Queen Mary and Harold | Page 7

I say your Grace is loved. That I may keep you thus, who am your friend And ever faithful counsellor, might I speak?
MARY. I can forespeak your speaking. Would I marry Prince Philip, if all England hate him? That is Your question, and I front it with another: Is it England, or a party? Now, your answer.
GARDINER. My answer is, I wear beneath my dress A shirt of mail: my house hath been assaulted, And when I walk abroad, the populace, With fingers pointed like so many daggers, Stab me in fancy, hissing Spain and Philip; And when I sleep, a hundred men-at-arms Guard my poor dreams for England. Men would murder me, Because they think me favourer of this marriage.
MARY. And that were hard upon you, my Lord Chancellor.
GARDINER. But our young Earl of Devon--
MARY. Earl of Devon? I freed him from the Tower, placed him at Court; I made him Earl of Devon, and--the fool-- He wrecks his health and wealth on courtesans, And rolls himself in carrion like a dog.
GARDINER. More like a school-boy that hath broken bounds, Sickening himself with sweets.
MARY. I will not hear of him. Good, then, they will revolt: but I am Tudor, And shall control them.
GARDINER. I will help you, Madam, Even to the utmost. All the church is grateful. You have ousted the mock priest, repulpited The shepherd of St. Peter, raised the rood again, And brought us back the mass. I am all thanks To God and to your Grace: yet I know well, Your people, and I go with them so far, Will brook nor Pope nor Spaniard here to play The tyrant, or in commonwealth or church.
MARY (_showing the picture). _Is this the face of one who plays the tyrant? Peruse it; is it not goodly, ay, and gentle?
GARDINER. Madam, methinks a cold face and a haughty. And when your Highness talks of Courtenay-- Ay, true--a goodly one. I would his life Were half as goodly (_aside_).
MARY. What is that you mutter?
GARDINER. Oh, Madam, take it bluntly; marry Philip, And be stepmother of a score of sons! The prince is known in Spain, in Flanders, ha! For Philip--
MARY. You offend us; you may leave us. You see thro' warping glasses.
GARDINER. If your Majesty--
MARY. I have sworn upon the body and blood of Christ I'll none but Philip.
GARDINER. Hath your Grace so sworn?
MARY. Ay, Simon Renard knows it.
GARDINER. News to me! It then remains for your poor Gardiner, So you still care to trust him somewhat less Than Simon Renard, to compose the event In some such form as least may harm your Grace.
MARY. I'll have the scandal sounded to the mud. I know it a scandal.
GARDINER. All my hope is now It may be found a scandal.
MARY. You offend us.
GARDINER (_aside_). These princes are like children, must be physick'd, The bitter in the sweet. I have lost mine office, It may be, thro' mine honesty, like a fool. [Exit.
Enter USHER.
MARY. Who waits?
USHER. The Ambassador from France, your Grace.
MARY (_sits down_). Bid him come in. Good morning, Sir de Noailles.
[Exit USHER,
NOAILLES (_entering_). A happy morning to your Majesty.
MARY. And I should some time have a happy morning; I have had none yet. 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