"Her Majesty received him in a very different manner from what she had done at Loch Leven. Never had prince been handled (she passionately exclaimed) as she was: she had borne with him in all his rigorous speeches against herself and her uncles; she had offered unto him audience whenever he pleased to admonish her. 'And yet,' said she, 'I cannot be quit of you. I vow to God I shall be once revenged.' On pronouncing these words with great violence she burst into a flood of tears which interrupted her speech. When the Queen had composed herself, he proceeded calmly to make his defence. Her grace and he had (he said) at different times been engaged in controversy, and he never before perceived her offended with him. When it should please God to deliver her from the bondage of error in which she had been trained, through want of instruction in the truth, he trusted that her Majesty would not find the liberty of his tongue offensive. Out of the pulpit, he thought, few had occasion to be offended with him; but there he was not master of himself, but bound to obey Him who commanded him to speak plainly, and to flatter no flesh on the face of the earth.
"'But what have you do with my marriage?' said the { 171} Queen. He was proceeding to state the extent of his commission as a preacher, and the reasons which led him to touch on that delicate subject; but she interrupted him by repeating her question: 'What have ye to do with my marriage? Or what are you in this commonwealth?' 'A subject born within the same, madame,' replied the Reformer, piqued by the last question, and the contemptuous tone in which it was proposed. 'And albeit I be neither earl, lord, nor baron in it, yet has God made me (how abject that ever I be in your eyes) a profitable member within the same. Yea, madame, to me it appertains no less to forewarn of such things as may hurt it, if I foresee them, than it doth to any of the nobility; for both my vocation and conscience requires plainness of me. And therefore, madame, to yourself I say that which I spake in public place: whensoever the nobility of this realm shall consent that ye be subject to an unfaithful husband, they do as much as in them lieth to renounce Christ, to banish His truth from them, to betray the freedom of this realm, and perchance shall in the end do small comfort to yourself.' At these words the Queen began again to weep and sob with great bitterness. The superintendent (Erskine of Dun, who was present), who was a man of mild and gentle spirit, tried to mitigate her grief and resentment: he praised her beauty and her accomplishments, and told her that there was not a prince in Europe who would not reckon himself happy in gaining her hand. During this scene, the severe and inflexible mind of the Reformer displayed { 172} itself. He continued silent, and with unaltered countenance, until the Queen had given vent to her feelings. He then protested that he never took delight in the distress of any creature; it was with great difficulty that he could see his own boys weep when he corrected them for their faults, far less could he rejoice in her Majesty's tears; but seeing he had given her no just reason of offence, and had only discharged his duty, he was constrained, though unwillingly, to sustain her tears, rather than hurt his conscience and betray the commonwealth through his silence.