PHILIP (_to_ RENARD, _who advances to him_). Well, sir, is there more? RENARD (_who has perceived the QUEEN_). May Simon Renard speak a single word? PHILIP. Ay. RENARD. And be forgiven for it? PHILIP. Simon Renard Knows me too well to speak a single word That could not be forgiven. RENARD. Well, my liege, Your Grace hath a most chaste and loving wife. PHILIP. Why not? The Queen of Philip should be chaste. RENARD. Ay, but, my Lord, you know what Virgil sings, Woman is various and most mutable. PHILIP. She play the harlot! never. RENARD. No, sire, no, Not dream'd of by the rabidest gospeller. There was a paper thrown into the palace, 'The King hath wearied of his barren bride.' She came upon it, read it, and then rent it, With all the rage of one who hates a truth He cannot but allow. Sire, I would have you-- What should I say, I cannot pick my words-- Be somewhat less--majestic to your Queen. PHILIP. Am I to change my manners, Simon Renard, Because these islanders are brutal beasts? Or would you have me turn a sonneteer, And warble those brief-sighted eyes of hers? RENARD. Brief-sighted tho' they be, I have seen them, sire, When you perchance were trifling royally With some fair dame of court, suddenly fill With such fierce fire--had it been fire indeed It would have burnt both speakers. PHILIP. Ay, and then? RENARD. Sire, might it not be policy in some matter Of small importance now and then to cede A point to her demand? PHILIP. Well, I am going. RENARD. For should her love when you are gone, my liege, Witness these papers, there will not be wanting Those that will urge her injury--should her love-- And I have known such women more than one-- Veer to the counterpoint, and jealousy Hath in it an alchemic force to fuse Almost into one metal love and hate,-- And she impress her wrongs upon her Council, And these again upon her Parliament-- We are not loved here, and would be then perhaps Not so well holpen in our wars with France, As else we might be--here she comes. _Enter_ MARY. MARY. O Philip! Nay, must you go indeed? PHILIP. Madam, I must. MARY. The parting of a husband and a wife Is like the cleaving of a heart; one half Will flutter here, one there. PHILIP. You say true, Madam. MARY. The Holy Virgin will not have me yet Lose the sweet hope that I may bear a prince. If such a prince were born and you not here! PHILIP. I should be here if such a prince were born. MARY. But must you go?