Hath no man seen my lord of Chastelard? Nay, no great matter. Keep you on that side: Begin the purpose. (MARY CARMICHAEL: Madam, he is here.) Begin a measure now that other side. I will not dance; let them play soft a little. Fair sir, we had a dance to tread to-night, To teach our north folk all sweet ways of France, But at this time we have no heart to it. Sit, sir, and talk. Look, this breast-clasp is new, The French king sent it me. (CHASTELARD: A goodly thing: But what device? the word is ill to catch.) A Venus crowned, that eats the hearts of men: Below her flies a love with a bat's wings, And strings the hair of paramours to bind Live birds' feet with. Lo what small subtle work: The smith's name, Gian Grisostomo da--what? Can you read that? The sea froths underfoot; She stands upon the sea and it curls up In soft loose curls that run to one in the wind. But her hair is not shaken, there 's a fault; It lies straight down in close-cut points and tongues, Not like blown hair. The legend is writ small: Still one makes out this--*Cave*--if you look.

Queen Monologue from Chastelard, a Tragedy

Rehearse Queen's monologue