You made a song once of old flowers and loves, Will you not sing that rather? 't is long gone Since you sang last.

QUEEN.

I had rather sigh than sing And sleep than sigh; 't is long since verily, But I will once more sing; ay, thus it was.

[Sings.]

1.

J'ai vu faner bien des choses, Mainte feuille aller au vent.

En songeant aux vieilles roses, J'ai pleure souvent.

2.

Vois-tu dans les roses mortes Amour qui sourit cache?

O mon amant, a nos portes L'as-tu vu couche?

3.

As-tu vu jamais au monde Venus chasser et courir?

Fille de l'onde, avec l'onde Doit-elle mourir?

4.

Aux jours de neige et de givre L'amour s'effeuille et s'endort; Avec mai doit-il revivre, Ou bien est-il mort?

5.

Qui sait ou s'en vont les roses?

Qui sai ou s'en va le vent?

En songeant a telles choses, J'ai pleure souvent.

I never heard yet but love made good knights, But for pure faith, by Mary's holiness, I think she lies about men's lips asleep, And if one kiss or pluck her by the hand To wake her, why God help your woman's wit, Faith is but dead; dig her grave deep at heart, And hide her face with cerecloths; farewell faith.

Would I could tell why I talk idly. Look, Here come my riddle-readers. Welcome all;

[Enter MURRAY, DARNLEY, RANDOLPH, LINDSAY, MORTON, and other LORDS.]

Sirs, be right welcome. Stand you by my side, Fair cousin, I must lean on love or fall; You are a goodly staff, sir; tall enough, And fair enough to serve. My gentle lords, I am full glad of God that in great grace He hath given me such a lordly stay as this; There is no better friended queen alive.

For the repealing of those banished men That stand in peril yet of last year's fault, It is our will; you have our seal to that.

Brother, we hear harsh bruits of bad report Blown up and down about our almoner; See you to this: let him be sought into: They say lewd folk make ballads of their spleen, Strew miry ways of words with talk of him; If they have cause let him be spoken with.

LINDSAY.

Madam, they charge him with so rank a life Were it not well this fellow were plucked out-- Seeing this is not an eye that doth offend, But a blurred glass it were no harm to break; Yea rather it were gracious to be done?

QUEEN.

Let him be weighed, and use him as he is; I am of my nature pitiful, ye know, And cannot turn my love unto a thorn In so brief space. Ye are all most virtuous; Yea, there is goodness grafted on this land; But yet compassion is some part of God.

There is much heavier business held on hand Than one man's goodness: yea, as things fare here, A matter worth more weighing. All you wot I am choose a help to my weak feet, A lamp before my face, a lord and friend To walk with me in weary ways, high up Between the wind and rain and the hot sun.

Now I have chosen a helper to myself, I wot the best a woman ever won; A man that loves me, and a royal man, A goodly love and lord for any queen.

But for the peril and despite of men I have sometime tarried and withheld myself, Not fearful of his worthiness nor you, But with some lady's loathing to let out My whole heart's love; for truly this is hard, Not like a woman's fashion, shamefacedness And noble grave reluctance of herself To be the tongue and cry of her own heart.

Nathless plain speech is better than much wit, So ye shall bear with me; albeit I think Ye have caught the mark whereat my heart is bent.

I have kept close counsel and shut up men's lips, But lightly shall a woman's will slip out, The foolish little winged will of her, Through cheek or eye when tongue is charmed asleep.

For that good lord I have good will to wed, I wot he knew long since which way it flew, Even till it lit on his right wrist and sang.

Lo, here I take him by the hand: fair lords, This is my kinsman, made of mine own blood, I take to halve the state and services That bow down to me, and to be my head, My chief, my master, my sweet lord and king.

Now shall I never say "sweet cousin" more To my dear head and husband; here, fair sir, I give you all the heart of love in me To gather off my lips. Did it like you, The taste of it? sir, it was whole and true.

God save our king!

DARNLEY.

Nay, nay, sweet love, no lord; No king of yours though I were lord of these.

QUEEN.

Let word be sent to all good friends of ours To help us to be glad; England and France Shall bear great part of our rejoicings up.

Give me your hand, dear lord; for from this time I must not walk alone. Lords, have good cheer: For you shall have a better face than mine To set upon your kingly gold and show For Scotland's forehead in the van of things.

Go with us now, and see this news set out.

[Exeunt QUEEN, DARNLEY, and LORDS.]

[As CHASTELARD is going out, enter MARY BEATON.]

MARY BEATON.

Have you yet heard? You knew of this?

CHASTELARD.

I know.

I was just thinking how such things were made And were so fair as this is. Do you know She held me here and talked--the most sweet talk Men ever heard of?

MARY BEATON.

You hate me to the heart.

What will you do?

CHASTELARD.

I know not: die some day, But live as long and lightly as I can.

Will you now love me? faith, but if you do, It were much better you were dead and hearsed.

Will you do one thing for me?

MARY BEATON.

Yea, all things.

CHASTELARD.

Speak truth a little, for God's sake: indeed It were no harm to do. Come, will you, sweet?

Though it be but to please God.

MARY BEATON.

What will you do?

CHASTELARD.

Ay, true, I must do somewhat. Let me see: To get between and tread upon his face-- Catch both her hands and bid men look at them, How pure they were--I would do none of these, Though they got wedded all the days in the year.

We may do well yet when all's come and gone.

I pray you on this wedding-night of theirs Do but one thing that I shall ask of you, And Darnley will not hunger as I shall For that good time. Sweet, will you swear me this?

MARY BEATON.

Yea; though to do it were mortal to my soul As the chief sin.

CHASTELARD.

I thank you: let us go.