Distrust and fear will haunt the English queen.
No dungeon can inter you deep enough;
Your death alone can make her throne secure.

MARY.
Will she then dare, regardless of the shame,
Lay my crowned head upon the fatal block?

MORTIMER.
She will most surely dare it, doubt it not.

MARY.
And can she thus roll in the very dust
Her own, and every monarch's majesty?

MORTIMER.
She thinks on nothing now but present danger,
Nor looks to that which is so far removed.

MARY.
And fears she not the dread revenge of France?

MORTIMER.
With France she makes an everlasting peace;
And gives to Anjou's duke her throne and hand.

MARY.
Will not the King of Spain rise up in arms?

MORTIMER.