“A truce to thy rejoinders, sweetheart,” returned Xit. “Thy wit is as keen as my arrows, and as sure to hit the mark.” “My wit resembles thy godship’s arrows in one particular only,” retorted Jane. “It strikes deepest where it is most carelessly aimed. But, hie away! Thou wilt find Love no match for Folly.” “So I perceive,” replied Xit, “and shall therefore proceed to Beauty. I must have been blinder than poets feign, to have come near thee at all. In my pursuit of Folly, I have forgot the real business of Love. But thus it is ever with me and my minions!” With this, he fluttered towards the queen, and prostrating himself before her, said—“Your majesty will not banish Love from your court?” “Assuredly not,” replied Mary; “or if we did banish thee, thou wouldst be sure to find some secret entrance.” “Your majesty is in the right,” replied the mimic deity, “I should. And disdain not this caution from Cupid. As long as you keep my two companions, Jealousy and Malice, at a distance, Love will appear in his own rosy hues. But the moment you admit them, he will change his colours, and become a tormentor.” “But if thou distributest thy shafts at random, so that lovers dote on more than one object, how am I to exclude Jealousy?” asked the queen. “By cultivating self-esteem,” replied Cupid. “The heart I have wounded for your highness can never feel disloyalty.” “That is true, thou imp,” observed Courtenay; “and for that speech, I forgive thee the mischief thou hast done.” “And so thou assurest me against infidelity?” said Mary. “Your highness may be as inconstant as you please,” replied Cupid, “since the dart I aimed at you has been turned aside by Sir Henry Bedingfeld. But rest easy. He who loves you can love no other.” “I am well satisfied,” replied Mary, with a gratified look. “And since I have thy permission to love whom I please, I shall avail myself largely of it, and give all my heart to my subjects.” “Not all your heart, my gracious mistress,” said Courtenay, in a tender whisper. At this juncture, Xit, watching his opportunity, drew an arrow from his quiver, and touched the queen with it near the heart. “I have hit your majesty at last, as well as the Earl of Devonshire,” he cried gleefully. “Shall I summon my brother Hymen to your assistance? He is among the crowd below.” A half-suppressed smile among the royal attendants followed this daring remark. “That knave’s audacity encourages me to hope, gracious madam,” whispered Courtenay, “that this moment may be the proudest—the happiest of my life.” “No more of this—at least not now, my lord,” replied Mary, whose notions of decorum were somewhat scandalised at this public declaration. “Dismiss this imp. He draws too many eyes upon us.” “I have a set of verses to recite to your majesty,” interposed Xit, whose quick ears caught the remark, and who was in no hurry to leave the royal presence.