PETRE. Only now perhaps.
Because the Queen hath been three days in tears
For Philip's going--like the wild hedge-rose
Of a soft winter, possible, not probable,
However you have prov'n it.
HOWARD. I must see her.
_Enter_ RENARD.
RENARD. My Lords, you cannot see her Majesty.
HOWARD. Why then the King! for I would have him bring it
Home to the leisure wisdom of his Queen,
Before he go, that since these statutes past,
Gardiner out-Gardiners Gardiner in his heat,
Bonner cannot out-Bonner his own self--
Beast!--but they play with fire as children do,
And burn the house. I know that these are breeding
A fierce resolve and fixt heart-hate in men
Against the King, the Queen, the Holy Father,
The faith itself. Can I not see him?
RENARD. Not now.
And in all this, my Lord, her Majesty
Is flint of flint, you may strike fire from her,
Not hope to melt her. I will give your message.
[_Exeunt_ PETRE _and_ HOWARD.
_Enter_ PHILIP _(musing)_
PHILIP. She will not have Prince Philibert of Savoy,
I talk'd with her in vain--says she will live
And die true maid--a goodly creature too.
Would _she_ had been the Queen! yet she must have him;
She troubles England: that she breathes in England
Is life and lungs to every rebel birth
That passes out of embryo.
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