Arrange my dress--the gorgeous Indian shawl
That Philip brought me in our happy days!--
That covers all. So--am I somewhat Queenlike,
Bride of the mightiest sovereign upon earth?
LADY CLARENCE. Ay, so your Grace would bide a moment yet.
MARY. No, no, he brings a letter. I may die
Before I read it. Let me see him at once.
_Enter_ COUNT DE FERIA (_kneels_).
FERIA. I trust your Grace is well. (_Aside_) How her hand burns!
MARY. I am not well, but it will better me,
Sir Count, to read the letter which you bring.
FERIA. Madam, I bring no letter.
MARY. How! no letter?
FERIA. His Highness is so vex'd with strange affairs--
MARY. That his own wife is no affair of his.
FERIA. Nay, Madam, nay! he sends his veriest love,
And says, he will come quickly.
MARY. Doth he, indeed?
You, sir, do _you_ remember what _you_ said
When last you came to England?
FERIA. Madam, I brought
My King's congratulations; it was hoped
Your Highness was once more in happy state
To give him an heir male.
MARY. Sir, you said more;
You said he would come quickly. I had horses
On all the road from Dover, day and night;
On all the road from Harwich, night and day;
But the child came not, and the husband came not;
And yet he will come quickly.
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