I am
somewhat
faint
With our long talk.
With our long talk.
Tennyson
Not yet; but your old Traitors of the Tower--
Why, when you put Northumberland to death,
The sentence having past upon them all,
Spared you the Duke of Suffolk, Guildford Dudley,
Ev'n that young girl who dared to wear your crown?
MARY. Dared? nay, not so; the child obey'd her father.
Spite of her tears her father forced it on her.
RENARD. Good Madam, when the Roman wish'd to reign,
He slew not him alone who wore the purple,
But his assessor in the throne, perchance
A child more innocent than Lady Jane.
MARY. I am English Queen, not Roman Emperor.
RENARD. Yet too much mercy is a want of mercy,
And wastes more life. Stamp out the fire, or this
Will smoulder and re-flame, and burn the throne
Where you should sit with Philip: he will not come
Till she be gone.
MARY. Indeed, if that were true--
For Philip comes, one hand in mine, and one
Steadying the tremulous pillars of the Church--
But no, no, no. Farewell.
I am somewhat faint
With our long talk. Tho' Queen, I am not Queen
Of mine own heart, which every now and then
Beats me half dead: yet stay, this golden chain--
My father on a birthday gave it me,
And I have broken with my father--take
And wear it as memorial of a morning
Which found me full of foolish doubts, and leaves me
As hopeful.
RENARD (_aside_). Whew--the folly of all follies
Is to be love-sick for a shadow. (_Aloud_) Madam,
This chains me to your service, not with gold,
But dearest links of love. Farewell, and trust me,
Philip is yours.
[_Exit_.
MARY. Mine--but not yet all mine.
_Enter_ USHER.
USHER. Your Council is in Session, please your Majesty.
MARY. Sir, let them sit. I must have time to breathe.
No, say I come.
Why, when you put Northumberland to death,
The sentence having past upon them all,
Spared you the Duke of Suffolk, Guildford Dudley,
Ev'n that young girl who dared to wear your crown?
MARY. Dared? nay, not so; the child obey'd her father.
Spite of her tears her father forced it on her.
RENARD. Good Madam, when the Roman wish'd to reign,
He slew not him alone who wore the purple,
But his assessor in the throne, perchance
A child more innocent than Lady Jane.
MARY. I am English Queen, not Roman Emperor.
RENARD. Yet too much mercy is a want of mercy,
And wastes more life. Stamp out the fire, or this
Will smoulder and re-flame, and burn the throne
Where you should sit with Philip: he will not come
Till she be gone.
MARY. Indeed, if that were true--
For Philip comes, one hand in mine, and one
Steadying the tremulous pillars of the Church--
But no, no, no. Farewell.
I am somewhat faint
With our long talk. Tho' Queen, I am not Queen
Of mine own heart, which every now and then
Beats me half dead: yet stay, this golden chain--
My father on a birthday gave it me,
And I have broken with my father--take
And wear it as memorial of a morning
Which found me full of foolish doubts, and leaves me
As hopeful.
RENARD (_aside_). Whew--the folly of all follies
Is to be love-sick for a shadow. (_Aloud_) Madam,
This chains me to your service, not with gold,
But dearest links of love. Farewell, and trust me,
Philip is yours.
[_Exit_.
MARY. Mine--but not yet all mine.
_Enter_ USHER.
USHER. Your Council is in Session, please your Majesty.
MARY. Sir, let them sit. I must have time to breathe.
No, say I come.
