A Hall in the same.
The QUEEN, DARNLEY, MURRAY, RANDOLPH, the MARIES, CHASTELARD, &c.
QUEEN.
Hath no man seen my lord of Chastelard?
Nay, no great matter. Keep you on that side:
Begin the purpose.
MARY CARMICHAEL.
Madam, he is here.
QUEEN.
Begin a measure now that other side.
I will not dance; let them play soft a little.
Fair sir, we had a dance to tread to-night, To teach our north folk all sweet ways of France, But at this time we have no heart to it.
Sit, sir, and talk. Look, this breast-clasp is new, The French king sent it me.
CHASTELARD.
A goodly thing:
But what device? the word is ill to catch.
QUEEN.
A Venus crowned, that eats the hearts of men:
Below her flies a love with a bat's wings, And strings the hair of paramours to bind Live birds' feet with. Lo what small subtle work:
The smith's name, Gian Grisostomo da--what?
Can you read that? The sea froths underfoot;She stands upon the sea and it curls up In soft loose curls that run to one in the wind.
But her hair is not shaken, there 's a fault;It lies straight down in close-cut points and tongues, Not like blown hair. The legend is writ small:
Still one makes out this--*Cave*--if you look.
CHASTELARD.
I see the Venus well enough, God wot, But nothing of the legend.
QUEEN.
Come, fair lord, Shall we dance now? My heart is good again.
[They dance a measure.]
DARNLEY.
I do not like this manner of a dance, This game of two by two; it were much better To meet between the changes and to mix Than still to keep apart and whispering Each lady out of earshot with her friend.
MARY BEATON.
That 's as the lady serves her knight, I think:
We are broken up too much.
DARNLEY.
Nay, no such thing;
Be not wroth, lady, I wot it was the queen Pricked each his friend out. Look you now--your ear--If love had gone by choosing--how they laugh, Lean lips together, and wring hands underhand!
What, you look white too, sick of heart, ashamed, No marvel--for men call it--hark you though--[They pass.]
MURRAY.
Was the queen found no merrier in France?
MARY HAMILTON.
Why, have you seen her sorrowful to-night?
MURRAY.
I say not so much; blithe she seems at whiles, Gentle and goodly doubtless in all ways, But hardly with such lightness and quick heart As it was said.
MARY HAMILTON.
'Tis your great care of her Makes you misdoubt; nought else.
MURRAY.
Yea, may be so;
She has no cause I know to sadden her.
[They pass.]
QUEEN.
I am tired too soon; I could have danced down hours Two years gone hence and felt no wearier.
One grows much older northwards, my fair lord;I wonder men die south; meseems all France Smells sweet with living, and bright breath of days That keep men far from dying. Peace; pray you now, No dancing more. Sing, sweet, and make us mirth;We have done with dancing measures: sing that song You call the song of love at ebb.
MARY BEATON.
[Sings.]
1.
Between the sunset and the sea My love laid hands and lips on me;Of sweet came sour, of day came night, Of long desire came brief delight:
Ah love, and what thing came of thee Between the sea-downs and the sea?
2.
Between the sea-mark and the sea Joy grew to grief, grief grew to me;Love turned to tears, and tears to fire, And dead delight to new desire;Love's talk, love's touch there seemed to be Between the sea-sand and the sea.
3.
Between the sundown and the sea Love watched one hour of love with me;Then down the all-golden water-ways His feet flew after yesterday's;I saw them come and saw them flee Between the sea-foam and the sea.
4.
Between the sea-strand and the sea Love fell on sleep, sleep fell on me;The first star saw twain turn to one Between the moonrise and the sun;The next, that saw not love, saw me Between the sea-banks and the sea.
QUEEN.
Lo, sirs, What mirth is here! Some song of yours, fair lord;You know glad ways of rhyming--no such tunes As go to tears.
CHASTELARD.
I made this yesterday;
For its love's sake I pray you let it live.
1.
Apres tant de jours, apres tant de pleurs, Soyez secourable a mon ame en peine.
Voyez comme Avril fait l'amour aux fleurs;
Dame d'amour, dame aux belles couleurs, Dieu vous a fait belle, Amour vous fait reine.
2.
Rions, je t'en prie; aimons, je le veux.
Le temps fuit et rit et ne revient guere Pour baiser le bout de tes blonds cheveux, Pour baiser tes cils, ta bouche et tes yeux;L'amour n'a qu'un jour aupres de sa mere.
QUEEN.
'T is a true song; love shall not pluck time back Nor time lie down with love. For me, I am old;Have you no hair changed since you changed to Scot?
I look each day to see my face drawn up About the eyes, as if they sucked the cheeks.
I think this air and face of things here north Puts snow at flower-time in the blood, and tears Between the sad eyes and the merry mouth In their youth-days.
CHASTELARD.
It is a bitter air.
QUEEN.
Faith, if I might be gone, sir, would I stay?
I think, for no man's love's sake.
CHASTELARD.
I think not.
QUEEN.
