LEICESTER (bursts open the door with violence,and enters with an imperious air).LEICESTER.Fain would I see the shameless man who daresForbid me the apartments of my queen!ELIZABETH (avoiding his sight).Audacious slave!LEICESTER.To turn me from the door!If for a Burleigh she be visible,She must be so to me!BURLEIGH.My lord, you areToo bold, without permission to intrude.LEICESTER.My lord, you are too arrogant, to takeThe lead in these apartments. What! Permission!I know of none who stands so high at courtAs to permit my doings, or refuse them.[Humbly approaching ELIZABETH.'Tis from my sovereign's lips alone that I——ELIZABETH (without looking at him).Out of my sight, deceitful, worthless traitor!LEICESTER.'Tis not my gracious queen I hear, but Burleigh,My enemy, in these ungentle words.To my imperial mistress I appeal;Thou hast lent him thine ear; I ask the like.ELIZABETH.Speak, shameless wretch! Increase your crime—deny it.LEICESTER.Dismiss this troublesome intruder first.Withdraw, my lord; it is not of your officeTo play the third man here: between the queenAnd me there is no need of witnesses.Retire——ELIZABETH (to BURLEIGH).Remain, my lord; 'tis my command.
LEICESTER.What has a third to do 'twixt thee and me?I have to clear myself before my queen,My worshipped queen; I will maintain the rightsWhich thou hast given me; these rights are sacred,And I insist upon it, that my lordRetire.ELIZABETH.This haughty tone befits you well.LEICESTER.It well befits me; am not I the man,The happy man, to whom thy gracious favorHas given the highest station? this exalts meAbove this Burleigh, and above them all.Thy heart imparted me this rank, and whatThy favor gave, by heavens I will maintainAt my life's hazard. Let him go, it needsTwo moments only to exculpate me.ELIZABETH.Think not, with cunning words, to hide the truth.LEICESTER.That fear from him, so voluble of speech:But what I say is to the heart addressed;And I will justify what I have daredTo do, confiding in thy generous favor,Before thy heart alone. I recognizeNo other jurisdiction.ELIZABETH.Base deceiver'Tis this, e'en this, which above all condemns you.My lord, produce the letter.[To BURLEIGH.BURLEIGH.Here it is.LEICESTER (running over the letter without losing his presence of mind).'Tis Mary Stuart's hand——ELIZABETH.Read and be dumb!LEICESTER (having read it quietly).Appearance is against me, yet I hopeI shall not by appearances be judged.ELIZABETH.Can you deny your secret correspondenceWith Mary?—that she sent and you receivedHer picture, that you gave her hopes of rescue?LEICESTER.It were an easy matter, if I feltThat I were guilty of a crime, to challengeThe testimony of my enemy:Yet bold is my good conscience. I confessThat she hath said the truth.ELIZABETH.Well then, thou wretch!BURLEIGH.His own words sentence him——ELIZABETH.Out of my sight!Away! Conduct the traitor to the Tower!LEICESTER.I am no traitor; it was wrong, I own,To make a secret of this step to thee;Yet pure was my intention, it was doneTo search into her plots and to confound them.ELIZABETH.Vain subterfuge!BURLEIGH.And do you think, my lord——LEICESTER.I've played a dangerous game, I know it well,And none but Leicester dare be bold enoughTo risk it at this court. The world must knowHow I detest this Stuart, and the rankWhich here I hold; my monarch's confidence,With which she honors me, must sure sufficeTo overturn all doubt of my intentions.Well may the man thy favor above allDistinguishes pursue a daring courseTo do his duty!BURLEIGH.If the course was good,Wherefore conceal it?LEICESTER.You are used, my lord,To prate before you act; the very chimeOf your own deeds. This is your manner, lord;But mine is first to act, and then to speak.BURLEIGH.Yes, now you speak because you must.LEICESTER (measuring him proudly and disdainfully with his eyes).And youBoast of a wonderful, a mighty action,That you have saved the queen, have snatched awayThe mask from treachery; all is known to you;You think, forsooth, that nothing can escapeYour penetrating eyes. Poor, idle boaster!In spite of all your cunning, Mary StuartWas free to-day, had I not hindered it.BURLEIGH.How? You?LEICESTER.Yes, I, my lord; the queen confidedIn Mortimer; she opened to the youthHer inmost soul! Yes, she went further still;She gave him, too, a secret, bloody charge,Which Paulet had before refused with horror.Say, is it so, or not?[The QUEEN and BURLEIGH look at one another with astonishment.BURLEIGH.Whence know ye this?LEICESTER.Nay, is it not a fact? Now answer me.And where, my lord, where were your thousand eyes,Not to discover Mortimer was false?That he, the Guise's tool, and Mary's creature,A raging papist, daring fanatic,Was come to free the Stuart, and to murderThe Queen of England!ELIZABETH (with the utmost astonishment).How! This Mortimer!LEICESTER.'Twas he through whom our correspondence passed.This plot it was which introduced me to him.This very day she was to have been tornFrom her confinement; he, this very moment,Disclosed his plan to me: I took him prisoner,And gave him to the guard, when in despairTo see his work o'erturned, himself unmasked,He slew himself!ELIZABETH.Oh, I indeed have beenDeceived beyond example, Mortimer!BURLEIGH.This happened then but now? Since last we parted?LEICESTER.For my own sake, I must lament the deed;That he was thus cut off. His testimony,Were he alive, had fully cleared my fame,And freed me from suspicion; 'twas for thisThat I surrendered him to open justice.I thought to choose the most impartial courseTo verify and fix my innocenceBefore the world.BURLEIGH.He killed himself, you sayIs't so? Or did you kill him?LEICESTER.Vile suspicion!Hear but the guard who seized him.[He goes to the door, and calls.Ho! who waits?[Enter the officer of the guard.Sir, tell the queen how Mortimer expired.OFFICER.I was on duty in the palace porch,When suddenly my lord threw wide the door,And ordered me to take the knight in charge,Denouncing him a traitor: upon thisHe grew enraged, and with most bitter cursesAgainst our sovereign and our holy faith,He drew a dagger, and before the guardsCould hinder his intention, plunged the steelInto his heart, and fell a lifeless corpse.LEICESTER.'Tis well; you may withdraw. Her majestyHas heard enough.[The officer withdraws.ELIZABETH.Oh, what a deep abyssOf monstrous deeds?LEICESTER.Who was it, then, my queen,Who saved you? Was it Burleigh? Did he knowThe dangers which surrounded you? Did heAvert them from your head? Your faithful LeicesterWas your good angel.BURLEIGH.This same MortimerDied most conveniently for you, my lord.ELIZABETH.What I should say I know not. I believe you,And I believe you not. I think you guilty,And yet I think you not. A curse on herWho caused me all this anguish.LEICESTER.She must die;I now myself consent unto her death.I formerly advised you to suspendThe sentence, till some arm should rise anewOn her behalf; the case has happened now,And I demand her instant execution.BURLEIGH.You give this counsel? You?LEICESTER.Howe'er it woundMy feelings to be forced to this extreme,Yet now I see most clearly, now I feelThat the queen's welfare asks this bloody victim.'Tis my proposal, therefore, that the writBe drawn at once to fix the execution.BURLEIGH (to the QUEEN).Since, then, his lordship shows such earnest zeal,Such loyalty, 'twere well were he appointedTo see the execution of the sentence.LEICESTER.Who? I?BURLEIGH.Yes, you; you surely ne'er could findA better means to shake off the suspicionWhich rests upon you still, than to commandHer, whom 'tis said you love, to be beheaded.ELIZABETH (looking steadfastly at LEICESTER).My lord advises well. So be it, then.LEICESTER.It were but fit that my exalted rankShould free me from so mournful a commission,Which would indeed, in every sense, becomeA Burleigh better than the Earl of Leicester.The man who stands so near the royal personShould have no knowledge of such fatal scenes:But yet to prove my zeal, to satisfyMy queen, I waive my charge's privilege,And take upon myself this hateful duty.ELIZABETH.Lord Burleigh shall partake this duty with you.[To BURLEIGH.So be the warrant instantly prepared.[BURLEIGH withdraws; a tumult heard without.
The QUEEN, the EARL OF KENT.ELIZABETH.How now, my Lord of Kent? What uproar's thisI hear without?KENT.My queen, it is thy people,Who, round the palace ranged, impatientlyDemand to see their sovereign.ELIZABETH.What's their wish?KENT.A panic terror has already spreadThrough London, that thy life has been attempted;That murderers commissioned from the popeBeset thee; that the Catholics have swornTo rescue from her prison Mary Stuart,And to proclaim her queen. Thy loyal peopleBelieve it, and are mad; her head aloneCan quiet them; this day must be her last.ELIZABETH.How! Will they force me, then?KENT.They are resolved——
Enter BURLEIGH and DAVISON, with a paper.ELIZABETH.Well, Davison?DAVISON (approaches earnestly).Your orders are obeyed,My queen——ELIZABETH.What orders, sir?[As she is about to take the paper, she shudders, and starts back.Oh, God!BURLEIGH.ObeyThy people's voice; it is the voice of God.ELIZABETH (irresolute, as if in contest with herself)Oh, my good lord, who will assure me nowThat what I hear is my whole people's voice,The voice of all the world! Ah! much I fear,That, if I now should listen to the wishOf the wild multitude, a different voiceMight soon be heard;—and that the very men,Who now by force oblige me to this step,May, when 'tis taken, heavily condemn me!
Enter the EARL OF SHREWSBURY (who enters with great emotion).SHREWSBURY.Hold fast, my queen, they wish to hurry thee;[Seeing DAVISON with the paper.Be firm—or is it then decided?—is itIndeed decided? I behold a paperOf ominous appearance in his hand;Let it not at this moment meet thy eyes,My queen!——ELIZABETH.Good Shrewsbury! I am constrained——SHREWSBURY.Who can constrain thee? Thou art Queen of England,Here must thy majesty assert its rights:Command those savage voices to be silent,Who take upon themselves to put constraintUpon thy royal will, to rule thy judgment.Fear only, blind conjecture, moves thy people;Thou art thyself beside thyself; thy wrathIs grievously provoked: thou art but mortal,And canst not thus ascend the judgment seat.BURLEIGH.Judgment has long been past. It is not nowThe time to speak but execute the sentence.KENT (who upon SHREWSBURY'S entry had retired, comes back).The tumult gains apace; there are no meansTo moderate the people.ELIZABETH (to SHREWSBURY).See, my lord,How they press on.SHREWSBURY.I only ask a respite;A single word traced by thy hand decidesThe peace, the happiness of all thy life!Thou hast for years considered, let not thenA moment ruled by passion hurry thee—But a short respite—recollect thyself!Wait for a moment of tranquillity.BURLEIGH (violently).Wait for it—pause—delay—till flames of fireConsume the realm; until the fifth attemptOf murder be successful! God, indeed,Hath thrice delivered thee; thy late escapeWas marvellous, and to expect againA miracle would be to tempt thy God!SHREWSBURY.That God, whose potent hand hath thrice preserved thee,Who lent my aged feeble arm its strengthTo overcome the madman:—he deservesThy confidence. I will not raise the voiceOf justice now, for now is not the time;Thou canst not hear it in this storm of passion.Yet listen but to this! Thou tremblest nowBefore this living Mary—tremble ratherBefore the murdered, the beheaded Mary.She will arise, and quit her grave, will rangeA fiend of discord, an avenging ghost,Around thy realm, and turn thy people's heartsFrom their allegiance. For as yet the BritonsHate her, because they fear her; but most surelyWill they avenge her when she is no more.They will no more behold the enemyOf their belief, they will but see in herThe much-lamented issue of their kingsA sacrifice to jealousy and hate.Then quickly shalt thou see the sudden changeWhen thou hast done the bloody deed; then goThrough London, seek thy people, which till nowAround thee swarmed delighted; thou shalt seeAnother England, and another people;For then no more the godlike dignityOf justice, which subdued thy subjects' hearts,Will beam around thee. Fear, the dread allyOf tyranny, will shuddering march before thee,And make a wilderness in every street—The last, extremest crime thou hast committed.What head is safe, if the anointed fall?ELIZABETH.Ah! Shrewsbury, you saved my life, you turnedThe murderous steel aside; why let you notThe dagger take its course? then all these broilsWould have been ended; then, released from doubt,And free from blame, I should be now at restIn my still, peaceful grave. In very soothI'm weary of my life, and of my crown.If Heaven decree that one of us two queensMust perish, to secure the other's life—And sure it must be so—why should not IBe she who yields? My people must decide;I give them back the sovereignty they gave.God is my witness that I have not livedFor my own sake, but for my people's welfare.If they expect from this false, fawning Stuart,The younger sovereign, more happy days,I will descend with pleasure from the throne,Again repair to Woodstock's quiet bowers,Where once I spent my unambitious youth;Where far removed from all the vanitiesOf earthly power, I found within myselfTrue majesty. I am not made to rule—A ruler should be made of sterner stuff:My heart is soft and tender. I have governedThese many years this kingdom happily,But then I only needed to make happy:Now, comes my first important regal duty,And now I feel how weak a thing I am.BURLEIGH.Now by mine honor, when I hear my queen,My royal liege, speak such unroyal words,I should betray my office, should betrayMy country, were I longer to be silent.You say you love your people 'bove yourself,Now prove it. Choose not peace for your own heart,And leave your kingdom to the storms of discord.Think on the church. Shall, with this papist queenThe ancient superstition be renewed?The monk resume his sway, the Roman legateIn pomp march hither; lock our churches up,Dethrone our monarchs? I demand of youThe souls of all your subjects—as you nowShall act, they all are saved, or all are lost!Here is no time for mercy;—to promoteYour people's welfare is your highest duty.If Shrewsbury has saved your life, then IWill save both you and England—that is more!ELIZABETH.I would be left alone. No consolation,No counsel can be drawn from human aidIn this conjecture:—I will lay my doubtsBefore the Judge of all:—I am resolvedTo act as He shall teach. Withdraw, my lords.[To DAVISON, who lays the paper on the table.You, sir, remain in waiting—close at hand.[The lords withdraw, SHREWSBURY alone standsfor a few moments before the QUEEN, regards hersignificantly, then withdraws slowly, and withan expression of the deepest anguish.
ELIZABETH alone.Oh! servitude of popularity!Disgraceful slavery! How weary am IOf flattering this idol, which my soulDespises in its inmost depth! Oh! whenShall I once more be free upon this throne?I must respect the people's voice, and striveTo win the favor of the multitude,And please the fancies of a mob, whom naughtBut jugglers' tricks delight. O call not himA king who needs must please the world: 'tis heAlone, who in his actions does not heedThe fickle approbation of mankind.Have I then practised justice, all my lifeShunned each despotic deed; have I done thisOnly to bind my hands against this first,This necessary act of violence?My own example now condemns myself!Had I but been a tyrant, like my sister,My predecessor, I could fearless thenHave shed this royal blood:—but am I nowJust by my own free choice? No—I was forcedBy stern necessity to use this virtue;Necessity, which binds e'en monarch's wills.Surrounded by my foes, my people's loveAlone supports me on my envied throne.All Europe's powers confederate to destroy me;The pope's inveterate decree declares meAccursed and excommunicated. FranceBetrays me with a kiss, and Spain preparesAt sea a fierce exterminating war;Thus stand I, in contention with the world,A poor defenceless woman: I must seekTo veil the spot in my imperial birth,By which my father cast disgrace upon me:In vain with princely virtues would I hide it;The envious hatred of my enemiesUncovers it, and places Mary Stuart,A threatening fiend, before me evermore![Walking up and down, with quick and agitated steps.Oh, no! this fear must end. Her head must fall!I will have peace. She is the very furyOf my existence; a tormenting demon,Which destiny has fastened on my soul.Wherever I had planted me a comfort,A flattering hope, my way was ever crossedBy this infernal viper! She has tornMy favorite, and my destined bridegroom from me.The hated name of every ill I feelIs Mary Stuart—were but she no moreOn earth I should be free as mountain air.[Standing still.With what disdain did she look down on me,As if her eye should blast me like the lightning!Poor feeble wretch! I bear far other arms,Their touch is mortal, and thou art no more.[Advancing to the table hastily, and taking the pen.I am a bastard, am I? Hapless wretch,I am but so the while thou liv'st and breath'st.Thy death will make my birth legitimate.The moment I destroy thee is the doubtDestroyed which hangs o'er my imperial right.As soon as England has no other choice,My mother's honor and my birthright triumphs![She signs with resolution; lets her pen then fall,and steps back with an expression of terror. Aftera pause she rings.
ELIZABETH, DAVISON.ELIZABETH.Where are their lordships?DAVISON.They are gone to quellThe tumult of the people. The alarmWas instantly appeased when they beheldThe Earl of Shrewsbury. That's he! exclaimedA hundred voices—that's the man—he savedThe queen; hear him—the bravest man in England!And now began the gallant Talbot, blamedIn gentle words the people's violence,And used such strong, persuasive eloquence,That all were pacified, and silentlyThey slunk away.ELIZABETH.The fickle multitude!Which turns with every wind. Unhappy heWho leans upon this reed! 'Tis well, Sir William;You may retire again——[As he is going towards the door.And, sir, this paper,Receive it back; I place it in your hands.DAVISON (casts a look upon the paper, and starts back).My gracious queen—thy name! 'tis then decided.ELIZABETH.I had but to subscribe it—I have done so—A paper sure cannot decide—a nameKills not.DAVISON.Thy name, my queen, beneath this paperIs most decisive—kills—'tis like the lightning,Which blasteth as it flies! This fatal scrollCommands the sheriff and commissionersTo take departure straight for Fotheringay,And to the Queen of Scots announce her death,Which must at dawn be put in execution.There is no respite, no discretion here.As soon as I have parted with this writHer race is run.ELIZABETH.Yes, sir, the Lord has placedThis weighty business in your feeble hands;Seek him in prayer to light you with his wisdom;I go—and leave you, sir, to do your duty.[Going.DAVISON.No; leave me not, my queen, till I have heardYour will. The only wisdom that I needIs, word for word, to follow your commands.Say, have you placed this warrant in my handsTo see that it be speedily enforced?ELIZABETH.That you must do as your own prudence dictates.DAVISON (interrupting her quickly, and alarmed).Not mine—oh, God forbid! Obedience isMy only prudence here. No point must nowBe left to be decided by your servant.A small mistake would here be regicide,A monstrous crime, from which my soul recoils.Permit me, in this weighty act, to beYour passive instrument, without a will:—Tell me in plain, undoubted terms your pleasure,What with the bloody mandate I should do.
ELIZABETH.Its name declares its meaning.DAVISON.Do you, then,My liege, command its instant execution?ELIZABETH.I said not that; I tremble but to think it.DAVISON.Shall I retain it, then, 'till further orders?ELIZABETH.At your own risk; you answer the event.DAVISON.I! gracious heavens! Oh, speak, my queen, your pleasure!ELIZABETH.My pleasure is that this unhappy businessBe no more mentioned to me; that at lastI may be freed from it, and that forever.DAVISON.It costs you but a word—determine thenWhat shall I do with this mysterious scroll?ELIZABETH.I have declared it, plague me, sir, no longer.DAVISON.You have declared it, say you? Oh, my queen,You have said nothing. Please, my gracious mistress,But to remember——ELIZABETH (stamps on the ground).Insupportable!DAVISON.Oh, be indulgent to me! I have enteredUnwittingly, not many months ago,Upon this office; I know not the languageOf courts and kings. I ever have been rearedIn simple, open wise, a plain blunt man.Be patient with me; nor deny your servantA light to lead him clearly to his duty.[He approaches her in a supplicating posture,she turns her back on him; he stands in despair;then speaks with a tone of resolution.Take, take again this paper—take it back!Within my hands it is a glowing fire.Select not me, my queen; select not meTo serve you in this terrible conjecture.ELIZABETH.Go, sir;—fulfil the duty of your office.[Exit.
DAVISON, then BURLEIGH.DAVISON.She goes! She leaves me doubting and perplexedWith this dread paper! How to act I know not;Should I retain it, should I forward it?[To BURLEIGH, who enters.Oh! I am glad that you are come, my lord,'Tis you who have preferred me to this charge;Now free me from it, for I undertook it,Unknowing how responsible it made me.Let me then seek again the obscurityIn which you found me; this is not my place.BURLEIGH.How now? Take courage, sir! Where is the warrant?The queen was with you.DAVISON.She has quitted meIn bitter anger. Oh, advise me, help me,Save me from this fell agony of doubt!My lord, here is the warrant: it is signed!BURLEIGH.Indeed! Oh, give it, give it me!DAVISON.I may not.BURLEIGH.How!DAVISON.She has not yet explained her final will.BURLEIGH.Explained! She has subscribed it;—give it to me.DAVISON.I am to execute it, and I am not.Great heavens! I know not what I am to do!BURLEIGH (urging more violently).It must be now, this moment, executed.The warrant, sir. You're lost if you delay.DAVISON.So am I also if I act too rashly.BURLEIGH.What strange infatuation. Give it me.[Snatches the paper from him, and exit with it.DAVISON.What would you? Hold? You will be my destruction.
The Scene the same as in the First Act.HANNAH KENNEDY in deep mourning, her eyes still redfrom weeping, in great but quiet anguish, is employedin sealing letters and parcels. Her sorrow ofteninterrupts her occupation, and she is seen at suchintervals to pray in silence. PAULET and DRURY,also in mourning, enter, followed by many servants,who bear golden and silver vessels, mirrors, paintings,and other valuables, and fill the back part of the stagewith them. PAULET delivers to the NURSE a box of jewelsand a paper, and seems to inform her by signs that itcontains the inventory of the effects the QUEEN had broughtwith her. At the sight of these riches, the anguish ofthe NURSE is renewed; she sinks into a deep, glowingmelancholy, during which DRURY, PAULET, and the servantssilently retire.MELVIL enters.KENNEDY (screams aloud as soon as she observes him).Melvil! Is it you? Behold I you again?MELVIL.Yes, faithful Kennedy, we meet once more.KENNEDY.After this long, long, painful separation!MELVIL.A most unhappy, bitter meeting this!KENNEDY.You come——MELVIL.To take an everlasting leaveOf my dear queen—to bid a last farewell!KENNEDY.And now at length, now on the fatal mornWhich brings her death, they grant our royal ladyThe presence of her friends. Oh, worthy sir,I will not question you, how you have fared,Nor tell you all the sufferings we've endured,Since you were torn away from us: alas!There will be time enough for that hereafter.O, Melvil, Melvil, why was it our fateTo see the dawn of this unhappy day?MELVIL.Let us not melt each other with our grief.Throughout my whole remaining life, as longAs ever it may be, I'll sit and weep;A smile shall never more light up these cheeks,Ne'er will I lay this sable garb aside,But lead henceforth a life of endless mourning.Yet on this last sad day I will be firm;Pledge me your word to moderate your grief;And when the rest of comfort all bereft,Abandoned to despair, wail round her, weWill lead her with heroic resolution,And be her staff upon the road to death!KENNEDY.Melvil! You are deceived if you supposeThe queen has need of our support to meetHer death with firmness. She it is, my friend,Who will exhibit the undaunted heart.Oh! trust me, Mary Stuart will expireAs best becomes a heroine and queen!MELVIL.Received she firmly, then, the sad decreeOf death?—'tis said that she was not prepared.KENNEDY.She was not; yet they were far other terrorsWhich made our lady shudder: 'twas not death,But her deliverer, which made her tremble.Freedom was promised us; this very nightHad Mortimer engaged to bear us hence:And thus the queen, perplexed 'twixt hope and fear,And doubting still if she should trust her honorAnd royal person to the adventurous youth,Sat waiting for the morning. On a suddenWe hear a boisterous tumult in the castle;Our ears are startled by repeated blowsOf many hammers, and we think we hearThe approach of our deliverers: hope salutes us,And suddenly and unresisted wakesThe sweet desire of life. And now at onceThe portals are thrown open—it is Paulet,Who comes to tell us—that—the carpentersErect beneath our feet the murderous scaffold![She turns aside, overpowered by excessive anguish.MELVIL.O God in Heaven! Oh, tell me then how boreThe queen this terrible vicissitude?KENNEDY (after a pause, in which she has somewhat collected herself).Not by degrees can we relinquish life;Quick, sudden, in the twinkling of an eye,The separation must be made, the changeFrom temporal to eternal life; and GodImparted to our mistress at this momentHis grace, to cast away each earthly hope,And firm and full of faith to mount the skies.No sign of pallid fear dishonored her;No word of mourning, 'till she heard the tidingsOf Leicester's shameful treachery, the sad fateOf the deserving youth, who sacrificedHimself for her; the deep, the bitter anguishOf that old knight, who lost, through her, his last,His only hope; till then she shed no tear—'Twas then her tears began to flow, 'twas notHer own, but others' woe which wrung them from her.MELVIL.Where is she now? Can you not lead me to her?KENNEDY.She spent the last remainder of the nightIn prayer, and from her dearest friends she tookHer last farewell in writing: then she wroteHer will2with her own hand. She now enjoysA moment of repose, the latest slumberRefreshes her weak spirits.MELVIL.Who attends her?KENNEDY.None but her women and physician Burgoyn:You seem to look around you with surprise;Your eyes appear to ask me what should meanThis show of splendor in the house of death.Oh, sir, while yet we lived we suffered want;But at our death plenty returns to us.
Enter MARGARET CURL.KENNEDY.How, madam, fares the queen? Is she awake?CURL (drying her tears).She is already dressed—she asks for you.KENNEDY.I go:—[To MELVIL, who seems to wish to accompany her.But follow not until the queenHas been prepared to see you.[Exit.CURL.Melvil, sure,The ancient steward?MELVIL.Yes, the same.CURL.Oh, sir,This is a house which needs no steward now!Melvil, you come from London; can you giveNo tidings of my husband?MELVIL.It is saidHe will be set at liberty as soon——CURL.As soon as our dear queen shall be no more.Oh, the unworthy, the disgraceful traitor!He is our lady's murderer—'tis saidIt was his testimony which condemned him.MELVIL.'Tis true.CURL.Oh, curse upon him! Be his soulCondemned forever! he has borne false witness.MELVIL.Think, madam, what you say.CURL.I will maintain itWith every sacred oath before the court,I will repeat it in his very face;The world shall hear of nothing else. I sayThat she dies innocent!MELVIL..God grant it true!
2The document is now in the British Museum.
Enter HANNAH KENNEDY.KENNEDY (to CURL).Go, madam, and require a cup of wine—'Tis for our lady.MELVIL.Is the queen then sick?KENNEDY.She thinks that she is strong; she is deceivedBy her heroic courage; she believesShe has no need of nourishment; yet stillA hard and painful task's allotted her.Her enemies shall not enjoy the triumph;They shall not say that fear hath blanched her cheeksWhen her fatigues have conquered human weakness.MELVIL.May I approach her?KENNEDY.She will come herself.
Enter BURGOYN; two women of the chamber follow him,weeping, and in deep mourning.BURGOYN.Oh, Melvil!MELVIL.Oh, Burgoyn![They embrace silently.FIRST WOMAN (to the NURSE).She chose to beAlone: she wishes, at this awful moment,For the last time, to commune with her God.
Enter MARGARET CURL, bearing a golden cup of wine;she places it hastily upon the table, and leans,pale and trembling, against a chair.MELVIL.How, madam! What has frightened you?KENNEDY.Oh God!BURGOYN.Speak, madam!CURL.What, alas! have I beheld!MELVIL.Come to yourself, and say what you have seen!CURL.As I went down the staircase which conductsTo the great hall below, a door stood open;I looked into the chamber, and I saw—Oh heaven!MELVIL.What saw you?CURL.All the walls were hungWith black; a spacious scaffold, too, o'erspreadWith sable cloth, was raised above the floor,And in the middle of the scaffold stoodA dreadful sable block! upon it layA naked, polished axe:—the hall was fullOf cruel people, crowding round the scaffoldWho, with a horrid thirst for human blood,Seemed waiting for the victim!THE WOMEN.Gracious heaven,Protect our queen!MELVIL.Be calm; the queen approaches.
Enter MARY in white and sumptuously arrayed, asfor a festival: she wears hanging from her neck,on a row of small beads, an Agnus Dei; a rosaryhangs from her girdle; she bears a crucifix inher hand, and a diadem of precious stones bindsher hair; her large black veil is thrown back.On her entrance all present fall back on both sideswith the most violent expressions of anguish.MELVIL falls involuntarily upon his knees.MARY (with quiet majesty, looking round the whole circle).Why these complaints? Why weep ye? Ye should ratherRejoice with me, that now at length the endOf my long woe approaches; that my shacklesFall off, my prison opens, and my soulDelighted mounts on seraph's wings, and seeksThe land of everlasting liberty.When I was offered up to the oppressionOf my proud enemy, was forced to sufferIgnoble taunts, and insults most unfittingA free and sovereign queen, then was the timeTo weep for me; but as an earnest friend,Beneficent and healing death approaches.All the indignities which I have sufferedOn earth are covered by his sable wings.The most degraded criminal's ennobledBy his last sufferings, by his final exit;I feel again the crown upon my brows.And dignity possess my swelling soul![Advancing a few steps.How! Melvil here! My worthy sir, not so;Arise; you rather come in time to seeThe triumph of your mistress than her death.One comfort, which I never had expected,Is granted me, that after death my nameWill not be quite abandoned to my foes;One friend at least, one partner of my faith,Will be my witness in the hour of death.Say, honest Melvil, how you fared the whileIn this inhospitable, hostile land?For since the time they tore you from my sideMy fears for you have oft depressed my soul.MELVIL.No other evil galled me but my griefFor thee, and that I wanted power to serve thee.MARY.How fares my chamberlain, old Didier?But sure the faithful servant long has sleptThe sleep of death, for he was full of years.MELVIL.God hath not granted him as yet this grace;He lives to see the grave o'erwhelm thy youth.MARY.Oh! could I but have felt before my death,The happiness of pressing one descendantOf the dear blood of Stuart to my bosom.But I must suffer in a foreign land,None but my servants to bewail my fate!Sir; to your loyal bosom I commitMy latest wishes. Bear then, sir, my blessingTo the most Christian king, my royal brother,And the whole royal family of France.I bless the cardinal, my honored uncle,And also Henry Guise, my noble cousin.I bless the holy father, the vicegerentOf Christ on earth, who will, I trust, bless me.I bless the King of Spain, who nobly offeredHimself as my deliverer, my avenger.They are remembered in my will: I hopeThat they will not despise, how poor soe'erThey be, the presents of a heart which loves them.[Turning to her servants.I have bequeathed you to my royal brotherOf France; he will protect you, he will give youAnother country, and a better home;And if my last desire have any weight,Stay not in England; let no haughty BritonGlut his proud heart with your calamities,Nor see those in the dust who once were mine.Swear by this image of our suffering LordTo leave this fatal land when I'm no more.MELVIL (touching the crucifix).I swear obedience in the name of all.MARY.What I, though poor and plundered, still possess,Of which I am allowed to make disposal,Shall be amongst you shared; for I have hopeIn this at least my will may be fulfilled.And what I wear upon my way to deathIs yours—nor envy me on this occasionThe pomp of earth upon the road to heaven.[To the ladies of her chamber.To you, my Alice, Gertrude, Rosamund,I leave my pearls, my garments: you are young,And ornament may still delight your hearts.You, Margaret, possess the nearest claims,To you I should be generous: for I leave youThe most unhappy woman of them all.That I have not avenged your husband's faultOn you I hope my legacy will prove.The worth of gold, my Hannah, charms not thee;Nor the magnificence of precious stones:My memory, I know, will be to theeThe dearest jewel; take this handkerchief,I worked it for thee, in the hours of sorrow,With my own hands, and my hot, scalding tearsAre woven in the texture:—you will bindMy eyes with this, when it is time: this lastSad service I would wish but from my Hannah.KENNEDY.O Melvil! I cannot support it.MARY.Come,Come all and now receive my last farewell.[She stretches forth her hands; the WOMENviolently weeping, fall successively at her feet,and kiss her outstretched hand.Margaret, farewell—my Alice, fare thee well;Thanks, Burgoyn, for thy honest, faithful service—Thy lips are hot, my Gertrude:—I have beenMuch hated, yet have been as much beloved.May a deserving husband bless my Gertrude,For this warm, glowing heart is formed for love.Bertha, thy choice is better, thou hadst ratherBecome the chaste and pious bride of heaven;Oh! haste thee to fulfil thy vows; the goodsOf earth are all deceitful; thou may'st learnThis lesson from thy queen. No more; farewell,Farewell, farewell, my friends, farewell for ever.[She turns suddenly from them; all but MELVILretire at different sides.