Queen Mary and Harold | Page 8

What says the King your master?
NOAILLES. Madam, my master hears with much alarm, That you may
marry Philip, Prince of Spain-- Foreseeing, with whate'er unwillingness,
That if this Philip be the titular king Of England, and at war with him,
your Grace And kingdom will be suck'd into the war, Ay, tho' you long
for peace; wherefore, my master, If but to prove your Majesty's
goodwill, Would fain have some fresh treaty drawn between you.
MARY. Why some fresh treaty? wherefore should I do it? Sir, if we
marry, we shall still maintain All former treaties with his Majesty. Our
royal word for that! and your good master, Pray God he do not be the
first to break them, Must be content with that; and so, farewell.
NOAILLES (_going, returns_). I would your answer had been other,

Madam, For I foresee dark days.
MARY. And so do I, sir; Your master works against me in the dark. I
do believe he holp Northumberland Against me.
NOAILLES. Nay, pure phantasy, your Grace. Why should he move
against you?
MARY. Will you hear why? Mary of Scotland,--for I have not own'd
My sister, and I will not,--after me Is heir of England; and my royal
father, To make the crown of Scotland one with ours, Had mark'd her
for my brother Edward's bride; Ay, but your king stole her a babe from
Scotland In order to betroth her to your Dauphin. See then: Mary of
Scotland, married to your Dauphin, Would make our England, France;
Mary of England, joining hands with Spain, Would be too strong for
France. Yea, were there issue born to her, Spain and we, One crown,
might rule the world. There lies your fear. That is your drift. You play
at hide and seek. Show me your faces!
NOAILLES. Madam, I am amazed: French, I must needs wish all good
things for France. That must be pardon'd me; but I protest Your Grace's
policy hath a farther flight Than mine into the future. We but seek
Some settled ground for peace to stand upon.
MARY. Well, we will leave all this, sir, to our council. Have you seen
Philip ever?
NOAILLES. Only once.
MARY. Is this like Philip?
NOAILLES. Ay, but nobler-looking.
MARY. Hath he the large ability of the Emperor?
NOAILLES. No, surely.
MARY. I can make allowance for thee, Thou speakest of the enemy of
thy king.

NOAILLES. Make no allowance for the naked truth. He is every way a
lesser man than Charles; Stone-hard, ice-cold--no dash of daring in
him.
MARY. If cold, his life is pure.
NOAILLES. Why (_smiling_), no, indeed.
MARY. Sayst thou?
NOAILLES. A very wanton life indeed (_smiling_).
MARY. Your audience is concluded, sir.
[Exit NOAILLES.
You cannot Learn a man's nature from his natural foe.
Enter USHER.
Who waits?
USHER. The Ambassador of Spain, your Grace. [Exit.
Enter SIMON RENARD.
MARY (_rising to meet him_). Thou art ever welcome, Simon Renard.
Hast thou Brought me the letter which thine Emperor promised Long
since, a formal offer of the hand Of Philip?
RENARD. Nay, your Grace, it hath not reach'd me. I know not
wherefore--some mischance of flood, And broken bridge, or spavin'd
horse, or wave And wind at their old battle: he must have written.
MARY. But Philip never writes me one poor word. Which in his
absence had been all my wealth. Strange in a wooer!
RENARD. Yet I know the Prince, So your king-parliament suffer him
to land, Yearns to set foot upon your island shore.

MARY. God change the pebble which his kingly foot First presses into
some more costly stone Than ever blinded eye. I'll have one mark it
And bring it me. I'll have it burnish'd firelike; I'll set it round with gold,
with pearl, with diamond. Let the great angel of the church come with
him; Stand on the deck and spread his wings for sail! God lay the
waves and strow the storms at sea, And here at land among the people!
O Renard, I am much beset, I am almost in despair. Paget is ours.
Gardiner perchance is ours; But for our heretic Parliament--
RENARD. O Madam, You fly your thoughts like kites. My master,
Charles, Bad you go softly with your heretics here, Until your throne
had ceased to tremble. Then Spit them like larks for aught I care.
Besides, When Henry broke the carcase of your church To pieces, there
were many wolves among you Who dragg'd the scatter'd limbs into
their den. The Pope would have you make them render these; So would
your cousin, Cardinal Pole; ill counsel! These let them keep at present;
stir not yet This matter of the Church lands. At his coming Your star
will rise.
MARY. My star! a baleful one. I see but the