“But if thou distributest thy shafts at random, so that lovers dote on more than one object, how am I to exclude Jealousy?” asked the queen.
“By cultivating self-esteem,” replied Cupid. “The heart I have wounded for your highness can never feel disloyalty.”
“That is true, thou imp,” observed Courtenay; “and for that speech, I forgive thee the mischief thou hast done.”
“And so thou assurest me against infidelity?” said Mary.
“Your highness may be as inconstant as you please,” replied Cupid, “since the dart I aimed at you has been turned aside by Sir Henry Bedingfeld. But rest easy. He who loves you can love no other.”
“I am well satisfied,” replied Mary, with a gratified look.
“And since I have thy permission to love whom I please, I shall avail myself largely of it, and give all my heart to my subjects.”
“Not all your heart, my gracious mistress,” said Courtenay, in a tender whisper.
At this juncture, Xit, watching his opportunity, drew an arrow from his quiver, and touched the queen with it near the heart.
“I have hit your majesty at last, as well as the Earl of Devonshire,” he cried gleefully. “Shall I summon my brother Hymen to your assistance? He is among the crowd below.”