_Hub._ Nay, all my life Is yours. _Mar._ Hear then. I will not wed the king. _Hub._ A princess can not choose. _Mar._ Then I'll not be A princess! _Hub._ Margaret! _Mar._ A princess? Nay, I'll be no more a woman, if that means To cage my soul in circle of a court And fawn on turnkey humor for my life! Scotland is lost to me. I'll not go there To meet my dangerous brother's wrath. No, no! But there are forests--I can fly to them, And dig my food from Nature's generous earth, Thrive on her berries, drink from her clear streams, Sleep 'neath the royal coverlet of her leaves, And make some honest friends 'mong her kind creatures That we call dumb because, forsooth, they speak By eye and touch and gibber not as we! ... So silent, sir? Come, will you not advise me?... There was a day before the day of kings When maidens looked where'er their hearts had sped And found them mates who had no need of crowns To make them royal, and such a day the world May see again, but I, alack, must breathe The present time, and crave the help of state And craft and gold to get me married! O, The judgment angel gathering up our clay Will know this period by its broken hearts! ... Hast not a word? Now should I wed the king? _Hub._ He is a gentle youth, and in your care Would blossom brave in virtues. _Mar._ Nay---- _Hub._ All hope For this poor land lies in your grace. _Mar._ Ah, Hubert, Where is there woman strong enough to save Fair Henry from his flatterers? Not here. Wouldst cast me to the pool where he must drown? _Hub._ Where canst thou hide thy beauty, Margaret? This is wild talk of forests. Where couldst flee? What land would shelter thee from England's love And Scotland's rage? My own--my Margaret-- Where could we go? _Mar._ O, Hubert, we? _Hub._ I'm mad. Peace to thee, maiden. I go to my ships. _Mar._ Forgive me! I'll be gone. [_Re-enter Gersa_] _Hub._ What! Not aboard? _Ger._ Your pardon, sir. We have confirmed reports The French outnumber us by triple count. Eighty large ships, the double of our own, Besides two score of galleons and small vessels That in themselves would match us. And 'tis sure Le Moine, the pirate, leads the fleet. _Hub._ Are all Now ready? _Ger._ Ay, we wait for you. _Hub._ Grant me A bare half hour--no--not so much. I shall O'ertake you ere you reach your ship. [_Exit Gersa. Hubert turns to Margaret and finds that she has fainted_]