No More Learning

PHILIP. Ay, ay; but many voices call me hence.

MARY. Voices--I hear unhappy rumours--nay,
I say not, I believe. What voices call you
Dearer than mine that should be dearest to you?
Alas, my Lord! what voices and how many?

PHILIP. The voices of Castille and Aragon,
Granada, Naples, Sicily, and Milan,--
The voices of Franche-Comte, and the Netherlands,
The voices of Peru and Mexico,
Tunis, and Oran, and the Philippines,
And all the fair spice-islands of the East.

MARY (_admiringly_).
You are the mightiest monarch upon earth,
I but a little Queen: and, so indeed,
Need you the more.

PHILIP. A little Queen! but when
I came to wed your majesty, Lord Howard,
Sending an insolent shot that dash'd the seas
Upon us, made us lower our kingly flag
To yours of England.

MARY.
Howard is all English!
There is no king, not were he ten times king,
Ten times our husband, but must lower his flag
To that of England in the seas of England.

PHILIP. Is that your answer?

MARY. Being Queen of England,
I have none other.

PHILIP. So.

MARY. But wherefore not
Helm the huge vessel of your state, my liege,
Here by the side of her who loves you most?

PHILIP. No, Madam, no! a candle in the sun
Is all but smoke--a star beside the moon
Is all but lost; your people will not crown me--
Your people are as cheerless as your clime;
Hate me and mine: witness the brawls, the gibbets.
Here swings a Spaniard--there an Englishman;
The peoples are unlike as their complexion;
Yet will I be your swallow and return--
But now I cannot bide.

MARY. Not to help _me?