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LADY CLARENCE. Ay, Madam; but Sir Nicholas Heath, the Chancellor,
Would see your Highness.

MARY. Wherefore should I see him?

LADY CLARENCE. Well, Madam, he may bring you news from Philip.

MARY. So, Clarence.

LADY CLARENCE. Let me first put up your hair;
It tumbles all abroad.

MARY. And the gray dawn
Of an old age that never will be mine
Is all the clearer seen. No, no; what matters?
Forlorn I am, and let me look forlorn.
_Enter_ SIR NICHOLAS HEATH.

HEATH. I bring your Majesty such grievous news
I grieve to bring it. Madam, Calais is taken.

MARY. What traitor spoke? Here, let my cousin Pole
Seize him and burn him for a Lutheran.

HEATH. Her Highness is unwell. I will retire.

LADY CLARENCE. Madam, your Chancellor, Sir Nicholas Heath.

MARY. Sir Nicholas! I am stunn'd--Nicholas Heath?
Methought some traitor smote me on the head.