Throw
cushions
on that seat, and make it throne-like.
Tennyson
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 cushions 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.
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 cushions 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.
