Chastelard | Page 6

know no whit How
much I love them.
MARY BEATON. Nor how she loves you back?
CHASTELARD. I know her ways of loving, all of them: A sweet soft
way the first is; afterward It burns and bites like fire; the end of that,
Charred dust, and eyelids bitten through with smoke.
MARY BEATON. What has she done for you to gird at her?
CHASTELARD. Nothing. You do not greatly love her, you, Who do
not-gird, you call it. I am bound to France; Shall I take word from you
to any one? So it be harmless, not a gird, I will.
MARY BEATON. I doubt you will not go hence with your life.
CHASTELARD. Why, who should slay me? No man northwards born,
In my poor mind; my sword's lip is no maid's To fear the iron biting of
their own, Though they kiss hard for hate's sake.

MARY BEATON. Lo you, sir, How sharp he whispers, what close
breath and eyes- And here are fast upon him, do you see?
CHASTELARD. Well, which of these must take my life in hand? Pray
God it be the better: nay, which hand?
MARY BEATON. I think, none such. The man is goodly made; She is
tender-hearted toward his courtesies, And would not have them fall too
low to find. Look, they slip forth.
[Exeunt DARNLEY and MARY HAMILTON.]
MARY SEYTON. For love's sake, after them, And soft as love can.
[Exeunt MARY CARMICHAEL and MARY SEYTON.]
CHASTELARD. True, a goodly man. What shapeliness and state he
hath, what eyes, Brave brow and lordly lip! Were it not fit Great queens
should love him?
MARY BEATON. See how now, fair lord, I have but scant breath's
time to help myself, And I must cast my heart out on a chance; So bear
with me. That we twain have loved well, I have no heart nor wit to say;
God wot We had never made good lovers, you and I. Look you, I
would not have you love me, sir, For all the love's sake in the world. I
say, You love the queen, and loving burns you up, And mars the grace
and joyous wit you had, Turning your speech to sad, your face to
strange, Your mirth to nothing: and I am piteous, I, Even as the queen
is, and such women are; And if I helped you to your love-longing,
Meseems some grain of love might fall my way And love's god help
me when I came to love; I have read tales of men that won their loves
On some such wise.
CHASTELARD. If you mean mercifully, I am bound to you past
thought and thank; if worse I will but thank your lips and not your
heart.
MARY BEATON. Nay, let love wait and praise me, in God's name,
Some day when he shall find me; yet, God wot, My lips are of one
color with my heart. Withdraw now from me, and about midnight In
some close chamber without light or noise It may be I shall get you
speech of her: She loves you well: it may be she will speak, I wot not
what; she loves you at her heart. Let her not see that I have given you
word, Lest she take shame and hate her love. Till night Let her not see
it.
CHASTLELARD. I will not thank you now, And then I'll die what sort

of death you will. Farewell.
[Exit.]
MARY BEATON. And by God's mercy and my love's I will find ways
to earn such thank of you.
[Exit.]

ACT I. SCENE II. -A Hall in the same.
The QUEEN, DARNLEY, MURRAY, RANDOLPH, the MARIES,
CHASTELARD, &c.
QUEEN. Hath no man seen my lord of Chastelard? Nay, no great
matter. Keep you on that side: Begin the purpose.
MARY CARMICHAEL. Madam, he is here.
QUEEN. Begin a measure now that other side. I will not dance; let
them play soft a little. Fair sir, we had a dance to tread to-night, To
teach our north folk all sweet ways of France, But at this time we have
no heart to it. Sit, sir, and talk. Look, this breast-clasp is new, The
French king sent it me.
CHASTELARD. A goodly thing: But what device? the word is ill to
catch.
QUEEN. A Venus crowned, that eats the hearts of men: Below her flies
a love with a bat's wings, And strings the hair of paramours to bind
Live birds' feet with. Lo what small subtle work: The smith's name,
Gian Grisostomo da--what? Can you read that? The sea froths
underfoot; She stands upon the sea and it curls up In soft loose curls
that run to one in the wind. But her hair is not shaken, there 's a fault; It