Re- reading a quatrain by Mary Queen of Scots

Contributing both to work on Mary Queen of Scots’ poetry in particular, and to the growing field of early modern women’s marginalia more broadly, in this article I draw renewed attention to an overlooked autograph copy of a quatrain by Mary Queen of Scots (‘Si ce Lieu est’) in Sheffield, Guild of St George, MS R.3546. Mary’s verse appears here below an image of Christ’s wounded heart and opposite an image of a priest celebrating the Eucharist. In the first half of the article I discuss the manuscript’s provenance and its association with female members of Mary’s family, and I also assess the poem’s editorial history and critical heritage. I then propose a new translation and offer original readings of Mary’s self‐consciously meta‐textual wordplay. Most significantly, I make a case for the importance of reading ‘Si ce Lieu est’, like other examples of Mary’s poetry, not just in isolation but very much alongside the visual material it accompanies.

I ask you first that you remember what part you have in my affections Mary concludes the verse with a (partially) anagrammatic motto based on her name, 'Va Tu Meriteras' ('Go, you are worthy'), as well as a monogram based on the initial 'M' of her name and 'ɸ' (the initial phonetic letter of her husband François II's name). The same motto appears at the end of another of Mary's poems, the sonnet L'ire de Dieu, included by John Leslie (1527-96), Bishop of Ross, in the 1574 printed edition of his Libri Duo: Quorum vno, Piae Afflicti Animi Consolationes, diunaque remedia: Altero, Animi Tranqvilli Mvnimentum et conservatio, continentur, two pious Latin treatises which he wrote for Mary between 1572 and 1573. 5 In having a memorial function, Mary's inscription relates to others (discussed in further detail below) found in surviving sixteenth-century manuscripts. It is designed to encourage Louise and Mary to remember one another in the act of reading, and it is likely that the book was an object of gift-exchange between the two women during Mary's time in France, rather like another surviving book of hours (Reims, CR I 100 M Rés Fonds ancien) which Mary seems to have gifted to a different aunt, Renée de Lorraine (abbess of Saint-Pierre de Reims from 1553 until her death in 1602) (see second select family trees) (Figs. 1 and 2). 6 This article concerns a very similar -but arguably much more developedmemorial inscription which Mary again wrote into a book of hours belonging to a female member of her maternal family. Robin Bell's collection of Mary's poetry opens with a 'Quatrain Written in the Mass Book Belonging to Her Aunt Anne of Lorraine, Duchess of Aerschot ': 7 Si ce Lieu est pour écrire ordonné If I am ordered to write in this space Ce qu'il vous plaît avoir en souvenance, Because you're pleased by such a souvenir, Je vous requiers que lieu me soit donné I ask of you always to save my place Et que nul temps m'en ôte l'ordonnance. And ne'er withdraw the order I have here Reine de France Marie Mary Queen of France The quatrain (with various English translations) has appeared in several collections of Mary's verse, 8     Known as the 'De Croy Hours' after Diana's married name, it contains on fol. 17r a version of Mary's quatrain below an image of Christ's wounded heart and opposite an image of a priest celebrating the Eucharist (Fig. 3). 12 This article -which acts as a prolegomenon to an edition of Mary's poetry -sets out to demonstrate how reading Si ce Lieu est in the context of the 'De Croy Hours' allows us to re-assess the poem in several significant ways. I first discuss the rather complicated link between the Sheffield manuscript and Silvestre's facsimile before considering the former manuscript's provenance and assessing the quatrain's critical heritage. In the second half of the article I provide a transcription of the original French text and an edited version in modern French. I then discuss a new translation of the quatrain which places increased emphasis on Mary's word play. I also reveal the importance of reading Si ce Lieu est not in isolation but instead very much alongside the images with which it appears. In interpreting Mary's marginal autograph inscription in such a manner, this article in turn contributes to a burgeoning critical interest in early modern annotation both generally and, more particularly, by women. 13 Indeed, several of the repeated findings of work on sixteenth-century women's marginalia prove particularly pertinent to the following discussion, most notably the way in which marginal annotations -as acts of writing and 'marks of active reading' -frequently appear in close and self-conscious communication with the text or visual material they juxtapose. The quoted phrase belongs to Heidi Brayman Hackel, who additionally classifies annotations of the period as marks 'of ownership' or 'recording', 14 whilst Juliet Fleming and Jason Scott-Warren have written of readers' marks as a form of graffiti, 15 similarly observing how many merely (or rather in fact significantly) record a reader's presence in the book. As we shall see, Mary's autograph inscription is both a mark of active reading and writing, and a deliberate record of her presence.
Another useful framework is what Orgel terms 'an archaeology of the use of margins and other blank spaces', 'conceiving of the text not simply as reading matter or written speech but as property, and more particularly as a location or even a building' -a concept 'deeply embedded in the history of rhetoric'. 16 Location and a related history of rhetoric will prove crucial to an understanding of Mary's quatrain. Finally, an emergent awareness of early modern marginalia as public and performative acts -particularly when produced by royalty, and within a devotional context -will prove important to an understanding of Si ce Lieu est. Micheline White has written, for instance, of how women's marginalia were 'performative, outward-looking, and action-orientated as well as personal and in-ward looking', adding that 'the margins of material books were important sites for monarchical self-reflection and self-representation'. 17 Smith has similarly argued that the marginal annotations royal women (including Mary) made to the devotional volumes they accessed during periods of captivity were again 'site[s] of active reading and writing … with public, goal-centered results' -acts of 'sovereign self-promotion' 18 -whilst Katherine Acheson (developing Scott-Warren's work) has discussed women's marginalia as a form of life-writing, writing 'which has the power to invent things (including selves)' 19 . She states further that the '[t]he life-writing that we find in the margins of early modern books is … dialogic … [and] often performative or illocutionary'. 20 Mary uses her quatrain very much to create a private and public space in which to perform her sovereign self in relation to the surrounding visual (and verbal) devotional material already present in her books.

PRINT PUBLICATION AND CRITICAL COMMENTARY
It is crucial to assess first of all an ambiguity surrounding the relationship between the Sheffield manuscript and Silvestre's facsimile since it is not at all clear whether we are dealing with a case of one or two witnesses of Mary's poem. In support of the latter scenario is the fact that the description Silvestre provides of the manuscript containing Mary's verse certainly matches the 'de 16 Stephen Orgel, The Reader in the Book: A Study of Spaces and Times (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 6. Acheson (see note 19) also discusses marginalia as 'spatial phenomena' in her chapter 'The Occupations of the Margins' (72). 17  Croy Hours' (discussed in more detail below), but the accompanying plates do not match the folios containing Mary's inscription in the Sheffield manuscript (compare Figs. 3 and 4). 21 Furthermore, in Silvestre's facsimile Mary's quatrain is complete, whilst the Sheffield manuscript lacks the final letters of each line. These factors would seem to suggest that we are dealing with two witnesses to the poem, but on closer examination this may not the case. To take the less certain issue of the missing letters in the Sheffield manuscript first, it is of course possible that the Sheffield manuscript was cropped during a rebinding process after Silvestre had consulted it since it is currently bound in an apparently nineteenth-century gold-tooled red morocco. The binding's precise date nevertheless remains uncertain. More convincing evidence arises when we interrogate Silvestre's plates in more detail. He presents them as if they derive from the same manuscript but his introductory notes reveal that the first three plates are of an illuminated fifteenth-century manuscript attributed to Mary's ownership in the eighteenth century; Silvestre then appended to these images 'another memorial' of Mary Queen of Scots ('Nous completons notre planche par un autre souvenir de la malheureuse reine d'Ecosse').
It seems to me likely that this 'autre souvenir' was the Sheffield manuscript, a theory supported when we look in closer detail at the shelfmarks used by Silvestre. In the introductory notes he states that the manuscript attributed to Mary's ownership was housed in the Bibliothèque Royale (Paris) but alongside the plates he refers to la Vallière collection. 22 The Bibliothèque Royale manuscript (that associated with Mary in the eighteenth century) remains in the Bibliothèque Nationale (now Latin MS 1405), 23 and it is available to view in digital format via Gallica. 24 The online images confirm that this manuscript does not contain an inscription by Mary. By contrast, the Sheffield manuscript containing Mary's inscription was formerly in the Vallière collection. Louis-César de la Baume Le Blanc, duc de la Vallière (1708-80), was a prominent French nobleman and exceptional bibliophile, 25  containing Mary's quatrain is listed in a posthumous catalogue of volumes in his library. 26 Here again the book is said to have been owned by Anne de Lorraine and Diana de Dommartin and is described as replete with inscriptions by their relatives and closest friends. The catalogue also prints Mary's text, dating its copying to the time of Anne of Lorraine's ownership. 27 The balance of probability therefore suggests to me that we are dealing with one witness of Mary's quatrain rather than two, but we still cannot be entirely certain of this point.
In the remainder of this article I focus on the Sheffield manuscript. We know nothing of its history between its ownership by Anne of Lorraine, Diana de Dommartin and la Vallière, and nor do we know who purchased the book during the sales of la Vallière's collection, but (as Smith first revealed) it appeared again in 1876 in a sale of the booksellers Morgand et Fatout. 28 Just a few years later, in November 1881, John Ruskin ordered the volume from the librarian Henry Ellis (1777-1869), and Ruskin's collection now forms part of the holdings of Sheffield Museum. 29 In 1883 In doing so, she exercised a considerable degree of creative licence, especially in the third and fourth lines where the French contains no reference to 'love' or 'trusting hearts'.
Smith provides the most recent translation (discussed in further detail below): If this place for writing is set aside, Please remember; I require that space be given to me And that time does not erase the privilege. Queen of France M.S. Marie 32 Before Smith, the quatrain was analysed by Hopkins and Herman. Hopkins uses Bell's French text but offers her own more literal translation: If this place is ordered for writing That which it pleases you to have in remembrance, I require of you that this place be given me And that no time take away the ordering from me. 33 She first considers the quatrain's position within a book of hours, proposing that although 'God is not directly mentioned, the poem is implicitly situated within a context of both personal and public piety'. She then attends to the poem's association with Mary's maternal family, via Anne of Lorraine (whom, following tradition, Hopkins takes to be Mary's aunt): 'the absolute absence of the paternal line in Mary's poem' is, she suggests, striking; the poem is '[w]ritten in the French of her mother's family rather than the Scots of her father's, it is addressed to her mother's sister, and signed not as we would know her, "Mary, Queen of Scots" but "Reine de France Marie"'. Hopkins thus states that the poem and manuscript witness 'triply encode that completeness of identification with France and with her Guise mother which would so thoroughly undo [Mary] when her circumstances forced her to return to Scotland'. This is an interesting line of thought, especially given that the aforementioned Christie's manuscript and Reims manuscript were associated with two of Mary's aunts. Of course, Mary also describes herself as Queen of France because that is what she very much (newly) was at the time of the poem's composition; Mary had married the dauphin François in 1558 and she became Queen of France on the death of her father-in-law, Henri II, in July 1559. She was, however, only Queen for a short time before François' untimely death in December 1560. As such, the fact that Mary signs herself as 'Royne de france' at the end of this quatrain allows us to date the poem. It must have been written into the manuscript sometime after July 1559 and before December 1560; after that date Mary instead described herself 'Marie Royne d'Escosse, douairière de France' ('Mary Queen of Scots, dowager [Queen] of France'). 34 Elsewhere, Hopkins attends to the way in which Mary plays on the language of command ('ordonné' and 'ordonnance' in the first and last lines), and she notes that the 'poem as a whole is structured by verbs of control and request'; notably, 'Mary herself is never the subject of a command' (Hopkins' emphasis). She then discusses how agency in the poem shifts from the person of Mary's aunt to Time, who has a rival for control in Mary herself, and she highlights the emphasis placed throughout on time and space. She suggests, finally, that Mary desired 'to achieve ordering in words', pointing out the quatrain's regular pentameters, and abab rhyme scheme. This sense of a desire for arrangement and ordering on the part of Mary is something to which I will return.
Herman adopts Bell's French text but again provides his own translation: If this place is ordained for writing Because you are pleased by this souvenir, I require that you give me this place, And that Time never remove this edict. Queen of France, Mary. 35 Like Hopkins, he suggests that the 'poem begins with a subtle assertion of power, an act that shifts the initiative back from her aunt to Mary'. He also develops Bell's suggestion that the quatrain's play on 'ordonné' and 'ordonnance' anticipated Mary's playing on the words 'sujets' and 'assujettie' in the second of the infamous Casket Sonnets attributed to her, 36 proposing further that these words give 'the poem a distinctly legislative air, as these terms describe the acts of monarchs or ruling bodies'. He concludes: 'Consequently, in the space of four short lines, Mary transforms herself from the person complying with another's orders into the person issuing orders'.
Hopkins' and Herman's readings of Mary's quatrain thus focus on word play and themes of command and control, and following the title given in Bell's edition they both concentrate on the poem's relationship to a woman 34 I thank Professor John Guy for discussing this point. Further study might consider Mary's signature and monogram (which she often appended to her verse and marginal annotations) in light of the following comment by Acheson: 'Proper names written (repeatedly) in books vividly display how integrated identity was with the technologies of writing [...], and how books themselves were containers for identity and experimentation with the same' ('Occupations of the Margins', 73). 35  It was produced in France, perhaps at Tours, in the third quarter of the fifteenth century and contains twenty miniatures, including seven added at some point in the sixteenth century onto originally blank folios (fols 6v, 7r, 16v, 17r, 110v, 111r, 112r). The original fifteenth-century miniatures are the work of three artists, including Jean Fouquet (c.1425-c.1480) and/or members of his workshop, 39 and it seems that the book of hours was originally made for a male member of the Courtney family (perhaps Jean IV de Courtnay, d. 1472) whose arms appear on fol. 65v. 40 As we have seen, the manuscript was owned later in the sixteenth century by Diana de Croy (1552-1625) and contains numerous inscriptions in French, Spanish and Italian. 41 Many of these were written by Diana's relatives or friends and are frequently addressed directly to her. Three of the verses addressed to Diana are by her husband, Charles-Philippe de Croy (1549-1613), and one of these is dated 1572, just two years after their marriage. The majority of the other inscriptions are dated between 1572 and 1574, with one dated as late as 1590.
Another of Charles-Philippe's inscriptions ('Votre tres humble et tres obéissant fils') must have been addressed to his father Philippe II de Croy 37 The Obsecro te prayer begins with a litany of praise for the Virgin's various attributes before listing significant episodes in her life. Emphasis is placed on the anguish and compassion felt by Mary as mother.
38 Fols 6-7, 15-17, and 108-112 were originally blank, but now contain illustrations added in the sixteenth century (discussed further below (1496-1549) or mother Anne de Lorraine (1522-68), suggesting that the manuscript was owned, before Diana, by her mother-or father-in-law. 42 Anne de Lorraine has traditionally been seen as the most likely candidate; indeed, in all publications since the nineteenth century her ownership has been asserted as a matter of fact. Interestingly, she owned a collection of books, including a manuscript of c.100 (largely love) poems presented to her by her first husband, René of Châlon (1519-44), a genealogy of the house of Nassau, and large collection of printed books which she acquired in Paris around 1560. 43 Mary's inscription almost certainly dates from the time of Anne's ownership -it definitely must date from before Diana de Croy's ownership since Mary had already been imprisoned in England for several years by the time that the latter apparently started using the book as an album amicorum in or around 1572 -and another inscription by one Dorothea de Lorraine (1545-1621), Anne's niece, most probably dates from around the same time. Unlike Dorothea, however, Mary was not Anne's niece. Instead, Anne was the cousin of Mary's mother, Marie de Guise (1515-60), and so Mary's cousin once removed (see first select family tree fig. 1). 44 When read in light of the other inscriptions in the manuscript, Mary's quatrain becomes one of several autograph entries designed to fulfil a memorial function. your/ louyng fadre/ that gave you/ ths booke and I/ geve you att all/ tymes goddess blessing/and myne/ henry R'. In another manuscript (London, British Library, Additional MS 17012) belonging to a female court servant, Henry VII wrote 'Madame I pray you Re-/member me youre louyng/ maister/ Henry R') (fol. 21r). 47 More recently, Smith has discussed further examples of memorial inscriptions in the devotional books used by sixteenth-century queens and princesses during periods of captivity and incarceration. They include a poem of remembrance Anne Boleyn added to a printed Book of Hours (Hever Castle) which she perhaps took with her to the Tower of London before her execution ('Reme[m]ber me when you do pray/ That hope dothe led from day to day'), and a French verse added by Henry VIII to another of Anne's books much earlier in their relationship (translated by Smith as: 'If you remember me according to your love/ In your prayers, I shall hardly be forgotten/ For yours I am. Henry R. forever'). Strikingly, Smith documents how Henry VIII seems to have deliberately copied this verse beneath an image of Christ's bleeding body. 48 As we shall see, there is a very similar relationship between Mary's quatrain and an accompanying devotional image.
The sheer number of memorial inscriptions in the Sheffield manuscript is, to the best of my knowledge, unusual, but the above examples show that autograph inscriptions being used to transform books into acts of remembrance that maintained ties between separated family and friends was certainly not. Therefore, like the inscription in the Christie's manuscript, Si ce Lieu est might be taken straightforwardly as a commission by Anne to ensure that she remembers Mary. However, once we examine the material context in further detail a more complex way of reading the quatrain emerges.
Mary's inscription occurs on one of several originally blank folios following the Gospel extracts (which conclude with the end of Mark 16) and before the Hours of the Virgin (themselves prefaced on fols 18v-19r with an image of the Annunciation). As Fig. 3 shows, the quatrain is written below an image of Christ's wounded heart; the lozenge's right hand point forms the head of the spear which entered Christ's heart, and the words 'Hec est mensura plaga domini' ('This is the measurement of the wound of the Lord') are repeated twice around the edges. 49 The whole is set against a blue background with images of angels and clouds. Opposite (on fol. 16v) is an image of a priest celebrating the Eucharist. The priest, accompanied by an assistant, is depicted raising the chalice; above the altar, on the left hand side, Christ displays his stigmata alongside the Cross and instruments of the Passion -either a vision 47  experienced by the priest or an image of Christ's suffering body to indicate the Real Presence of his body and blood in the act of sacrament. Christ's display of the wound in his side anticipates that represented on fol. 17r whilst the red background of the image and blue of the priest's vestments echoes the striking blue and red of the lozenge and surrounding border. The folio immediately after Si ce Lieu est (17v) was blank at the time of Mary's inscription but an inscription was added during Diana de Croy's ownership. All of the images on folios 16 and 17 were added to the manuscript in the sixteenth century. Some were added at the time of Diana de Croy's ownership, but others, like those on fols 16v and 17r, seem to have been added earlier.
The fact that Mary wrote her inscription at the very bottom of fol. 17r suggests that the image of the wounded heart was present when she wrote. She would most likely have written more centrally if the whole page was blank, and the quite cramped appearance of her hand in the final lines suggests further that she misjudged the space available to her. That she marked her encounter with the volume in this place indicates either that the image attracted her attention or that she was asked to write alongside it. As such, it is worth thinking more about between text and image.
First, however, I want to assess the quatrain's meaning per se. A new transcription of the original French text and an edited version in modern French follows; square brackets indicate text lost most probably due to cropping and asterisks estimate the likely number of missing letters. As discussed above, recent commentaries have focused on the quatrain's wordplay, with Smith, Bell, Hopkins and Herman attempting to re-create this in their translations. They have focused in particular on the way Mary plays on ordonné and l'ordonnance and they associate these words with the language of command. They have commented too on how agency shifts across the quatrain -e.g. the subtly different meanings of the repeated pronoun vous in 50 Mary's monogram represents the combined letters 'MA'. lines 2 and 3 -and also on how emphasis is placed throughout on notions of time and space. Mary thus makes repeated use of the word lieu (to refer to the place on the page where the poem is copied) and she reflects on the passage of time (temps) in the final line. In my translation, I have retained the repetition of place (lieu) and repeat use of the pronoun you (vous), but I have translated ordonné and l'ordonnance differently. Bell, Hopkins and Herman correctly position these terms as part of a semantic field of governance, but they also have a wider frame of reference. Thus, ordonné and l'ordonnance refer too to the ordering and arrangement of textual material (a meaning picked up by Smith in her use of 'set aside'). In other words, Mary is playing on notions of command and control but also, together with her repetition of the word lieu, on the notion of dispositio or rhetorical organisation of arguments.
With her concluding focus on the effects of time, Mary also arguably plays throughout the quatrain on memoria or 'memory', the discipline of recalling the arguments of a discourse. 51 In classical treatises on rhetoric, dispositio and memoria were intimately connected to one another; for instance, in the Ciceronian Rhetorica ad Herennium (which Mary owned), 52 dispositio is defined as 'the ordering and distribution of the matter', and memoria as 'the firm retention in the mind of the matter, words, and arrangement'. 53 Mary brings the two faculties together. In the first two lines she writes of how space has been set aside in the book of hours for writing memorial inscriptions and in the third and fourth lines she requests that the words she now writes in that place will acquire a permanence, both on the page and in the mind or memory. In essence, Mary figures her quatrain as an epitaph, and uses wordplay to suggest that her carefully ordered words are themselves both that epitaph and also the means whereby the epitaph and she herself will be remembered. Accordingly, we can translate the final word l'ordonnance literally as 'organisation or arrangement of material', but also more freely as something along the lines of 'my recollections' (i.e. the product of that ordered material) or even 'recollection of me'; although not a close rendering of the original French, these two options do have the added advantage of developing the reference to memory (souvenance) in line two, thereby highlighting the quatrain's consciousness of itself as fulfilling a memorial function.
Ways of translating the first line are even more numerous. One possibility certainly remains some variation of 'If this place is ordained for writing' (Herman's translation) (an alternative verb would be 'commissioned'), but others bringing in something of the rhetorically-motivated wordplay include 51  'if this place is arranged for writing' or even 'if this place is for ordered writing' (with écrire functioning almost as a gerund, for écrit (noun, masc.)); Smith's 'If this place for writing is set aside' comes close to this. Hopkins' 'if this place is ordered for writing' also captures something of the possible dual wordplay, whilst one further option (clunky in modern English but retaining something of both of the possible meanings) would be 'If this place is for writing ordered'. I have opted for the phrase 'if this Place is arranged for writing' (retaining here too Mary's use of a majuscule for Lieu).

Proposed New Translation
If this Place is arranged for writing That which it pleases you to hold in memory, I ask you that the place be given to me, And that no time take from its arrangement. Queen of France.
I have chosen 'arranged' because, like 'ordered', it retains something of the two meanings of Mary's wordplay, but also because, unlike 'ordered', it encourages us to think about the actual arrangement of Mary's words on the page -the place she refers to twice in four lines; 54 the same self-consciousness applies to Mary's concern with time (temps) since the book of hours into which she copies the quatrain is by its very nature concerned with the division of lay time according to the 'Hours' of the monastic Divine Office.
I provide a fairly literal translation of the final line but it is interesting to note that Bell presents the original French here as 'Et que nul temps m'en ôte l'ordonnance' (which translates literally as 'and that no time take from me the arrangement [implied: of it]'). This is not an accurate transcription of the original French, but it might be closer to what Mary intended to say. Moreover, if we look closely at Mary's handwriting in the final line, it is possible to detect a certain hesitancy, perhaps simply because she was running out of space, but possibly also for more meaningful reasons. A line of thought meriting further consideration would certainly be the propriety of writing anything -especially something that so much emphasises one's own agency -under an image of the Eucharist, encouraging us to also question the extent to which Mary was happy to write in this space -indeed, in both the Sheffield and Christie's manuscripts Mary very much presents her writing as something she has been persuaded, or induced, to complete. An editor might therefore emend the final line to Bell's reading, but I retain the more difficult reading to ensure that the 'arrangement' referred to encompasses not just the arrangement of 54 It is possible that Mary plays on other meanings of the word lieu. In addition to referring to a portion of space, the word could also refer to a position in a moment of time (linking to Mary's concluding desire), as well as to a social position, office or function (linking to Mary's position as Queen of France and the play on notions of command). See 'lieu, subst. masc.', < http://www.atilf.fr/dmf/defin ition/ lieu1> Mary's verse, but also the meaningful arrangement of text and image on fols 16 and 17.
Analysis of the manuscript contexts of Mary's other verse suggests that she thought carefully about its placement. This is particularly the case for the inscriptions (largely composed during the course of her captivity in England) found in two of Mary's books of hours: Manchester, John Rylands Library, MS Latin 21, 55  Mary added fourteen verses to the St Petersburg manuscript and seven of these occur, as in the Manchester manuscript, on what was previously a blank folio (fol. 81v), opposite an image (fol. 82r) of King David in prayer. 56 The latter miniature again begins the sequence of Penitential Psalms, and below it we again find text from the beginning of Psalm 6. In the first three verses on fol. 81v, Mary reflects on her imprisonment, lamenting her misfortune and the way in which she is treated unfairly by others; in the fifth and seventh she reflects further on the nature of reputation, as well as upon (the apparently unfavourable) responses her words and opinions receive; and in the fourth and sixth verses she refers and likens herself to a 'beautiful angel'. Approaching the verses as a set, Smith has drawn parallels with the subsequent Penitential Psalms, suggesting that the juxtaposition 'amplif[ies] the queen's claims to sovereign authority, lyric and spiritual', and that behind Mary's apparent 55  pessimism there lies something of David's concluding optimism as she imagines the opportunities death might present for her to gain a new reputation for piety and perhaps also a status as a Catholic martyr. 57 Although in both manuscripts Mary took advantage of previously blank space, the dual juxtaposition of Mary's words alongside the Penitential Psalms -and the fact that Mary clearly had the choice of several blank pages in the Manchester volume -certainly supports Smith's suggestion that Mary might have intended us to draw parallels between her and David. 58 Her practice in both of these manuscripts therefore suggests that there might be a meaningful relationship between Si ce Lieu est and its accompanying images. The scenes on fols 16v and 17r were rich in contemporary meaning. The representation of Christ's wounded body alongside the instruments of the Passion thus recalls the tradition of the Mass of St Gregory in which Christ as the Man of Sorrows appeared to the saint as he celebrated the Eucharist. Fols 16v and 17r also form a part of the late medieval and early modern practice of devotion to the Holy Wounds of Christ and arma Christi. The set of instruments of the Passion (fol. 16v) are matched by the spear piercing the lozenge on fol. 17r, whilst the centre of that lozenge both depicts Christ's sacred heart and also functions as a representation of the wound placed in Christ's side by the spear. Kathryn M. Rudy has shown how such visual representations of the arma Christi 'were visual stand-ins for the tangible remains of Christ' and she discusses an apparent desire on the part of readers to fill in the blank spaces of sacred books with images of Christ's body. She also analyses the popularity of so-called 'metric rubrics' -such as that surrounding the lozenge in the Sheffield manuscript ('this is the measurement of the wound of the Lord')which formed part of a broader desire 'to envision the Passion with increased particularity and attention to detail, and a sense of objective reality that was measurable'. Unlike some of the other measurements of Christ (e.g. his height) the wound in Christ's side could easily be represented on a manuscript page, and Rudy argues that in the process the book was itself 'reconsidered as a wounded corpus'. 59 This transformation would of course have been all the more apparent for a manuscript made of parchment (flesh) rather than paper. This idea of a slippage between Christ's wounded body and the manuscript page is further reinforced when we remember that the Eucharist, wounded heart and Christ's body functioned all three additionally as symbols of the divine Word, represented by the Sheffield manuscript itself, on fol. 16v by the image of the Bible, and by the added image of the Annunciation on fols 18v-19r. 60 Moreover, hearts and books also functioned throughout the medieval and into the early modern period as two of the most significant and related metaphors for memory, such that books were understood to have a mnemonic function. 61 As Mary Carruthers has written, 'books themselves are memorial cues and aids, and memory is most like a book, a written page or wax tablet upon which something is written'. She cites a passage from the aforementioned Rhetorica ad Herennium: 62 those who have learned mnemonics can set in backgrounds what they have heard, and from these backgrounds deliver it by memory. For the backgrounds are very much like wax tablets or papyrus, the images like the letters, the arrangement and disposition of the images like the script, and the delivery is like the reading. 63 The placement of Mary's quatrain on fol. 17r very much keys into these ideas. As we have seen, Mary focuses through word play on notions of 'arrangement and disposition' and she prays that her 'arrangement' will stand the test of time. If we take into account Mary's practice elsewhere of linking her words to surrounding image and text, it seems likely that the word 'arrangement' refers not just to her words themselves but also to the way in which they are ordered both within the space of the quatrain (regular pentameters, abab rhyme scheme) as well as below an image of Christ's wounded heart and opposite an image depicting the celebration of the Eucharist. We might note, furthermore, the potential sacramental connotations of the French verb ordonner and noun ordonnance; both verb and noun appeared in contemporary French texts in the context of references to the Eucharist more generally and Last Rites in particular. 64  her words and drawing repeated attention to the 'place' in which they appear, Mary appears to be asking her audience to recall not just her words, but also the images with which they appear, and both of these images are connected to ideas of memory; the Eucharist is a memorial act whilst the Latin words surrounding the wounded heart of Christ might well have functioned as a rubric, cueing some kind of prayer to Christ's wounds. In positioning her inscription on fol. 17r, Mary produces a seemingly simple memorial verse that in fact conceives of the arrangement of text and image as itself mnemonic. 65 In doing so she demonstrates a sophisticated and playful understanding of classical rhetoric.
Such reflection and play on themes of reading and writing is found elsewhere in two verses Mary added to fol. 81v of the aforementioned St Petersburg manuscript: In the first verse Mary plays on her constrained circumstances as a prisoner in England, and observes that her fame is no longer worldly but instead confined to the book of hours in which she writes; Mary and her words are thus bound, the former in prison and the latter on vellum pages within the manuscript's original binding. In the second, Mary comments again on the way in which she orders her day according to the routine of the Hours in which she writes, and suggests that she hopes thereby to regain (after death) something of her prior fame. Mary's use of 'l'ordre' recalls her use of 'ordonné' and 'l'ordonnance' in Si ce Lieu est and supports the idea that there too Mary might be playing on the Hours in which she writes.
Mary's wordplay is a feature not just of her poetry but also of the emblems and devices on objects which she owned and embroidered during her imprisonment. During this time, Mary engaged in a body of needlework that contained 'emblems of [her] political identity and ambition', and she used the items to reassert her identity in the midst of constrained circumstances and to communicate with individuals such as Elizabeth I, her son, James, and the Duke of Norfolk (with whom she conducted a clandestine courtship). 67 The visual and verbal elements of the emblems can often be interpreted in multiple ways. One example is a cushion now at Oxburgh Hall which Mary gave to the Duke of Norfolk. It depicts a hand pruning a barren vine alongside one of Mary's mottoes, 'Virescit Vulnere Virtus'. As Susan Frye observes, '[o]ne translation of the Latin is "Virtue flourishes by wounding," and another, "Courage grows strong at the wound". The message may have been meant to communicate Mary's patience in captivity, but it was also open to treasonous interpretation, that the barren stalk of Elizabeth should be cut away [..] so that the fruitful branch of Mary might grow'. 68 Elizabeth I's security agent, Francis Walsingham, certainly kept track of how Mary was representing herself in these emblems and saw them as offering deliberately enigmatic political messages.
Frye develops her analysis of Mary's emblems to discuss a broader relationship in the early modern period between the terms 'device' and 'cipher', with both having the potential to refer to symbols or conspiracy, and she concludes that '[t]he slippage between a picture and a motto or verse seems to have been the point, as early modern people valued the wealth of possible interpretations residing in juxtapositions of word and image'. 69 Although one fruitful avenue of future enquiry would be a consideration of the extent to which the poetry Mary composed in prison offers deliberately riddling and coded political messages in a manner akin to her emblems and devices, re-assessment of Mary's earlier quatrain in light of its original manuscript witness suggests that she might have communicated in an emblematic manner well before her imprisonment. In Si ce Lieu est, Mary sees the visual and verbal as related in the way outlined by Frye and she plays on the alignment of and gap between word and image. In bringing together the visual and verbal features of fols 16v ad 17r, she arguably transforms the two pages into an epitaph and into a complex emblem -a memorial of Christ's body and her own.

CONCLUSIONS
In drawing renewed attention to the original witness of Si ce Lieu est, I have sought to make several contributions to scholarship on Mary Queen of Scots' verse. I have proposed a new translation which identifies and explores further nuances of Mary's wordplay and, in revealing the extent to which Mary's wordplay is multi-layered, I have offered a new reading arguing that the poem's 67 Susan Frye, Pens and Needles: Women's Textualities in Early Modern England (Philadelphia: University of previously detected play on notions of command exists alongside a more central concern with ideas of divisio and memoria. In demonstrating the extent to which Mary's quatrain is self-consciously meta-textual, I have further made a case for the importance of reading it -like several other examples of Mary's poetry -not just in isolation but instead very much alongside the visual material it accompanies. 70 Finally, I have detailed ways in which this example of early verse might be read alongside some of the poetry Mary produced later during her imprisonment. Indeed, both the Sheffield MS and Christie's MS stand as early witnesses to a habit of writing in devotional books which Mary developed further later in life.
Taken by itself, this article therefore reveals just how much can be gained from only four lines of Mary's poetry and it is designed to signal the start of my own work on a scholarly edition of Mary's poetry to match 'the attention afforded to the works' of her contemporary Elizabeth I. 71 Seen in a broader context, the work presented here further contributes to a growing body of work on early modern marginalia both in general terms, and by women in particular. Rosalind Smith has observed how '[p]rivate prayer books, carried close to the body and in daily use, form one of the most fruitful archives for early modern women's marginalia', 72 and this is very much true of the 'de Croy Hours', which crucially contains not only Mary's autograph inscription but also additional unexplored and multi-lingual marginalia by a network of other early modern European women. The same applies to the Christie's manuscript with which I began this article. Mary's inscription here may lack the wordplay of Si ce Lieu est -and we certainly do not have the same interplay of visual and verbal material -but in recording the relationship between Mary and her aunt it too stands testimony to the way in which cross-generational female relationships were articulated in the margins of devotional volumes. Such books are archives ripe for investigation. 73