Chastelard | Page 9

wist not. See
you, sir, Men say I needs must get wed hastily; Do none point lips at
him?
CHASTELARD. Yea, guessingly.
QUEEN. God help such lips! and get me leave to laugh! What should I
do but paint and put him up Like a gilt god, a saintship in a shrine, For
all fools' feast? God's mercy on men's wits! Tall as a housetop and as
bare of brain-- I'll have no staffs with fool-faced carven heads To hang
my life on. Nay, for love, no more, For fear I laugh and set their eyes
on edge To find out why I laugh. Good-night, fair lords; Bid them
cease playing. Give me your hand; good-night.

SCENE III.--MARY BEATON'S chamber: night.
[Enter CHASTELARD.]
CHASTELARD. I am not certain yet she will not come; For I can feel

her hand's heat still in mine, Past doubting of, and see her brows half
draw, And half a light in the eyes. If she come not, I am no worse than
he that dies to-night. This two years' patience gets an end at least,
Whichever way I am well done with it. How hard the thin sweet moon
is, split and laced And latticed over, just a stray of it Catching and
clinging at a strip of wall, Hardly a hand's breadth. Did she turn indeed
In going out? not to catch up her gown The page let slip, but to keep
sight of me? There was a soft small stir beneath her eyes Hard to put on,
a quivering of her blood That knew of the old nights watched out
wakefully. Those measures of her dancing too were changed-- More
swift and with more eager stops at whiles And rapid pauses where
breath failed her lips.
[Enter MARY BEATON.]
O, she is come: if you be she indeed Let me but hold your hand; what,
no word yet? You turn and kiss me without word; O sweet, If you will
slay me be not over quick, Kill me with some slow heavy kiss that
plucks The heart out at the lips. Alas! Sweet love, Give me some old
sweet word to kiss away. Is it a jest? for I can feel your hair Touch
me--I may embrace your body too? I know you well enough without
sweet words. How should one make you speak? This is not she. Come
in the light; nay, let me see your eyes. Ah, you it is? what have I done
to you? And do you look now to be slain for this That you twist back
and shudder like one stabbed?
MARY BEATON. Yea, kill me now and do not look at me: God knows
I meant to die. Sir, for God's love, Kill me now quick ere I go mad with
shame.
CHASTELARD. Cling not upon my wrists: let go the hilt: Nay, you
will bruise your hand with it: stand up: You shall not have my sword
forth.
MARY BEATON. Kill me now, I will not rise: there, I am patient, see,
I will not strive, but kill me for God's sake.
CHASTELARD. Pray you rise up and be not shaken so: Forgive me
my rash words, my heart was gone After the thing you were: be not
ashamed; Give me the shame, you have no part in it; Can I not say a
word shall do you good? Forgive that too.
MARY BEATON. I shall run crazed with shame; But when I felt your
lips catch hold on mine It stopped my breath: I would have told you all;

Let me go out: you see I lied to you, Am I am shamed; I pray you loose
me, sir, Let me go out.
CHASTELARD. Think no base things of me: I were most base to let
you go ashamed. Think my heart's love and honor go with you: Yea,
while I live, for your love's noble sake, I am your servant in what wise
may be, To love and serve you with right thankful heart.
MARY BEATON. I have given men leave to mock me, and must bear
What shame they please: you have good cause to mock. Let me pass
now.
CHASTELARD. You know I mock you not. If ever I leave off to honor
you, God give me shame! I were the worst churl born.
MARY BEATON. No marvel though the queen should love you too,
Being such a knight. I pray you for her love, Lord Chastelard, of your
great courtesy, Think now no scorn to give me my last kiss That I shall
have of man before I die. Even the same lips you kissed and knew not
of Will you kiss now, knowing the shame of them, And say no one
word to me afterwards, That I may see