DARNLEY.
Truly it were not.
QUEEN.
Then for your honor and my love of you
(Oh, I do love you! but you know not, sweet,
You shall see how much), think you for their sake
He may go free?
DARNLEY.
How, freely forth of us?
But yet he loves you, and being mad with love
Makes matter for base mouths to chew upon:
'T were best he live not yet.
QUEEN.
Will you say that?
DARNLEY.
Why should he live to breed you bad reports?
Let him die first.
QUEEN.
Sweet, for your sake, not so.
DARNLEY.
Fret not yourself to pity; let him die.
QUEEN.
Come, let him live a little; it shall be
A grace to us.
DARNLEY.
By God he dies at once.
QUEEN.
Now, by God's mother, if I respite him,
Though you were all the race of you in one
And had more tongues than hairs to cry on me
He should not lose a hair.