 | The Queen-Mother |  |
Scene I.
The Louvre.The King, Queen-Mother, Brantôme, Tavannes, La Rochefoucauld, Teligny, and Attendants.
Charles.
Put up the dice; you do not play me fair.
Ca.
Indeed the cast did lie too much his way.
La R.
Do me right, sir; the chance so thrown on me
May come to serve your hand.
Ch.
Nay, God forbid!
I would not fare so well, lest men should scent
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To snuff my luck behind. Put them away.
La R.
So I may take my leave, my lord, I will.
Ch.
Abide a little.
La R.
Sir, in pure faith, I may not.
Ch.
Lay down your chariness; I pray you stay;
I am your friend that do entreat you stay
To help me use my better humours well.
La R.
This grace of yours doth jar with time in me.
Ca.
Fair son, put no dispute in marriage; think,
Our noble friend is yet i' the green of time,
The summer point of wedlock; cross him not.
Ch.
No, he shall stay.
Ca.
I love him none the less
That would enfranchise his obedience,
Saying “let pass.”
Bra.
I have known an honest lady
That would have bit her lips atwain for spite
Sooner than slip her lord's obedience so
And slacken the remitted service of him
For such light points; I do remember me—
Ca.
This tale will hold you, sir.
Bra.
I bade her choose a friend,
She seeming bare of any courtesy
That is well done to such; I bade her choose—
La R.
I take a second leave.
Bra.
As 'twere for form—
“Seeing, look you,” said I, “a lady's office is
To endure love and wear a good man's name
As the lace about her wrist”—
Ch.
You shall not go.
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Sir, needs I must; you shall well pardon it.
Bra.
She with a face, as thus, let sideways down,
Catching her page i' the eye—a thing so bearded
As are a woman's lips—
Ca.
My lord Bourdeilles,
I pray you take my way, I'll hear this out.
Bra.
Please you so suffer me—
Ca.
Fair son, good night.
[Exeunt Cath., Brant., and Attendants.
Ch.
Good night, sweet mother.—Is she truly gone?
Then I will pray you leave not me to-night;
I'll not to bed; I would not have you go;
Yea, by God's blood, I put my heart indeed
Into this prayer of mine. Come, pleasure me;
It might avail you; what, by God's own face,
I think I sue to you. Is this much alms
That you should please me?
La R.
Sir, for my poor half,
I must tie thanks upon the neck of No
And turn him forth of me.
Ch.
Then you keep here?
La R.
Good faith, I cannot so; and I well think
This lord speaks with me.
Tel.
Even your sense, indeed.
Ch.
You use me hardly, but my wish to you
Lives none the less a good and honest wish;
So, if my meaning tastes not sweet to you,
Farewell, yea well. One see my dear friends out.
La R., Tel.
Good night, fair lord.
[Exeunt La Roch. and Tel.
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I would have kept them yet.
So, if a man have sight of a big stone,
And will needs trip and sprawl with a bruised head,
Is it my fault that show him such a stone?
Or say one filches a fair sword of mine
To rip himself at side, is my sin there?
Nay not that much, but walking with my sword
It galls him in the thigh; am I his hurt?
Twice, yea now thrice, if you shall mark me, sir,
Yea, God knows well I sued three times to them,
I would have had all scars keep off their flesh,
But God's will is not so.
Tav.
You do the wiser
To let them pass.
Ch.
Why truly so I think.
But I am heart-stung for these; this Téligny
That might have laid a word of help my way
And kept such sullen lips of doubtfulness,
I have loved him well. The other, see you, sir,
I have twined arms with him, fed from his eyes,
Made a large pleasure out of usual things
Wherein his lot fell evenly with mine,
Laid my heart on him; yea, this singled man
Was as the kin made closest to my flesh
And in the dearest of my secret will
Did as a brother govern. But he may go;
I were fallen wrong too far to pity him;
So, though they mainly mar him with their pikes,
Stab till the flesh hath holes like a big net,
I will not think I am compassionate;
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I will believe I do not pity him.
Show me the matter of your place, your way,
The measure of your men; nay, my sweet lord,
Pray you hold fast on this; be not made pitiful.
Nay, but stand sure; nay, I beseech you, sure.
[Exeunt.
| The Queen-Mother | |