Mar. A princess? Nay,
I'll be no more a woman, if that means
To cage my soul in circle of a court
And fawn on turnkey humor for my life!
Scotland is lost to me. I'll not go there
To meet my dangerous brother's wrath. No, no!
But there are forests—I can fly to them,
And dig my food from Nature's generous earth,
Thrive on her berries, drink from her clear streams,
Sleep 'neath the royal coverlet of her leaves,