LADY CLARENCE. Your Majesty has lived so pure a life,
And done such mighty things by Holy Church,
I trust that God will make you happy yet.
MARY. What is the strange thing happiness? Sit down here:
Tell me thine happiest hour.
LADY CLARENCE. I will, if that
May make your Grace forget yourself a little.
There runs a shallow brook across our field
For twenty miles, where the black crow flies five,
And doth so bound and babble all the way
As if itself were happy. It was May-time,
And I was walking with the man I loved.
I loved him, but I thought I was not loved.
And both were silent, letting the wild brook
Speak for us--till he stoop'd and gather'd one
From out a bed of thick forget-me-nots,
Look'd hard and sweet at me, and gave it me.
I took it, tho' I did not know I took it,
And put it in my bosom, and all at once
I felt his arms about me, and his lips--
MARY. O God! I have been too slack, too slack;
There are Hot Gospellers even among our guards--
Nobles we dared not touch. We have but burnt
The heretic priest, workmen, and women and children.
Wet, famine, ague, fever, storm, wreck, wrath,--
We have so play'd the coward; but by God's grace,
We'll follow Philip's leading, and set up
The Holy Office here--garner the wheat,
And burn the tares with unquenchable fire!
Burn!--
Fie, what a savour! tell the cooks to close
The doors of all the offices below.
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