Mary monologue (Act 5) — Queen Mary; and, Harold

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. Latimer! Sir, we are private with our women here-- Ever a rough, blunt, and uncourtly fellow-- Thou light a torch that never will go out! 'Tis out--mine flames. Women, the Holy Father Has ta'en the legateship from our cousin Pole-- Was that well done? and poor Pole pines of it, As I do, to the death. I am but a woman, I have no power.--Ah, weak and meek old man, Seven-fold dishonour'd even in the sight Of thine own sectaries--No, no. No pardon! Why that was false: there is the right hand still Beckons me hence. Sir, you were burnt for heresy, not for treason, Remember that! 'twas I and Bonner did it, And Pole; we are three to one--Have you found mercy there, Grant it me here: and see, he smiles and goes, Gentle as in life.