COURTENAY. Well, I was musing upon that; the Queen Is both my foe and yours: we should be friends. ELIZABETH. My Lord, the hatred of another to us Is no true bond of friendship. COURTENAY. Might it not Be the rough preface of some closer bond? ELIZABETH. My Lord, you late were loosed from out the Tower, Where, like a butterfly in a chrysalis, You spent your life; that broken, out you flutter Thro' the new world, go zigzag, now would settle Upon this flower, now that; but all things here At court are known; you have solicited The Queen, and been rejected. COURTENAY. Flower, she! Half faded! but you, cousin, are fresh and sweet As the first flower no bee has ever tried. ELIZABETH. Are you the bee to try me? why, but now I called you butterfly. COURTENAY. You did me wrong, I love not to be called a butterfly: Why do you call me butterfly? ELIZABETH. Why do you go so gay then? COURTENAY. Velvet and gold. This dress was made me as the Earl of Devon To take my seat in; looks it not right royal? ELIZABETH. So royal that the Queen forbad you wearing it. COURTENAY. I wear it then to spite her. ELIZABETH. My Lord, my Lord; I see you in the Tower again. Her Majesty Hears you affect the Prince--prelates kneel to you.-- COURTENAY. I am the noblest blood in Europe, Madam, A Courtenay of Devon, and her cousin. ELIZABETH. She hears you make your boast that after all She means to wed you. Folly, my good Lord. COURTENAY. How folly? a great party in the state Wills me to wed her. ELIZABETH. Failing her, my Lord, Doth not as great a party in the state Will you to wed me? COURTENAY. Even so, fair lady. ELIZABETH. You know to flatter ladies. COURTENAY. Nay, I meant True matters of the heart. ELIZABETH. _My_ heart, my Lord, Is no great party in the state as yet. COURTENAY. Great, said you? nay, you shall be great. I love you, Lay my life in your hands. Can you be close? ELIZABETH. Can you, my Lord? COURTENAY. Close as a miser's casket. Listen: The King of France, Noailles the Ambassador, The Duke of Suffolk and Sir Peter Carew, Sir Thomas Wyatt, I myself, some others, Have sworn this Spanish marriage shall not be. If Mary will not hear us--well--conjecture-- Were I in Devon with my wedded bride, The people there so worship me--Your ear; You shall be Queen. ELIZABETH. You speak too low, my Lord; I cannot hear you. COURTENAY. I'll repeat it. ELIZABETH. No! Stand further off, or you may lose your head. COURTENAY. I have a head to lose for your sweet sake. ELIZABETH. Have you, my Lord? Best keep it for your own. Nay, pout not, cousin. Not many friends are mine, except indeed Among the many. I believe you mine; And so you may continue mine, farewell, And that at once. _Enter_ MARY, _behind_.