[They dance a measure.]

DARNLEY.
I do not like this manner of a dance,
This game of two by two; it were much better
To meet between the changes and to mix
Than still to keep apart and whispering
Each lady out of earshot with her friend.

MARY BEATON.
That 's as the lady serves her knight, I think:
We are broken up too much.

DARNLEY.
Nay, no such thing;
Be not wroth, lady, I wot it was the queen
Pricked each his friend out. Look you now--your ear--
If love had gone by choosing--how they laugh,
Lean lips together, and wring hands underhand!
What, you look white too, sick of heart, ashamed,
No marvel--for men call it--hark you though--

[They pass.]

MURRAY.
Was the queen found no merrier in France?

MARY HAMILTON.
Why, have you seen her sorrowful to-night?