CHASTELARD. What is to say? why, you do surely know That since my days were counted for a man's I have loved you; yea, how past all help and sense, Whatever thing was bitter to my love, I have loved you; how when I rode in war Your face went floated in among men's helms, Your voice went through the shriek of slipping swords; Yea, and I never have loved women well, Seeing always in my sight I had your lips Curled over, red and sweet; and the soft space Of carven brows, and splendor of great throat Swayed lily-wise; what pleasure should one have To wind his arms about a lesser love? I have seen you; why, this were joy enough For God's eyes up in heaven, only to see And to come never nearer than I am. Why, it was in my flesh, my bone and blood, Bound in my brain, to love you; yea, and writ All my heart over: if I would lie to you I doubt I could not lie. Ah, you see now, You know now well enough; yea, there, sweet love, Let me kiss there. QUEEN. I love you best of them. Clasp me quite round till your lips cleave on mine, False mine, that did you wrong. Forgive them dearly As you are sweet to them; for by love's love I am not that evil woman in my heart That laughs at a rent faith. O Chastelard, Since this was broken to me of your new love I have not seen the face of a sweet hour. Nay, if there be no pardon in a man, What shall a woman have for loving him? Pardon me, sweet. CHASTELARD. Yea, so I pardon you, And this side now; the first way. Would God please To slay me so! who knows how he might please? Now I am thinking, if you know it not, How I might kill you, kiss your breath clean out, And take your soul to bring mine through to God, That our two souls might close and be one twain Or a twain one, and God himself want skill To set us either severally apart. O, you must overlive me many years. And many years my soul be in waste hell; But when some time God can no more refrain To lay death like a kiss across your lips, And great lords bear you clothed with funeral things, And your crown girded over deadly brows, Then after you shall touch me with your eyes, Remembering love was fellow with my flesh Here in sweet earth, and make me well of love And heal my many years with piteousness. QUEEN. You talk too sadly and too feignedly. CHASTELARD. Too sad, but not too feigned; I am sad That I shall die here without feigning thus; And without feigning I were fain to live. QUEEN. Alas, you will be taken presently And then you are but dead. Pray you get hence. CHASTELARD. I will not.