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listened to。
MARY HAMILTON。 No marvel if he loved it for her sake； She is the
choice of women in the world； Is she not； sweet？
MARY BEATON。 I have seen no fairer one。
MARY SEYTON。 And the most loving： did you note last night How
long she held him with her hands and eyes； Looking a little sadly； and at
last Kissed him below the chin and parted so As the dance ended？
MARY HAMILTON。 This was courtesy； So might I kiss my singing…
bird's red bill After some song； till he bit short my lip。
MARY SEYTON。 But if a lady hold her bird anights To sing to her
between her fingers…ha？ I have seen such birds。
MARY CARMICHAEL。 O； you talk emptily； She is full of grace； and
marriage in good time Will wash the fool called scandal off men's lips。
MARY HAMILTON。 I know not that； I know how folk would gibe If
one of us pushed courtesy so far。 She has always loved love's fashions
well； you wot； The marshal； head friend of this Chastelard's； She used to
talk with ere he brought her here And sow their talk with little kisses thick
As roses in rose…harvest。 For myself； I cannot see which side of her that
lurks； Which snares in such wise all the sense of men； What special beauty；
subtle as man's eye And tender as the inside of the eyelid is； There grows
about her。
MARY CARMICHAEL。 I think her cunning speech… The soft and
rapid shudder of her breath In talking…the rare tender little laugh… The
pitiful sweet sound like a bird's sigh When her voice breaks； her talking
does it all。
MARY SEYTON。 I say； her eyes with those clear perfect brows： It is
the playing of those eyelashes； The lure of amorous looks as sad as love；
Plucks all souls toward her like a net。
MARY HAMILTON。 What； what！ You praise her in too lover…like a
wise For women that praise women； such report Is like robes worn the
rough side next the skin； Frets where it warms。
MARY SEYTON。 You think too much in French。
Enter DARNLEY。
Here comes your thorn； what glove against it now？
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Algernon Charles Swinburne； _Chastelard； a tragedy_ 。 Boston： E。P。 Dutton； 1866。
MARY HAMILTON。 O； God's good pity！ this a thorn of mine？ It has
not run deep in yet。
MARY CARMICHAEL。 I am not sure： The red runs over to your
face's edge。
DARNLEY。 Give me one word； nay； lady； for love's sake； Here； come
this way； I will not keep you； no。 O my sweet soul； why do you wrong
me thus？
MARY HAMILTON。 Why will you give me for men's eyes to burn？
DARNLEY。 What； sweet； I love you as mine own soul loves me； They
shall divide when we do。
MARY HAMILTON。 I cannot say。
DARNLEY。 Why； look you； I am broken with the queen； This is the
rancor and the bitter heart That grows in you； by God it is nought else。
Why； this last night she held me for a fool… Ay； God wot； for a thing of
stripe and bell。 I bade her make me marshal in her masque… I had the dress
here painted； gold and gray （That is； not gray but a blue…green like this）…
She tells me she had chosen her marshal； she； The best o' the world for
cunning and sweet wit； And what sweet fool but her sweet knight； God
help！ To serve her with that three…inch wit of his？ She is all fool and
fiddling now； for me； I am well…pleased； God knows； if I might choose I
would not be more troubled with her love。 Her love is like a briar that
rasps the flesh； And yours is soft like flowers。 Come this way； love； So；
further in this window； hark you here。
Enter CHASTELARD。
MARY BEATON。 Good morrow； sir。
CHASTELARD。 Good morrow； noble lady。
MARY CARMICHAEL。 You have heard no news？ what news？
CHASTELARD。 Nay； I have none。 That maiden…tongued male…faced
Elizabeth Hath eyes unlike our queen's； hair not so soft； And lips no kiss
of love's could bring to flower In such red wise as our queen's； save this
news； I know none English。
MARY SEYTON。 Come； no news of her； For God's love talk still
rather of our queen。
MARY BEATON。 God give us grace then to speak well of her。 You
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Algernon Charles Swinburne； _Chastelard； a tragedy_ 。 Boston： E。P。 Dutton； 1866。
did right joyfully in our masque last night' I saw you when the queen lost
breath （her head Bent back； her chin and lips catching the air… A goodly
thing to see her） how you smiled Across her head； between your lips…no
doubt You had great joy； sir。 Did you not take note Once how one lock fell？
that was good to see。
CHASTELARD。 Yea； good enough to live for。
MARY BEATON。 Nay； but sweet Enough to die。 When she broke off
the dance； Turning round short and soft…I never saw Such supple ways of
walking as she has。
CHASTLELARD。 Why do you praise her gracious looks to me？
MARY BEATON。 Sir； for mere sport： but tell me even for love How
much you love her。
CHASTELARD。 I know not： it may be If I had set mine eyes to find
that out； I should not know it。 She hath fair eyes： may be I love her for
sweet eyes or brows or hair； For the smooth temples； where God touching
her Made blue with sweeter veins the flower…sweet white Or for the tender
turning of her wrist； Or marriage of the eyelid with the cheek； I cannot tell；
or flush of lifting throat； I know not if the color get a name This side of
heaven…no man knows； or her mouth； A flower's lip with a snake's lip；
stinging sweet； And sweet to sting with： face that one would see And then
fall blind and die with sight of it Held fast between the eyelids…oh； all
these And all her body and the soul to that； The speech and shape and hand
and foot and heart That I would die of…yea； her name that turns My face to
fire being written…I know no whit How much I love them。
MARY BEATON。 Nor how she loves you back？
CHASTELARD。 I know her ways of loving； all of them： A sweet soft
way the first is； afterward It burns and bites like fire； the end of that；
Charred dust； and eyelids bitten through with smoke。
MARY BEATON。 What has she done for you to gird at her？
CHASTELARD。 Nothing。 You do not greatly love her； you； Who do
not…gird； you call it。 I am bound to France； Shall I take word from you to
any one？ So it be harmless； not a gird； I will。
MARY BEATON。 I doubt you will not go hence with your life。
CHASTELARD。 Why； who should slay me？ No man northwards born；
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Algernon Charles Swinburne； _Chastelard； a traged