MARY BEATON.
I hardly know well why;
It makes me sad to sing, and very sad
To hold my peace.
MARY CARMICHAEL.
I know what saddens you.
MARY BEATON.
Prithee, what? what?
MARY CARMICHAEL.
Why, since we came from France,
You have no lover to make stuff for songs.
MARY BEATON.
You are wise; for there my pain begins indeed,
Because I have no lovers out of France.
MARY SEYTON.
I mind me of one Olivier de Pesme,
(You knew him, sweet,) a pale man with short hair,
Wore tied at sleeve the Beaton color.
MARY CARMICHAEL.
Blue—
I know, blue scarfs. I never liked that knight.
MARY HAMILTON.
Me? I know him? I hardly knew his name.
Black, was his hair? no, brown.
MARY SEYTON.
Light pleases you:
I have seen the time brown served you well enough.
MARY CARMICHAEL.
Lord Darnley's is a mere maid's yellow.