Bring me my way and bid me fare well forth.

[As they pass out the QUEEN stays MARY BEATON.]

QUEEN.

Hark hither, sweet. Get back to Holyrood And take Carmichael with you: go both up In some chief window whence the squares lie clear-- Seem not to know what I shall do--mark that-- And watch how things fare under. Have good cheer; You do not think now I can let him die?

Nay, this were shameful madness if you did, And I should hate you.

MARY BEATON.

Pray you love me, madam, And swear you love me and will let me live, That I may die the quicker.

QUEEN.

Nay, sweet, see, Nay, you shall see, this must not seem devised; I will take any man with me, and go; Yea, for pure hate of them that hate him: yea, Lay hold upon the headsman and bid strike Here on my neck; if they will have him die, Why, I will die too: queens have died this way For less things than his love is. Nay, I know They want no blood; I will bring swords to boot For dear love's rescue though half earth were slain; What should men do with blood? Stand fast at watch; For I will be his ransom if I die.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE III.--The Upper Chamber in Holyrood.

MARY BEATON seated; MARY CARMICHAEL at a window.

MARY BEATON.

Do you see nothing?

MARY CARMICHAEL.

Nay, but swarms of men And talking women gathered in small space, Flapping their gowns and gaping with fools' eyes: And a thin ring round one that seems to speak, Holding his hands out eagerly; no more.

MARY BEATON.

Why, I hear more, I hear men shout The Queen.

MARY CARMICHAEL.

Nay, no cries yet.

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.

MARY BEATON.

Ah, Lord God, bear with me, Help me to bear a little with my love For thine own love, or give me some quick death.

Do not come down; I shall get strength again, Only my breath fails. Looks he sad or blithe?

Not sad I doubt yet.

MARY CARMICHAEL.

Nay, not sad a whit, But like a man who losing gold or lands Should lose a heavy sorrow; his face set, The eyes not curious to the right or left, And reading in a book, his hands unbound, With short fleet smiles. The whole place catches breath, Looking at him; she seems at point to speak: Now she lies back, and laughs, with her brows drawn And her lips drawn too. Now they read his crime-- I see the laughter tightening her chin: Why do you bend your body and draw breath?

They will not slay him in her sight; I am sure She will not have him slain.

MARY BEATON.

Forth, and fear not: I was just praying to myself--one word, A prayer I have to say for her to God If he will mind it.

MARY CARMICHAEL.

Now he looks her side; Something he says, if one could hear thus far: She leans out, lengthening her throat to hear And her eyes shining.

MARY BEATON.

Ah, I had no hope: Yea thou God knowest that I had no hope.

Let it end quickly.

MARY CARMICHAEL.

Now his eyes are wide And his smile great; and like another smile The blood fills all his face. Her cheek and neck Work fast and hard; she must have pardoned him, He looks so merrily. Now he comes forth Out of that ring of people and kneels down; Ah, how the helve and edge of the great axe Turn in the sunlight as the man shifts hands-- It must be for a show: because she sits And hardly moves her head this way--I see Her chin and lifted lips. Now she stands up, Puts out her hand, and they fall muttering; Ah!

MARY BEATON.

Is it done now?

MARY CARMICHAEL.

For God's love, stay there; Do not look out. Nay, he is dead by this; But gather up yourself from off the floor; Will she die too? I shut mine eyes and heard-- Sweet, do not beat your face upon the ground.

Nay, he is dead and slain.

MARY BEATON.

What, slain indeed?

I knew he would be slain. Ay, through the neck: I knew one must be smitten through the neck To die so quick: if one were stabbed to the heart, He would die slower.