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 n.o.blest 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 Amba.s.sador, 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_.

MARY. Whispering--leagued together To bar me from my Philip.

COURTENAY. Pray--consider--

ELIZABETH (_seeing the_ QUEEN).

Well, that's a n.o.ble horse of yours, my Lord.

I trust that he will carry you well to-day, And heal your headache.

COURTENAY. You are wild; what headache?

Heartache, perchance; not headache.

ELIZABETH (_aside to_ COURTENAY). Are you blind?

[COURTENAY _sees the_ QUEEN _and exit. Exit_ MARY.

_Enter_ LORD WILLIAM HOWARD.

HOWARD. Was that my Lord of Devon? do not you Be seen in corners with my Lord of Devon.

He hath fallen out of favour with the Queen.

She fears the Lords may side with you and him Against her marriage; therefore is he dangerous.

And if this Prince of fluff and feather come To woo you, niece, he is dangerous everyway.

ELIZABETH. Not very dangerous that way, my good uncle.

HOWARD. But your own state is full of danger here.

The disaffected, heretics, reformers, Look to you as the one to crown their ends.

Mix not yourself with any plot I pray you; Nay, if by chance you hear of any such, Speak not thereof--no, not to your best friend, Lest you should be confounded with it. Still-- Perinde ac cadaver--as the priest says, You know your Latin--quiet as a dead body.

What was my Lord of Devon telling you?

ELIZABETH. Whether he told me anything or not, I follow your good counsel, gracious uncle.

Quiet as a dead body.

HOWARD. You do right well.

I do not care to know; but this I charge you, Tell Courtenay nothing. The Lord Chancellor (I count it as a kind of virtue in him, He hath not many), as a mastiff dog May love a puppy cur for no more reason Than that the twain have been tied up together, Thus Gardiner--for the two were fellow-prisoners So many years in yon accursed Tower-- Hath taken to this Courtenay. Look to it, niece, He hath no fence when Gardiner questions him; All oozes out; yet him--because they know him The last White Rose, the last Plantagenet (Nay, there is Cardinal Pole, too), the people Claim as their natural leader--ay, some say, That you shall marry him, make him King belike.

ELIZABETH. Do they say so, good uncle?

HOWARD. Ay, good niece!

You should be plain and open with me, niece.

You should not play upon me.

ELIZABETH. No, good uncle.

_Enter_ GARDINER.

GARDINER. The Queen would see your Grace upon the moment.

ELIZABETH. Why, my lord Bishop?