, cheek and eye;You look red through with it: sick, honor-sick, Specked with the blain of treason, leper-like-A scrupulous fair traitor with clean lips-
If one should sue to hell to do him good He were as brotherly holpen as I am.
This man must live and say no harm of me;
I may reprieve and cast him forth; yea, so-
This were the best; or if he die midway-
Yea, anything, so that he die not here.
[To the MARIES within.]
Fetch hither Darnley. Nay, ye gape on me-
What, doth he sleep, or feeds, or plays at games?
Why, I would see him; I am weary for his sake;Bid my lord in.-Nathless he will but chide;
Nay, fleer and laugh: what should one say to him?
There were some word if one could hit on it;
Some way to close with him: I wot not.-Sir, [Enter DARNLEY.]
Please it your love I have a suit to you.
DARNLEY.
What sort of suit?
QUEEN.
Nay, if you be not friends-
I have no suit towards mine enemies.
DARNLEY.
Eh, do I look now like your enemy?
QUEEN.
You have a way of peering under brow I do not like. If you see anything In me that irks you I will painfully Labor to lose it: do but show me favor, And as I am your faithful humble wife This foolishness shall be removed in me.
DARNLEY.
Why do you laugh and mock me with stretched hands?
Faith, I see no such thing.
QUEEN.
That is well seen.
Come, I will take my heart between my lips, Use it not hardly. Sir, my suit begins;That you would please to make me that I am, (In sooth I think I am) mistress and queen Of mine own people.
DARNLEY.
Why, this is no suit;
This is a simple matter, and your own.
QUEEN.
It was, before God made you king of me.
DARNLEY.
No king, by God's grace; were I such a king I'd sell my kingdom for six roods of rye.
QUEEN.
You are too sharp upon my words; I would Have leave of you to free a man condemned.
DARNLEY.
What man is that, sweet?
QUEEN.
Such a mad poor man As God desires us use not cruelly.
DARNLEY.
Is there no name a man may call him by?
QUEEN.
Nay, my fair master, what fair game is this?
Why, you do know him, it is Chastelard.
DARNLEY.
Ay, is it soothly?
QUEEN.
By my life, it is;
Sweet, as you tender me, so pardon him.
DARNLEY.
As he doth tender you, so pardon me;
For if it were the mean to save my life He should not live a day.
QUEEN.
Nay, shall not he?
DARNLEY.
Look what an evil wit old Fortune hath:
Why, I came here to get his time cut off.
This second fault is meat for lewd men's mouths;You were best have him slain at once: 'tis hot.
QUEEN.
Give me the warrant, and sit down, my lord.
Why, I will sign it; what, I understand How this must be. Should not my name stand here?
DARNLEY.
Yea, there, and here the seal.
QUEEN.
Ay, so you say.
Shall I say too what I am thinking of?
DARNLEY.
Do, if you will.
QUEEN.
I do not like your suit.
DARNLEY.
'Tis of no Frenchman fashion.
QUEEN.
No, God wot;
'Tis nowise great men's fashion in French land To clap a headsman's taberd on their backs.
DARNLEY.
No, madam?
QUEEN.
No; I never wist of that.
Is it a month gone I did call you lord?
I chose you by no straying stroke of sight, But with my heart to love you heartily.
Did I wrong then? did mine eye draw my heart?
I know not; sir, it may be I did wrong:
And yet to love you; and would choose again, Against to choose you.
DARNLEY.
There, I love you too;
Take that for sooth, and let me take this hence.
QUEEN.
O, do you think I hold you off with words?
Why, take it then; there is my handwriting, And here the hand that you shall slay him with.
'Tis a fair hand, a maiden-colored one:
I doubt yet it has never slain a man.
You never fought yet save for game, I wis.
Nay, thank me not, but have it from my sight;Go and make haste for fear he be got forth:
It may be such a man is dangerous;
Who knows what friends he hath? and by my faith I doubt he hath seen some fighting, I do fear He hath fought and shed men's blood; ye are wise men That will not leave such dangerous things alive;'T were well he died the sooner for your sakes.
Pray you make haste; it is not fit he live.
DARNLEY.
What, will you let him die so easily?
QUEEN.
Why, God have mercy! what way should one take To please such people? there's some cunning way, Something I miss, out of my simple soul.
What, must one say "Beseech you do no harm,"
Or "for my love, sweet cousins, be not hard,"Or "let him live but till the vane come round"-Will such things please you? well then, have your way;Sir, I desire you, kneeling down with tears, With sighs and tears, fair sir, require of you, Considering of my love I bear this man, Just for my love's sake let him not be hanged Before the sundown; do thus much for me, To have a queen's prayers follow after you.
DARNLEY.
I know no need for you to gibe at me.
QUEEN.
Alack, what heart then shall I have to jest?
There is no woman jests in such a wise-
For the shame's sake I pray you hang him not, Seeing how I love him, save indeed in silk, Sweet twisted silk of my sad handiwork.
Nay, and you will not do so much for me;
You vex your lip, biting the blood and all:
Were this so hard, and you compassionate?
I am in sore case then, and will weep indeed.
DARNLEY.
What do you mean to cast such gibes at me?
QUEEN.
Woe's me, and will you turn my tears to thorns?
Nay, set your eyes a little in my face;
See, do I weep? what will you make of me?
Will you not swear I love this prisoner?
Ye are wise, and ye will have it; yet for me I wist not of it. We are but feeble fools, And love may catch us when we lie asleep And yet God knows we know not this a whit.
Come, look on me, swear you believe it not:
It may be I will take your word for that.
DARNLEY.
Do you not love him? nay, but verily?
QUEEN.
Now then, make answer to me verily, Which of us twain is wiser? for my part I will not swear I love not, if you will;Ye be wise men and many men, my lords, And ye will have me love him, ye will swear That I do love him; who shall say ye lie?
Look on your paper; maybe I have wept:
Doubtless I love your hanged man in my heart.
