Queen Mary; and, Harold - LightNovelsOnl.com
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MARY. But she's a heretic, and, when I am gone, Brings the new learning back.
PHILIP. It must be done.
You must proclaim Elizabeth your heir.
MARY. Then it is done; but you will stay your going Somewhat beyond your settled purpose?
PHILIP. No!
MARY. What, not one day?
PHILIP. You beat upon the rock.
MARY. And I am broken there.
PHILIP. Is this a place To wail in, Madam? what! a public hall.
Go in, I pray you.
MARY. Do not seem so changed.
Say go; but only say it lovingly.
PHILIP. You do mistake. I am not one to change.
I never loved you more.
MARY. Sire, I obey you.
Come quickly.
PHILIP. Ay.
[_Exit_ MARY.
_Enter_ COUNT DE FERIA.
FERIA (_aside_). The Queen in tears!
PHILIP. Feria!
Hast thou not mark'd--come closer to mine ear-- How doubly aged this Queen of ours hath grown Since she lost hope of bearing us a child?
FERIA. Sire, if your Grace hath mark'd it, so have I.
PHILIP. Hast thou not likewise mark'd Elizabeth, How fair and royal--like a Queen, indeed?
FERIA. Allow me the same answer as before-- That if your Grace hath mark'd her, so have I.
PHILIP. Good, now; methinks my Queen is like enough To leave me by and by.
FERIA. To leave you, sire?
PHILIP. I mean not like to live. Elizabeth-- To Philibert of Savoy, as you know, We meant to wed her; but I am not sure She will not serve me better--so my Queen Would leave me--as--my wife.
FERIA. Sire, even so.
PHILIP. She will not have Prince Philibert of Savoy.
FERIA. No, sire.
PHILIP. I have to pray you, some odd time, To sound the Princess carelessly on this; Not as from me, but as your phantasy; And tell me how she takes it.
FERIA. Sire, I will.
PHILIP. I am not certain but that Philibert Shall be the man; and I shall urge his suit Upon the Queen, because I am not certain: You understand, Feria.
FERIA. Sire, I do.
PHILIP. And if you be not secret in this matter, You understand me there, too?
FERIA. Sire, I do.
PHILIP. You must be sweet and supple, like a Frenchman.
She is none of those who loathe the honeycomb.
[_Exit_ FERIA.
_Enter_ RENARD.
RENARD. My liege, I bring you goodly tidings.
PHILIP. Well?
RENARD. There _will_ be war with France, at last, my liege; Sir Thomas Stafford, a bull-headed a.s.s, Sailing from France, with thirty Englishmen, Hath taken Scarboro' Castle, north of York; Proclaims himself protector, and affirms The Queen has forfeited her right to reign By marriage with an alien--other things As idle; a weak Wyatt! Little doubt This buzz will soon be silenced; but the Council (I have talk'd with some already) are for war.
This the fifth conspiracy hatch'd in France; They show their teeth upon it; and your Grace, So you will take advice of mine, should stay Yet for awhile, to shape and guide the event.
PHILIP. Good! Renard, I will stay then.
RENARD. Also, sire, Might I not say--to please your wife, the Queen?
PHILIP. Ay, Renard, if you care to put it so.
[_Exeunt_.
SCENE II.--A ROOM IN THE PALACE.
MARY, _sitting: a rose in her hand_. LADY CLARENCE. ALICE _in the background_.
MARY. Look! I have play'd with this poor rose so long I have broken off the head.
LADY CLARENCE. Your Grace hath been More merciful to many a rebel head That should have fallen, and may rise again.
