MARY. Howard is all English!
There is no king, not were he ten times king,
Ten times our husband, but must lower his flag
To that of England in the seas of England.
PHILIP. Is that your answer?
MARY. Being Queen of England,
I have none other.
PHILIP. So.
MARY. But wherefore not
Helm the huge vessel of your state, my liege,
Here by the side of her who loves you most?
PHILIP. No, Madam, no! a candle in the sun
Is all but smoke--a star beside the moon
Is all but lost; your people will not crown me--
Your people are as cheerless as your clime;
Hate me and mine: witness the brawls, the gibbets.
Here swings a Spaniard--there an Englishman;
The peoples are unlike as their complexion;
Yet will I be your swallow and return--
But now I cannot bide.
MARY. Not to help _me?_
They hate _me_ also for my love to you,
My Philip; and these judgments on the land--
Harvestless autumns, horrible agues, plague--
PHILIP. The blood and sweat of heretics at the stake
Is God's best dew upon the barren field.
Burn more!
MARY. I will, I will; and you will stay?
PHILIP. Have I not said? Madam, I came to sue
Your Council and yourself to declare war.
MARY. Sir, there are many English in your ranks
To help your battle.
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