“Just that, madam—only your love, no more.”
“No more? You say well. Why, truly my love were a little thing to be valued at no more than a man’s base desire.”
“The man is the King, madam. His desire is great like himself.”
“The King is the man, sir, and the man is hateful to me. Will you tell him so, and be indeed my friend?”
“It would serve you ill, madam.”
“Will he force me? Alack! I will kill myself.”
“Nay, that you shall not, save you hold your breath and die of your own sweetness like a rose. No other way, be assured. He will wear you in his bosom first.”
“God! Dear Master Kay, good Master Kay, sweet, gentle friend, let me kill myself!”
“I must not.”
“But to leap from the wall! It is a little way—but a step, and to save me hell? You would not have me burn for ever?”