Chastelard, Pierre de Bocosel de, 1540-1562 -- Drama; Mary, Queen of Scots, 1542-1587 -- Drama; Tragedies (Drama)
FATHER BLACK.
God's peace and health of soul be with the queen!
And pardon be with me though I speak truth.
As I was going on peaceable men's wise
Through your good town, desiring no man harm,
A kind of shameful woman with thief's lips
Spake somewhat to me over a thrust-out chin,
Soliciting as I deemed an alms; which alms
(Remembering what was writ of Magdalen)
I gave no grudging but with pure good heart,
When lo some scurril children that lurked near,
Set there by Satan for my stumbling-stone,
Fell hooting with necks thwart and eyes asquint,
Screeched and made horns and shot out tongues at me,
As at my Lord the Jews shot out their tongues
And made their heads wag; I considering this
Took up my cross in patience and passed forth:
Nevertheless one ran between my feet
And made me totter, using speech and signs
I smart with shame to think of: then my blood
Kindled, and I was moved to smite the knave,
And the knave howled; whereat the lewd whole herd
Brake forth upon me and cast mire and stones
So that I ran sore risk of bruise or gash
If they had touched; likewise I heard men say,
(Their foul speech missed not mine ear) they cried,
"This devil's mass-priest hankers for new flesh
Like a dry hound; let him seek such at home,
Snuff and smoke out the queen's French--"
QUEEN.
They said that?
FATHER BLACK.
"--French paramours that breed more shames than sons
All her court through;" forgive me.
QUEEN.
With my heart.
Father, you see the hatefulness of these--
They loathe us for our love. I am not moved:
What should I do being angry? By this hand
(Which is not big enough to bruise their lips),
I marvel what thing should be done with me
To make me wroth. We must have patience with us
When we seek thank of men.
FATHER BLACK.
Madam, farewell;
I pray God keep you in such patient heart.
[Exit.]
QUEEN.
Let him come now.
MARY SEYTON.
Madam, he is at hand.
[Exit.]
[Enter CHASTELARD.]
QUEEN.
Give me that broidery frame; how, gone so soon?
No maid about? Reach me some skein of silk.
What, are you come, fair lord? Now by my life
That lives here idle, I am right glad of you;
I have slept so well and sweet since yesternight
It seems our dancing put me in glad heart.
Did you sleep well?
CHASTELARD.
Yea, as a man may sleep.
QUEEN.
You smile as if I jested; do not men
Sleep as we do? Had you fair dreams in the night?
For me--but I should fret you with my dreams--
I dreamed sweet things. You are good at soothsaying:
Make me a sonnet of my dream.
CHASTELARD.
I will,
When I shall know it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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