Chastelard, Pierre de Bocosel de, 1540-1562 -- Drama; Mary, Queen of Scots, 1542-1587 -- Drama; Tragedies (Drama)
MARY SEYTON.
Indeed I saw them kiss.
QUEEN.
So lovers use--
What, their mouths close? a goodly way of love!
Or but the hands? or on her throat? Prithee--
You have sworn that.
MARY SEYTON.
I say what I saw done.
QUEEN.
Ay, you did see her cheeks (God smite them red!)
Kissed either side? what, they must eat strange food
Those singing lips of his?
MARY SEYTON.
Sweet meat enough--
They started at my coming five yards off,
But there they were.
QUEEN.
A maid may have kissed cheeks
And no shame in them--yet one would not swear.
You have sworn that. Pray God he be not mad:
A sickness in his eyes. The left side love
(I was told that) and the right courtesy.
'T is good fools' fashion. What, no more but this?
For me, God knows I am no whit wroth; not I;
But, for your fame's sake that her shame will sting,
I cannot see a way to pardon her--
For your fame's sake, lest that be prated of.
MARY SEYTON.
Nay, if she were not chaste--I have not said
She was not chaste.
QUEEN.
I know you are tender of her;
And your sweet word will hardly turn her sweet.
MARY SEYTON.
Indeed I would fain do her any good.
Shall I not take some gracious word to her?
QUEEN.
Bid her not come or wait on me to-day.
MARY SEYTON.
Will you see him?
QUEEN.
See--O, this Chastelard?
He doth not well to sing maids into shame;
And folk are sharp here; yet for sweet friends' sake
Assuredly I 'll see him. I am not wroth.
A goodly man, and a good sword thereto--
It may be he shall wed her. I am not wroth.
MARY SEYTON.
Nay, though she bore with him, she hath no great love,
I doubt me, that way.
QUEEN.
God mend all, I pray--
And keep us from all wrongdoing and wild words.
I think there is no fault men fall upon
But I could pardon. Look you, I would swear
She were no paramour for any man,
So well I love her.
MARY SEYTON.
Am I to bid him in?
QUEEN.
As you will, sweet. But if you held me hard
You did me grievous wrong. Doth he wait there?
Men call me over tender; I had rather so,
Than too ungracious. Father, what with you?
[Enter FATHER BLACK.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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