DARNLEY.
What man is that, sweet?
QUEEN.
Such a mad poor man
As God desires us use not cruelly.
DARNLEY.
Is there no name a man may call him by?
QUEEN.
Nay, my fair master, what fair game is this?
Why, you do know him, it is Chastelard.
DARNLEY.
Ay, is it soothly?
QUEEN.
By my life, it is;
Sweet, as you tender me, so pardon him.
DARNLEY.
As he doth tender you, so pardon me;
For if it were the mean to save my life
He should not live a day.
QUEEN.
Nay, shall not he?
DARNLEY.
Look what an evil wit old Fortune hath:
Why, I came here to get his time cut off.
This second fault is meat for lewd men's mouths;
You were best have him slain at once: 'tis hot.
QUEEN.
Give me the warrant, and sit down, my lord.
Why, I will sign it; what, I understand
How this must be. Should not my name stand here?