I think, for no man’s love’s sake.
CHASTELARD.
I think not.
QUEEN.
Do you yet mind at landing how the quay
Looked like a blind wet face in waste of wind
And washing of wan waves? how the hard mist
Made the hills ache? your songs lied loud, my knight,
They said my face would burn off cloud and rain
Seen once, and fill the crannied land with fire,
Kindle the capes in their blind black-gray hoods —
I know not what. You praise me past all loves;
And these men love me little; ‘t is some fault,
I think, to love me: even a fool’s sweet fault.
I have your verse still beating in my head
Of how the swallow got a wing broken
In the spring time, and lay upon his side
Watching the rest fly off i’ the red leaf-time,
And broke his heart with grieving at himself
Before the snow came. Do you know that lord
With sharp-set eyes? and him with huge thewed throat?
Good friends to me; I had need love them well.
Why do you look one way? I will not have you
Keep your eyes here: ‘t is no great wit in me
To care much now for old French friends of mine. —
Come, a fresh measure; come, play well for me,
Fair sirs, your playing puts life in foot and heart. —
DARNLEY.
Lo you again, sirs, how she laughs and leans,
Holding him fast — the supple way she hath!
Your queen hath none such; better as she is
For all her measures, a grave English maid,
Than queen of snakes and Scots.
RANDOLPH.
She is over fair
To be so sweet and hurt not. A good knight;
Goodly to look on.
MURRAY.
Yea, a good sword too,
And of good kin; too light of loving though;
These jangling song-smiths are keen love-mongers,
They snap at all meats.
DARNLEY.
What! by God I think,
For all his soft French face and bright boy’s sword,
There be folks fairer: and for knightliness,
These hot-lipped brawls of Paris breed sweet knights —
Mere stabbers for a laugh across the wine. —
QUEEN.
There, I have danced you down for once, fair lord;
You look pale now. Nay then for courtesy
I must needs help you; do not bow your head,
I am tall enough to reach close under it.
[Kisses him.]
Now come, we’ll sit and see this passage through. —
DARNLEY.
A courtesy, God help us! courtesy —
Pray God it wound not where it should heal wounds.
Why, there was here last year some lord of France
(Priest on the wrong side as some folk are prince)
Told tales of Paris ladies — nay, by God,
No jest for queen’s lips to catch laughter of
That would keep clean; I wot he made good mirth,
But she laughed over sweetly, and in such wise —
But she laughed over sweetly, and in such wise —
Nay, I laughed too, but lothly. —
QUEEN.
How they look!
The least thing courteous galls them to the bone.
What would one say now I were thinking of?
CHASTELARD.
It seems, some sweet thing.
QUEEN.
True, a sweet one, sir —
That madrigal you made Alys de Saulx
Of the three ways of love: the first kiss honor,
The second pity, and the last kiss love.
Which think you now was that I kissed you with?
CHASTELARD.
It should be pity, if you be pitiful;
For I am past all honoring that keep
Outside the eye of battle, where my kin
Fallen overseas have found this many a day
No helm of mine between them; and for love,
I think of that as dead men of good days
Ere the wrong side of death was theirs, when God
Was friends with them.
QUEEN.
Good; call it pity then.
You have a subtle riddling skill at love
Which is not like a lover. For my part,
I am resolved to be well done with love,
Though I were fairer-faced than all the world;
As there be fairer. Think you, fair my knight,
Love shall live after life in any man?
I have given you stuff for riddles.
CHASTELARD.
Most sweet queen,
They say men dying remember, with sharp joy
And rapid reluctation of desire,
Some old thin, some swift breath of wind, some word,
Some sword-stroke or dead lute-strain, some lost sight,
Some sea-blossom stripped to the sun and burned
At naked ebb — some river-flower that breathes
Against the stream like a swooned swimmer’s mouth —
Some tear or laugh ere lip and eye were man’s —
Sweet stings that struck the blood in riding — nay,
Some garment or sky-color or spice-smell,
And die with heart and face shut fast on it,
And know not why, and weep not; it may be
Men shall hold love fast always in such wise
In new fair lives where all are new things else,
And know not why, and weep not.
QUEEN.
A right rhyme,
And right a thyme’s worth: nay, a sweet song, though.
What, shall my cousin hold fast that love of his,
Her face and talk, when life ends? as God grant
His life end late and sweet; I love him well.
She is fair enough, his lover; a fair-faced maid,
With gray sweet eyes and tender touch of talk;
And that, God wot, I 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 wake
fully.
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 I have loved the best lover
And man most courteous of all men alive?
MARY SEYTON.
[Within.]
Here, fetch the light: nay, this way; enter all.
MARY BEATON.
I am twice undone. Fly, get some hiding, sir;
They have spied upon me somehow.
CHASTELARD.
Nay, fear not;
Stand by my side.
[Enter MARY SEYTON and MARY HAMILTON.]
MARY HAMILTON.
Give me that light: this way.
CHASTELARD.
What jest is here, fair ladies? it walks late,
Something too late for laughing.
MARY SEYTON.
Nay, fair sir,
What jest is this of yours? Look to your lady:
She is nigh swooned. The queen shall know all this.
MARY HAMILTON.
A grievous shame it is we are fallen upon;
Hold forth the light. Is this your care of us?
Nay, come, look up: this is no game, God wot.
CHASTELARD.
Shame shall befall them that speak shamefully:
I swear this lady is as pure and good
As any maiden, and who believes me not
Shall keep the shame for his part and the lie.
To them that come in honor and not in hate
I will make answer. Lady, have good heart.
Give me the light there: I will see you forth.
ACT II.
DARNLEY.
SCENE I. — The great Chamber in Holyrood.
The QUEEN and MARY SEYTON.
QUEEN.
But will you swear it?
MARY SEYTON.
Swear it, madam?
QUEEN.
Ay —
Swear it.
MARY SEYTON.
Madam, I am not friends with them.
QUEEN.
Swear then against them if you are not friends.
MARY SEYTON.
Indeed I saw them kiss.
QUEEN.
So lovers use —
What, their mouths close? a goodly way of love!
Or but the hands? or on her throat? Prithee —
You have sworn that.
MARY SEYTON.
I say what I saw done.
QUEEN.
Ay, you did see her cheeks (God smite them red!)
Kissed either side? what, they must eat strange food
Those singing lips of his?
MARY SEYTON.
Sweet meat enough —
They started at my coming five yards off,
But there they were.
QUEEN.
A maid may have kissed cheeks
And no shame in them — yet one would not swear.
You have sworn that. Pray God he be not mad:
A sickness in his eyes. The left side love
(I was told that) and the right courtesy.
’T is good fools’ fashion. What, no more but this?
For me, God knows I am no whit wroth; not I;
But, for your fame’s sake that her shame will sting,
I cannot see a way to pardon her —
For your fame’s sake, lest that be prated of.
MARY SEYTON.
Nay, if she were not chaste — I have not said
She was not chaste.
QUEEN.
I know you are tender of her;
And your sweet word will hardly turn her sweet.
MARY SEYTON.
Indeed I would fain do her any good.
Shall I not take some gracious word to her?
QUEEN.
Bid her not come or wait on me to-day.
MARY SEYTON.
Will you see him?
QUEEN.
See — O, this Chastelard?
He doth not well to sing maids into shame;
And folk are sharp here; yet for sweet friends’ sake
Assuredly I ‘ll see him. I am not wroth.
A goodly man, and a good sword thereto —
It may be he shall wed her. I am not wroth.
MARY SEYTON.
Nay, though she bore with him, she hath no great love,
I doubt me, that way.
QUEEN.
God mend all, I pray —
And keep us from all wrongdoing and wild words.
I think there is no fault men fall upon
But I could pardon. Look you, I would swear
She were no paramour for
any man,
So well I love her.
MARY SEYTON.
Am I to bid him in?
QUEEN.
As you will, sweet. But if you held me hard
You did me grievous wrong. Doth he wait there?
Men call me over tender; I had rather so,
Than too ungracious. Father, what with you?
[Enter FATHER BLACK.]
FATHER BLACK.
God’s peace and health of soul be with the queen!
And pardon be with me though I speak truth.
As I was going on peaceable men’s wise
Through your good town, desiring no man harm,
A kind of shameful woman with thief’s lips
Spake somewhat to me over a thrust-out chin,
Soliciting as I deemed an alms; which alms
(Remembering what was writ of Magdalen)
I gave no grudging but with pure good heart,
When lo some scurril children that lurked near,
Set there by Satan for my stumbling-stone,
Fell hooting with necks thwart and eyes asquint,
Screeched and made horns and shot out tongues at me,
As at my Lord the Jews shot out their tongues
And made their heads wag; I considering this
Took up my cross in patience and passed forth:
Nevertheless one ran between my feet
And made me totter, using speech and signs
I smart with shame to think of: then my blood
Kindled, and I was moved to smite the knave,
And the knave howled; whereat the lewd whole herd
Brake forth upon me and cast mire and stones
So that I ran sore risk of bruise or gash
If they had touched; likewise I heard men say,
(Their foul speech missed not mine ear) they cried,
”This devil’s mass-priest hankers for new flesh
Like a dry hound; let him seek such at home,
Snuff and smoke out the queen’s French— “
QUEEN.
They said that?
FATHER BLACK.
” — French paramours that breed more shames than sons
Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series) Page 190
