Page:Mary Stuart (Drinkwater).djvu/53

 Darnley: Do you call me stock? A thing for japes—to be mocked at by a harlot and her creeping filth?

Mary: So, we sing our bawdry at the Queen's window? Where is the King to whip such fellows?

Darnley: We know the window from another.

Mary: Where is the King, I say?

Darnley: Looking to his own. David Riccio, I spoke too gently in the yard now. Thieves are honest men—but there are rascals, Italian spawn, creeping things—and heels.

Beaton: My lord, this is the Queen's chamber.

Darnley: Aye, the Queen's chamber—that's it. There are heels, I say—and until then, so—


 * (He spits in  face, and rushes out)

Riccio (moving across to, and kneeling to her): He's mad, he should be held. What shall I do, Madam?

Mary: What shall the Queen do?

Riccio: I am afraid.

Mary: Afraid of what?

Riccio: They hate me here. He has fellows. It will not be safe for me anywhere in Holyrood.