albeit I think
Ye have caught the mark whereat my heart is bent.
I have kept close counsel and shut up men's lips,
But lightly shall a woman's will slip out,
The foolish little winged will of her,
Through cheek or eye when tongue is charmed asleep.
For that good lord I have good will to wed,
I wot he knew long since which way it flew,
Even till it lit on his right wrist and sang.
Lo, here I take him by the hand: fair lords,
This is my kinsman, made of mine own blood,
I take to halve the state and services
That bow down to me, and to be my head,
My chief, my master, my sweet lord and king.
Now shall I never say "sweet cousin" more
To my dear head and husband; here, fair sir,
I give you all the heart of love in me
To gather off my lips. Did it like you,
The taste of it? sir, it was whole and true.
God save our king!

DARNLEY.
Nay, nay, sweet love, no lord;
No king of yours though I were lord of these.

QUEEN.
Let word be sent to all good friends of ours
To help us to be glad; England and France
Shall bear great part of our rejoicings up.
Give me your hand, dear lord; for from this time
I must not walk alone. Lords, have good cheer:
For you shall have a better face than mine
To set upon your kingly gold and show
For Scotland's forehead in the van of things.
Go with us now, and see this news set out.

[Exeunt QUEEN, DARNLEY, and LORDS.]

[As CHASTELARD is going out, enter MARY BEATON.]

MARY BEATON.
Have you yet heard? You knew of this?

CHASTELARD.
I know.
I was just thinking how such things were made
And were so fair as this is. Do you know
She held me here and talked--the most sweet talk
Men ever heard of?

MARY BEATON.
You hate me to the heart.
What will you do?

CHASTELARD.
I know not: die some day,
But live as long and lightly as I can.
Will you now love me? faith, but if you do,
It were much better you were dead and hearsed.
Will you do one thing for me?

MARY BEATON.
Yea, all things.

CHASTELARD.
Speak truth a little, for God's sake: indeed
It were no harm to do. Come, will you, sweet?
Though it be but to please God.

MARY BEATON.
What will you do?

CHASTELARD.
Ay, true, I must do somewhat. Let me see:
To get between and tread upon his face--
Catch both her hands and bid men look at them,
How pure they were--I would do none of these,
Though they got wedded all the