SCENE III.
Enter the EARL OF SHREWSBURY.
MARY.
'Tis not for that, O God!
Far other thoughts possess me now.
Oh, worthy Shrewsbury! You come as though
You were an angel sent to me from heaven.
I cannot, will not see her. Save me, save me
From the detested sight!
SHREWSBURY.
Your majesty,
Command yourself, and summon all your courage,
'Tis the decisive moment of your fate.
MARY.
For years I've waited, and prepared myself.
For this I've studied, weighed, and written down
Each word within the tablet of my memory
That was to touch and move her to compassion.
Forgotten suddenly, effaced is all,
And nothing lives within me at this moment
But the fierce, burning feeling of my wrongs.
My heart is turned to direst hate against her;
All gentle thoughts, all sweet forgiving words,
Are gone, and round me stand with grisly mien,
The fiends of hell, and shake their snaky locks!
SHREWSBURY.
Command your wild, rebellious blood;—constrain
The bitterness which fills your heart. No good
Ensues when hatred is opposed to hate.
How much soe'er the inward struggle cost
You must submit to stern necessity,
The power is in her hand, be therefore humble.
MARY.
To her? I never can.
SHREWSBURY.
But pray, submit.
Speak with respect, with calmness! Strive to move
Her magnanimity; insist not now
Upon your rights, not now—'tis not the season.
MARY.
Ah! woe is me! I've prayed for my destruction,
And, as a curse to me, my prayer is heard.
We never should have seen each other—never!
Oh, this can never, never come to good.
Rather in love could fire and water meet,
The timid lamb embrace the roaring tiger!
I have been hurt too grievously; she hath
Too grievously oppressed me;—no atonement
Can make us friends!
SHREWSBURY.
First see her, face to face:
Did I not see how she was moved at reading
Your letter? How her eyes were drowned in tears?
No—she is not unfeeling; only place
More confidence in her. It was for this
That I came on before her, to entreat you
To be collected—to admonish you——
MARY (seizing his hand).
Oh, Talbot! you have ever been my friend,
Had I but stayed beneath your kindly care!
They have, indeed, misused me, Shrewsbury.
SHREWSBURY.
Let all be now forgot, and only think
How to receive her with submissiveness.
MARY.
Is Burleigh with her, too, my evil genius?
SHREWSBURY.
No one attends her but the Earl of Leicester.
MARY.
Lord Leicester?
SHREWSBURY.
Fear not him; it is not he
Who wishes your destruction;—'twas his work
That here the queen hath granted you this meeting.
MARY.
Ah! well I knew it.
SHREWSBURY.
What?
PAULET.
The queen approaches.
[They all draw aside; MARY alone remains, leaning on KENNEDY.
MARY.
'Tis not for that, O God!
Far other thoughts possess me now.
Oh, worthy Shrewsbury! You come as though
You were an angel sent to me from heaven.
I cannot, will not see her. Save me, save me
From the detested sight!
SHREWSBURY.
Your majesty,
Command yourself, and summon all your courage,
'Tis the decisive moment of your fate.
MARY.
For years I've waited, and prepared myself.
For this I've studied, weighed, and written down
Each word within the tablet of my memory
That was to touch and move her to compassion.
Forgotten suddenly, effaced is all,
And nothing lives within me at this moment
But the fierce, burning feeling of my wrongs.
My heart is turned to direst hate against her;
All gentle thoughts, all sweet forgiving words,
Are gone, and round me stand with grisly mien,
The fiends of hell, and shake their snaky locks!
SHREWSBURY.
Command your wild, rebellious blood;—constrain
The bitterness which fills your heart. No good
Ensues when hatred is opposed to hate.
How much soe'er the inward struggle cost
You must submit to stern necessity,
The power is in her hand, be therefore humble.
MARY.
To her? I never can.
SHREWSBURY.
But pray, submit.
Speak with respect, with calmness! Strive to move
Her magnanimity; insist not now
Upon your rights, not now—'tis not the season.
MARY.
Ah! woe is me! I've prayed for my destruction,
And, as a curse to me, my prayer is heard.
We never should have seen each other—never!
Oh, this can never, never come to good.
Rather in love could fire and water meet,
The timid lamb embrace the roaring tiger!
I have been hurt too grievously; she hath
Too grievously oppressed me;—no atonement
Can make us friends!
SHREWSBURY.
First see her, face to face:
Did I not see how she was moved at reading
Your letter? How her eyes were drowned in tears?
No—she is not unfeeling; only place
More confidence in her. It was for this
That I came on before her, to entreat you
To be collected—to admonish you——
MARY (seizing his hand).
Oh, Talbot! you have ever been my friend,
Had I but stayed beneath your kindly care!
They have, indeed, misused me, Shrewsbury.
SHREWSBURY.
Let all be now forgot, and only think
How to receive her with submissiveness.
MARY.
Is Burleigh with her, too, my evil genius?
SHREWSBURY.
No one attends her but the Earl of Leicester.
MARY.
Lord Leicester?
SHREWSBURY.
Fear not him; it is not he
Who wishes your destruction;—'twas his work
That here the queen hath granted you this meeting.
MARY.
Ah! well I knew it.
SHREWSBURY.
What?
PAULET.
The queen approaches.
[They all draw aside; MARY alone remains, leaning on KENNEDY.
SCENE IV.
The same, ELIZABETH, EARL OF LEICESTER, and Retinue.
ELIZABETH (to LEICESTER).
What seat is that, my lord?
LEICESTER.
'Tis Fotheringay.
ELIZABETH (to SHREWSBURY).
My lord, send back our retinue to London;
The people crowd too eager in the roads,
We'll seek a refuge in this quiet park.
[TALBOT sends the train away. She looks steadfastly at MARY,
as she speaks further with PAULET.
My honest people love me overmuch.
These signs of joy are quite idolatrous.
Thus should a God be honored, not a mortal.
MARY (who the whole time had leaned, almost fainting, on KENNEDY, rises
now, and her eyes meet the steady, piercing look of ELIZABETH; she
shudders and throws herself again upon KENNEDY'S bosom).
O God! from out these features speaks no heart.
ELIZABETH.
What lady's that?
[A general, embarrassed silence.
LEICESTER.
You are at Fotheringay,
My liege!
ELIZABETH (as if surprised, casting an angry look at LEICESTER).
Who hath done this, my Lord of Leicester?
LEICESTER.
'Tis past, my queen;—and now that heaven hath led
Your footsteps hither, be magnanimous;
And let sweet pity be triumphant now.
ELIZABETH (to LEICESTER).
What seat is that, my lord?
LEICESTER.
'Tis Fotheringay.
ELIZABETH (to SHREWSBURY).
My lord, send back our retinue to London;
The people crowd too eager in the roads,
We'll seek a refuge in this quiet park.
[TALBOT sends the train away. She looks steadfastly at MARY,
as she speaks further with PAULET.
My honest people love me overmuch.
These signs of joy are quite idolatrous.
Thus should a God be honored, not a mortal.
MARY (who the whole time had leaned, almost fainting, on KENNEDY, rises
now, and her eyes meet the steady, piercing look of ELIZABETH; she
shudders and throws herself again upon KENNEDY'S bosom).
O God! from out these features speaks no heart.
ELIZABETH.
What lady's that?
[A general, embarrassed silence.
LEICESTER.
You are at Fotheringay,
My liege!
ELIZABETH (as if surprised, casting an angry look at LEICESTER).
Who hath done this, my Lord of Leicester?
LEICESTER.
'Tis past, my queen;—and now that heaven hath led
Your footsteps hither, be magnanimous;
And let sweet pity be triumphant now.
SHREWSBURY.
Oh, royal mistress! yield to our entreaties;
Oh, cast your eyes on this unhappy one
Who stands dissolved in anguish.
[MARY collects herself, and begins to advance towards
ELIZABETH, stops shuddering at half way: her action
expresses the most violent internal struggle.
ELIZABETH.
How, my lords!
Which of you then announced to me a prisoner
Bowed down by woe? I see a haughty one
By no means humbled by calamity.
MARY.
Well, be it so:—to this will I submit.
Farewell high thought, and pride of noble mind!
I will forget my dignity, and all
My sufferings; I will fall before her feet
Who hath reduced me to this wretchedness.
[She turns towards the QUEEN.
The voice of heaven decides for you, my sister.
Your happy brows are now with triumph crowned,
I bless the Power Divine which thus hath raised you.
But in your turn be merciful, my sister;
[She kneels.
Let me not lie before you thus disgraced;
Stretch forth your hand, your royal hand, to raise
Your sister from the depths of her distress.
ELIZABETH (stepping back).
You are where it becomes you, Lady Stuart;
And thankfully I prize my God's protection,
Who hath not suffered me to kneel a suppliant
Thus at your feet, as you now kneel at mine.
MARY (with increasing energy of feeling).
Think on all earthly things, vicissitudes.
Oh! there are gods who punish haughty pride:
Respect them, honor them, the dreadful ones
Who thus before thy feet have humbled me!
Before these strangers' eyes dishonor not
Yourself in me: profane not, nor disgrace
The royal blood of Tudor. In my veins
It flows as pure a stream as in your own.
Oh, for God's pity, stand not so estranged
And inaccessible, like some tall cliff,
Which the poor shipwrecked mariner in vain
Struggles to seize, and labors to embrace.
My all, my life, my fortune now depends
Upon the influence of my words and tears;
That I may touch your heart, oh, set mine free.
If you regard me with those icy looks
My shuddering heart contracts itself, the stream
Of tears is dried, and frigid horror chains
The words of supplication in my bosom!
ELIZABETH (cold and severe).
What would you say to me, my Lady Stuart?
You wished to speak with me; and I, forgetting
The queen, and all the wrongs I have sustained,
Fulfil the pious duty of the sister,
And grant the boon you wished for of my presence.
Yet I, in yielding to the generous feelings
Of magnanimity, expose myself
To rightful censure, that I stoop so low.
For well you know you would have had me murdered.
MARY.
Oh! how shall I begin? Oh, how shall I
So artfully arrange my cautious words
That they may touch, yet not offend your heart?
Strengthen my words, O Heaven! and take from them
Whate'er might wound. Alas! I cannot speak
In my own cause without impeaching you,
And that most heavily, I wish not so;
You have not as you ought behaved to me:
I am a queen, like you: yet you have held me
Confined in prison. As a suppliant
I came to you, yet you in me insulted
The pious use of hospitality;
Slighting in me the holy law of nations,
Immured me in a dungeon—tore from me
My friends and servants; to unseemly want
I was exposed, and hurried to the bar
Of a disgraceful, insolent tribunal.
No more of this;—in everlasting silence
Be buried all the cruelties I suffered!
See—I will throw the blame of all on fate,
'Twere not your fault, no more than it was mine.
An evil spirit rose from the abyss,
To kindle in our hearts the flame of hate,
By which our tender youth had been divided.
It grew with us, and bad, designing men
Fanned with their ready breath the fatal fire:
Frantics, enthusiasts, with sword and dagger
Armed the uncalled-for hand! This is the curse
Of kings, that they, divided, tear the world
In pieces with their hatred, and let loose
The raging furies of all hellish strife!
No foreign tongue is now between us, sister,
[Approaching her confidently, and with a flattering tone.
Now stand we face to face; now, sister, speak:
Name but my crime, I'll fully satisfy you,—
Alas! had you vouchsafed to hear me then,
When I so earnest sought to meet your eye,
It never would have come to this, nor would,
Here in this mournful place, have happened now
This so distressful, this so mournful meeting.
ELIZABETH.
My better stars preserved me. I was warned,
And laid not to my breast the poisonous adder!
Accuse not fate! your own deceitful heart
It was, the wild ambition of your house
As yet no enmities had passed between us,
When your imperious uncle, the proud priest,
Whose shameless hand grasps at all crowns, attacked me
With unprovoked hostility, and taught
You, but too docile, to assume my arms,
To vest yourself with my imperial title,
And meet me in the lists in mortal strife:
What arms employed he not to storm my throne?
The curses of the priests, the people's sword,
The dreadful weapons of religious frenzy;—
Even here in my own kingdom's peaceful haunts
He fanned the flames of civil insurrection;
But God is with me, and the haughty priest
Has not maintained the field. The blow was aimed
Full at my head, but yours it is which falls!
MARY.
I'm in the hand of heaven. You never will
Exert so cruelly the power it gives you.
ELIZABETH.
Who shall prevent me? Say, did not your uncle
Set all the kings of Europe the example,
How to conclude a peace with those they hate.
Be mine the school of Saint Bartholomew;
What's kindred then to me, or nation's laws?
The church can break the bands of every duty;
It consecrates the regicide, the traitor;
I only practise what your priests have taught!
Say then, what surety can be offered me,
Should I magnanimously loose your bonds?
Say, with what lock can I secure your faith,
Which by Saint Peter's keys cannot be opened?
Force is my only surety; no alliance
Can be concluded with a race of vipers.
MARY.
Oh! this is but your wretched, dark suspicion!
For you have constantly regarded me
But as a stranger, and an enemy.
Had you declared me heir to your dominions,
As is my right, then gratitude and love
In me had fixed, for you, a faithful friend
And kinswoman.
ELIZABETH.
Your friendship is abroad,
Your house is papacy, the monk your brother.
Name you my successor! The treacherous snare!
That in my life you might seduce my people;
And, like a sly Armida, in your net
Entangle all our noble English youth;
That all might turn to the new rising sun,
And I——
MARY.
O sister, rule your realm in peace;
I give up every claim to these domains—
Alas! the pinions of my soul are lamed;
Greatness entices me no more: your point
Is gained; I am but Mary's shadow now—
My noble spirit is at last broke down
By long captivity:—you've done your worst
On me; you have destroyed me in my bloom!
Now, end your work, my sister;—speak at length
The word, which to pronounce has brought you hither;
For I will ne'er believe that you are come,
To mock unfeelingly your hapless victim.
Pronounce this word;—say, "Mary, you are free:
You have already felt my power,—learn now
To honor too my generosity."
Say this, and I will take my life, will take
My freedom, as a present from your hands.
One word makes all undone;—I wait for it;—
Oh, let it not be needlessly delayed.
Woe to you if you end not with this word!
For should you not, like some divinity,
Dispensing noble blessings, quit me now,
Then, sister, not for all this island's wealth,
For all the realms encircled by the deep,
Would I exchange my present lot for yours.
ELIZABETH.
And you confess at last that you are conquered:
Are all your schemes run out? No more assassins
Now on the road? Will no adventurer
Attempt again for you the sad achievement?
Yes, madam, it is over:—you'll seduce
No mortal more. The world has other cares;—
None is ambitious of the dangerous honor
Of being your fourth husband—you destroy
Your wooers like your husbands.
MARY (starting angrily).
Sister, sister!—
Grant me forbearance, all ye powers of heaven!
ELIZABETH (regards her long with a look of proud contempt).
Those then, my Lord of Leicester, are the charms
Which no man with impunity can view,
Near which no woman dare to stand?
In sooth, this honor has been cheaply gained;
She who to all is common, may with ease
Become the common object of applause.
MARY.
This is too much!
ELIZABETH (laughing insultingly).
You show us now, indeed,
Your real face; till now 'twas but the mask.
MARY (burning with rage, yet dignified and noble).
My sins were human, and the faults of youth:
Superior force misled me. I have never
Denied or sought to hide it: I despised
All false appearance, as became a queen.
The worst of me is known, and I can say,
That I am better than the fame I bear.
Woe to you! when, in time to come, the world
Shall draw the robe of honor from your deeds,
With which thy arch-hypocrisy has veiled
The raging flames of lawless, secret lust.
Virtue was not your portion from your mother;
Well know we what it was which brought the head
Of Anna Boleyn to the fatal block.
SHREWSBURY (stepping between both QUEENS).
Oh! Heaven! Alas, and must it come to this!
Is this the moderation, the submission,
My lady?——
MARY.
Moderation! I've supported
What human nature can support: farewell,
Lamb-hearted resignation, passive patience,
Fly to thy native heaven; burst at length
Thy bonds, come forward from thy dreary cave,
In all thy fury, long suppressed rancor!
And thou, who to the angered basilisk
Impart'st the murderous glance, oh, arm my tongue
With poisoned darts!
SHREWSBURY.
She is beside herself!
Exasperated, mad! My liege, forgive her.
[ELIZABETH, speechless with anger, casts enraged looks at MARY.
LEICESTER (in the most violent agitation; he seeks to lead ELIZABETH
away).
Attend not to her rage! Away, away,
From this disastrous place!
MARY (raising her voice).
A bastard soils,
Profanes the English throne! The generous Britons
Are cheated by a juggler, [whose whole figure
Is false and painted, heart as well as face!]
If right prevailed, you now would in the dust
Before me lie, for I'm your rightful monarch!
[ELIZABETH hastily quits the stage; the lords follow her
in the greatest consternation.
Oh, royal mistress! yield to our entreaties;
Oh, cast your eyes on this unhappy one
Who stands dissolved in anguish.
[MARY collects herself, and begins to advance towards
ELIZABETH, stops shuddering at half way: her action
expresses the most violent internal struggle.
ELIZABETH.
How, my lords!
Which of you then announced to me a prisoner
Bowed down by woe? I see a haughty one
By no means humbled by calamity.
MARY.
Well, be it so:—to this will I submit.
Farewell high thought, and pride of noble mind!
I will forget my dignity, and all
My sufferings; I will fall before her feet
Who hath reduced me to this wretchedness.
[She turns towards the QUEEN.
The voice of heaven decides for you, my sister.
Your happy brows are now with triumph crowned,
I bless the Power Divine which thus hath raised you.
But in your turn be merciful, my sister;
[She kneels.
Let me not lie before you thus disgraced;
Stretch forth your hand, your royal hand, to raise
Your sister from the depths of her distress.
ELIZABETH (stepping back).
You are where it becomes you, Lady Stuart;
And thankfully I prize my God's protection,
Who hath not suffered me to kneel a suppliant
Thus at your feet, as you now kneel at mine.
MARY (with increasing energy of feeling).
Think on all earthly things, vicissitudes.
Oh! there are gods who punish haughty pride:
Respect them, honor them, the dreadful ones
Who thus before thy feet have humbled me!
Before these strangers' eyes dishonor not
Yourself in me: profane not, nor disgrace
The royal blood of Tudor. In my veins
It flows as pure a stream as in your own.
Oh, for God's pity, stand not so estranged
And inaccessible, like some tall cliff,
Which the poor shipwrecked mariner in vain
Struggles to seize, and labors to embrace.
My all, my life, my fortune now depends
Upon the influence of my words and tears;
That I may touch your heart, oh, set mine free.
If you regard me with those icy looks
My shuddering heart contracts itself, the stream
Of tears is dried, and frigid horror chains
The words of supplication in my bosom!
ELIZABETH (cold and severe).
What would you say to me, my Lady Stuart?
You wished to speak with me; and I, forgetting
The queen, and all the wrongs I have sustained,
Fulfil the pious duty of the sister,
And grant the boon you wished for of my presence.
Yet I, in yielding to the generous feelings
Of magnanimity, expose myself
To rightful censure, that I stoop so low.
For well you know you would have had me murdered.
MARY.
Oh! how shall I begin? Oh, how shall I
So artfully arrange my cautious words
That they may touch, yet not offend your heart?
Strengthen my words, O Heaven! and take from them
Whate'er might wound. Alas! I cannot speak
In my own cause without impeaching you,
And that most heavily, I wish not so;
You have not as you ought behaved to me:
I am a queen, like you: yet you have held me
Confined in prison. As a suppliant
I came to you, yet you in me insulted
The pious use of hospitality;
Slighting in me the holy law of nations,
Immured me in a dungeon—tore from me
My friends and servants; to unseemly want
I was exposed, and hurried to the bar
Of a disgraceful, insolent tribunal.
No more of this;—in everlasting silence
Be buried all the cruelties I suffered!
See—I will throw the blame of all on fate,
'Twere not your fault, no more than it was mine.
An evil spirit rose from the abyss,
To kindle in our hearts the flame of hate,
By which our tender youth had been divided.
It grew with us, and bad, designing men
Fanned with their ready breath the fatal fire:
Frantics, enthusiasts, with sword and dagger
Armed the uncalled-for hand! This is the curse
Of kings, that they, divided, tear the world
In pieces with their hatred, and let loose
The raging furies of all hellish strife!
No foreign tongue is now between us, sister,
[Approaching her confidently, and with a flattering tone.
Now stand we face to face; now, sister, speak:
Name but my crime, I'll fully satisfy you,—
Alas! had you vouchsafed to hear me then,
When I so earnest sought to meet your eye,
It never would have come to this, nor would,
Here in this mournful place, have happened now
This so distressful, this so mournful meeting.
ELIZABETH.
My better stars preserved me. I was warned,
And laid not to my breast the poisonous adder!
Accuse not fate! your own deceitful heart
It was, the wild ambition of your house
As yet no enmities had passed between us,
When your imperious uncle, the proud priest,
Whose shameless hand grasps at all crowns, attacked me
With unprovoked hostility, and taught
You, but too docile, to assume my arms,
To vest yourself with my imperial title,
And meet me in the lists in mortal strife:
What arms employed he not to storm my throne?
The curses of the priests, the people's sword,
The dreadful weapons of religious frenzy;—
Even here in my own kingdom's peaceful haunts
He fanned the flames of civil insurrection;
But God is with me, and the haughty priest
Has not maintained the field. The blow was aimed
Full at my head, but yours it is which falls!
MARY.
I'm in the hand of heaven. You never will
Exert so cruelly the power it gives you.
ELIZABETH.
Who shall prevent me? Say, did not your uncle
Set all the kings of Europe the example,
How to conclude a peace with those they hate.
Be mine the school of Saint Bartholomew;
What's kindred then to me, or nation's laws?
The church can break the bands of every duty;
It consecrates the regicide, the traitor;
I only practise what your priests have taught!
Say then, what surety can be offered me,
Should I magnanimously loose your bonds?
Say, with what lock can I secure your faith,
Which by Saint Peter's keys cannot be opened?
Force is my only surety; no alliance
Can be concluded with a race of vipers.
MARY.
Oh! this is but your wretched, dark suspicion!
For you have constantly regarded me
But as a stranger, and an enemy.
Had you declared me heir to your dominions,
As is my right, then gratitude and love
In me had fixed, for you, a faithful friend
And kinswoman.
ELIZABETH.
Your friendship is abroad,
Your house is papacy, the monk your brother.
Name you my successor! The treacherous snare!
That in my life you might seduce my people;
And, like a sly Armida, in your net
Entangle all our noble English youth;
That all might turn to the new rising sun,
And I——
MARY.
O sister, rule your realm in peace;
I give up every claim to these domains—
Alas! the pinions of my soul are lamed;
Greatness entices me no more: your point
Is gained; I am but Mary's shadow now—
My noble spirit is at last broke down
By long captivity:—you've done your worst
On me; you have destroyed me in my bloom!
Now, end your work, my sister;—speak at length
The word, which to pronounce has brought you hither;
For I will ne'er believe that you are come,
To mock unfeelingly your hapless victim.
Pronounce this word;—say, "Mary, you are free:
You have already felt my power,—learn now
To honor too my generosity."
Say this, and I will take my life, will take
My freedom, as a present from your hands.
One word makes all undone;—I wait for it;—
Oh, let it not be needlessly delayed.
Woe to you if you end not with this word!
For should you not, like some divinity,
Dispensing noble blessings, quit me now,
Then, sister, not for all this island's wealth,
For all the realms encircled by the deep,
Would I exchange my present lot for yours.
ELIZABETH.
And you confess at last that you are conquered:
Are all your schemes run out? No more assassins
Now on the road? Will no adventurer
Attempt again for you the sad achievement?
Yes, madam, it is over:—you'll seduce
No mortal more. The world has other cares;—
None is ambitious of the dangerous honor
Of being your fourth husband—you destroy
Your wooers like your husbands.
MARY (starting angrily).
Sister, sister!—
Grant me forbearance, all ye powers of heaven!
ELIZABETH (regards her long with a look of proud contempt).
Those then, my Lord of Leicester, are the charms
Which no man with impunity can view,
Near which no woman dare to stand?
In sooth, this honor has been cheaply gained;
She who to all is common, may with ease
Become the common object of applause.
MARY.
This is too much!
ELIZABETH (laughing insultingly).
You show us now, indeed,
Your real face; till now 'twas but the mask.
MARY (burning with rage, yet dignified and noble).
My sins were human, and the faults of youth:
Superior force misled me. I have never
Denied or sought to hide it: I despised
All false appearance, as became a queen.
The worst of me is known, and I can say,
That I am better than the fame I bear.
Woe to you! when, in time to come, the world
Shall draw the robe of honor from your deeds,
With which thy arch-hypocrisy has veiled
The raging flames of lawless, secret lust.
Virtue was not your portion from your mother;
Well know we what it was which brought the head
Of Anna Boleyn to the fatal block.
SHREWSBURY (stepping between both QUEENS).
Oh! Heaven! Alas, and must it come to this!
Is this the moderation, the submission,
My lady?——
MARY.
Moderation! I've supported
What human nature can support: farewell,
Lamb-hearted resignation, passive patience,
Fly to thy native heaven; burst at length
Thy bonds, come forward from thy dreary cave,
In all thy fury, long suppressed rancor!
And thou, who to the angered basilisk
Impart'st the murderous glance, oh, arm my tongue
With poisoned darts!
SHREWSBURY.
She is beside herself!
Exasperated, mad! My liege, forgive her.
[ELIZABETH, speechless with anger, casts enraged looks at MARY.
LEICESTER (in the most violent agitation; he seeks to lead ELIZABETH
away).
Attend not to her rage! Away, away,
From this disastrous place!
MARY (raising her voice).
A bastard soils,
Profanes the English throne! The generous Britons
Are cheated by a juggler, [whose whole figure
Is false and painted, heart as well as face!]
If right prevailed, you now would in the dust
Before me lie, for I'm your rightful monarch!
[ELIZABETH hastily quits the stage; the lords follow her
in the greatest consternation.
SCENE V.
MARY, KENNEDY.
KENNEDY.
What have you done? She has gone hence in wrath
All hope is over now!
MARY (still quite beside herself).
Gone hence in wrath!
She carries death within her heart! I know it.
[Falling on KENNEDY'S bosom.
Now I am happy, Hannah! and at last,
After whole years of sorrow and abasement,
One moment of victorious revenge
A weight falls off my heart, a weight of mountains;
I plunged the steel in my oppressor's breast!
KENNEDY.
Unhappy lady! Frenzy overcomes you.
Yes, you have wounded your inveterate foe;
'Tis she who wields the lightning, she is queen,
You have insulted her before her minion.
MARY.
I have abased her before Leicester's eyes;
He saw it, he was witness of my triumph.
How did I hurl her from her haughty height,
He saw it, and his presence strengthened me.
KENNEDY.
What have you done? She has gone hence in wrath
All hope is over now!
MARY (still quite beside herself).
Gone hence in wrath!
She carries death within her heart! I know it.
[Falling on KENNEDY'S bosom.
Now I am happy, Hannah! and at last,
After whole years of sorrow and abasement,
One moment of victorious revenge
A weight falls off my heart, a weight of mountains;
I plunged the steel in my oppressor's breast!
KENNEDY.
Unhappy lady! Frenzy overcomes you.
Yes, you have wounded your inveterate foe;
'Tis she who wields the lightning, she is queen,
You have insulted her before her minion.
MARY.
I have abased her before Leicester's eyes;
He saw it, he was witness of my triumph.
How did I hurl her from her haughty height,
He saw it, and his presence strengthened me.
SCENE VI.
Enter MORTIMER.
KENNEDY.
Oh, Sir! What an occurrence!
MORTIMER.
I heard all—
[Gives the nurse a sign to repair to her post,
and draws nearer; his whole appearance expresses
the utmost violence of passion.
Thine is the palm;—thou trod'st her to the dust!—
Thou wast the queen, she was the malefactor;—
I am transported with thy noble courage;—
Yes! I adore thee; like a Deity,
My sense is dazzled by thy heavenly beams.
MARY (with vivacity and expectation).
You spoke with Leicester, gave my letter to him.
My present, too?—oh, speak, sir.
MORTIMER (beholding her with glowing looks).
How thy noble,
Thy royal indignation shone, and cast
A glory round thy beauty; yes, by heavens,
Thou art the fairest woman upon earth!
MARY.
Sir, satisfy, I beg you, my impatience;
What says his lordship? Say, sir, may I hope?
MORTIMER.
Who?—he?—he is a wretch, a very coward,
Hope naught from him; despise him, and forget him!
MARY.
What say you?
MORTIMER.
He deliver, and possess you!
Why let him dare it:—he!—he must with me
In mortal contest first deserve the prize!
MARY.
You gave him not my letter? Then, indeed
My hopes are lost!
MORTIMER.
The coward loves his life.
Whoe'er would rescue you, and call you his,
Must boldly dare affront e'en death itself!
MARY.
Will he do nothing for me?
MORTIMER.
Speak not of him.
What can he do? What need have we of him?
I will release you; I alone.
MARY.
Alas!
What power have you?
MORTIMER.
Deceive yourself no more;
Think not your case is now as formerly;
The moment that the queen thus quitted you,
And that your interview had ta'en this turn,
All hope was lost, each way of mercy shut.
Now deeds must speak, now boldness must decide,
To compass all must all be hazarded;
You must be free before the morning break.
MARY.
What say you, sir—to-night?—impossible!
MORTIMER.
Hear what has been resolved:—I led my friends
Into a private chapel, where a priest
Heard our confession, and, for every sin
We had committed, gave us absolution;
He gave us absolution too, beforehand,
For every crime we might commit in future;
He gave us too the final sacrament,
And we are ready for the final journey.
MARY.
Oh, what an awful, dreadful preparation!
MORTIMER.
We scale, this very night, the castle's walls;
The keys are in my power; the guards we murder!
Then from thy chamber bear thee forcibly.
Each living soul must die beneath our hands,
That none remain who might disclose the deed.
MARY.
And Drury, Paulet, my two keepers, they
Would sooner spill their dearest drop of blood.
MORTIMER.
They fall the very first beneath my steel.
MARY.
What, sir! Your uncle? How! Your second father!
MORTIMER.
Must perish by my hand—I murder him!
MARY.
Oh, bloody outrage!
MORTIMER.
We have been absolved
Beforehand; I may perpetrate the worst;
I can, I will do so!
MARY.
Oh, dreadful, dreadful!
MORTIMER.
And should I be obliged to kill the queen,
I've sworn upon the host, it must be done!
MARY.
No, Mortimer; ere so much blood for me——
MORTIMER.
What is the life of all compared to thee,
And to my love? The bond which holds the world
Together may be loosed, a second deluge
Come rolling on, and swallow all creation!
Henceforth I value nothing; ere I quit
My hold on thee, may earth and time be ended!
MARY (retiring)
Heavens! Sir, what language, and what looks! They scare,
They frighten me!
MORTIMER (with unsteady looks, expressive of great madness).
Life's but a moment—death
Is but a moment too. Why! let them drag me
To Tyburn, let them tear me limb from limb,
With red-hot pincers——
[Violently approaching her with extended arms.
If I clasp but thee
Within my arms, thou fervently beloved!
MARY.
Madman, avaunt!
MORTIMER.
To rest upon this bosom,
To press upon this passion-breathing mouth——
MARY.
Leave me, for God's sake, sir; let me go in——
MORTIMER.
He is a madman who neglects to clasp
His bliss in folds that never may be loosed,
When Heaven has kindly given it to his arms.
I will deliver you, and though it cost
A thousand lives, I do it; but I swear,
As God's in Heaven I will possess you too!
MARY.
Oh! will no God, no angel shelter me?
Dread destiny! thou throwest me, in thy wrath,
From one tremendous terror to the other!
Was I then born to waken naught but frenzy?
Do hate and love conspire alike to fright me!
MORTIMER.
Yes, glowing as their hatred is my love;
They would behead thee, they would wound this neck,
So dazzling white, with the disgraceful axe!
Oh! offer to the living god of joy
What thou must sacrifice to bloody hate!
Inspire thy happy lover with those charms
Which are no more thine own. Those golden locks
Are forfeit to the dismal powers of death,
Oh! use them to entwine thy slave forever!
MARY.
Alas! alas! what language must I hear!
My woe, my sufferings should be sacred to you,
Although my royal brows are so no more.
MORTIMER.
The crown is fallen from thy brows, thou hast
No more of earthly majesty. Make trial,
Raise thy imperial voice, see if a friend,
If a deliverer will rise to save you.
Thy moving form alone remains, the high,
The godlike influence of thy heavenly beauty;
This bids me venture all, this arms my hand
With might, and drives me tow'rd the headsman's axe.
MARY.
Oh! who will save me from his raging madness?
MORTIMER.
Service that's bold demands a bold reward.
Why shed their blood the daring? Is not life
Life's highest good? And he a madman who
Casts life away? First will I take my rest,
Upon the breast that glows with love's own fire!
[He presses her violently to his bosom.
MARY.
Oh, must I call for help against the man
Who would deliver me!
MORTIMER.
Thou'rt not unfeeling,
The world ne'er censured thee for frigid rigor;
The fervent prayer of love can touch thy heart.
Thou mad'st the minstrel Rizzio blest, and gavest
Thyself a willing prey to Bothwell's arms.
MARY.
Presumptuous man!
MORTIMER.
He was indeed thy tyrant,
Thou trembled'st at his rudeness, whilst thou loved'st him;
Well, then—if only terror can obtain thee—
By the infernal gods!
MARY.
Away—you're mad!
MORTIMER.
I'll teach thee then before me, too, to tremble.
KENNEDY (entering suddenly).
They're coming—they approach—the park is filled
With men in arms.
MORTIMER (starting and catching at his sword).
I will defend you-I——
MARY.
O Hannah! save me, save me from his hands.
Where shall I find, poor sufferer, an asylum?
Oh! to what saint shall I address my prayers?
Here force assails me, and within is murder!
[She flies towards the house, KENNEDY follows her.
KENNEDY.
Oh, Sir! What an occurrence!
MORTIMER.
I heard all—
[Gives the nurse a sign to repair to her post,
and draws nearer; his whole appearance expresses
the utmost violence of passion.
Thine is the palm;—thou trod'st her to the dust!—
Thou wast the queen, she was the malefactor;—
I am transported with thy noble courage;—
Yes! I adore thee; like a Deity,
My sense is dazzled by thy heavenly beams.
MARY (with vivacity and expectation).
You spoke with Leicester, gave my letter to him.
My present, too?—oh, speak, sir.
MORTIMER (beholding her with glowing looks).
How thy noble,
Thy royal indignation shone, and cast
A glory round thy beauty; yes, by heavens,
Thou art the fairest woman upon earth!
MARY.
Sir, satisfy, I beg you, my impatience;
What says his lordship? Say, sir, may I hope?
MORTIMER.
Who?—he?—he is a wretch, a very coward,
Hope naught from him; despise him, and forget him!
MARY.
What say you?
MORTIMER.
He deliver, and possess you!
Why let him dare it:—he!—he must with me
In mortal contest first deserve the prize!
MARY.
You gave him not my letter? Then, indeed
My hopes are lost!
MORTIMER.
The coward loves his life.
Whoe'er would rescue you, and call you his,
Must boldly dare affront e'en death itself!
MARY.
Will he do nothing for me?
MORTIMER.
Speak not of him.
What can he do? What need have we of him?
I will release you; I alone.
MARY.
Alas!
What power have you?
MORTIMER.
Deceive yourself no more;
Think not your case is now as formerly;
The moment that the queen thus quitted you,
And that your interview had ta'en this turn,
All hope was lost, each way of mercy shut.
Now deeds must speak, now boldness must decide,
To compass all must all be hazarded;
You must be free before the morning break.
MARY.
What say you, sir—to-night?—impossible!
MORTIMER.
Hear what has been resolved:—I led my friends
Into a private chapel, where a priest
Heard our confession, and, for every sin
We had committed, gave us absolution;
He gave us absolution too, beforehand,
For every crime we might commit in future;
He gave us too the final sacrament,
And we are ready for the final journey.
MARY.
Oh, what an awful, dreadful preparation!
MORTIMER.
We scale, this very night, the castle's walls;
The keys are in my power; the guards we murder!
Then from thy chamber bear thee forcibly.
Each living soul must die beneath our hands,
That none remain who might disclose the deed.
MARY.
And Drury, Paulet, my two keepers, they
Would sooner spill their dearest drop of blood.
MORTIMER.
They fall the very first beneath my steel.
MARY.
What, sir! Your uncle? How! Your second father!
MORTIMER.
Must perish by my hand—I murder him!
MARY.
Oh, bloody outrage!
MORTIMER.
We have been absolved
Beforehand; I may perpetrate the worst;
I can, I will do so!
MARY.
Oh, dreadful, dreadful!
MORTIMER.
And should I be obliged to kill the queen,
I've sworn upon the host, it must be done!
MARY.
No, Mortimer; ere so much blood for me——
MORTIMER.
What is the life of all compared to thee,
And to my love? The bond which holds the world
Together may be loosed, a second deluge
Come rolling on, and swallow all creation!
Henceforth I value nothing; ere I quit
My hold on thee, may earth and time be ended!
MARY (retiring)
Heavens! Sir, what language, and what looks! They scare,
They frighten me!
MORTIMER (with unsteady looks, expressive of great madness).
Life's but a moment—death
Is but a moment too. Why! let them drag me
To Tyburn, let them tear me limb from limb,
With red-hot pincers——
[Violently approaching her with extended arms.
If I clasp but thee
Within my arms, thou fervently beloved!
MARY.
Madman, avaunt!
MORTIMER.
To rest upon this bosom,
To press upon this passion-breathing mouth——
MARY.
Leave me, for God's sake, sir; let me go in——
MORTIMER.
He is a madman who neglects to clasp
His bliss in folds that never may be loosed,
When Heaven has kindly given it to his arms.
I will deliver you, and though it cost
A thousand lives, I do it; but I swear,
As God's in Heaven I will possess you too!
MARY.
Oh! will no God, no angel shelter me?
Dread destiny! thou throwest me, in thy wrath,
From one tremendous terror to the other!
Was I then born to waken naught but frenzy?
Do hate and love conspire alike to fright me!
MORTIMER.
Yes, glowing as their hatred is my love;
They would behead thee, they would wound this neck,
So dazzling white, with the disgraceful axe!
Oh! offer to the living god of joy
What thou must sacrifice to bloody hate!
Inspire thy happy lover with those charms
Which are no more thine own. Those golden locks
Are forfeit to the dismal powers of death,
Oh! use them to entwine thy slave forever!
MARY.
Alas! alas! what language must I hear!
My woe, my sufferings should be sacred to you,
Although my royal brows are so no more.
MORTIMER.
The crown is fallen from thy brows, thou hast
No more of earthly majesty. Make trial,
Raise thy imperial voice, see if a friend,
If a deliverer will rise to save you.
Thy moving form alone remains, the high,
The godlike influence of thy heavenly beauty;
This bids me venture all, this arms my hand
With might, and drives me tow'rd the headsman's axe.
MARY.
Oh! who will save me from his raging madness?
MORTIMER.
Service that's bold demands a bold reward.
Why shed their blood the daring? Is not life
Life's highest good? And he a madman who
Casts life away? First will I take my rest,
Upon the breast that glows with love's own fire!
[He presses her violently to his bosom.
MARY.
Oh, must I call for help against the man
Who would deliver me!
MORTIMER.
Thou'rt not unfeeling,
The world ne'er censured thee for frigid rigor;
The fervent prayer of love can touch thy heart.
Thou mad'st the minstrel Rizzio blest, and gavest
Thyself a willing prey to Bothwell's arms.
MARY.
Presumptuous man!
MORTIMER.
He was indeed thy tyrant,
Thou trembled'st at his rudeness, whilst thou loved'st him;
Well, then—if only terror can obtain thee—
By the infernal gods!
MARY.
Away—you're mad!
MORTIMER.
I'll teach thee then before me, too, to tremble.
KENNEDY (entering suddenly).
They're coming—they approach—the park is filled
With men in arms.
MORTIMER (starting and catching at his sword).
I will defend you-I——
MARY.
O Hannah! save me, save me from his hands.
Where shall I find, poor sufferer, an asylum?
Oh! to what saint shall I address my prayers?
Here force assails me, and within is murder!
[She flies towards the house, KENNEDY follows her.
SCENE VII.
MORTIMER, PAULET, and DRURY rush in in the greatest
consternation. Attendants hasten over the stage.
PAULET.
Shut all the portals—draw the bridges up.
MORTIMER.
What is the matter, uncle?
PAULET.
Where is the murderess?
Down with her, down into the darkest dungeon!
MORTIMER.
What is the matter? What has passed?
PAULET.
The queen!
Accursed hand! Infernal machination!
MORTIMER.
The queen! What queen?
PAULET.
What queen! The Queen of England;
She has been murdered on the road to London.
[Hastens into the house.
consternation. Attendants hasten over the stage.
PAULET.
Shut all the portals—draw the bridges up.
MORTIMER.
What is the matter, uncle?
PAULET.
Where is the murderess?
Down with her, down into the darkest dungeon!
MORTIMER.
What is the matter? What has passed?
PAULET.
The queen!
Accursed hand! Infernal machination!
MORTIMER.
The queen! What queen?
PAULET.
What queen! The Queen of England;
She has been murdered on the road to London.
[Hastens into the house.
SCENE VIII.
MORTIMER, soon after O'KELLY.
MORTIMER (after a pause).
Am I then mad? Came not one running by
But now, and cried aloud, the queen is murdered!
No, no! I did but dream. A feverish fancy
Paints that upon my mind as true and real,
Which but existed in my frantic thoughts.
Who's there? It is O'Kelly. So dismayed!
O'KELLY (rushing in).
Flee, Mortimer, oh! flee—for all is lost!
MORTIMER.
What then is lost?
O'KELLY.
Stand not on question. Think
On speedy flight.
MORTIMER.
What has occurred?
O'KELLY.
Sauvage,
That madman, struck the blow.
MORTIMER.
It is then true!
O'KELLY.
True, true—oh! save yourself.
MORTIMER (exultingly).
The queen is murdered—
And Mary shall ascend the English throne!
O'KELLY.
Is murdered! Who said that?
MORTIMER.
Yourself.
O'KELLY.
She lives,
And I, and you, and all of us are lost.
MORTIMER.
She lives!
O'KELLY.
The blow was badly aimed, her cloak
Received it. Shrewsbury disarmed the murderer.
MORTIMER.
She lives!
O'KELLY.
She lives to whelm us all in ruin;
Come, they surround the park already; come.
MORTIMER.
Who did this frantic deed?
O'KELLY.
It was the monk
From Toulon, whom you saw immersed in thought,
As in the chapel the pope's bull was read,
Which poured anathemas upon the queen.
He wished to take the nearest, shortest way,
To free, with one bold stroke, the church of God,
And gain the crown of martyrdom: he trusted
His purpose only to the priest, and struck
The fatal blow upon the road to London.
MORTIMER (after a long silence).
Alas! a fierce, destructive fate pursues thee,
Unhappy one! Yes—now thy death is fixed;
Thy very angel has prepared thy fall!
O'KELLY.
Say, whither will you take your flight? I go
To hide me in the forests of the north.
MORTIMER.
Fly thither, and may God attend your flight;
I will remain, and still attempt to save
My love; if not, my bed shall be upon her grave.
[Exeunt at different sides.
MORTIMER (after a pause).
Am I then mad? Came not one running by
But now, and cried aloud, the queen is murdered!
No, no! I did but dream. A feverish fancy
Paints that upon my mind as true and real,
Which but existed in my frantic thoughts.
Who's there? It is O'Kelly. So dismayed!
O'KELLY (rushing in).
Flee, Mortimer, oh! flee—for all is lost!
MORTIMER.
What then is lost?
O'KELLY.
Stand not on question. Think
On speedy flight.
MORTIMER.
What has occurred?
O'KELLY.
Sauvage,
That madman, struck the blow.
MORTIMER.
It is then true!
O'KELLY.
True, true—oh! save yourself.
MORTIMER (exultingly).
The queen is murdered—
And Mary shall ascend the English throne!
O'KELLY.
Is murdered! Who said that?
MORTIMER.
Yourself.
O'KELLY.
She lives,
And I, and you, and all of us are lost.
MORTIMER.
She lives!
O'KELLY.
The blow was badly aimed, her cloak
Received it. Shrewsbury disarmed the murderer.
MORTIMER.
She lives!
O'KELLY.
She lives to whelm us all in ruin;
Come, they surround the park already; come.
MORTIMER.
Who did this frantic deed?
O'KELLY.
It was the monk
From Toulon, whom you saw immersed in thought,
As in the chapel the pope's bull was read,
Which poured anathemas upon the queen.
He wished to take the nearest, shortest way,
To free, with one bold stroke, the church of God,
And gain the crown of martyrdom: he trusted
His purpose only to the priest, and struck
The fatal blow upon the road to London.
MORTIMER (after a long silence).
Alas! a fierce, destructive fate pursues thee,
Unhappy one! Yes—now thy death is fixed;
Thy very angel has prepared thy fall!
O'KELLY.
Say, whither will you take your flight? I go
To hide me in the forests of the north.
MORTIMER.
Fly thither, and may God attend your flight;
I will remain, and still attempt to save
My love; if not, my bed shall be upon her grave.
[Exeunt at different sides.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.—Antechamber.
COUNT AUBESPINE, the EARLS Of KENT and LEICESTER.
AUBESPINE.
How fares her majesty? My lords, you see me
Still stunned, and quite beside myself for terror!
How happened it? How was it possible
That in the midst of this most loyal people——
LEICESTER.
The deed was not attempted by the people.
The assassin was a subject of your king,
A Frenchman.
AUBESPINE.
Sure a lunatic.
LEICESTER.
A papist,
Count Aubespine!
AUBESPINE.
How fares her majesty? My lords, you see me
Still stunned, and quite beside myself for terror!
How happened it? How was it possible
That in the midst of this most loyal people——
LEICESTER.
The deed was not attempted by the people.
The assassin was a subject of your king,
A Frenchman.
AUBESPINE.
Sure a lunatic.
LEICESTER.
A papist,
Count Aubespine!
SCENE II.
Enter BURLEIGH, in conversation with DAVISON.
BURLEIGH.
Sir; let the death-warrant
Be instantly made out, and pass the seal;
Then let it be presented to the queen;
Her majesty must sign it. Hasten, sir,
We have no time to lose.
DAVISON.
It shall be done.
[Exit.
AUBESPINE.
My lord high-treasurer, my faithful heart
Shares in the just rejoicings of the realm.
Praised be almighty Heaven, who hath averted
Assassination from our much-loved queen!
BURLEIGH.
Praised be His name, who thus hath turned to scorn
The malice of our foes!
AUBESPINE.
May heaven confound
The perpetrator of this cursed deed!
BURLEIGH.
Its perpetrator and its base contriver!
AUBESPINE.
Please you, my lord, to bring me to the queen,
That I may lay the warm congratulations
Of my imperial master at her feet.
BURLEIGH.
There is no need of this.
AUBESPINE (officiously).
My Lord of Burleigh,
I know my duty.
BURLEIGH.
Sir, your duty is
To quit, and that without delay, this kingdom.
AUBESPINE (stepping back with surprise).
What! How is this?
BURLEIGH.
The sacred character
Of an ambassador to-day protects you,
But not to-morrow.
AUBESPINE.
What's my crime?
BURLEIGH.
Should I
Once name it, there were then no pardon for it.
AUBESPINE.
I hope, my lord, my charge's privilege——
BURLEIGH.
Screens not a traitor.
LEICESTER and KENT.
Traitor! How?
AUBESPINE.
My Lord,
Consider well——
BURLEIGH.
Your passport was discovered
In the assassin's pocket.
KENT.
Righteous heaven!
AUBESPINE.
Sir, many passports are subscribed by me;
I cannot know the secret thoughts of men.
BURLEIGH.
He in your house confessed, and was absolved.
AUBESPINE.
My house is open——
BURLEIGH.
To our enemies.
AUBESPINE.
I claim a strict inquiry.
BURLEIGH.
Tremble at it.
AUBESPINE.
My monarch in my person is insulted,
He will annul the marriage contract.
BURLEIGH.
That
My royal mistress has annulled already;
England will not unite herself with France.
My Lord of Kent, I give to you the charge
To see Count Aubespine embarked in safety.
The furious populace has stormed his palace,
Where a whole arsenal of arms was found;
Should he be found, they'll tear him limb from limb,
Conceal him till the fury is abated—
You answer for his life.
AUBESPINE.
I go—I leave
This kingdom where they sport with public treaties
And trample on the laws of nations. Yet
My monarch, be assured, will vent his rage
In direst vengeance!
BURLEIGH.
Let him seek it here.
[Exeunt KENT and AUBESPINE.
BURLEIGH.
Sir; let the death-warrant
Be instantly made out, and pass the seal;
Then let it be presented to the queen;
Her majesty must sign it. Hasten, sir,
We have no time to lose.
DAVISON.
It shall be done.
[Exit.
AUBESPINE.
My lord high-treasurer, my faithful heart
Shares in the just rejoicings of the realm.
Praised be almighty Heaven, who hath averted
Assassination from our much-loved queen!
BURLEIGH.
Praised be His name, who thus hath turned to scorn
The malice of our foes!
AUBESPINE.
May heaven confound
The perpetrator of this cursed deed!
BURLEIGH.
Its perpetrator and its base contriver!
AUBESPINE.
Please you, my lord, to bring me to the queen,
That I may lay the warm congratulations
Of my imperial master at her feet.
BURLEIGH.
There is no need of this.
AUBESPINE (officiously).
My Lord of Burleigh,
I know my duty.
BURLEIGH.
Sir, your duty is
To quit, and that without delay, this kingdom.
AUBESPINE (stepping back with surprise).
What! How is this?
BURLEIGH.
The sacred character
Of an ambassador to-day protects you,
But not to-morrow.
AUBESPINE.
What's my crime?
BURLEIGH.
Should I
Once name it, there were then no pardon for it.
AUBESPINE.
I hope, my lord, my charge's privilege——
BURLEIGH.
Screens not a traitor.
LEICESTER and KENT.
Traitor! How?
AUBESPINE.
My Lord,
Consider well——
BURLEIGH.
Your passport was discovered
In the assassin's pocket.
KENT.
Righteous heaven!
AUBESPINE.
Sir, many passports are subscribed by me;
I cannot know the secret thoughts of men.
BURLEIGH.
He in your house confessed, and was absolved.
AUBESPINE.
My house is open——
BURLEIGH.
To our enemies.
AUBESPINE.
I claim a strict inquiry.
BURLEIGH.
Tremble at it.
AUBESPINE.
My monarch in my person is insulted,
He will annul the marriage contract.
BURLEIGH.
That
My royal mistress has annulled already;
England will not unite herself with France.
My Lord of Kent, I give to you the charge
To see Count Aubespine embarked in safety.
The furious populace has stormed his palace,
Where a whole arsenal of arms was found;
Should he be found, they'll tear him limb from limb,
Conceal him till the fury is abated—
You answer for his life.
AUBESPINE.
I go—I leave
This kingdom where they sport with public treaties
And trample on the laws of nations. Yet
My monarch, be assured, will vent his rage
In direst vengeance!
BURLEIGH.
Let him seek it here.
[Exeunt KENT and AUBESPINE.
SCENE III.
LEICESTER, BURLEIGH.
LEICESTER.
And thus you loose yourself the knot of union
Which you officiously, uncalled for, bound!
You have deserved but little of your country,
My lord; this trouble was superfluous.
BURLEIGH.
My aim was good, though fate declared against it;
Happy is he who has so fair a conscience!
LEICESTER.
Well know we the mysterious mien of Burleigh
When he is on the hunt for deeds of treason.
Now you are in your element, my lord;
A monstrous outrage has been just committed,
And darkness veils as yet its perpetrators:
Now will a court of inquisition rise;
Each word, each look be weighed; men's very thoughts
Be summoned to the bar. You are, my lord,
The mighty man, the Atlas of the state,
All England's weight lies upon your shoulders.
BURLEIGH.
In you, my lord, I recognize my master;
For such a victory as your eloquence
Has gained I cannot boast.
LEICESTER.
What means your lordship?
BURLEIGH.
You were the man who knew, behind my back,
To lure the queen to Fotheringay Castle.
LEICESTER.
Behind your back! When did I fear to act
Before your face?
BURLEIGH.
You led her majesty?
Oh, no—you led her not—it was the queen
Who was so gracious as to lead you thither.
LEICESTER.
What mean you, my lord, by that?
BURLEIGH.
The noble part
You forced the queen to play! The glorious triumph
Which you prepared for her! Too gracious princess!
So shamelessly, so wantonly to mock
Thy unsuspecting goodness, to betray thee
So pitiless to thy exulting foe!
This, then, is the magnanimity, the grace
Which suddenly possessed you in the council!
The Stuart is for this so despicable,
So weak an enemy, that it would scarce
Be worth the pains to stain us with her blood.
A specious plan! and sharply pointed too;
'Tis only pity this sharp point is broken.
LEICESTER.
Unworthy wretch! this instant follow me,
And answer at the throne this insolence.
BURLEIGH.
You'll find me there, my lord; and look you well
That there your eloquence desert you not.
[Exit.
LEICESTER.
And thus you loose yourself the knot of union
Which you officiously, uncalled for, bound!
You have deserved but little of your country,
My lord; this trouble was superfluous.
BURLEIGH.
My aim was good, though fate declared against it;
Happy is he who has so fair a conscience!
LEICESTER.
Well know we the mysterious mien of Burleigh
When he is on the hunt for deeds of treason.
Now you are in your element, my lord;
A monstrous outrage has been just committed,
And darkness veils as yet its perpetrators:
Now will a court of inquisition rise;
Each word, each look be weighed; men's very thoughts
Be summoned to the bar. You are, my lord,
The mighty man, the Atlas of the state,
All England's weight lies upon your shoulders.
BURLEIGH.
In you, my lord, I recognize my master;
For such a victory as your eloquence
Has gained I cannot boast.
LEICESTER.
What means your lordship?
BURLEIGH.
You were the man who knew, behind my back,
To lure the queen to Fotheringay Castle.
LEICESTER.
Behind your back! When did I fear to act
Before your face?
BURLEIGH.
You led her majesty?
Oh, no—you led her not—it was the queen
Who was so gracious as to lead you thither.
LEICESTER.
What mean you, my lord, by that?
BURLEIGH.
The noble part
You forced the queen to play! The glorious triumph
Which you prepared for her! Too gracious princess!
So shamelessly, so wantonly to mock
Thy unsuspecting goodness, to betray thee
So pitiless to thy exulting foe!
This, then, is the magnanimity, the grace
Which suddenly possessed you in the council!
The Stuart is for this so despicable,
So weak an enemy, that it would scarce
Be worth the pains to stain us with her blood.
A specious plan! and sharply pointed too;
'Tis only pity this sharp point is broken.
LEICESTER.
Unworthy wretch! this instant follow me,
And answer at the throne this insolence.
BURLEIGH.
You'll find me there, my lord; and look you well
That there your eloquence desert you not.
[Exit.
SCENE IV.
LEICESTER alone, then MORTIMER.
LEICESTER.
I am detected! All my plot's disclosed!
How has my evil genius tracked my steps!
Alas! if he has proofs, if she should learn
That I have held a secret correspondence
With her worst enemy; how criminal
Shall I appear to her! How false will then
My counsel seem, and all the fatal pains
I took to lure the queen to Fotheringay!
I've shamefully betrayed, I have exposed her
To her detested enemy's revilings!
Oh! never, never can she pardon that.
All will appear as if premeditated.
The bitter turn of this sad interview,
The triumph and the tauntings of her rival;
Yes, e'en the murderous hand which had prepared
A bloody, monstrous, unexpected fate;
All, all will be ascribed to my suggestions!
I see no rescue! nowhere—ha! Who comes?
[MORTIMER enters in the most violent uneasiness,
and looks with apprehension round him.
MORTIMER.
Lord Leicester! Is it you! Are we alone?
LEICESTER.
Ill-fated wretch, away! What seek you here?
MORTIMER.
They are upon our track—upon yours, too;
Be vigilant!
LEICESTER.
Away, away!
MORTIMER.
They know
That private conferences have been held
At Aubespine's——
LEICESTER.
What's that to me?
MORTIMER.
They know, too,
That the assassin——
LEICESTER.
That is your affair—
Audacious wretch! to dare to mix my name
In your detested outrage: go; defend
Your bloody deeds yourself!
MORTIMER.
But only hear me.
LEICESTER (violently enraged).
Down, down to hell! Why cling you at my heels
Like an infernal spirit! I disclaim you;
I know you not; I make no common cause
With murderers!
MORTIMER.
You will not hear me, then!
I came to warn you; you too are detected.
LEICESTER.
How! What?
MORTIMER.
Lord Burleigh went to Fotheringay
Just as the luckless deed had been attempted;
Searched with strict scrutiny the queen's apartments,
And found there——
LEICESTER.
What?
MORTIMER.
A letter which the queen
Had just addressed to you——
LEICESTER.
Unhappy woman!
MORTIMER.
In which she calls on you to keep your word,
Renews the promise of her hand, and mentions
The picture which she sent you.
LEICESTER.
Death and hell!
MORTIMER.
Lord Burleigh has the letter.
LEICESTER.
I am lost!
[During the following speech of MORTIMER, LEICESTER
goes up and down as in despair.
MORTIMER.
Improve the moment; be beforehand with him,
And save yourself—save her! An oath can clear
Your fame; contrive excuses to avert
The worst. I am disarmed, can do no more;
My comrades are dispersed—to pieces fallen
Our whole confederacy. For Scotland I
To rally such new friends as there I may.
'Tis now your turn, my lord; try what your weight,
What bold assurance can effect.
LEICESTER (stops suddenly as if resolved).
I will.
[Goes to the door, opens it, and calls.
Who waits without? Guards! seize this wretched traitor!
[To the officer, who comes in with soldiers.
And guard him closely! A most dreadful plot
Is brought to light—I'll to her majesty.
MORTIMER (stands for a time petrified with wonder; collects himself soon,
and follows LEICESTER with his looks expressive of the most
sovereign contempt).
Infamous wretch! But I deserve it all.
Who told me then to trust this practised villain?
Now o'er my head he strides, and on my fall
He builds the bridge of safety! be it so;
Go, save thyself—my lips are sealed forever;
I will not join even thee in my destruction;
I would not own thee, no, not even in death;
Life is the faithless villain's only good!
[To the officer of the guard, who steps forward to seize him.
What wilt thou, slave of tyranny, with me?
I laugh to scorn thy threatenings; I am free.
[Drawing a dagger.
OFFICER.
He's armed; rush in and wrest his weapon from him.
[They rush upon him, he defends himself.
MORTIMER (raising his voice).
And in this latest moment shall my heart
Expand itself in freedom, and my tongue
Shall break this long constraint. Curse and destruction
Light on you all who have betrayed your faith,
Your God, and your true sovereign! Who, alike
To earthly Mary false as to the heavenly,
Have sold your duties to this bastard queen!
OFFICER.
Hear you these blasphemies? Rush forward—seize him.
MORTIMER.
Beloved queen! I could not set thee free;
Yet take a lesson from me how to die.
Mary, thou holy one, O! pray for me!
And take me to thy heavenly home on high.
[Stabs himself, and falls into the arms of the guard.
LEICESTER.
I am detected! All my plot's disclosed!
How has my evil genius tracked my steps!
Alas! if he has proofs, if she should learn
That I have held a secret correspondence
With her worst enemy; how criminal
Shall I appear to her! How false will then
My counsel seem, and all the fatal pains
I took to lure the queen to Fotheringay!
I've shamefully betrayed, I have exposed her
To her detested enemy's revilings!
Oh! never, never can she pardon that.
All will appear as if premeditated.
The bitter turn of this sad interview,
The triumph and the tauntings of her rival;
Yes, e'en the murderous hand which had prepared
A bloody, monstrous, unexpected fate;
All, all will be ascribed to my suggestions!
I see no rescue! nowhere—ha! Who comes?
[MORTIMER enters in the most violent uneasiness,
and looks with apprehension round him.
MORTIMER.
Lord Leicester! Is it you! Are we alone?
LEICESTER.
Ill-fated wretch, away! What seek you here?
MORTIMER.
They are upon our track—upon yours, too;
Be vigilant!
LEICESTER.
Away, away!
MORTIMER.
They know
That private conferences have been held
At Aubespine's——
LEICESTER.
What's that to me?
MORTIMER.
They know, too,
That the assassin——
LEICESTER.
That is your affair—
Audacious wretch! to dare to mix my name
In your detested outrage: go; defend
Your bloody deeds yourself!
MORTIMER.
But only hear me.
LEICESTER (violently enraged).
Down, down to hell! Why cling you at my heels
Like an infernal spirit! I disclaim you;
I know you not; I make no common cause
With murderers!
MORTIMER.
You will not hear me, then!
I came to warn you; you too are detected.
LEICESTER.
How! What?
MORTIMER.
Lord Burleigh went to Fotheringay
Just as the luckless deed had been attempted;
Searched with strict scrutiny the queen's apartments,
And found there——
LEICESTER.
What?
MORTIMER.
A letter which the queen
Had just addressed to you——
LEICESTER.
Unhappy woman!
MORTIMER.
In which she calls on you to keep your word,
Renews the promise of her hand, and mentions
The picture which she sent you.
LEICESTER.
Death and hell!
MORTIMER.
Lord Burleigh has the letter.
LEICESTER.
I am lost!
[During the following speech of MORTIMER, LEICESTER
goes up and down as in despair.
MORTIMER.
Improve the moment; be beforehand with him,
And save yourself—save her! An oath can clear
Your fame; contrive excuses to avert
The worst. I am disarmed, can do no more;
My comrades are dispersed—to pieces fallen
Our whole confederacy. For Scotland I
To rally such new friends as there I may.
'Tis now your turn, my lord; try what your weight,
What bold assurance can effect.
LEICESTER (stops suddenly as if resolved).
I will.
[Goes to the door, opens it, and calls.
Who waits without? Guards! seize this wretched traitor!
[To the officer, who comes in with soldiers.
And guard him closely! A most dreadful plot
Is brought to light—I'll to her majesty.
MORTIMER (stands for a time petrified with wonder; collects himself soon,
and follows LEICESTER with his looks expressive of the most
sovereign contempt).
Infamous wretch! But I deserve it all.
Who told me then to trust this practised villain?
Now o'er my head he strides, and on my fall
He builds the bridge of safety! be it so;
Go, save thyself—my lips are sealed forever;
I will not join even thee in my destruction;
I would not own thee, no, not even in death;
Life is the faithless villain's only good!
[To the officer of the guard, who steps forward to seize him.
What wilt thou, slave of tyranny, with me?
I laugh to scorn thy threatenings; I am free.
[Drawing a dagger.
OFFICER.
He's armed; rush in and wrest his weapon from him.
[They rush upon him, he defends himself.
MORTIMER (raising his voice).
And in this latest moment shall my heart
Expand itself in freedom, and my tongue
Shall break this long constraint. Curse and destruction
Light on you all who have betrayed your faith,
Your God, and your true sovereign! Who, alike
To earthly Mary false as to the heavenly,
Have sold your duties to this bastard queen!
OFFICER.
Hear you these blasphemies? Rush forward—seize him.
MORTIMER.
Beloved queen! I could not set thee free;
Yet take a lesson from me how to die.
Mary, thou holy one, O! pray for me!
And take me to thy heavenly home on high.
[Stabs himself, and falls into the arms of the guard.
SCENE V.
The apartment of the Queen.
ELIZABETH, with a letter in her hand, BURLEIGH.
ELIZABETH.
To lure me thither! trifle with me thus!
The traitor! Thus to lead me, as in triumph,
Into the presence of his paramour!
Oh, Burleigh! ne'er was woman so deceived.
BURLEIGH.
I cannot yet conceive what potent means,
What magic he exerted, to surprise
My queen's accustomed prudence.
ELIZABETH.
Oh, I die
For shame! How must he laugh to scorn my weakness!
I thought to humble her, and was myself
The object of her bitter scorn.
BURLEIGH.
By this
You see how faithfully I counselled you.
ELIZABETH.
Oh, I am sorely punished, that I turned
My ear from your wise counsels; yet I thought
I might confide in him. Who could suspect
Beneath the vows of faithfullest devotion
A deadly snare? In whom can I confide
When he deceives me? He, whom I have made
The greatest of the great, and ever set
The nearest to my heart, and in this court
Allowed to play the master and the king.
BURLEIGH.
Yet in that very moment he betrayed you,
Betrayed you to this wily Queen of Scots.
ELIZABETH.
Oh, she shall pay me for it with her life!
Is the death-warrant ready?
BURLEIGH.
'Tis prepared
As you commanded.
ELIZABETH.
She shall surely die—
He shall behold her fall, and fall himself!
I've driven him from my heart. No longer love,
Revenge alone is there: and high as once
He stood, so low and shameful be his fall!
A monument of my severity,
As once the proud example of my weakness.
Conduct him to the Tower; let a commission
Of peers be named to try him. He shall feel
In its full weight the rigor of the law.
BURLEIGH.
But he will seek thy presence; he will clear——
ELIZABETH.
How can he clear himself? Does not the letter
Convict him. Oh, his crimes are manifest!
BURLEIGH.
But thou art mild and gracious! His appearance,
His powerful presence——
ELIZABETH.
I will never see him;
No never, never more. Are orders given
Not to admit him should he come?
BURLEIGH.
'Tis done.
PAGE (entering).
The Earl of Leicester!
ELIZABETH.
The presumptuous man!
I will not see him. Tell him that I will not.
PAGE.
I am afraid to bring my lord this message,
Nor would he credit it.
ELIZABETH.
And I have raised him
So high that my own servants tremble more
At him than me!
BURLEIGH (to the PAGE).
The queen forbids his presence.
[The PAGE retires slowly.
ELIZABETH (after a pause).
Yet, if it still were possible? If he
Could clear himself? Might it not be a snare
Laid by the cunning one, to sever me
From my best friends—the ever-treacherous harlot!
She might have writ the letter, but to raise
Poisonous suspicion in my heart, to ruin
The man she hates.
BURLEIGH.
Yet, gracious queen, consider.
ELIZABETH, with a letter in her hand, BURLEIGH.
ELIZABETH.
To lure me thither! trifle with me thus!
The traitor! Thus to lead me, as in triumph,
Into the presence of his paramour!
Oh, Burleigh! ne'er was woman so deceived.
BURLEIGH.
I cannot yet conceive what potent means,
What magic he exerted, to surprise
My queen's accustomed prudence.
ELIZABETH.
Oh, I die
For shame! How must he laugh to scorn my weakness!
I thought to humble her, and was myself
The object of her bitter scorn.
BURLEIGH.
By this
You see how faithfully I counselled you.
ELIZABETH.
Oh, I am sorely punished, that I turned
My ear from your wise counsels; yet I thought
I might confide in him. Who could suspect
Beneath the vows of faithfullest devotion
A deadly snare? In whom can I confide
When he deceives me? He, whom I have made
The greatest of the great, and ever set
The nearest to my heart, and in this court
Allowed to play the master and the king.
BURLEIGH.
Yet in that very moment he betrayed you,
Betrayed you to this wily Queen of Scots.
ELIZABETH.
Oh, she shall pay me for it with her life!
Is the death-warrant ready?
BURLEIGH.
'Tis prepared
As you commanded.
ELIZABETH.
She shall surely die—
He shall behold her fall, and fall himself!
I've driven him from my heart. No longer love,
Revenge alone is there: and high as once
He stood, so low and shameful be his fall!
A monument of my severity,
As once the proud example of my weakness.
Conduct him to the Tower; let a commission
Of peers be named to try him. He shall feel
In its full weight the rigor of the law.
BURLEIGH.
But he will seek thy presence; he will clear——
ELIZABETH.
How can he clear himself? Does not the letter
Convict him. Oh, his crimes are manifest!
BURLEIGH.
But thou art mild and gracious! His appearance,
His powerful presence——
ELIZABETH.
I will never see him;
No never, never more. Are orders given
Not to admit him should he come?
BURLEIGH.
'Tis done.
PAGE (entering).
The Earl of Leicester!
ELIZABETH.
The presumptuous man!
I will not see him. Tell him that I will not.
PAGE.
I am afraid to bring my lord this message,
Nor would he credit it.
ELIZABETH.
And I have raised him
So high that my own servants tremble more
At him than me!
BURLEIGH (to the PAGE).
The queen forbids his presence.
[The PAGE retires slowly.
ELIZABETH (after a pause).
Yet, if it still were possible? If he
Could clear himself? Might it not be a snare
Laid by the cunning one, to sever me
From my best friends—the ever-treacherous harlot!
She might have writ the letter, but to raise
Poisonous suspicion in my heart, to ruin
The man she hates.
BURLEIGH.
Yet, gracious queen, consider.