University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

—Mary Beaton's Chamber: night.
Enter Chastelard.
CHASTELARD.
I am not certain yet she will not come;
For I can feel her hand's heat still in mine,
Past doubting of, and see her brows half drawn,
And half a light in the eyes. If she come not,
I am no worse than he that dies to-night.
This two years' patience gets an end at least,
Whichever way I am well done with it.
How hard the thin sweet moon is, split and laced
And latticed over, just a stray of it
Catching and clinging at a strip of wall,
Hardly a hand's breadth. Did she turn indeed
In going out? not to catch up her gown
The page let slip, but to keep sight of me?
There was a soft small stir beneath her eyes
Hard to put on, a quivering of her blood
That knew of the old nights watched out wakefully.
Those measures of her dancing too were changed—
More swift and with more eager stops at whiles
And rapid pauses where breath failed her lips.

Enter Mary Beaton.
O, she is come: if you be she indeed
Let me but hold your hand; what, no word yet?
You turn and kiss me without word; O sweet,
If you will slay me be not over quick,
Kill me with some slow heavy kiss that plucks
The heart out at the lips. Alas! sweet love,
Give me some old sweet word to kiss away.
Is it a jest? for I can feel your hair
Touch me—I may embrace your body too?
I know you well enough without sweet words.
How should one make you speak? This is not she.
Come in the light; nay, let me see your eyes.
Ah, you it is? what have I done to you?
And do you look now to be slain for this
That you twist back and shudder like one stabbed?

MARY BEATON.
Yea, kill me now and do not look at me:
God knows I meant to die. Sir, for God's love
Kill me now quick ere I go mad with shame.

CHASTELARD.
Cling not upon my wrists: let go the hilt:
Nay, you will bruise your hand with it: stand up:
You shall not have my sword forth.

MARY BEATON.
Kill me now,
I will not rise: there, I am patient, see,
I will not strive, but kill me for God's sake.

CHASTELARD.
Pray you rise up and be not shaken so:
Forgive me my rash words, my heart was gone
After the thing you were: be not ashamed;
Give me the shame, you have no part in it;
Can I not say a word shall do you good?
Forgive that too.

MARY BEATON.
I shall run crazed with shame;
But when I felt your lips catch hold on mine
It stopped my breath: I would have told you all,
Let me go out: you see I lied to you,
And I am shamed; I pray you loose me, sir,
Let me go out.

CHASTELARD.
Think no base things of me:
I were most base to let you go ashamed.
Think my heart's love and honour go with you:
Yea, while I live, for your love's noble sake,
I am your servant in what wise may be,
To love and serve you with right thankful heart.

MARY BEATON.
I have given men leave to mock me, and must bear
What shame they please: you have good cause to mock.
Let me pass now.

CHASTELARD.
You know I mock you not.
If ever I leave off to honour you,
God give me shame! I were the worst churl born.

MARY BEATON.
No marvel though the queen should love you too,
Being such a knight. I pray you for her love,
Lord Chastelard, of your great courtesy,
Think now no scorn to give me my last kiss
That I shall have of man before I die.
Even the same lips you kissed and knew not of
Will you kiss now, knowing the shame of them,
And say no one word to me afterwards,
That I may see I have loved the best lover
And man most courteous of all men alive?

MARY SEYTON
(within).
Here, fetch the light: nay, this way; enter all.

MARY BEATON.
I am twice undone. Fly, get some hiding, sir;
They have spied upon me somehow.

CHASTELARD.
Nay, fear not;
Stand by my side.

Enter Mary Seyton and Mary Hamilton.
MARY HAMILTON.
Give me that light: this way.

CHASTELARD.
What jest is here, fair ladies? it walks late,
Something too late for laughing.

MARY SEYTON.
Nay, fair sir,
What jest is this of yours? Look to your lady:
She is nigh swooned. The queen shall know all this.

MARY HAMILTON.
A grievous shame it is we are fallen upon;
Hold forth the light. Is this your care of us?
Nay, come, look up: this is no game, God wot.

CHASTELARD.
Shame shall befall them that speak shamefully:
I swear this lady is as pure and good
As any maiden, and who believes me not
Shall keep the shame for his part and the lie.
To them that come in honour and not in hate
I will make answer. Lady, have good heart.
Give me the light there: I will see you forth.