Have you no hair changed since you changed to Scot?
I look each day to see my face drawn up
About the eyes, as if they sucked the cheeks.
I think this air and face of things here north
Puts snow at flower-time in the blood, and tears
Between the sad eyes and the merry mouth
In their youth-days.

CHASTELARD.
It is a bitter air.

QUEEN.
Faith, if I might be gone, sir, would I stay?
I think, for no man's love's sake.

CHASTELARD.
I think not.

QUEEN.
Do you yet mind at landing how the quay
Looked like a blind wet face in waste of wind
And washing of wan waves? how the hard mist
Made the hills ache? your songs lied loud, my knight,
They said my face would burn off cloud and rain
Seen once, and fill the crannied land with fire,
Kindle the capes in their blind black-gray hoods--
I know not what. You praise me past all loves;
And these men love me little; 't is some fault,
I think, to love me: even a fool's sweet fault.
I have your verse still beating in my head