MARY BEATON.
Ah, they will cry out soon
When she comes forth; they should cry out on her;
I hear their crying in my heart. Nay, sweet,
Do not you hate her? all men, if God please,
Shall hate her one day; yea, one day no doubt
I shall worse hate her.
MARY CARMICHAEL.
Pray you, be at peace;
You hurt yourself: she will be merciful;
What, could you see a true man slain for you?
I think I could not; it is not like our hearts
To have such hard sides to them.
MARY BEATON.
O, not you,
And I could nowise; there's some blood in her
That does not run to mercy as ours doth:
That fair face and the cursed heart in her
Made keener than a knife for manslaying
Can bear strange things.
MARY CARMICHAEL.
Peace, for the people come.
Ah—Murray, hooded over half his face
With plucked-down hat, few folk about him, eyes
Like a man angered; Darnley after him,
Holding our Hamilton above her wrist,
His mouth put near her hair to whisper with—
And she laughs softly, looking at her feet.
MARY BEATON.
She will not live long; God hath given her
Few days and evil, full of hate and love,
I see well now.
MARY CARMICHAEL.
Hark, there's their cry—The Queen!
Fair life and long, and good days to the Queen!
MARY BEATON.
Yea, but God knows. I feel such patience here
As I were sure in a brief while to die.
MARY CARMICHAEL.
She bends and laughs a little, graciously,
And turns half, talking to I know not whom—
A big man with great shoulders; ah, the face,
You get his face now—wide and duskish, yea
The youth burnt out of it. A goodly man,
Thewed mightily and sunburnt to the bone;
Doubtless he was away in banishment,
Or kept some march far off.
MARY BEATON.
Still you see nothing?
MARY CARMICHAEL.
Yea, now they bring him forth with a great noise,
The folk all shouting and men thrust about
Each way from him.