And ever faithful counsellor, might I speak?

MARY. I can forespeak your speaking. Would I marry
Prince Philip, if all England hate him? That is
Your question, and I front it with another:
Is it England, or a party? Now, your answer.

GARDINER. My answer is, I wear beneath my dress
A shirt of mail: my house hath been assaulted,
And when I walk abroad, the populace,
With fingers pointed like so many daggers,
Stab me in fancy, hissing Spain and Philip;
And when I sleep, a hundred men-at-arms
Guard my poor dreams for England. Men would murder me,
Because they think me favourer of this marriage.

MARY. And that were hard upon you, my Lord Chancellor.

GARDINER. But our young Earl of Devon--

MARY. Earl of Devon?
I freed him from the Tower, placed him at Court;
I made him Earl of Devon, and--the fool--
He wrecks his health and wealth on courtesans,
And rolls himself in carrion like a dog.

GARDINER. More like a school-boy that hath broken bounds,
Sickening himself with sweets.

MARY. I will not hear of him.