GARDINER. I distrust thee.
Thine is a half voice and a lean assent.
What is thy name?
MAN. Sanders.
GARDINER. What else?
MAN. Zerubbabel.
GARDINER. Where dost thou live?
MAN. In Cornhill.
GARDINER. Where, knave, where?
MAN. Sign of the Talbot.
GARDINER. Come to me to-morrow.-- Rascal!--this land is like a hill of fire, One crater opens when another shuts.
But so I get the laws against the heretic, Spite of Lord Paget and Lord William Howard, And others of our Parliament, revived, I will show fire on my side--stake and fire-- Sharp work and short. The knaves are easily cow'd.
Follow their Majesties.
[_Exit. The crowd following_.
BAGENHALL. As proud as Becket.
STAFFORD. You would not have him murder'd as Becket was?
BAGENHALL. No--murder fathers murder: but I say There is no man--there was one woman with us-- It was a sin to love her married, dead I cannot choose but love her.
STAFFORD. Lady Jane?
CROWD (_going off_).
God save their Graces!
STAFFORD. Did you see her die?
BAGENHALL. No, no; her innocent blood had blinded me.
You call me too black-blooded--true enough Her dark dead blood is in my heart with mine.
If ever I cry out against the Pope Her dark dead blood that ever moves with mine Will stir the living tongue and make the cry.
STAFFORD. Yet doubtless you can tell me how she died?
BAGENHALL. Seventeen--and knew eight languages--in music Peerless--her needle perfect, and her learning Beyond the churchmen; yet so meek, so modest, So wife-like humble to the trivial boy Mismatch'd with her for policy! I have heard She would not take a last farewell of him, She fear'd it might unman him for his end.
She could not be unmann'd--no, nor outwoman'd-- Seventeen--a rose of grace!
Girl never breathed to rival such a rose; Rose never blew that equall'd such a bud.
STAFFORD. Pray you go on.
BAGENHALL. She came upon the scaffold, And said she was condemn'd to die for treason; She had but follow'd the device of those Her nearest kin: she thought they knew the laws.
But for herself, she knew but little law, And nothing of the titles to the crown; She had no desire for that, and wrung her hands, And trusted God would save her thro' the blood Of Jesus Christ alone.
STAFFORD. Pray you go on.
BAGENHALL. Then knelt and said the Misere Mei-- But all in English, mark you; rose again, And, when the headsman pray'd to be forgiven, Said, 'You will give me my true crown at last, But do it quickly;' then all wept but she, Who changed not colour when she saw the block, But ask'd him, childlike: 'Will you take it off Before I lay me down?' 'No, madam,' he said, Gasping; and when her innocent eyes were bound, She, with her poor blind hands feeling--'where is it?
Where is it?'--You must fancy that which follow'd, If you have heart to do it!
CROWD (_in the distance_).
God save their Graces!
STAFFORD. Their Graces, our disgraces! God confound them!
Why, she's grown bloodier! when I last was here, This was against her conscience--would be murder!
BAGENHALL. The 'Thou shall do no murder,' which God's hand Wrote on her conscience, Mary rubb'd out pale-- She could not make it white--and over that, Traced in the blackest text of Hell--'Thou shall!'
And sign'd it--Mary!
STAFFORD. Philip and the Pope Must have sign'd too. I hear this Legate's coming To bring us absolution from the Pope.
The Lords and Commons will bow down before him-- You are of the house? what will you do, Sir Ralph?
BAGENHALL. And why should I be bolder than the rest, Or honester than all?
STAFFORD. But, sir, if I-- And oversea they say this state of yours Hath no more mortice than a tower of cards; And that a puff would do it--then if I And others made that move I touch'd upon, Back'd by the power of France, and landing here, Came with a sudden splendour, shout, and show, And dazzled men and deafen'd by some bright Loud venture, and the people so unquiet-- And I the race of murder'd Buckingham-- Not for myself, but for the kingdom--Sir, I trust that you would fight along with us.
BAGENHALL. No; you would fling your lives into the gulf.
STAFFORD. But if this Philip, as he's like to do, Left Mary a wife-widow here alone, Set up a viceroy, sent his myriads hither To seize upon the forts and fleet, and make us A Spanish province; would you not fight then?
BAGENHALL. I think I should fight then.
STAFFORD. I am sure of it.
Hist! there's the face coming on here of one Who knows me. I must leave you. Fare you well, You'll hear of me again.
BAGENHALL. Upon the scaffold.
[_Exeunt_.
SCENE II.--ROOM IN WHITEHALL PALACE.
MARY. _Enter_ PHILIP _and_ CARDINAL POLE.
POLE. Ave Maria, gratia plena, Benedicta tu in mulieribus.
MARY. Loyal and royal cousin, humblest thanks.
Had you a pleasant voyage up the river?
POLE. We had your royal barge, and that same chair, Or rather throne of purple, on the deck.
Our silver cross sparkled before the prow, The ripples twinkled at their diamond-dance, The boats that follow'd, were as glowing-gay As regal gardens; and your flocks of swans, As fair and white as angels; and your shores Wore in mine eyes the green of Paradise.