1 The picture of Ate, the goddess of mischief, we are acquainted
with from Homer, II. v. 91, 130. I. 501. She is a daughter of
Jupiter, and eager to prejudice every one, even the immortal gods.
She counteracted Jupiter himself, on which account he seized her by
her beautiful hair, and hurled her from heaven to the earth, where
she now, striding over the heads of men, excites them to evil in
order to involve them in calamity.—HERDER.
Shakspeare has, in Julius Caesar, made a fine use of this image:—
"And Caesar's spirit ranging for revenge
with Ate by his side, come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice,
Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war."
I need not point out to the reader the beautiful propriety of
introducing the evil spirit on this occasion.—TRANSLATOR.
with from Homer, II. v. 91, 130. I. 501. She is a daughter of
Jupiter, and eager to prejudice every one, even the immortal gods.
She counteracted Jupiter himself, on which account he seized her by
her beautiful hair, and hurled her from heaven to the earth, where
she now, striding over the heads of men, excites them to evil in
order to involve them in calamity.—HERDER.
Shakspeare has, in Julius Caesar, made a fine use of this image:—
"And Caesar's spirit ranging for revenge
with Ate by his side, come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice,
Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war."
I need not point out to the reader the beautiful propriety of
introducing the evil spirit on this occasion.—TRANSLATOR.
SCENE IV.
Enter SIR AMIAS PAULET and MORTIMER.
ELIZABETH.
There's Sir Amias Paulet; noble sir,
What tidings bring you?
PAULET.
Gracious sovereign,
My nephew, who but lately is returned
From foreign travel, kneels before thy feet,
And offers thee his first and earliest homage,
Grant him thy royal grace, and let him grow
And flourish in the sunshine of thy favor.
MORTIMER (kneeling on one knee).
Long live my royal mistress! Happiness
And glory from a crown to grace her brows!
ELIZABETH.
Arise, sir knight; and welcome here in England;
You've made, I hear, the tour, have been in France
And Rome, and tarried, too, some time at Rheims:
Tell me what plots our enemies are hatching?
MORTIMER.
May God confound them all! And may the darts
Which they shall aim against my sovereign,
Recoiling, strike their own perfidious breasts!
ELIZABETH.
Did you see Morgan, and the wily Bishop
Of Ross?
ELIZABETH.
There's Sir Amias Paulet; noble sir,
What tidings bring you?
PAULET.
Gracious sovereign,
My nephew, who but lately is returned
From foreign travel, kneels before thy feet,
And offers thee his first and earliest homage,
Grant him thy royal grace, and let him grow
And flourish in the sunshine of thy favor.
MORTIMER (kneeling on one knee).
Long live my royal mistress! Happiness
And glory from a crown to grace her brows!
ELIZABETH.
Arise, sir knight; and welcome here in England;
You've made, I hear, the tour, have been in France
And Rome, and tarried, too, some time at Rheims:
Tell me what plots our enemies are hatching?
MORTIMER.
May God confound them all! And may the darts
Which they shall aim against my sovereign,
Recoiling, strike their own perfidious breasts!
ELIZABETH.
Did you see Morgan, and the wily Bishop
Of Ross?
MORTIMER.
I saw, my queen, all Scottish exiles
Who forge at Rheims their plots against this realm.
I stole into their confidence in hopes
To learn some hint of their conspiracies.
PAULET.
Private despatches they intrusted to him,
In cyphers, for the Queen of Scots, which he,
With loyal hand, hath given up to us.
ELIZABETH.
Say, what are then their latest plans of treason?
MORTIMER.
It struck them all as 'twere a thunderbolt,
That France should leave them, and with England close
This firm alliance; now they turn their hopes
Towards Spain——
ELIZABETH.
This, Walsingham hath written us.
MORTIMER.
Besides, a bull, which from the Vatican
Pope Sixtus lately levelled at thy throne,
Arrived at Rheims, as I was leaving it;
With the next ship we may expect it here.
LEICESTER.
England no more is frightened by such arms.
BURLEIGH.
They're always dangerous in bigots' hands.
ELIZABETH (looking steadfastly at MORTIMER).
Your enemies have said that you frequented
The schools at Rheims, and have abjured your faith.
MORTIMER.
So I pretended, that I must confess;
Such was my anxious wish to serve my queen.
ELIZABETH (to PAULET, who presents papers to her).
What have you there?
PAULET.
'Tis from the Queen of Scots.
'Tis a petition, and to thee addressed.
BURLEIGH (hastily catching at it).
Give me the paper.
PAULET (giving it to the QUEEN).
By your leave, my lord
High-treasurer; the lady ordered me
To bring it to her majesty's own hands.
She says I am her enemy; I am
The enemy of her offences only,
And that which is consistent with my duty
I will, and readily, oblige her in.
[The QUEEN takes the letter: as she reads it MORTIMER
and LEICESTER speak some words in private.
BURLEIGH (to PAULET).
What may the purport of the letter be?
Idle complaints, from which one ought to screen
The queen's too tender heart.
PAULET.
What it contains
She did not hide from me; she asks a boon;
She begs to be admitted to the grace
Of speaking with the queen.
BURLEIGH.
It cannot be.
TALBOT.
Why not? Her supplication's not unjust.
BURLEIGH.
For her, the base encourager of murder;
Her, who hath thirsted for our sovereign's blood,
The privilege to see the royal presence
Is forfeited: a faithful counsellor
Can never give this treacherous advice.
TALBOT.
And if the queen is gracious, sir, are you
The man to hinder pity's soft emotions?
BURLEIGH.
She is condemned to death; her head is laid
Beneath the axe, and it would ill become
The queen to see a death-devoted head.
The sentence cannot have its execution
If the queen's majesty approaches her,
For pardon still attends the royal presence,
As sickness flies the health-dispensing hand.
ELIZABETH (having read the letter, dries her tears).
Oh, what is man! What is the bliss of earth!
To what extremities is she reduced
Who with such proud and splendid hopes began!
Who, called to sit on the most ancient throne
Of Christendom, misled by vain ambition,
Hoped with a triple crown to deck her brows!
How is her language altered, since the time
When she assumed the arms of England's crown,
And by the flatterers of her court was styled
Sole monarch of the two Britannic isles!
Forgive me, lords, my heart is cleft in twain,
Anguish possesses me, and my soul bleeds
To think that earthly goods are so unstable,
And that the dreadful fate which rules mankind
Should threaten mine own house, and scowl so near me.
TALBOT.
Oh, queen! the God of mercy hath informed
Your heart; Oh! hearken to this heavenly guidance.
Most grievously, indeed, hath she atoned.
Her grievous crime, and it is time that now,
At last, her heavy penance have an end.
Stretch forth your hand to raise this abject queen,
And, like the luminous vision of an angel,
Descend into her gaol's sepulchral night.
BURLEIGH.
Be steadfast, mighty queen; let no emotion
Of seeming laudable humanity
Mislead thee; take not from thyself the power
Of acting as necessity commands.
Thou canst not pardon her, thou canst not save her:
Then heap not on thyself the odious blame,
That thou, with cruel and contemptuous triumph,
Didst glut thyself with gazing on thy victim.
LEICESTER.
Let us, my lords, remain within our bounds;
The queen is wise, and doth not need our counsels
To lead her to the most becoming choice.
This meeting of the queens hath naught in common
With the proceedings of the court of justice.
The law of England, not the monarch's will,
Condemns the Queen of Scotland, and 'twere worthy
Of the great soul of Queen Elizabeth,
To follow the soft dictates of her heart,
Though justice swerves not from its rigid path.
ELIZABETH.
Retire, my lords. We shall, perhaps, find means
To reconcile the tender claims of pity
With what necessity imposes on us.
And now retire.
[The LORDS retire; she calls SIR EDWARD MORTIMER back.
Sir Edward Mortimer!
I saw, my queen, all Scottish exiles
Who forge at Rheims their plots against this realm.
I stole into their confidence in hopes
To learn some hint of their conspiracies.
PAULET.
Private despatches they intrusted to him,
In cyphers, for the Queen of Scots, which he,
With loyal hand, hath given up to us.
ELIZABETH.
Say, what are then their latest plans of treason?
MORTIMER.
It struck them all as 'twere a thunderbolt,
That France should leave them, and with England close
This firm alliance; now they turn their hopes
Towards Spain——
ELIZABETH.
This, Walsingham hath written us.
MORTIMER.
Besides, a bull, which from the Vatican
Pope Sixtus lately levelled at thy throne,
Arrived at Rheims, as I was leaving it;
With the next ship we may expect it here.
LEICESTER.
England no more is frightened by such arms.
BURLEIGH.
They're always dangerous in bigots' hands.
ELIZABETH (looking steadfastly at MORTIMER).
Your enemies have said that you frequented
The schools at Rheims, and have abjured your faith.
MORTIMER.
So I pretended, that I must confess;
Such was my anxious wish to serve my queen.
ELIZABETH (to PAULET, who presents papers to her).
What have you there?
PAULET.
'Tis from the Queen of Scots.
'Tis a petition, and to thee addressed.
BURLEIGH (hastily catching at it).
Give me the paper.
PAULET (giving it to the QUEEN).
By your leave, my lord
High-treasurer; the lady ordered me
To bring it to her majesty's own hands.
She says I am her enemy; I am
The enemy of her offences only,
And that which is consistent with my duty
I will, and readily, oblige her in.
[The QUEEN takes the letter: as she reads it MORTIMER
and LEICESTER speak some words in private.
BURLEIGH (to PAULET).
What may the purport of the letter be?
Idle complaints, from which one ought to screen
The queen's too tender heart.
PAULET.
What it contains
She did not hide from me; she asks a boon;
She begs to be admitted to the grace
Of speaking with the queen.
BURLEIGH.
It cannot be.
TALBOT.
Why not? Her supplication's not unjust.
BURLEIGH.
For her, the base encourager of murder;
Her, who hath thirsted for our sovereign's blood,
The privilege to see the royal presence
Is forfeited: a faithful counsellor
Can never give this treacherous advice.
TALBOT.
And if the queen is gracious, sir, are you
The man to hinder pity's soft emotions?
BURLEIGH.
She is condemned to death; her head is laid
Beneath the axe, and it would ill become
The queen to see a death-devoted head.
The sentence cannot have its execution
If the queen's majesty approaches her,
For pardon still attends the royal presence,
As sickness flies the health-dispensing hand.
ELIZABETH (having read the letter, dries her tears).
Oh, what is man! What is the bliss of earth!
To what extremities is she reduced
Who with such proud and splendid hopes began!
Who, called to sit on the most ancient throne
Of Christendom, misled by vain ambition,
Hoped with a triple crown to deck her brows!
How is her language altered, since the time
When she assumed the arms of England's crown,
And by the flatterers of her court was styled
Sole monarch of the two Britannic isles!
Forgive me, lords, my heart is cleft in twain,
Anguish possesses me, and my soul bleeds
To think that earthly goods are so unstable,
And that the dreadful fate which rules mankind
Should threaten mine own house, and scowl so near me.
TALBOT.
Oh, queen! the God of mercy hath informed
Your heart; Oh! hearken to this heavenly guidance.
Most grievously, indeed, hath she atoned.
Her grievous crime, and it is time that now,
At last, her heavy penance have an end.
Stretch forth your hand to raise this abject queen,
And, like the luminous vision of an angel,
Descend into her gaol's sepulchral night.
BURLEIGH.
Be steadfast, mighty queen; let no emotion
Of seeming laudable humanity
Mislead thee; take not from thyself the power
Of acting as necessity commands.
Thou canst not pardon her, thou canst not save her:
Then heap not on thyself the odious blame,
That thou, with cruel and contemptuous triumph,
Didst glut thyself with gazing on thy victim.
LEICESTER.
Let us, my lords, remain within our bounds;
The queen is wise, and doth not need our counsels
To lead her to the most becoming choice.
This meeting of the queens hath naught in common
With the proceedings of the court of justice.
The law of England, not the monarch's will,
Condemns the Queen of Scotland, and 'twere worthy
Of the great soul of Queen Elizabeth,
To follow the soft dictates of her heart,
Though justice swerves not from its rigid path.
ELIZABETH.
Retire, my lords. We shall, perhaps, find means
To reconcile the tender claims of pity
With what necessity imposes on us.
And now retire.
[The LORDS retire; she calls SIR EDWARD MORTIMER back.
Sir Edward Mortimer!
SCENE V.
ELIZABETH, MORTIMER.
ELIZABETH (having measured him for some time with her eyes in silence).
You've shown a spirit of adventurous courage
And self-possession, far beyond your years.
He who has timely learnt to play so well
The difficult dissembler's needful task
Becomes a perfect man before his time,
And shortens his probationary years.
Fate calls you to a lofty scene of action;
I prophesy it, and can, happily
For you, fulfil, myself, my own prediction.
MORTIMER.
Illustrious mistress, what I am, and all
I can accomplish, is devoted to you.
ELIZABETH.
You've made acquaintance with the foes of England.
Their hate against me is implacable;
Their fell designs are inexhaustible.
As yet, indeed, Almighty Providence
Hath shielded me; but on my brows the crown
Forever trembles, while she lives who fans
Their bigot-zeal, and animates their hopes.
MORTIMER.
She lives no more, as soon as you command it.
ELIZABETH.
Oh, sir! I thought I saw my labors end,
And I am come no further than at first,
I wished to let the laws of England act,
And keep my own hands pure from blood's defilement.
The sentence is pronounced—what gain I by it?
It must be executed, Mortimer,
And I must authorize the execution.
The blame will ever light on me, I must
Avow it, nor can save appearances.
That is the worst——
MORTIMER.
But can appearances
Disturb your conscience where the cause is just?
ELIZABETH.
You are unpractised in the world, sir knight;
What we appear, is subject to the judgment
Of all mankind, and what we are, of no man.
No one will be convinced that I am right:
I must take care that my connivance in
Her death be wrapped in everlasting doubt.
In deeds of such uncertain double visage
Safety lies only in obscurity.
Those measures are the worst that stand avowed;
What's not abandoned, is not wholly lost.
MORTIMER (seeking to learn her meaning).
Then it perhaps were best——
ELIZABETH (quick).
Ay, surely 'twere
The best; Oh, sir, my better angel speaks
Through you;—go on then, worthy sir, conclude
You are in earnest, you examine deep,
Have quite a different spirit from your uncle.
MORTIMER (surprised).
Have you imparted then your wishes to him?
ELIZABETH.
I am sorry that I have.
MORTIMER.
Excuse his age,
The old man is grown scrupulous; such bold
Adventures ask the enterprising heart
Of youth——
ELIZABETH.
And may I venture then on you——
MORTIMER.
My hand I'll lend thee; save then as thou canst
Thy reputation——
ELIZABETH.
Yes, sir; if you could
But waken me some morning with this news
"Maria Stuart, your bloodthirsty foe,
Breathed yesternight her last"——
MORTIMER.
Depend on me.
ELIZABETH.
When shall my head lie calmly down to sleep?
MORTIMER.
The next new moon will terminate thy fears.
ELIZABETH.
And be the selfsame happy day the dawn
Of your preferment—so God speed you, sir;
And be not hurt, if, chance, my thankfulness
Should wear the mask of darkness. Silence is
The happy suitor's god. The closest bonds,
The dearest, are the works of secrecy.
[Exit.
ELIZABETH (having measured him for some time with her eyes in silence).
You've shown a spirit of adventurous courage
And self-possession, far beyond your years.
He who has timely learnt to play so well
The difficult dissembler's needful task
Becomes a perfect man before his time,
And shortens his probationary years.
Fate calls you to a lofty scene of action;
I prophesy it, and can, happily
For you, fulfil, myself, my own prediction.
MORTIMER.
Illustrious mistress, what I am, and all
I can accomplish, is devoted to you.
ELIZABETH.
You've made acquaintance with the foes of England.
Their hate against me is implacable;
Their fell designs are inexhaustible.
As yet, indeed, Almighty Providence
Hath shielded me; but on my brows the crown
Forever trembles, while she lives who fans
Their bigot-zeal, and animates their hopes.
MORTIMER.
She lives no more, as soon as you command it.
ELIZABETH.
Oh, sir! I thought I saw my labors end,
And I am come no further than at first,
I wished to let the laws of England act,
And keep my own hands pure from blood's defilement.
The sentence is pronounced—what gain I by it?
It must be executed, Mortimer,
And I must authorize the execution.
The blame will ever light on me, I must
Avow it, nor can save appearances.
That is the worst——
MORTIMER.
But can appearances
Disturb your conscience where the cause is just?
ELIZABETH.
You are unpractised in the world, sir knight;
What we appear, is subject to the judgment
Of all mankind, and what we are, of no man.
No one will be convinced that I am right:
I must take care that my connivance in
Her death be wrapped in everlasting doubt.
In deeds of such uncertain double visage
Safety lies only in obscurity.
Those measures are the worst that stand avowed;
What's not abandoned, is not wholly lost.
MORTIMER (seeking to learn her meaning).
Then it perhaps were best——
ELIZABETH (quick).
Ay, surely 'twere
The best; Oh, sir, my better angel speaks
Through you;—go on then, worthy sir, conclude
You are in earnest, you examine deep,
Have quite a different spirit from your uncle.
MORTIMER (surprised).
Have you imparted then your wishes to him?
ELIZABETH.
I am sorry that I have.
MORTIMER.
Excuse his age,
The old man is grown scrupulous; such bold
Adventures ask the enterprising heart
Of youth——
ELIZABETH.
And may I venture then on you——
MORTIMER.
My hand I'll lend thee; save then as thou canst
Thy reputation——
ELIZABETH.
Yes, sir; if you could
But waken me some morning with this news
"Maria Stuart, your bloodthirsty foe,
Breathed yesternight her last"——
MORTIMER.
Depend on me.
ELIZABETH.
When shall my head lie calmly down to sleep?
MORTIMER.
The next new moon will terminate thy fears.
ELIZABETH.
And be the selfsame happy day the dawn
Of your preferment—so God speed you, sir;
And be not hurt, if, chance, my thankfulness
Should wear the mask of darkness. Silence is
The happy suitor's god. The closest bonds,
The dearest, are the works of secrecy.
[Exit.
SCENE VI.
MORTIMER (alone).
Go, false, deceitful queen! As thou deludest
The world, e'en so I cozen thee; 'tis right,
Thus to betray thee; 'tis a worthy deed.
Look I then like a murderer? Hast thou read
Upon my brow such base dexterity?
Trust only to my arm, and keep thine own
Concealed—assume the pious outward show
Of mercy 'fore the world, while reckoning
In secret on my murderous aid; and thus
By gaining time we shall insure her rescue.
Thou wilt exalt me!—show'st me from afar
The costly recompense: but even were
Thyself the prize, and all thy woman's favor,
What art thou, poor one, and what canst thou proffer?
I scorn ambition's avaricious strife,
With her alone is all the charm of life,
O'er her, in rounds of endless glory, hover
Spirits with grace, and youth eternal blessed,
Celestial joy is throned upon her breast.
Thou hast but earthly, mortal goods to offer—
That sovereign good, for which all else be slighted,
When heart in heart, delighting and delighted;
Together flow in sweet forgetfulness;—
Ne'er didst thou woman's fairest crown possess,
Ne'er hast thou with thy hand a lover's heart requited.
I must attend Lord Leicester, and deliver
Her letter to him—'tis a hateful charge—
I have no confidence in this court puppet—
I can effect her rescue, I alone;
Be danger, honor, and the prize my own.
[As he is going, PAULET meets him.
Go, false, deceitful queen! As thou deludest
The world, e'en so I cozen thee; 'tis right,
Thus to betray thee; 'tis a worthy deed.
Look I then like a murderer? Hast thou read
Upon my brow such base dexterity?
Trust only to my arm, and keep thine own
Concealed—assume the pious outward show
Of mercy 'fore the world, while reckoning
In secret on my murderous aid; and thus
By gaining time we shall insure her rescue.
Thou wilt exalt me!—show'st me from afar
The costly recompense: but even were
Thyself the prize, and all thy woman's favor,
What art thou, poor one, and what canst thou proffer?
I scorn ambition's avaricious strife,
With her alone is all the charm of life,
O'er her, in rounds of endless glory, hover
Spirits with grace, and youth eternal blessed,
Celestial joy is throned upon her breast.
Thou hast but earthly, mortal goods to offer—
That sovereign good, for which all else be slighted,
When heart in heart, delighting and delighted;
Together flow in sweet forgetfulness;—
Ne'er didst thou woman's fairest crown possess,
Ne'er hast thou with thy hand a lover's heart requited.
I must attend Lord Leicester, and deliver
Her letter to him—'tis a hateful charge—
I have no confidence in this court puppet—
I can effect her rescue, I alone;
Be danger, honor, and the prize my own.
[As he is going, PAULET meets him.
SCENE VII.
MORTIMER, PAULET.
PAULET.
What said the queen to you?
MORTIMER.
'Twas nothing, sir;
Nothing of consequence——
PAULET (looking at him earnestly).
Hear, Mortimer!
It is a false and slippery ground on which
You tread. The grace of princes is alluring,
Youth loves ambition—let not yours betray you.
MORTIMER.
Was it not yourself that brought me to the court?
PAULET.
Oh, would to God I had not done as much!
The honor of our house was never reaped
In courts—stand fast, my nephew—purchase not
Too dear, nor stain your conscience with a crime.
MORTIMER.
What are these fears? What are you dreaming of?
PAULET.
How high soever the queen may pledge herself
To raise you, trust not her alluring words.
[The spirit of the world's a lying spirit,
And vice is a deceitful, treacherous friend.]
She will deny you, if you listen to her;
And, to preserve her own good name, will punish
The bloody deed, which she herself enjoined.
MORTIMER.
The bloody deed!——
PAULET.
Away, dissimulation!—
I know the deed the queen proposed to you.
She hopes that your ambitious youth will prove
More docile than my rigid age. But say,
Have you then pledged your promise, have you?
MORTIMER.
Uncle!
PAULET.
If you have done so, I abandon you,
And lay my curse upon you——
LEICESTER (entering).
Worthy sir!
I with your nephew wish a word. The queen
Is graciously inclined to him; she wills
That to his custody the Scottish queen
Be with full powers intrusted. She relies
On his fidelity.
PAULET.
Relies!—'tis well——
LEICESTER.
What say you, sir?
PAULET.
Her majesty relies
On him; and I, my noble lord, rely
Upon myself, and my two open eyes.
[Exit.
PAULET.
What said the queen to you?
MORTIMER.
'Twas nothing, sir;
Nothing of consequence——
PAULET (looking at him earnestly).
Hear, Mortimer!
It is a false and slippery ground on which
You tread. The grace of princes is alluring,
Youth loves ambition—let not yours betray you.
MORTIMER.
Was it not yourself that brought me to the court?
PAULET.
Oh, would to God I had not done as much!
The honor of our house was never reaped
In courts—stand fast, my nephew—purchase not
Too dear, nor stain your conscience with a crime.
MORTIMER.
What are these fears? What are you dreaming of?
PAULET.
How high soever the queen may pledge herself
To raise you, trust not her alluring words.
[The spirit of the world's a lying spirit,
And vice is a deceitful, treacherous friend.]
She will deny you, if you listen to her;
And, to preserve her own good name, will punish
The bloody deed, which she herself enjoined.
MORTIMER.
The bloody deed!——
PAULET.
Away, dissimulation!—
I know the deed the queen proposed to you.
She hopes that your ambitious youth will prove
More docile than my rigid age. But say,
Have you then pledged your promise, have you?
MORTIMER.
Uncle!
PAULET.
If you have done so, I abandon you,
And lay my curse upon you——
LEICESTER (entering).
Worthy sir!
I with your nephew wish a word. The queen
Is graciously inclined to him; she wills
That to his custody the Scottish queen
Be with full powers intrusted. She relies
On his fidelity.
PAULET.
Relies!—'tis well——
LEICESTER.
What say you, sir?
PAULET.
Her majesty relies
On him; and I, my noble lord, rely
Upon myself, and my two open eyes.
[Exit.
SCENE VIII.
LEICESTER, MORTIMER.
LEICESTER (surprised).
What ailed the knight?
MORTIMER.
My lord, I cannot tell
What angers him: the confidence, perhaps,
The queen so suddenly confers on me.
LEICESTER.
Are you deserving then of confidence?
MORTIMER.
This would I ask of you, my Lord of Leicester.
LEICESTER.
You said you wished to speak with me in private.
MORTIMER.
Assure me first that I may safely venture.
LEICESTER.
Who gives me an assurance on your side?
Let not my want of confidence offend you;
I see you, sir, exhibit at this court
Two different aspects; one of them must be
A borrowed one; but which of them is real?
MORTIMER.
The selfsame doubts I have concerning you.
LEICESTER.
Which, then, shall pave the way to confidence?
MORTIMER.
He, who by doing it, is least in danger.
LEICESTER.
Well, that are you——
MORTIMER.
No, you; the evidence
Of such a weighty, powerful peer as you
Can overwhelm my voice. My accusation
Is weak against your rank and influence.
LEICESTER.
Sir, you mistake. In everything but this
I'm powerful here; but in this tender point
Which I am called upon to trust you with,
I am the weakest man of all the court,
The poorest testimony can undo me.
MORTIMER.
If the all-powerful Earl of Leicester deign
To stoop so low to meet me, and to make
Such a confession to me, I may venture
To think a little better of myself,
And lead the way in magnanimity.
LEICESTER.
Lead you the way of confidence, I'll follow.
MORTIMER (producing suddenly the letter).
Here is a letter from the Queen of Scotland.
LEICESTER (alarmed, catches hastily at the letter).
Speak softly, sir! what see I? Oh, it is
Her picture!
[Kisses and examines it with speechless joy—a pause.
MORTIMER (who has watched him closely the whole tine).
Now, my lord, I can believe you.
LEICESTER (having hastily run through the letter).
You know the purport of this letter, sir.
MORTIMER.
Not I.
LEICESTER.
Indeed! She surely hath informed you.
MORTIMER.
Nothing hath she informed me of. She said
You would explain this riddle to me—'tis
To me a riddle, that the Earl of Leicester,
The far-famed favorite of Elizabeth,
The open, bitter enemy of Mary,
And one of those who spoke her mortal sentence,
Should be the man from whom the queen expects
Deliverance from her woes; and yet it must be;
Your eyes express too plainly what your heart
Feels for the hapless lady.
LEICESTER.
Tell me, Sir,
First, how it comes that you should take so warm
An interest in her fate; and what it was
Gained you her confidence?
MORTIMER.
My lord, I can,
And in few words, explain this mystery.
I lately have at Rome abjured my creed,
And stand in correspondence with the Guises.
A letter from the cardinal archbishop
Was my credential with the Queen of Scots.
LEICESTER.
I am acquainted, sir, with your conversion;
'Twas that which waked my confidence towards you.
[Each remnant of distrust be henceforth banished;]
Your hand, sir, pardon me these idle doubts,
I cannot use too much precaution here.
Knowing how Walsingham and Burleigh hate me,
And, watching me, in secret spread their snares;
You might have been their instrument, their creature
To lure me to their toils.
MORTIMER.
How poor a part
So great a nobleman is forced to play
At court! My lord, I pity you.
LEICESTER.
With joy
I rest upon the faithful breast of friendship,
Where I can ease me of this long constraint.
You seem surprised, sir, that my heart is turned
So suddenly towards the captive queen.
In truth, I never hated her; the times
Have forced me to be her enemy.
She was, as you well know, my destined bride,
Long since, ere she bestowed her hand on Darnley,
While yet the beams of glory round her smiled,
Coldly I then refused the proffered boon.
Now in confinement, at the gates of death,
I claim her at the hazard of my life.
MORTIMER.
True magnanimity, my lord.
LEICESTER.
The state
Of circumstances since that time is changed.
Ambition made me all insensible
To youth and beauty. Mary's hand I held
Too insignificant for me; I hoped
To be the husband of the Queen of England.
MORTIMER.
It is well known she gave you preference
Before all others.
LEICESTER.
So, indeed, it seemed.
Now, after ten lost years of tedious courtship
And hateful self-constraint—oh, sir, my heart
Must ease itself of this long agony.
They call me happy! Did they only know
What the chains are, for which they envy me!
When I had sacrificed ten bitter years
To the proud idol of her vanity;
Submitted with a slave's humility
To every change of her despotic fancies
The plaything of each little wayward whim.
At times by seeming tenderness caressed,
As oft repulsed with proud and cold disdain;
Alike tormented by her grace and rigor:
Watched like a prisoner by the Argus eyes
Of jealousy; examined like a schoolboy,
And railed at like a servant. Oh, no tongue
Can paint this hell.
MORTIMER.
My lord, I feel for you.
LEICESTER.
To lose, and at the very goal, the prize
Another comes to rob me of the fruits
Of my so anxious wooing. I must lose
To her young blooming husband all those rights
Of which I was so long in full possession;
And I must from the stage descend, where I
So long have played the most distinguished part.
'Tis not her hand alone this envious stranger
Threatens, he'd rob me of her favor too;
She is a woman, and he formed to please.
MORTIMER.
He is the son of Catherine. He has learnt
In a good school the arts of flattery.
LEICESTER.
Thus fall my hopes; I strove to seize a plank
To bear me in this shipwreck of my fortunes,
And my eye turned itself towards the hope
Of former days once more; then Mary's image
Within me was renewed, and youth and beauty
Once more asserted all their former rights.
No more 'twas cold ambition; 'twas my heart
Which now compared, and with regret I felt
The value of the jewel I had lost.
With horror I beheld her in the depths.
Of misery, cast down by my transgression;
Then waked the hope in me that I might still
Deliver and possess her; I contrived
To send her, through a faithful hand, the news
Of my conversion to her interests;
And in this letter which you brought me, she
Assures me that she pardons me, and offers
Herself as guerdon if I rescue her.
MORTIMER.
But you attempted nothing for her rescue.
You let her be condemned without a word:
You gave, yourself, your verdict for her death;
A miracle must happen, and the light
Of truth must move me, me, her keeper's nephew,
And heaven must in the Vatican at Rome
Prepare for her an unexpected succour,
Else had she never found the way to you.
LEICESTER.
Oh, sir, it has tormented me enough!
About this time it was that they removed her
From Talbot's castle, and delivered her
Up to your uncle's stricter custody.
Each way to her was shut. I was obliged
Before the world to persecute her still;
But do not think that I would patiently
Have seen her led to death. No, Sir; I hoped,
And still I hope, to ward off all extremes,
Till I can find some certain means to save her.
MORTIMER.
These are already found: my Lord of Leicester;
Your generous confidence in me deserves
A like return. I will deliver her.
That is my object here; my dispositions
Are made already, and your powerful aid
Assures us of success in our attempt.
LEICESTER.
What say you? You alarm me! How? You would——
MORTIMER.
I'll open forcibly her prison-gates;
I have confederates, and all is ready.
LEICESTER.
You have confederates, accomplices?
Alas! In what rash enterprise would you
Engage me? And these friends, know they my secret?
MORTIMER.
Fear not; our plan was laid without your help,
Without your help it would have been accomplished,
Had she not signified her resolution
To owe her liberty to you alone.
LEICESTER.
And can you, then, with certainty assure me
That in your plot my name has not been mentioned?
MORTIMER.
You may depend upon it. How, my lord,
So scrupulous when help is offered you?
You wish to rescue Mary, and possess her;
You find confederates; sudden, unexpected,
The readiest means fall, as it were from Heaven,
Yet you show more perplexity than joy.
LEICESTER.
We must avoid all violence; it is
Too dangerous an enterprise.
MORTIMER.
Delay
Is also dangerous.
LEICESTER.
I tell you, Sir,
'Tis not to be attempted——
MORTIMER.
My lord,
Too hazardous for you, who would possess her;
But we, who only wish to rescue her,
We are more bold.
LEICESTER.
Young man, you are too hasty
In such a thorny, dangerous attempt.
MORTIMER.
And you too scrupulous in honor's cause.
LEICESTER.
I see the trammels that are spread around us.
MORTIMER.
And I feel courage to break through them all.
LEICESTER.
Foolhardiness and madness, is this courage?
MORTIMER.
This prudence is not bravery, my lord.
LEICESTER.
You surely wish to end like Babington.
MORTIMER.
You not to imitate great Norfolk's virtue.
LEICESTER.
Norfolk ne'er won the bride he wooed so fondly.
MORTIMER.
But yet he proved how truly he deserved her.
LEICESTER.
If we are ruined, she must fall with us.
MORTIMER.
If we risk nothing, she will ne'er be rescued.
LEICESTER.
You will not weigh the matter, will not hear;
With blind and hasty rashness you destroy
The plans which I so happily had framed.
MORTIMER.
And what were then the plans which you had framed?
What have you done then to deliver her?
And how, if I were miscreant enough
To murder her, as was proposed to me
This moment by Elizabeth, and which
She looks upon as certain; only name
The measures you have taken to protect her?
LEICESTER.
Did the queen give you, then, this bloody order?
MORTIMER.
She was deceived in me, as Mary is in you.
LEICESTER.
And have you promised it? Say, have you?
MORTIMER.
That she might not engage another's hand,
I offered mine.
LEICESTER.
Well done, sir; that was right;
This gives us leisure, for she rests secure
Upon your bloody service, and the sentence
Is unfulfilled the while, and we gain time.
MORTIMER (angrily).
No, we are losing time.
LEICESTER.
The queen depends
On you, and will the readier make a show
Of mercy; and I may prevail on her
To give an audience to her adversary;
And by this stratagem we tie her hands
Yes! I will make the attempt, strain every nerve.
MORTIMER.
And what is gained by this? When she discovers
That I am cheating her, that Mary lives;
Are we not where we were? She never will
Be free; the mildest doom which can await her
At best is but perpetual confinement.
A daring deed must one day end the matter;
Why will you not with such a deed begin?
The power is in your hands, would you but rouse
The might of your dependents round about
Your many castles, 'twere an host; and still
Has Mary many secret friends. The Howards
And Percies' noble houses, though their chiefs
Be fallen, are rich in heroes; they but wait
For the example of some potent lord.
Away with feigning—act an open part,
And, like a loyal knight, protect your fair;
Fight a good fight for her! You know you are
Lord of the person of the Queen of England,
Whene'er you will: invite her to your castle,
Oft hath she thither followed you—then show
That you're a man; then speak as master; keep her
Confined till she release the Queen of Scots.
LEICESTER.
I am astonished—I am terrified!
Where would your giddy madness hurry you?
Are you acquainted with this country? Know you
The deeps and shallows of this court? With what
A potent spell this female sceptre binds
And rules men's spirits round her? 'Tis in vain
You seek the heroic energy which once
Was active in this land! it is subdued,
A woman holds it under lock and key,
And every spring of courage is relaxed.
Follow my counsel—venture nothing rashly.
Some one approaches-go——
MORTIMER.
And Mary hopes—
Shall I return to her with empty comfort?
LEICESTER.
Bear her my vows of everlasting love.
MORTIMER.
Bear them yourself! I offered my assistance
As her deliverer, not your messenger.
[Exit.
LEICESTER (surprised).
What ailed the knight?
MORTIMER.
My lord, I cannot tell
What angers him: the confidence, perhaps,
The queen so suddenly confers on me.
LEICESTER.
Are you deserving then of confidence?
MORTIMER.
This would I ask of you, my Lord of Leicester.
LEICESTER.
You said you wished to speak with me in private.
MORTIMER.
Assure me first that I may safely venture.
LEICESTER.
Who gives me an assurance on your side?
Let not my want of confidence offend you;
I see you, sir, exhibit at this court
Two different aspects; one of them must be
A borrowed one; but which of them is real?
MORTIMER.
The selfsame doubts I have concerning you.
LEICESTER.
Which, then, shall pave the way to confidence?
MORTIMER.
He, who by doing it, is least in danger.
LEICESTER.
Well, that are you——
MORTIMER.
No, you; the evidence
Of such a weighty, powerful peer as you
Can overwhelm my voice. My accusation
Is weak against your rank and influence.
LEICESTER.
Sir, you mistake. In everything but this
I'm powerful here; but in this tender point
Which I am called upon to trust you with,
I am the weakest man of all the court,
The poorest testimony can undo me.
MORTIMER.
If the all-powerful Earl of Leicester deign
To stoop so low to meet me, and to make
Such a confession to me, I may venture
To think a little better of myself,
And lead the way in magnanimity.
LEICESTER.
Lead you the way of confidence, I'll follow.
MORTIMER (producing suddenly the letter).
Here is a letter from the Queen of Scotland.
LEICESTER (alarmed, catches hastily at the letter).
Speak softly, sir! what see I? Oh, it is
Her picture!
[Kisses and examines it with speechless joy—a pause.
MORTIMER (who has watched him closely the whole tine).
Now, my lord, I can believe you.
LEICESTER (having hastily run through the letter).
You know the purport of this letter, sir.
MORTIMER.
Not I.
LEICESTER.
Indeed! She surely hath informed you.
MORTIMER.
Nothing hath she informed me of. She said
You would explain this riddle to me—'tis
To me a riddle, that the Earl of Leicester,
The far-famed favorite of Elizabeth,
The open, bitter enemy of Mary,
And one of those who spoke her mortal sentence,
Should be the man from whom the queen expects
Deliverance from her woes; and yet it must be;
Your eyes express too plainly what your heart
Feels for the hapless lady.
LEICESTER.
Tell me, Sir,
First, how it comes that you should take so warm
An interest in her fate; and what it was
Gained you her confidence?
MORTIMER.
My lord, I can,
And in few words, explain this mystery.
I lately have at Rome abjured my creed,
And stand in correspondence with the Guises.
A letter from the cardinal archbishop
Was my credential with the Queen of Scots.
LEICESTER.
I am acquainted, sir, with your conversion;
'Twas that which waked my confidence towards you.
[Each remnant of distrust be henceforth banished;]
Your hand, sir, pardon me these idle doubts,
I cannot use too much precaution here.
Knowing how Walsingham and Burleigh hate me,
And, watching me, in secret spread their snares;
You might have been their instrument, their creature
To lure me to their toils.
MORTIMER.
How poor a part
So great a nobleman is forced to play
At court! My lord, I pity you.
LEICESTER.
With joy
I rest upon the faithful breast of friendship,
Where I can ease me of this long constraint.
You seem surprised, sir, that my heart is turned
So suddenly towards the captive queen.
In truth, I never hated her; the times
Have forced me to be her enemy.
She was, as you well know, my destined bride,
Long since, ere she bestowed her hand on Darnley,
While yet the beams of glory round her smiled,
Coldly I then refused the proffered boon.
Now in confinement, at the gates of death,
I claim her at the hazard of my life.
MORTIMER.
True magnanimity, my lord.
LEICESTER.
The state
Of circumstances since that time is changed.
Ambition made me all insensible
To youth and beauty. Mary's hand I held
Too insignificant for me; I hoped
To be the husband of the Queen of England.
MORTIMER.
It is well known she gave you preference
Before all others.
LEICESTER.
So, indeed, it seemed.
Now, after ten lost years of tedious courtship
And hateful self-constraint—oh, sir, my heart
Must ease itself of this long agony.
They call me happy! Did they only know
What the chains are, for which they envy me!
When I had sacrificed ten bitter years
To the proud idol of her vanity;
Submitted with a slave's humility
To every change of her despotic fancies
The plaything of each little wayward whim.
At times by seeming tenderness caressed,
As oft repulsed with proud and cold disdain;
Alike tormented by her grace and rigor:
Watched like a prisoner by the Argus eyes
Of jealousy; examined like a schoolboy,
And railed at like a servant. Oh, no tongue
Can paint this hell.
MORTIMER.
My lord, I feel for you.
LEICESTER.
To lose, and at the very goal, the prize
Another comes to rob me of the fruits
Of my so anxious wooing. I must lose
To her young blooming husband all those rights
Of which I was so long in full possession;
And I must from the stage descend, where I
So long have played the most distinguished part.
'Tis not her hand alone this envious stranger
Threatens, he'd rob me of her favor too;
She is a woman, and he formed to please.
MORTIMER.
He is the son of Catherine. He has learnt
In a good school the arts of flattery.
LEICESTER.
Thus fall my hopes; I strove to seize a plank
To bear me in this shipwreck of my fortunes,
And my eye turned itself towards the hope
Of former days once more; then Mary's image
Within me was renewed, and youth and beauty
Once more asserted all their former rights.
No more 'twas cold ambition; 'twas my heart
Which now compared, and with regret I felt
The value of the jewel I had lost.
With horror I beheld her in the depths.
Of misery, cast down by my transgression;
Then waked the hope in me that I might still
Deliver and possess her; I contrived
To send her, through a faithful hand, the news
Of my conversion to her interests;
And in this letter which you brought me, she
Assures me that she pardons me, and offers
Herself as guerdon if I rescue her.
MORTIMER.
But you attempted nothing for her rescue.
You let her be condemned without a word:
You gave, yourself, your verdict for her death;
A miracle must happen, and the light
Of truth must move me, me, her keeper's nephew,
And heaven must in the Vatican at Rome
Prepare for her an unexpected succour,
Else had she never found the way to you.
LEICESTER.
Oh, sir, it has tormented me enough!
About this time it was that they removed her
From Talbot's castle, and delivered her
Up to your uncle's stricter custody.
Each way to her was shut. I was obliged
Before the world to persecute her still;
But do not think that I would patiently
Have seen her led to death. No, Sir; I hoped,
And still I hope, to ward off all extremes,
Till I can find some certain means to save her.
MORTIMER.
These are already found: my Lord of Leicester;
Your generous confidence in me deserves
A like return. I will deliver her.
That is my object here; my dispositions
Are made already, and your powerful aid
Assures us of success in our attempt.
LEICESTER.
What say you? You alarm me! How? You would——
MORTIMER.
I'll open forcibly her prison-gates;
I have confederates, and all is ready.
LEICESTER.
You have confederates, accomplices?
Alas! In what rash enterprise would you
Engage me? And these friends, know they my secret?
MORTIMER.
Fear not; our plan was laid without your help,
Without your help it would have been accomplished,
Had she not signified her resolution
To owe her liberty to you alone.
LEICESTER.
And can you, then, with certainty assure me
That in your plot my name has not been mentioned?
MORTIMER.
You may depend upon it. How, my lord,
So scrupulous when help is offered you?
You wish to rescue Mary, and possess her;
You find confederates; sudden, unexpected,
The readiest means fall, as it were from Heaven,
Yet you show more perplexity than joy.
LEICESTER.
We must avoid all violence; it is
Too dangerous an enterprise.
MORTIMER.
Delay
Is also dangerous.
LEICESTER.
I tell you, Sir,
'Tis not to be attempted——
MORTIMER.
My lord,
Too hazardous for you, who would possess her;
But we, who only wish to rescue her,
We are more bold.
LEICESTER.
Young man, you are too hasty
In such a thorny, dangerous attempt.
MORTIMER.
And you too scrupulous in honor's cause.
LEICESTER.
I see the trammels that are spread around us.
MORTIMER.
And I feel courage to break through them all.
LEICESTER.
Foolhardiness and madness, is this courage?
MORTIMER.
This prudence is not bravery, my lord.
LEICESTER.
You surely wish to end like Babington.
MORTIMER.
You not to imitate great Norfolk's virtue.
LEICESTER.
Norfolk ne'er won the bride he wooed so fondly.
MORTIMER.
But yet he proved how truly he deserved her.
LEICESTER.
If we are ruined, she must fall with us.
MORTIMER.
If we risk nothing, she will ne'er be rescued.
LEICESTER.
You will not weigh the matter, will not hear;
With blind and hasty rashness you destroy
The plans which I so happily had framed.
MORTIMER.
And what were then the plans which you had framed?
What have you done then to deliver her?
And how, if I were miscreant enough
To murder her, as was proposed to me
This moment by Elizabeth, and which
She looks upon as certain; only name
The measures you have taken to protect her?
LEICESTER.
Did the queen give you, then, this bloody order?
MORTIMER.
She was deceived in me, as Mary is in you.
LEICESTER.
And have you promised it? Say, have you?
MORTIMER.
That she might not engage another's hand,
I offered mine.
LEICESTER.
Well done, sir; that was right;
This gives us leisure, for she rests secure
Upon your bloody service, and the sentence
Is unfulfilled the while, and we gain time.
MORTIMER (angrily).
No, we are losing time.
LEICESTER.
The queen depends
On you, and will the readier make a show
Of mercy; and I may prevail on her
To give an audience to her adversary;
And by this stratagem we tie her hands
Yes! I will make the attempt, strain every nerve.
MORTIMER.
And what is gained by this? When she discovers
That I am cheating her, that Mary lives;
Are we not where we were? She never will
Be free; the mildest doom which can await her
At best is but perpetual confinement.
A daring deed must one day end the matter;
Why will you not with such a deed begin?
The power is in your hands, would you but rouse
The might of your dependents round about
Your many castles, 'twere an host; and still
Has Mary many secret friends. The Howards
And Percies' noble houses, though their chiefs
Be fallen, are rich in heroes; they but wait
For the example of some potent lord.
Away with feigning—act an open part,
And, like a loyal knight, protect your fair;
Fight a good fight for her! You know you are
Lord of the person of the Queen of England,
Whene'er you will: invite her to your castle,
Oft hath she thither followed you—then show
That you're a man; then speak as master; keep her
Confined till she release the Queen of Scots.
LEICESTER.
I am astonished—I am terrified!
Where would your giddy madness hurry you?
Are you acquainted with this country? Know you
The deeps and shallows of this court? With what
A potent spell this female sceptre binds
And rules men's spirits round her? 'Tis in vain
You seek the heroic energy which once
Was active in this land! it is subdued,
A woman holds it under lock and key,
And every spring of courage is relaxed.
Follow my counsel—venture nothing rashly.
Some one approaches-go——
MORTIMER.
And Mary hopes—
Shall I return to her with empty comfort?
LEICESTER.
Bear her my vows of everlasting love.
MORTIMER.
Bear them yourself! I offered my assistance
As her deliverer, not your messenger.
[Exit.
SCENE IX.
ELIZABETH, LEICESTER.
ELIZABETH.
Say, who was here? I heard the sound of voices.
LEICESTER (turning quickly and perplexed round on hearing the QUEEN).
It was young Mortimer——
ELIZABETH.
How now, my lord:
Why so confused?
LEICESTER (collecting himself).
Your presence is the cause.
Ne'er did I see thy beauty so resplendent,
My sight is dazzled by thy heavenly charms.
Oh!
ELIZABETH.
Whence this sigh?
LEICESTER.
Have I no reason, then,
To sigh? When I behold you in your glory,
I feel anew, with pain unspeakable,
The loss which threatens me.
ELIZABETH.
What loss, my lord?
LEICESTER.
Your heart; your own inestimable self
Soon will you feel yourself within the arms
Of your young ardent husband, highly blessed;
He will possess your heart without a rival.
He is of royal blood, that am not I.
Yet, spite of all the world can say, there lives not
One on this globe who with such fervent zeal
Adores you as the man who loses you.
Anjou hath never seen you, can but love
Your glory and the splendor of your reign;
But I love you, and were you born of all
The peasant maids the poorest, I the first
Of kings, I would descend to your condition,
And lay my crown and sceptre at your feet!
ELIZABETH.
Oh, pity me, my Dudley; do not blame me;
I cannot ask my heart. Oh, that had chosen
Far otherwise! Ah, how I envy others
Who can exalt the object of their love!
But I am not so blest: 'tis not my fortune
To place upon the brows of him, the dearest
Of men to me, the royal crown of England.
The Queen of Scotland was allowed to make
Her hand the token of her inclination;
She hath had every freedom, and hath drunk,
Even to the very dregs, the cup of joy.
ELIZABETH.
Say, who was here? I heard the sound of voices.
LEICESTER (turning quickly and perplexed round on hearing the QUEEN).
It was young Mortimer——
ELIZABETH.
How now, my lord:
Why so confused?
LEICESTER (collecting himself).
Your presence is the cause.
Ne'er did I see thy beauty so resplendent,
My sight is dazzled by thy heavenly charms.
Oh!
ELIZABETH.
Whence this sigh?
LEICESTER.
Have I no reason, then,
To sigh? When I behold you in your glory,
I feel anew, with pain unspeakable,
The loss which threatens me.
ELIZABETH.
What loss, my lord?
LEICESTER.
Your heart; your own inestimable self
Soon will you feel yourself within the arms
Of your young ardent husband, highly blessed;
He will possess your heart without a rival.
He is of royal blood, that am not I.
Yet, spite of all the world can say, there lives not
One on this globe who with such fervent zeal
Adores you as the man who loses you.
Anjou hath never seen you, can but love
Your glory and the splendor of your reign;
But I love you, and were you born of all
The peasant maids the poorest, I the first
Of kings, I would descend to your condition,
And lay my crown and sceptre at your feet!
ELIZABETH.
Oh, pity me, my Dudley; do not blame me;
I cannot ask my heart. Oh, that had chosen
Far otherwise! Ah, how I envy others
Who can exalt the object of their love!
But I am not so blest: 'tis not my fortune
To place upon the brows of him, the dearest
Of men to me, the royal crown of England.
The Queen of Scotland was allowed to make
Her hand the token of her inclination;
She hath had every freedom, and hath drunk,
Even to the very dregs, the cup of joy.
LEICESTER.
And now she drinks the bitter cup of sorrow.
ELIZABETH.
She never did respect the world's opinion;
Life was to her a sport; she never courted
The yoke to which I bowed my willing neck.
And yet, methinks, I had as just a claim
As she to please myself and taste the joys
Of life: but I preferred the rigid duties
Which royalty imposed on me; yet she,
She was the favorite of all the men
Because she only strove to be a woman;
And youth and age became alike her suitors.
Thus are the men voluptuaries all!
The willing slaves of levity and pleasure;
Value that least which claims their reverence.
And did not even Talbot, though gray-headed,
Grow young again when speaking of her charms?
LEICESTER.
Forgive him, for he was her keeper once,
And she has fooled him with her cunning wiles.
ELIZABETH.
And is it really true that she's so fair?
So often have I been obliged to hear
The praises of this wonder—it were well
If I could learn on what I might depend:
Pictures are flattering, and description lies;
I will trust nothing but my own conviction.
Why gaze you at me thus?
LEICESTER.
I placed in thought
You and Maria Stuart side by side.
Yes! I confess I oft have felt a wish,
If it could be but secretly contrived,
To see you placed beside the Scottish queen,
Then would you feel, and not till then, the full
Enjoyment of your triumph: she deserves
To be thus humbled; she deserves to see,
With her own eyes, and envy's glance is keen,
Herself surpassed, to feel herself o'ermatched,
As much by thee in form and princely grace
As in each virtue that adorns the sex.
ELIZABETH.
In years she has the advantage——
LEICESTER.
Has she so?
I never should have thought it. But her griefs,
Her sufferings, indeed! 'tis possible
Have brought down age upon her ere her time.
Yes, and 'twould mortify her more to see thee
As bride—she hath already turned her back
On each fair hope of life, and she would see thee
Advancing towards the open arms of joy.
See thee as bride of France's royal son,
She who hath always plumed herself so high
On her connection with the house of France,
And still depends upon its mighty aid.
ELIZABETH (with a careless air).
I'm teazed to grant this interview.
LEICESTER.
She asks it
As a favor; grant it as a punishment.
For though you should conduct her to the block,
Yet would it less torment her than to see
Herself extinguished by your beauty's splendor.
Thus can you murder her as she hath wished
To murder you. When she beholds your beauty,
Guarded by modesty, and beaming bright,
In the clear glory of unspotted fame
(Which she with thoughtless levity discarded),
Exalted by the splendor of the crown,
And blooming now with tender bridal graces—
Then is the hour of her destruction come.
Yes—when I now behold you—you were never,
No, never were you so prepared to seal
The triumph of your beauty. As but now
You entered the apartment, I was dazzled
As by a glorious vision from on high.
Could you but now, now as you are, appear
Before her, you could find no better moment.
ELIZABETH.
Now? no, not now; no, Leicester; this must be
Maturely weighed—I must with Burleigh——
LEICESTER.
Burleigh!
To him you are but sovereign, and as such
Alone he seeks your welfare; but your rights,
Derived from womanhood, this tender point
Must be decided by your own tribunal,
Not by the statesman; yet e'en policy
Demands that you should see her, and allure
By such a generous deed the public voice.
You can hereafter act as it may please you,
To rid you of the hateful enemy.
ELIZABETH.
But would it then become me to behold
My kinswoman in infamy and want?
They say she is not royally attended;
Would not the sight of her distress reproach me?
LEICESTER.
You need not cross her threshold; hear my counsel.
A fortunate conjuncture favors it.
The hunt you mean to honor with your presence
Is in the neighborhood of Fotheringay;
Permission may be given to Lady Stuart
To take the air; you meet her in the park,
As if by accident; it must not seem
To have been planned, and should you not incline,
You need not speak to her.
ELIZABETH.
If I am foolish,
Be yours the fault, not mine. I would not care
To-day to cross your wishes; for to-day
I've grieved you more than all my other subjects.
[Tenderly.
Let it then be your fancy. Leicester, hence
You see the free obsequiousness of love.
Which suffers that which it cannot approve.
[LEICESTER prostrates himself before her, and the curtain falls.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
In a park. In the foreground trees; in the background
a distant prospect.
MARY advances, running from behind the trees.
HANNAH KENNEDY follows slowly.
KENNEDY.
You hasten on as if endowed with wings;
I cannot follow you so swiftly; wait.
MARY.
Freedom returns! Oh let me enjoy it.
Let me be childish; be thou childish with me.
Freedom invites me! Oh, let me employ it
Skimming with winged step light o'er the lea;
Have I escaped from this mansion of mourning?
Holds me no more the sad dungeon of care?
Let me, with joy and with eagerness burning,
Drink in the free, the celestial air.
KENNEDY.
Oh, my dear lady! but a very little
Is your sad gaol extended; you behold not
The wall that shuts us in; these plaited tufts
Of trees hide from your sight the hated object.
MARY.
Thanks to these friendly trees, that hide from me
My prison walls, and flatter my illusion!
Happy I now may deem myself, and free;
Why wake me from my dream's so sweet confusion?
The extended vault of heaven around me lies,
Free and unfettered range my wandering eyes
O'er space's vast, immeasurable sea!
From where yon misty mountains rise on high
I can my empire's boundaries explore;
And those light clouds which, steering southwards, fly,
Seek the mild clime of France's genial shore.
Fast fleeting clouds! ye meteors that fly;
Could I but with you sail through the sky!
Tenderly greet the dear land of my youth!
Here I am captive! oppressed by my foes,
No other than you may carry my woes.
Free through the ether your pathway is seen,
Ye own not the power of this tyrant queen.
KENNEDY.
Alas! dear lady! You're beside yourself,
This long-lost, long-sought freedom makes you rave.
MARY.
Yonder's a fisher returning to his home;
Poor though it be, would he lend me his wherry,
Quick to congenial shores would I ferry.
Spare is his trade, and labor's his doom;
Rich would I freight his vessel with treasure;
Such a draught should be his as he never had seen;
Wealth should he find in his nets without measure,
Would he but rescue a poor captive queen.
KENNEDY.
Fond, fruitless wishes! See you not from far
How we are followed by observing spies?
A dismal, barbarous prohibition scares
Each sympathetic being from our path.
MARY.
No, gentle Hannah! Trust me, not in vain
My prison gates are opened. This small grace
Is harbinger of greater happiness.
No! I mistake not; 'tis the active hand
Of love to which I owe this kind indulgence.
I recognize in this the mighty arm
Of Leicester. They will by degrees expand
My prison; will accustom me, through small,
To greater liberty, until at last
I shall behold the face of him whose hand
Will dash my fetters off, and that forever.
KENNEDY.
Oh, my dear queen! I cannot reconcile
These contradictions. 'Twas but yesterday
That they announced your death, and all at once,
To-day, you have such liberty. Their chains
Are also loosed, as I have oft been told,
Whom everlasting liberty awaits.
[Hunting horns at a distance.
MARY.
Hear'st then the bugle, so blithely resounding?
Hear'st thou its echoes through wood and through plain?
Oh, might I now, on my nimble steed bounding,
Join with the jocund, the frolicsome train.
[Hunting horns again heard.
Again! Oh, this sad and this pleasing remembrance!
These are the sounds which, so sprightly and clear,
Oft, when with music the hounds and the horn
So cheerfully welcomed the break of the morn,
On the heaths of the Highlands delighted my ear.
a distant prospect.
MARY advances, running from behind the trees.
HANNAH KENNEDY follows slowly.
KENNEDY.
You hasten on as if endowed with wings;
I cannot follow you so swiftly; wait.
MARY.
Freedom returns! Oh let me enjoy it.
Let me be childish; be thou childish with me.
Freedom invites me! Oh, let me employ it
Skimming with winged step light o'er the lea;
Have I escaped from this mansion of mourning?
Holds me no more the sad dungeon of care?
Let me, with joy and with eagerness burning,
Drink in the free, the celestial air.
KENNEDY.
Oh, my dear lady! but a very little
Is your sad gaol extended; you behold not
The wall that shuts us in; these plaited tufts
Of trees hide from your sight the hated object.
MARY.
Thanks to these friendly trees, that hide from me
My prison walls, and flatter my illusion!
Happy I now may deem myself, and free;
Why wake me from my dream's so sweet confusion?
The extended vault of heaven around me lies,
Free and unfettered range my wandering eyes
O'er space's vast, immeasurable sea!
From where yon misty mountains rise on high
I can my empire's boundaries explore;
And those light clouds which, steering southwards, fly,
Seek the mild clime of France's genial shore.
Fast fleeting clouds! ye meteors that fly;
Could I but with you sail through the sky!
Tenderly greet the dear land of my youth!
Here I am captive! oppressed by my foes,
No other than you may carry my woes.
Free through the ether your pathway is seen,
Ye own not the power of this tyrant queen.
KENNEDY.
Alas! dear lady! You're beside yourself,
This long-lost, long-sought freedom makes you rave.
MARY.
Yonder's a fisher returning to his home;
Poor though it be, would he lend me his wherry,
Quick to congenial shores would I ferry.
Spare is his trade, and labor's his doom;
Rich would I freight his vessel with treasure;
Such a draught should be his as he never had seen;
Wealth should he find in his nets without measure,
Would he but rescue a poor captive queen.
KENNEDY.
Fond, fruitless wishes! See you not from far
How we are followed by observing spies?
A dismal, barbarous prohibition scares
Each sympathetic being from our path.
MARY.
No, gentle Hannah! Trust me, not in vain
My prison gates are opened. This small grace
Is harbinger of greater happiness.
No! I mistake not; 'tis the active hand
Of love to which I owe this kind indulgence.
I recognize in this the mighty arm
Of Leicester. They will by degrees expand
My prison; will accustom me, through small,
To greater liberty, until at last
I shall behold the face of him whose hand
Will dash my fetters off, and that forever.
KENNEDY.
Oh, my dear queen! I cannot reconcile
These contradictions. 'Twas but yesterday
That they announced your death, and all at once,
To-day, you have such liberty. Their chains
Are also loosed, as I have oft been told,
Whom everlasting liberty awaits.
[Hunting horns at a distance.
MARY.
Hear'st then the bugle, so blithely resounding?
Hear'st thou its echoes through wood and through plain?
Oh, might I now, on my nimble steed bounding,
Join with the jocund, the frolicsome train.
[Hunting horns again heard.
Again! Oh, this sad and this pleasing remembrance!
These are the sounds which, so sprightly and clear,
Oft, when with music the hounds and the horn
So cheerfully welcomed the break of the morn,
On the heaths of the Highlands delighted my ear.
SCENE II.
Enter PAULET.
PAULET.
Well, have I acted right at last, my lady?
Do I for once, at least, deserve your thanks?
MARY.
How! Do I owe this favor, sir, to you?
PAULET.
Why not to me? I visited the court,
And gave the queen your letter.
MARY.
Did you give it?
In very truth did you deliver it?
And is this freedom which I now enjoy
The happy consequence?
PAULET (significantly).
Nor that alone;
Prepare yourself to see a greater still.
MARY.
A greater still! What do you mean by that?
PAULET.
You heard the bugle-horns?
MARY (starting back with foreboding apprehension).
You frighten me.
PAULET.
The queen is hunting in the neighborhood——
MARY.
What!
PAULET.
In a few moments she'll appear before you.
KENNEDY (hastening towards MARY, and about to fall).
How fare you, dearest lady? You grow pale.
PAULET.
How? Is't not well? Was it not then your prayer?
'Tis granted now, before it was expected;
You who had ever such a ready speech,
Now summon all your powers of eloquence,
The important time to use them now is come.
MARY.
Oh, why was I not told of this before?
Now I am not prepared for it—not now
What, as the greatest favor, I besought,
Seems to me now most fearful; Hannah, come,
Lead me into the house, till I collect
My spirits.
PAULET.
Stay; you must await her here.
Yes! I believe you may be well alarmed
To stand before your judge.
PAULET.
Well, have I acted right at last, my lady?
Do I for once, at least, deserve your thanks?
MARY.
How! Do I owe this favor, sir, to you?
PAULET.
Why not to me? I visited the court,
And gave the queen your letter.
MARY.
Did you give it?
In very truth did you deliver it?
And is this freedom which I now enjoy
The happy consequence?
PAULET (significantly).
Nor that alone;
Prepare yourself to see a greater still.
MARY.
A greater still! What do you mean by that?
PAULET.
You heard the bugle-horns?
MARY (starting back with foreboding apprehension).
You frighten me.
PAULET.
The queen is hunting in the neighborhood——
MARY.
What!
PAULET.
In a few moments she'll appear before you.
KENNEDY (hastening towards MARY, and about to fall).
How fare you, dearest lady? You grow pale.
PAULET.
How? Is't not well? Was it not then your prayer?
'Tis granted now, before it was expected;
You who had ever such a ready speech,
Now summon all your powers of eloquence,
The important time to use them now is come.
MARY.
Oh, why was I not told of this before?
Now I am not prepared for it—not now
What, as the greatest favor, I besought,
Seems to me now most fearful; Hannah, come,
Lead me into the house, till I collect
My spirits.
PAULET.
Stay; you must await her here.
Yes! I believe you may be well alarmed
To stand before your judge.