s side of heaven-no man knows; or her mouth,
A flower's lip with a snake's lip, stinging sweet,
And sweet to sting with: face that one would see
And then fall blind and die with sight of it
Held fast between the eyelids-oh, all these
And all her body and the soul to that,
The speech and shape and hand and foot and heart
That I would die of-yea, her name that turns
My face to fire being written-I 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, y