Sonnet To Lord Bothwell - 2 Poem by Mary Stuart

She does your bidding for her honour's sake.
I do your bidding and have naught but strife
Since, unlike her, alas, I'm not your wife.
And though this precedence she cannot take,
She uses constancy to benefit her name
-For there's small honour as mere mistress of your house-
While I, for loving you, receive only abuse.
And I will not give way to her, nor play her game.
She does not grasp the danger you are in;
I cannot rest for fear of what may be.
She made your acquaintance through her family;
I bring you love and thus defy my kin.
But nonetheless you doubt if I be true
And place your trust in her loyalty to you.