him so;

So is Cardinal Pole. May the great angels join their wings, and

make

First. There's the Queen's light. I hear she cannot live.

Second. God curse her and her legate! Gardiner burns

Already; but to pay them full in kind,

A Third Voice. Deserts! Amen to what? Whose deserts? Yours? You have a gold ring on your finger, and soft raiment about your body; and is not the woman up yonder sleeping after all she has done, in peace and quietness, on a soft bed, in a closed room, with light, fire, physic, tendance; and I have seen the true men of Christ lying famine-dead by scores, and under no ceiling but the cloud that wept on them, not for them.

First. Friend, tho' so late, it is not safe to preach.

You had best go home. What are you? 30 Third. What am I? One who cries continually with sweat and tears to the Lord God that it would please Him out of His infinite love to break down all kingship and queenship, all priesthood and prelacy; to cancel and abolish all bonds of human allegiance, all the magistracy, all the nobles, and all the wealthy; and to send us again, according to His promise, the one King, the Christ, and all things in common, as in the day of the first church, when Christ Jesus was King.

42

First. If ever I heard a madman, let's away!

Why, you long-winded - Sir, you go beyond me.

I pride myself on being moderate.
Good night! Go home!

Besides, you

curse so loud,

The watch will hear you.

Get

at once.

you home [Exeunt.

SCENE V

LONDON. A ROOM IN THE PALACE

A Gallery on one side.

The moonlight streaming through a range of windows on the wall opposite. MARY, LADY CLARENCE, LADY MAGDALEN DACRES, ALICE. QUEEN pacing the Gallery. A writingtable in front. QUEEN comes to the table and writes and goes again, pacing the Gallery.

Lady Clarence. Mine eyes are dim: what hath she written? read.

Alice. I am dying, Philip; come to me.' Lady Magdalen. There-up and down, poor lady, up and down.

Alice. And how her shadow crosses one by one

The moonlight casements pattern'd on the wall,

Following her like her sorrow! She turns again.

[Queen sits and writes, and goes again. Lady Clarence. What hath she written now ?

Alice. Nothing; but 'come, come, come,' and all awry,

last.

And blotted by her tears. This cannot [Queen returns. Mary. I whistle to the bird has broken

The blade is keen as death.

Mary. This Philip shall not Stare in upon me in my haggardness; Old, miserable, diseased, Incapable of children. Come thou down. [Cuts out the picture and throws it down. Lie there. (Wails.) O God, I have kill'd my Philip !

No,

Alice. Madam, you have but cut the canvas out; We can replace it. Mary. All is well then; restI will to rest; he said I must have rest. [Cries of Elizabeth' in the street. A cry! What's that? Elizabeth? revolt? A new Northumberland, another Wyatt? I'll fight it on the threshold of the grave. Lady Clarence. Madam, your royal sister comes to see you. Mary. I will not see her.

Who knows if Boleyn's daughter be my

Miscolor things about her — sudden touches For him, or him sunk rocks; no passion

ate faith

But if let be

balance and compromise;

Brave, wary, sane to the heart of her- 11

Tudor

School'd by the shadow of death leyn, too,

Glancing across the Tudor

Enter ALICE.

How is the good Queen now?

not so well.

Alice. Away from Philip. Back in her childhood — prattling to her mother

140

Of her betrothal to the Emperor Charles, And childlike-jealous of him again— and

once

She thank'd her father sweetly for his book Against that godless German. Ah, those days

Were happy. It was never merry world In England since the Bible came among us. Cecil. And who says that?

Alice. It is a saying among the Catho

lics.

Cecil. It never will be merry world in