 | Mary Tudor |  |
Scene IX.
Palace Court, Whitehall.Enter Underhill and Doctor Sandys.
UNDERHILL.
Where loitered you, my friend, when, yestereve,
We held our revels on the banks of Thame?
SANDYS.
The grave-yard's gloom, where slaughtered Christians sleep,
Was better for my purpose, and my mood,
Than timeless mirth, godless festivities.
O Underhill!
UNDERHILL.
Remember; to make sure,
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If Mary die, is our true hope. To swell
Her triumph, was to smooth her upward path.
SANDYS.
Whence comes this favour long delayed?
UNDERHILL.
'Twas thus.
You prophesied aright. Philip controls,
Derides, the Queen: as this new persecution
Demonstrates. Fearful tales creep through the palace—
Of which hereafter.
SANDYS.
You beheld the pageant.
How looked the Princess—? say.
UNDERHILL.
Her royal barge
Was garlanded with flowers, festooned around
An awning of green satin, richly broidered
With eglantine and buds of gold. The bright one
Beneath this canopy reclined in state,
Fairer than Cleopatra with her Roman.
Her royal sister on the bowery shore
Of Richmond met her, kissing her 'tween whiles;
Her wan cheek flushing to a healthier glow.
With hospitable care, and love, she led
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And flowers, a tent, curtained with cloth of gold,
And purple samite, stood; whose folds were wrought
With silver fleur de lys, and gold pomegranates.
The music they so love breathed in their ears,
Like amorous blandishment: and when the morn
Rippled along the wave with soberer ray
The Princess stept once more into her barge,
And floated down the current, like a swan.
SANDYS.
God's blessing on her! hope of this poor land!
UNDERHILL.
King Philip's hateful eye loved not the scene.
I marked his sidelong glance, with half-shut lids
Averted, soon as marked. The Queen, at parting,
Whispered, I know not what, through tearful smiles:—
They seemed to say “Hail heiress of my Kingdom!”
And proud was she that day of her fair sister.
SANDYS.
When last I saw the princess she seemed worn,
With watchfulness.
UNDERHILL.
But she hath triumphed now
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But that is dangerous. A noble creature
Is she, in faith! the fiery spirit sparkles
From her large eyes, whether in joy or anger.
Her carriage stately and regardant, firm
As a soldier, fearless in the midst of danger.
She stood like Pallas mid the fabled Gods!
SANDYS.
O man with boyhood's heart!
UNDERHILL.
Hear me. In her
Study hath wakened wisdom. She is bold
In counsel, as enlightened; clear, discerning,
Magnanimous, authoritative; yet ever
Most gracious in demeanour. She will be
The glory of her time. Soft—here comes Gardiner.
Fly, Sandys, fly—even I am perilled by him.
[Exeunt.
| Mary Tudor | |