USHER. Your Council is in Session, please your Majesty. MARY. Sir, let them sit. I must have time to breathe. No, say I come. (_Exit_ USHER.) I won by boldness once. The Emperor counsell'd me to fly to Flanders. I would not; but a hundred miles I rode, Sent out my letters, call'd my friends together, Struck home and won. And when the Council would not crown me--thought To bind me first by oaths I could not keep, And keep with Christ and conscience--was it boldness Or weakness that won there? when I, their Queen, Cast myself down upon my knees before them, And those hard men brake into woman tears, Ev'n Gardiner, all amazed, and in that passion Gave me my Crown. _Enter_ ALICE. Girl; hast thou ever heard Slanders against Prince Philip in our Court? ALICE. What slanders? I, your Grace; no, never. MARY. Nothing? ALICE. Never, your Grace. MARY. See that you neither hear them nor repeat! ALICE (_aside_). Good Lord! but I have heard a thousand such. Ay, and repeated them as often--mum! Why comes that old fox-Fleming back again? _Enter_ RENARD. RENARD. Madam, I scarce had left your Grace's presence Before I chanced upon the messenger Who brings that letter which we waited for-- The formal offer of Prince Philip's hand. It craves an instant answer, Ay or No. MARY. An instant Ay or No! the Council sits. Give it me quick. ALICE (_stepping before her_). Your Highness is all trembling. MARY. Make way. [_Exit into the Council Chamber_. ALICE. O, Master Renard, Master Renard, If you have falsely painted your fine Prince; Praised, where you should have blamed him, I pray God No woman ever love you, Master Renard. It breaks my heart to hear her moan at night As tho' the nightmare never left her bed. RENARD. My pretty maiden, tell me, did you ever Sigh for a beard? ALICE. That's not a pretty question. RENARD. Not prettily put? I mean, my pretty maiden, A pretty man for such a pretty maiden. ALICE. My Lord of Devon is a pretty man. I hate him. Well, but if I have, what then? RENARD. Then, pretty maiden, you should know that whether A wind be warm or cold, it serves to fan A kindled fire. ALICE. According to the song. His friends would praise him, I believed 'em, His foes would blame him, and I scorn'd 'em, His friends--as Angels I received 'em, His foes--the Devil had suborn'd 'em. RENARD. Peace, pretty maiden. I hear them stirring in the Council Chamber. Lord Paget's 'Ay' is sure--who else? and yet, They are all too much at odds to close at once In one full-throated No! Her Highness comes. _Enter_ MARY. ALICE. How deathly pale!--a chair, your Highness [_Bringing one to the_ QUEEN. RENARD. Madam, The Council? MARY. Ay! My Philip is all mine. [_Sinks into chair, half fainting_. ACT II SCENE I.--ALINGTON CASTLE.