h with and say prayers;
You have not faith-it needs me to say prayers,
That with commending of this deed to God
I may get grace for it.

DARNLEY.
Why, lacks it grace?
Is not all wedlock gracious of itself?

QUEEN.
Nay, that I know not of. Come, sweet, be hence.

DARNLEY.
You have a sort of jewel in your neck
That's like mine here.

QUEEN.
Keep off your hands and go:
You have no courtesy to be a king.

DARNLEY.
Well, I will go: nay, but I thwart you not.
Do as you will, and get you grace; farewell,
And for my part, grace keep this watch with me!
For I need grace to bear with you so much.

[Exit.]

QUEEN.
So, he is forth. Let me behold myself;
I am too pale to be so hot; I marvel
So little color should be bold in the face
When the blood is not quieted. I have
But a brief space to cool my thoughts upon.
If one should wear the hair thus heaped and curled
Would it look best? or this way in the neck?
Could one ungirdle in such wise one's heart

[Taking off her girdle.]

And ease it inwards as the waist is eased
By slackening of the slid clasp on it!
How soft the silk is-gracious color too;
Violet shadows like new veins thrown up
Each arm, and gold to fleck the faint sweet green
Where the wrist lies thus eased. I am right glad
I have no maids about to hasten me--
So I will rest and see my hair shed down
On either silk side of my woven sleeves,
Get some new way to bind it back with-yea,
Fair mirror-glass, I am well ware of you,
Yea, I know that, I am quite beautiful.
How my hair shines!-Fair face, be friends with me
And I will sing to you; look in my face
Now, and your mouth must help the song in mine.

Alys la chatelaine
Voit venir de par Seine
Thiebault le capitaine
Qui parle ainsi!

Was that the wind in the casement? nay, no more
But the comb drawn through half my hissing hair
Laid on my arms-yet my flesh moved at it.

Dans ma camaille
Plus de clou qui vaille,
Dans ma cotte-maille
Plus de fer aussi.

Ah, but I wrong the ballad-verse: what's good
In such frayed fringes of old rhymes, to make
Their broken burden lag with us? meseems
I could be sad now if I fell to think
The least sad thing; aye, that sweet lady's fool,
Fool sorrow, would make merry with mine eyes
For a small thing. Nay, but I will keep glad,
Nor shall old sorrow be fal