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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=536531" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Queen Mary’s Letter To Bothwell</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pitiful gods! Have pity on my passion.<br>Teach me the road how I a certain proving<br>Shall make to him I love of my great loving,<br>My faith unchanged, nor plead it in fool's fashion.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, is he weary of too full possession,<br>Of this poor body's zeal which naught denied him,<br>Of a Queen's pride enthroned too near beside him,<br>Her parliament of joy in too long session?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nay, but she held as naught for him her honour,<br>Naught her friends' loyalty, their wrath her foemen.<br>Less than as naught the proud eyes of her women,<br>The load of a realm's anger laid upon her.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If it might vantage him! Behold me dying,<br>To prove my constancy, bequeathing all,<br>Fame, fortune, faith, my life's memorial,<br>The one son born to me, nor ought denying.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Queen am I with no subjects. Subject I<br>To my sole king. My country? 'Tis his pleasure.<br>There would I reign, who find in it my treasure,<br>For treasure--house his arms, and there would lie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Without those frontiers would I wander never.<br>I am no vagrant to take ship and go.<br>This is my haven. Whatso winds shall blow,<br>They shall not tempt me to a new endeavour.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And yet he doubteth! Lo, the proof I offer:<br>Not tears, not prayers; a manlier test is mine.<br>Let others plead in weakness; my soul's wine<br>Has a strong logic which shall find no scoffer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She, thy right lady for her own pride's sake,<br>Vowed thee obedience. 'Twas her debt of duty.<br>I for my shame made free gift of my beauty,<br>Holding it royaller to give than take.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She to her profit bindeth thee her lover,<br>Being thus mistress of thy wealth and name;<br>I to my hurt, in peril of my fame,<br>And dreading all men should my shame discover.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She dreadeth nothing; I have lost my daring.<br>She of her parents took thee proud to give;<br>I in despite of mine, who still must live<br>Fearing worse fortune through my too much caring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thou believest her! Although she reapeth<br>All her delight of thee, her place, her glory,<br>Her noble name who had no name in story,<br>(And I a queen!) Half of thy love she keepeth,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Love which was mine! And in exchange for what?<br>A girl's fool fancy for a boy aspirant.<br>How should she love thee not, thou master tyrant,<br>Her wedded lord, in room of that sad sot?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mad were she else, since thou of all art master,<br>Supreme in valour, beauty and men's praise,<br>Thee in whose light I live out all my days.<br>How should I pity her her soul's disaster?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When first you wooed her, it was she the colder,<br>You the more fierce; your flame raged as a furnace,<br>She shrank from you abashed at love's sweet harness,<br>Raised a maid's finger as your zeal grew bolder.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No pleasure took she in your strength. She doubted<br>Naught of your constancy who least could care.<br>Small joy she made for you of braided hair<br>Or happy raiment, going meanly clouted.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why should she deck herself? Her heart no faster<br>Beat, nor when even at death's door you lay.<br>Calmly she watched you in that disarray,<br>Nor trembled for you till Fate's fear had passed her.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And she lamenteth now, and moan she maketh,<br>Noting the petulance of her first folly,<br>Waileth aloud in wifely melancholy,<br>And blindeth thee with feint of that she lacketh.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What tales are hers! What flatteries now she weaveth,<br>In her false letters, as one more than I<br>Vowed to thy worship in long constancy<br>To a loved paramour! And he believeth!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lies all! tales taken from some alien rhymer<br>Richer than she in words to cozen you.<br>Her woes are painted every week anew<br>On her green cheeks, each than the last sublimer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And you give faith to her, to me light credence,<br>Though all my joy, my constancy is yours,<br>A flame which needs no kindling and endures,<br>Claiming its place by right of long precedence.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Too plain, alas, it is you hold me lightly,<br>Deem me with heart of wax, with words of wind,<br>A woman indiscreet and all too kind<br>To all the world, with a new lover nightly.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This is your ill thought which the more inflames me,<br>Humbling my pride, till I no longer crave<br>More than a share to--day of that you gave<br>So wholly yesterday. Your doubting shames me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To--day I ask but this, to do you reverence,<br>To heap you worship and make full your fame,<br>To work for you the building of your name<br>Joined to my own. For this I bar our severance.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is for you I supplicate my fortune,<br>My health restored, my strength, that you may learn<br>The fullness of my love and sweet concern<br>So dear to serve you. Thus do I importune;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Since that no wish have I but still to merit<br>Your life's companionship, who first of men<br>Possessed my body though less wholly then<br>My joy of heart which I of you inherit.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How many tears for you have I not wasted,<br>How much of anguish suffered and disgrace!<br>That day I saw the blood flow on your face<br>I knew you mine; 'twas my own death I tasted.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A day that was the last of my high queenship,<br>Of my life's honour held to--day in scorn,<br>Of my friends' faith even here where I was born<br>With those that nursed me or were near in kinship.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To--day I put aside their tried alliance.<br>Yours only do I seek, which shall sustain<br>My woman's weakness and make strong my reign,<br>And give meet answer to my foes' defiance.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This my presumption is, my reckoning this is,<br>The one desire of her who is your friend,<br>Who would your mistress be to her life's end<br>And serve you with her tenderest tendernesses,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You who to her are as her soul's sole brother,<br>A woman in subjection to your will,<br>To live and die for you your servant still,<br>You only of all men and not another.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Take it, my heart, my life, my blood, my all,<br>The pleasure of my days, my nights of anguish,<br>The lovelessness of hours where lone I languish,<br>And build them with me to a festival.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For now my heart is palsied with long fearings<br>Of this, of that, the fear lest you forget,<br>Lest tales be told of me, lest snares be set<br>To lure you from my arms to new endearings,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Some pitiful sad accident of sorrow,<br>Which may God shield us from with his good grace.<br>My fears I write who cannot see your face<br>Yet know my love as yesterday to--morrow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And so farewell. Nay answer not in censure.<br>Be bountiful of praise nor count the cost.<br>Learn that that man is king who dareth most,<br>And his the victory who most shall venture.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Wilfrid+Scawen+Blunt">Wilfrid Scawen Blunt</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=536531" data-title="Queen Mary’s Letter To Bothwell de Wilfrid Scawen Blunt" data-description="Pitiful gods! Have pity on my passion.
Teach me the road how I a certain proving
Shall make to him I love of my great loving,
My faith unchanged, nor plead it in fool's fashion.

Ah, is he weary of too full possession,
Of this poor body's zeal whi..."></div>
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