Queen Mary; and, Harold Part 33

ALICE. You are the stateliest deer in all the herd-- Beyond his aim--but I am small and scandalous, And love to hear bad tales of Philip.

LADY MAGDALEN. Why?

I never heard him utter worse of you Than that you were low-statured.

ALICE. Does he think Low stature is low nature, or all women's Low as his own?

LADY MAGDALEN. There you strike in the nail.

This coa.r.s.eness is a want of phantasy.

It is the low man thinks the woman low; Sin is too dull to see beyond himself.

ALICE. Ah, Magdalen, sin is bold as well as dull.

How dared he?

LADY MAGDALEN. Stupid soldiers oft are bold.

Poor lads, they see not what the general sees, A risk of utter ruin. I am _not_ Beyond his aim, or was not.

ALICE. Who? Not you?

Tell, tell me; save my credit with myself.

LADY MAGDALEN. I never breathed it to a bird in the eaves, Would not for all the stars and maiden moon Our drooping Queen should know! In Hampton Court My window look'd upon the corridor; And I was robing;--this poor throat of mine, Barer than I should wish a man to see it,-- When he we speak of drove the window back, And, like a thief, push'd in his royal hand; But by G.o.d's providence a good stout staff Lay near me; and you know me strong of arm; I do believe I lamed his Majesty's For a day or two, tho', give the Devil his due, I never found he bore me any spite.

ALICE. I would she could have wedded that poor youth, My Lord of Devon--light enough, G.o.d knows, And mixt with Wyatt's rising--and the boy Not out of him--but neither cold, coa.r.s.e, cruel, And more than all--no Spaniard.

LADY CLARENCE. Not so loud.

Lord Devon, girls! what are you whispering here?

ALICE. Probing an old state-secret--how it chanced That this young Earl was sent on foreign travel, Not lost his head.

LADY CLARENCE. There was no proof against him.

ALICE. Nay, Madam; did not Gardiner intercept A letter which the Count de Noailles wrote To that dead traitor Wyatt, with full proof Of Courtenay's treason? What became of that?

LADY CLARENCE. Some say that Gardiner, out of love for him, Burnt it, and some relate that it was lost When Wyatt sack'd the Chancellor's house in Southwark.

Let dead things rest.

ALICE. Ay, and with him who died Alone in Italy.

LADY CLARENCE. Much changed, I hear, Had put off levity and put graveness on.

The foreign courts report him in his manner n.o.ble as his young person and old s.h.i.+eld.

It might be so--but all is over now; He caught a chill in the lagoons of Venice, And died in Padua.

MARY (_looking up suddenly_).

Died in the true faith?

LADY CLARENCE. Ay, Madam, happily.

MARY. Happier he than I.

LADY MAGDALEN. It seems her Highness hath awaken'd. Think you That I might dare to tell her that the Count--

MARY. I will see no man hence for evermore, Saving my confessor and my cousin Pole.

LADY MAGDALEN. It is the Count de Feria, my dear lady.

MARY. What Count?

LADY MAGDALEN. The Count de Feria, from his Majesty King Philip.

MARY. Philip! quick! loop up my hair!

Throw cus.h.i.+ons on that seat, and make it throne-like.

Arrange my dress--the gorgeous Indian shawl That Philip brought me in our happy days!-- That covers all. So--am I somewhat Queenlike, Bride of the mightiest sovereign upon earth?

LADY CLARENCE. Ay, so your Grace would bide a moment yet.

MARY. No, no, he brings a letter. I may die Before I read it. Let me see him at once.

_Enter_ COUNT DE FERIA (_kneels_).

FERIA. I trust your Grace is well. (_Aside_) How her hand burns!

MARY. I am not well, but it will better me, Sir Count, to read the letter which you bring.

FERIA. Madam, I bring no letter.

MARY. How! no letter?

FERIA. His Highness is so vex'd with strange affairs--

MARY. That his own wife is no affair of his.

FERIA. Nay, Madam, nay! he sends his veriest love, And says, he will come quickly.

MARY. Doth he, indeed?

You, sir, do _you_ remember what _you_ said When last you came to England?

FERIA. Madam, I brought My King's congratulations; it was hoped Your Highness was once more in happy state To give him an heir male.

MARY. Sir, you said more; You said he would come quickly. I had horses On all the road from Dover, day and night; On all the road from Harwich, night and day; But the child came not, and the husband came not; And yet he will come quickly.... Thou hast learnt Thy lesson, and I mine. There is no need For Philip so to shame himself again.

Return, And tell him that I know he comes no more.

Tell him at last I know his love is dead, And that I am in state to bring forth death-- Thou art commission'd to Elizabeth, And not to me!

FERIA. Mere compliments and wishes.

But shall I take some message from your Grace?

MARY. Tell her to come and close my dying eyes, And wear my crown, and dance upon my grave.

FERIA. Then I may say your Grace will see your sister?

Your Grace is too low-spirited. Air and suns.h.i.+ne.