liars and gospel, game and the hunters—but all of them with a streak of beastliness in them for the relish of a bawdy tale. And they shall have it. A wallet full of jingles can be bought for a few pence, or I have a turn myself:
Who's in the Queen's chamber?
Master Italian Thrift.
What's the Queen wearing?
Her long hair and her shift.
Mary: And where's the King of Scotland
To strike us as we sing?
And where's the King of Scotland?
There is no King.
Darnley: I won't have it—do you hear me?
Mary: I do.
Darnley: Again, will you dismiss Riccio?
Mary: Must I again? No.
Darndey: Then it is your reckoning. We'll spare you the bawdy songs, perhaps.
Mary: I should.
Darnley: But watch your David—watch him, I say. Keep him close. That's generous of me—to warn you. Perhaps now—this min-
