STAFFORD. But, sir, if I-- And oversea they say this state of yours Hath no more mortice than a tower of cards; And that a puff would do it--then if I And others made that move I touch'd upon, Back'd by the power of France, and landing here, Came with a sudden splendour, shout, and show, And dazzled men and deafen'd by some bright Loud venture, and the people so unquiet-- And I the race of murder'd Buckingham-- Not for myself, but for the kingdom--Sir, I trust that you would fight along with us. BAGENHALL. No; you would fling your lives into the gulf. STAFFORD. But if this Philip, as he's like to do, Left Mary a wife-widow here alone, Set up a viceroy, sent his myriads hither To seize upon the forts and fleet, and make us A Spanish province; would you not fight then? BAGENHALL. I think I should fight then. STAFFORD. I am sure of it. Hist! there's the face coming on here of one Who knows me. I must leave you. Fare you well, You'll hear of me again. BAGENHALL. Upon the scaffold. [_Exeunt_. SCENE II.--ROOM IN WHITEHALL PALACE. MARY. _Enter_ PHILIP _and_ CARDINAL POLE. POLE. Ave Maria, gratia plena, Benedicta tu in mulieribus. MARY. Loyal and royal cousin, humblest thanks. Had you a pleasant voyage up the river? POLE. We had your royal barge, and that same chair, Or rather throne of purple, on the deck. Our silver cross sparkled before the prow, The ripples twinkled at their diamond-dance, The boats that follow'd, were as glowing-gay As regal gardens; and your flocks of swans, As fair and white as angels; and your shores Wore in mine eyes the green of Paradise. My foreign friends, who dream'd us blanketed In ever-closing fog, were much amazed To find as fair a sun as might have flash'd Upon their lake of Garda, fire the Thames; Our voyage by sea was all but miracle; And here the river flowing from the sea, Not toward it (for they thought not of our tides), Seem'd as a happy miracle to make glide-- In quiet--home your banish'd countryman. MARY. We heard that you were sick in Flanders, cousin. POLE. A dizziness. MARY. And how came you round again? POLE. The scarlet thread of Rahab saved her life; And mine, a little letting of the blood. MARY. Well? now?