MARY. Calais! Our one point on the main, the gate of France! I am Queen of England; take mine eyes, mine heart, But do not lose me Calais. GARDINER. Do not fear it. Of that hereafter. I say your Grace is loved. That I may keep you thus, who am your friend And ever faithful counsellor, might I speak? MARY. I can forespeak your speaking. Would I marry Prince Philip, if all England hate him? That is Your question, and I front it with another: Is it England, or a party? Now, your answer. GARDINER. My answer is, I wear beneath my dress A shirt of mail: my house hath been assaulted, And when I walk abroad, the populace, With fingers pointed like so many daggers, Stab me in fancy, hissing Spain and Philip; And when I sleep, a hundred men-at-arms Guard my poor dreams for England. Men would murder me, Because they think me favourer of this marriage. MARY. And that were hard upon you, my Lord Chancellor. GARDINER. But our young Earl of Devon-- MARY. Earl of Devon? I freed him from the Tower, placed him at Court; I made him Earl of Devon, and--the fool-- He wrecks his health and wealth on courtesans, And rolls himself in carrion like a dog. GARDINER. More like a school-boy that hath broken bounds, Sickening himself with sweets. MARY. I will not hear of him. Good, then, they will revolt: but I am Tudor, And shall control them. GARDINER. I will help you, Madam, Even to the utmost. All the church is grateful. You have ousted the mock priest, repulpited The shepherd of St. Peter, raised the rood again, And brought us back the mass. I am all thanks To God and to your Grace: yet I know well, Your people, and I go with them so far, Will brook nor Pope nor Spaniard here to play The tyrant, or in commonwealth or church. MARY (_showing the picture). _Is this the face of one who plays the tyrant? Peruse it; is it not goodly, ay, and gentle? GARDINER. Madam, methinks a cold face and a haughty. And when your Highness talks of Courtenay-- Ay, true--a goodly one. I would his life Were half as goodly (_aside_). MARY. What is that you mutter? GARDINER. Oh, Madam, take it bluntly; marry Philip, And be stepmother of a score of sons! The prince is known in Spain, in Flanders, ha! For Philip-- MARY. You offend us; you may leave us. You see thro' warping glasses. GARDINER. If your Majesty-- MARY. I have sworn upon the body and blood of Christ I'll none but Philip. GARDINER. Hath your Grace so sworn? MARY. Ay, Simon Renard knows it. GARDINER. News to me! It then remains for your poor Gardiner, So you still care to trust him somewhat less Than Simon Renard, to compose the event In some such form as least may harm your Grace. MARY. I'll have the scandal sounded to the mud. I know it a scandal. GARDINER. All my hope is now It may be found a scandal. MARY. You offend us.