We but desire to know if

“Madam,” said Ruthven, “we know that you are an orator; and perhaps for that reason the Council has sent hither men, whose converse hath been more with the wars, than with the language of the schools or the cabals of state. We but desire to know if, on assurance of life and honour, ye will demit the rule of this kingdom of Scotland?” “And what warrant have I,” said the Queen, “that ye will keep treaty with me, if I should barter my kingly estate for seclusion, and leave to weep in secret?” “Our honour and our word, madam,” answered Ruthven. “They are too slight and unsolid pledges, my lord,” said the Queen; “add at least a handful of thistle-down to give them weight in the balance.” “Away, Ruthven,” said Lindesay; “she was ever deaf to counsel, save of slaves and sycophants; let her remain by her refusal, and abide by it!” “Stay, my lord,” said Sir Robert Melville, “or rather permit me to have but a few minutes’ private audience with her Grace. If my presence with you could avail aught, it must be as a mediator — do not, I conjure you, leave the castle, or break off the conference, until I bring you word how her Grace shall finally stand disposed.” “We will remain in the hall,” said Lindesay, “for half an hour’s space; but in despising our words and our pledge of honour, she has touched the honour of my name — let her look herself to the course she has to pursue. If the half hour should pass away without her determining to comply with the demands of the nation, her career will be brief enough.”