DARNLEY.
Yea, there, and here the seal.
QUEEN.
Ay, so you say.
Shall I say too what I am thinking of?
DARNLEY.
Do, if you will.
QUEEN.
I do not like your suit.
DARNLEY.
'Tis of no Frenchman fashion.
QUEEN.
No, God wot;
'Tis nowise great men's fashion in French land
To clap a headsman's taberd on their backs.
DARNLEY.
No, madam?
QUEEN.
No; I never wist of that.
Is it a month gone I did call you lord?
I chose you by no straying stroke of sight,
But with my heart to love you heartily.
Did I wrong then? did mine eye draw my heart?
I know not; sir, it may be I did wrong:
And yet to love you; and would choose again,
Against to choose you.
DARNLEY.
There, I love you too;
Take that for sooth, and let me take this hence.
QUEEN.
O, do you think I hold you off with words?
Why, take it then; there is my handwriting,
And here the hand that you shall slay him with.
'Tis a fair hand, a maiden-colored one:
I doubt yet it has never slain a man.
You never fought yet save for game, I wis.
Nay, thank me not, but have it from my sight;
Go and make haste for fear he be got forth:
It may be such a man is dangerous;
Who knows what friends he hath? and by my faith
I doubt he hath seen some fighting, I do fear
He hath fought and shed men's blood; ye are wise men
That will not leave such dangerous things alive;
'T were well he died the sooner for your sakes.
Pray you make haste; it is not fit he live.