No More Learning

_Enter_ RENARD.

RENARD. Madam, I scarce had left your Grace's presence
Before I chanced upon the messenger
Who brings that letter which we waited for--
The formal offer of Prince Philip's hand.
It craves an instant answer, Ay or No.

MARY. An instant Ay or No! the Council sits.
Give it me quick.

ALICE (_stepping before her_).
Your Highness is all trembling.

MARY. Make way. [_Exit into the Council Chamber_.

ALICE. O, Master Renard, Master Renard,
If you have falsely painted your fine Prince;
Praised, where you should have blamed him, I pray God
No woman ever love you, Master Renard.
It breaks my heart to hear her moan at night
As tho' the nightmare never left her bed.

RENARD. My pretty maiden, tell me, did you ever
Sigh for a beard?

ALICE. That's not a pretty question.

RENARD. Not prettily put? I mean, my pretty maiden,
A pretty man for such a pretty maiden.

ALICE. My Lord of Devon is a pretty man.
I hate him. Well, but if I have, what then?

RENARD. Then, pretty maiden, you should know that whether
A wind be warm or cold, it serves to fan
A kindled fire.

ALICE. According to the song.