What, is the writing smutched or gone awry?
Or blurred-ay, surely so much-with one tear, One little sharp tear strayed on it by chance?
Come, come, the man is deadly dangerous;
Let him die presently.
DARNLEY.
You do not love him;
Well, yet he need not die; it were right hard To hang the fool because you love him not.
QUEEN.
You have keen wits and thereto courtesy To catch me with. No, let this man not die;It were no such perpetual praise to you To be his doomsman and in doglike wise Bite his brief life in twain.
DARNLEY.
Truly it were not.
QUEEN.
Then for your honor and my love of you (Oh, I do love you! but you know not, sweet, You shall see how much), think you for their sake He may go free?
DARNLEY.
How, freely forth of us?
But yet he loves you, and being mad with love Makes matter for base mouths to chew upon:
'T were best he live not yet.
QUEEN.
Will you say that?
DARNLEY.
Why should he live to breed you bad reports?
Let him die first.
QUEEN.
Sweet, for your sake, not so.
DARNLEY.
Fret not yourself to pity; let him die.
QUEEN.
Come, let him live a little; it shall be A grace to us.
DARNLEY.
By God he dies at once.
QUEEN.
Now, by God's mother, if I respite him, Though you were all the race of you in one And had more tongues than hairs to cry on me He should not lose a hair.
DARNLEY.
This is mere mercy-
But you thank God you love him not a whit?
QUEEN.
It shall be what it please; and if I please It shall be anything. Give me the warrant.
DARNLEY.
Nay, for your sake and love of you, not I, To make it dangerous.
QUEEN.
O, God' pity, sir!
You are tender of me; will you serve me so, Against mine own will, show me so much love, Do me good service that I loath being done, Out of pure pity?
DARNLEY.
Nay, your word shall stand.
QUEEN.
What makes you gape so beastlike after blood?
Were you not bred up on some hangman's hire And dicted with fleshmeats at his hand And fed into a fool? Give me that paper.
DARNLEY.
Now for that word I will not.
QUEEN.
Nay, sweet love, For your own sake be just a little wise;Come, I beseech you.
DARNLEY.
Pluck not at my hands.
QUEEN.
No, that I will not: I am brain-broken, mad;Pity my madness for sweet marriage-sake And my great love's; I love you to say this;I would not have you cross me, out of love.
But for true love should I not chafe indeed?
And now I do not.
DARNLEY.
Yea, and late you chid, You chafed and jested and blew soft and hard-No, for that "fool" you shall not fool me so.
QUEEN.
You are no churl, sweet, will you see me weep?
Look, I weep now; be friends with my poor tears, Think each of them beseeches you of love And hath some tongue to cry on you for love And speak soft things; for that which loves not you Is none of mine, not though they grow of grief And grief of you; be not too hard with them.
You would not of your own heart slay a man;
Nay, if you will, in God's name make me weep, I will not hate you; but at heart, sweet lord, Be not at heart my sweet heart's enemy.
If I had many mighty men to friend I would not plead too lovingly with you To have your love.
DARNLEY.
Why, yet you have my love.
QUEEN.
Alas, what shall mine enemies do to me If he be used so hardly of my friends?
Come, sir, you hate me; yet for all your hate You cannot have such heart.
DARNLEY.
What sort of heart?
I have no heart to be used shamefully If you mean that.
QUEEN.
Would God I loved you not;
You are too hard to be used lovingly.
DARNLEY.
You are moved too much for such a little love As you bear me.
QUEEN.
God knows you do me wrong;
God knows the heart, sweet, that I love you with.
Hark you, fair sir, I'd have all well with you;Do you not fear at sick men's time of night What end may come? are you so sure of heart?
Is not your spirit surprisable in sleep?
Have you no evil dreams? Nay, look you, love, I will not be flung off you heart and hand, I am no snake: but tell me for your love Have you no fancies how these things will end In the pit's mouth? how all life-deeds will look At the grave's edge that lets men into hell?
For my part, who am weak and woman-eyed, It turns my soul tears: I doubt this blood Fallen on our faces when we twain are dead Will scar and burn them: yea, for heaven is sweet, And loves sweet deeds that smell not of split blood.
Let us not kill: God that made mercy first Pities the pitiful for their deed's sake.
DARNLEY.
Get you some painting; with a cheek like this You'll find no faith in listeners.
QUEEN.
How, fair lord?
DARNLEY.
I say that looking with this face of yours None shall believe you holy; what, you talk, Take mercy in your mouth, eat holiness, Put God under your tongue and feed on heaven, With fear and faith and-faith, I know not what-And look as though you stood and saw men slain To make you game and laughter; nay, your eyes Threaten as unto blood. What will you do To make men take your sweet word? pitiful-You are pitiful as he that's hired for death And loves the slaying yet better than the hire.
QUEEN.
You are wise that live to threat and tell me so;Do you love life too much?
DARNLEY.
O, now you are sweet, Right tender now: you love not blood nor death, You are too tender.
QUEEN.
Yea, too weak, too soft:
Sweet, do not mock me, for my love's sake; see How soft a thing I am. Will you be hard?
The heart you have, has it no sort of fear?
DARNLEY.
Take off your hand and let me go my way And do the deed, and when the doing is past I will come home and teach you tender things Out of my love till you forget my wrath.
I will be angry when I see good need, And will grow gentle after, fear not that:
You shall get no wrong of my wrongdoing.
So I take leave.
QUEEN.
Take what you will; take all;
You have taken half my heart away with words:
Take all I have, and take no leave; I have No leave to give: yea, shortly shall lack leave, I think, to live; but I crave none of you;I would have none: yet for the love I have, If I get ever a man to show it you, I pray God put you some day in my hand That you may take that too.
DARNLEY.
Well, as he please;
God keep you in such love; and so farewell.
[Exit.]
QUEEN.
So fare I as your lover, but not well.-
Ah sweet, if God be ever good to me To put you in my hand! I am come to shame;Let me think now, and let my wits not go;
