CHASTELARD. Lords, and all you come hither for my sake, If while my life was with me like a friend That I must now forget the friendship of, I have done a wrong to any man of you, As it may be by fault of mine I have; Of such an one I crave for courtesy He will now cast it from his mind and heed Like a dead thing; considering my dead fault Worth no remembrance further than my death. This for his gentle honor and goodwill I do beseech him, doubting not to find Such kindliness if he be nobly made And of his birth a courteous race of man. You, my Lord James, if you have aught toward me-- Or you, Lord Darnley--I dare fear no jot, Whate'er this be wherein you were aggrieved, But you will pardon all for gentleness. DARNLEY. For my part--yea, well, if the thing stand thus, As you must die--one would not bear folk hard-- And if the rest shall hold it honorable, Why, I do pardon you. MURRAY. Sir, in all things We find no cause to speak of you but well: For all I see, save this your deadly fault, I hold you for a noble perfect man. CHASTELARD. I thank you, fair lord, for your nobleness. You likewise, for the courtesy you have I give you thanks, sir; and to all these lords That have not heart to load me at my death. Last, I beseech of the best queen of men And royallest fair lady in the world To pardon me my grievous mortal sin Done in such great offence of her: for, sirs, If ever since I came between her eyes She hath beheld me other than I am Or shown her honor other than it is, Or, save in royal faultless courtesies, Used me with favor; if by speech or face, By salutation or by tender eyes, She hath made a way for my desire to live, Given ear to me or boldness to my breath; I pray God cast me forth before day cease Even to the heaviest place there is in hell. Yea, if she be not stainless toward all men, I pray this axe that I shall die upon May cut me off body and soul from heaven. Now for my soul's sake I dare pray to you; Forgive me, madam. QUEEN. Yea, I do, fair sir: With all my heart in all I pardon you. CHASTELARD. God thank you for great mercies. Lords, set hence; I am right loth to hold your patience here; I must not hold much longer any man's. Bring me my way and bid me fare well forth. [As they pass out the QUEEN stays MARY BEATON.] QUEEN. Hark hither, sweet. Get back to Holyrood And take Carmichael with you: go both up In some chief window whence the squares lie clear-- Seem not to know what I shall do--mark that-- And watch how things fare under. Have good cheer; You do not think now I can let him die? Nay, this were shameful madness if you did, And I should hate you. MARY BEATON. Pray you love me, madam, And swear you love me and will let me live, That I may die the quicker.