Queen Mary; and, HaroldTennyson, Alfred Tennyson, Baron
History
Queen Mary; and, Harold
Tennyson, Alfred Tennyson, Baron
Drama; Mary I, Queen of England, 1516-1558 -- Drama
GARDINER. Madam, to have the wish before the word
Is man's good Fairy--and the Queen is yours.
I left her with rich jewels in her hand,
Whereof 'tis like enough she means to make
A farewell present to your Grace.
ELIZABETH. My Lord,
I have the jewel of a loyal heart.
GARDINER. I doubt it not, Madam, most loyal.
[_Bows low and exit_.
HOWARD. See,
This comes of parleying with my Lord of Devon.
Well, well, you must obey; and I myself
Believe it will be better for your welfare.
Your time will come.
ELIZABETH. I think my time will come.
Uncle,
I am of sovereign nature, that I know,
Not to be quell'd; and I have felt within me
Stirrings of some great doom when God's just hour
Peals--but this fierce old Gardiner--his big baldness,
That irritable forelock which he rubs,
His buzzard beak and deep-incavern'd eyes
Half fright me.
HOWARD. You've a bold heart; keep it so.
He cannot touch you save that you turn traitor;
And so take heed I pray you--you are one
Who love that men should smile upon you, niece.
They'd smile you into treason--some of them.
ELIZABETH. I spy the rock beneath the smiling sea.
But if this Philip, the proud Catholic prince,
And this bald priest, and she that hates me, seek
In that lone house, to practise on my life,
By poison, fire, shot, stab--
HOWARD. They will not, niece.
Mine is the fleet and all the power at sea--
Or will be in a moment. If they dared
To harm you, I would blow this Philip and all
Your trouble to the dogstar and the devil.
ELIZABETH. To the Pleiads, uncle; they have lost
a sister.
HOWARD. But why say that? what have you done
to lose her?
Come, come, I will go with you to the Queen.
[_Exeunt_.
SCENE V.--A ROOM IN THE PALACE.
MARY _with_ PHILIP'S _miniature_. ALICE.
MARY (_kissing the miniature_).
Most goodly, King-like and an Emperor's son,--
A king to be,--is he not noble, girl?
ALICE. Goodly enough, your Grace, and yet, methinks,
I have seen goodlier.
MARY. Ay; some waxen doll
Thy baby eyes have rested on, belike;
All red and white, the fashion of our land.
But my good mother came (God rest her soul)
Of Spain, and I am Spanish in myself,
And in my likings.
ALICE. By your Grace's leave
Your royal mother came of Spain, but took
To the English red and white. Your royal father
(For so they say) was all pure lily and rose
In his youth, and like a lady.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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