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MORTIMER.I am not scaredBy Babington and Tichburn's bloody headsSet up as warnings upon London's bridge;Nor by the ruin of those many victimsWho have, in such attempts, found certain death:They also found therein immortal honor,And death, in rescuing you, is dearest bliss.MARY.It is in vain: nor force nor guile can save me:—My enemies are watchful, and the powerIs in their hands. It is not Paulet onlyAnd his dependent host; all England guardsMy prison gates: Elizabeth's free willAlone can open them.MORTIMER.Expect not that.MARY.One man alone on earth can open them.MORTIMER.Oh, let me know his name!MARY.Lord Leicester.MORTIMER.He![Starts back in wonder.The Earl of Leicester! Your most bloody foe,The favorite of Elizabeth! through him——MARY.If I am to be saved at all, 'twill beThrough him, and him alone. Go to him, sir;Freely confide in him: and, as a proofYou come from me, present this paper to him.[She takes a paper from her bosom; MORTIMER draws back,and hesitates to take it.It doth contain my portrait:—take it, sir;I've borne it long about me; but your uncle'sClose watchfulness has cut me off from allCommunication with him;—you were sentBy my good angel.[He takes it.MORTIMER.Oh, my queen! ExplainThis mystery.MARY.Lord Leicester will resolve it.Confide in him, and he'll confide in you.Who comes?KENNEDY (entering hastily).'Tis Paulet; and he brings with himA nobleman from court.MORTIMER.It is Lord Burleigh.Collect yourself, my queen, and strive to hearThe news he brings with equanimity.[He retires through a side door, and KENNEDY follows him.
Enter LORD BURLEIGH, and PAULET.PAULET (to MARY).You wished to-day assurance of your fate;My Lord of Burleigh brings it to you now;Hear it with resignation, as beseems you.MARY.I hope with dignity, as it becomesMy innocence, and my exalted station.BURLEIGH.I come deputed from the court of justice.MARY.Lord Burleigh lends that court his willing tongue,Which was already guided by his spirit.PAULET.You speak as if no stranger to the sentence.MARY.Lord Burleigh brings it; therefore do I know it.PAULET.[It would become you better, Lady Stuart,To listen less to hatred.MARY.I but nameMy enemy: I said not that I hate him.]But to the matter, sir.BURLEIGH.You have acknowledgedThe jurisdiction of the two-and-forty.MARY.My lord, excuse me, if I am obligedSo soon to interrupt you. I acknowledged,Say you, the competence of the commission?I never have acknowledged it, my lord;How could I so? I could not give awayMy own prerogative, the intrusted rightsOf my own people, the inheritanceOf my own son, and every monarch's honor[The very laws of England say I could not.]It is enacted by the English lawsThat every one who stands arraigned of crimeShall plead before a jury of his equals:Who is my equal in this high commission?Kings only are my peers.BURLEIGH.But yet you heardThe points of accusation, answered themBefore the court——MARY.'Tis true, I was deceivedBy Hatton's crafty counsel:—he advised me,For my own honor, and in confidenceIn my good cause, and my most strong defence,To listen to the points of accusation,And prove their falsehoods. This, my lord, I didFrom personal respect for the lords' names,Not their usurped charge, which I disclaim.BURLEIGH.Acknowledge you the court, or not, that isOnly a point of mere formality,Which cannot here arrest the course of justice.You breathe the air of England; you enjoyThe law's protection, and its benefits;You therefore are its subject.MARY.Sir, I breatheThe air within an English prison walls:Is that to live in England; to enjoyProtection from its laws? I scarcely knowAnd never have I pledged my faith to keep them.I am no member of this realm; I amAn independent, and a foreign queen.BURLEIGH.And do you think that the mere name of queenCan serve you as a charter to fomentIn other countries, with impunity,This bloody discord? Where would be the state'sSecurity, if the stern sword of justiceCould not as freely smite the guilty browOf the imperial stranger as the beggar's?MARY.I do not wish to be exempt from judgment,It is the judges only I disclaim.BURLEIGH.The judges? How now, madam? Are they thenBase wretches, snatched at hazard from the crowd?Vile wranglers that make sale of truth and justice;Oppression's willing hirelings, and its tools?Are they not all the foremost of this land,Too independent to be else than honest,And too exalted not to soar aboveThe fear of kings, or base servility?Are they not those who rule a generous peopleIn liberty and justice; men, whose namesI need but mention to dispel each doubt,Each mean suspicion which is raised against them?Stands not the reverend primate at their head,The pious shepherd of his faithful people,The learned Talbot, keeper of the seals,And Howard, who commands our conquering fleets?Say, then, could England's sovereign do moreThan, out of all the monarchy, electThe very noblest, and appoint them judgesIn this great suit? And were it probableThat party hatred could corrupt one heart;Can forty chosen men unite to speakA sentence just as passion gives command?MARY (after a short pause).I am struck dumb by that tongue's eloquence,Which ever was so ominous to me.And how shall I, a weak, untutored woman,Cope with so subtle, learned an orator?Yes truly; were these lords as you describe them,I must be mute; my cause were lost indeed,Beyond all hope, if they pronounce me guilty.But, sir, these names, which you are pleased to praise,These very men, whose weight you think will crush me,I see performing in the historyOf these dominions very different parts:I see this high nobility of England,This grave majestic senate of the realm,Like to an eastern monarch's vilest slaves,Flatter my uncle Henry's sultan fancies:I see this noble, reverend House of Lords,Venal alike with the corrupted Commons,Make statutes and annul them, ratifyA marriage and dissolve it, as the voiceOf power commands: to-day it disinherits,And brands the royal daughters of the realmWith the vile name of bastards, and to-morrowCrowns them as queens, and leads them to the throne.I see them in four reigns, with pliant conscience,Four times abjure their faith; renounce the popeWith Henry, yet retain the old belief;Reform themselves with Edward; hear the massAgain with Mary; with Elizabeth,Who governs now, reform themselves again.BURLEIGH.You say you are not versed in England's laws,You seem well read, methinks, in her disasters.MARY.And these men are my judges?[As LORD BURLEIGH seems to wish to speak.My lord treasurer,Towards you I will be just, be you but justTo me. 'Tis said that you consult with zealThe good of England, and of England's queen;Are honest, watchful, indefatigable;I will believe it. Not your private ends,Your sovereign and your country's weal alone,Inspire your counsels and direct your deeds.Therefore, my noble lord, you should the moreDistrust your heart; should see that you mistake notThe welfare of the government for justice.I do not doubt, besides yourself, there areAmong my judges many upright men:But they are Protestants, are eager allFor England's quiet, and they sit in judgmentOn me, the Queen of Scotland, and the papist.It is an ancient saying, that the ScotsAnd England to each other are unjust;And hence the rightful custom that a ScotAgainst an Englishman, or EnglishmanAgainst a Scot, cannot be heard in judgment.Necessity prescribed this cautious law;Deep policy oft lies in ancient customs:My lord, we must respect them. Nature castInto the ocean these two fiery nationsUpon this plank, and she divided itUnequally, and bade them fight for it.The narrow bed of Tweed alone dividesThese daring spirits; often hath the bloodOf the contending parties dyed its waves.Threatening, and sword in hand, these thousand years,From both its banks they watch their rival's motions,Most vigilant and true confederates,With every enemy of the neighbor state.No foe oppresses England, but the ScotBecomes his firm ally; no civil warInflames the towns of Scotland, but the EnglishAdd fuel to the fire: this raging hateWill never be extinguished till, at last,One parliament in concord shall unite them,One common sceptre rule throughout the isle.BURLEIGH.And from a Stuart, then, should England hopeThis happiness?MARY.Oh! why should I deny it?Yes, I confess, I cherished the fond hope;I thought myself the happy instrumentTo join in freedom, 'neath the olive's shade,Two generous realms in lasting happiness!I little thought I should become the victimOf their old hate, their long-lived jealousy;And the sad flames of that unhappy strife,I hoped at last to smother, and forever:And, as my ancestor, great Richmond, joinedThe rival roses after bloody contest,To join in peace the Scotch and English crowns.BURLEIGH.An evil way you took to this good end,To set the realm on fire, and through the flamesOf civil war to strive to mount the throne.MARY.I wished not that:—I wished it not, by Heaven!When did I strive at that? Where are your proofs?BURLEIGH.I came not hither to dispute; your causeIs no more subject to a war of words.The great majority of forty voicesHath found that you have contravened the lawLast year enacted, and have now incurredIts penalty.[Producing the verdict.MARY.Upon this statute, then,My lord, is built the verdict of my judges?BURLEIGH (reading).Last year it was enacted, "If a plotHenceforth should rise in England, in the nameOr for the benefit of any claimantTo England's crown, that justice should be doneOn such pretender, and the guilty partyBe prosecuted unto death." Now, sinceIt has been proved——MARY.Lord Burleigh, I can wellImagine that a law expressly aimedAt me, and framed to compass my destructionMay to my prejudice be used. Oh! WoeTo the unhappy victim, when the tongueThat frames the law shall execute the sentence.Can you deny it, sir, that this same statuteWas made for my destruction, and naught else?BURLEIGH.It should have acted as a warning to you:By your imprudence it became a snare.You saw the precipice which yawned before you;Yet, truly warned, you plunged into the deep.With Babington, the traitor, and his bandsOf murderous companions, were you leagued.You knew of all, and from your prison ledTheir treasonous plottings with a deep-laid plan.MARY.When did I that, my lord? Let them produceThe documents.BURLEIGH.You have already seen themThey were before the court, presented to you.MARY.Mere copies written by another hand;Show me the proof that they were dictatedBy me, that they proceeded from my lips,And in those very terms in which you read them.BURLEIGH.Before his execution, BabingtonConfessed they were the same which he received.MARY.Why was he in his lifetime not producedBefore my face? Why was he then despatchedSo quickly that he could not be confrontedWith her whom he accused?BURLEIGH.Besides, my lady,Your secretaries, Curl and Nau, declareOn oath, they are the very selfsame lettersWhich from your lips they faithfully transcribed.MARY.And on my menials' testimony, then,I am condemned; upon the word of thoseWho have betrayed me, me, their rightful queen!Who in that very moment, when they cameAs witnesses against me, broke their faith!BURLEIGH.You said yourself, you held your countrymanTo be an upright, conscientious man.MARY.I thought him such; but 'tis the hour of dangerAlone, which tries the virtue of a man.[He ever was an honest man, but weakIn understanding; and his subtle comrade,Whose faith, observe, I never answered for,Might easily seduce him to write downMore than he should;] the rack may have compelled himTo say and to confess more than he knew.He hoped to save himself by this false witness,And thought it could not injure me—a queen.BURLEIGH.The oath he swore was free and unconstrained.MARY.But not before my face! How now, my lord?The witnesses you name are still alive;Let them appear against me face to face,And there repeat what they have testified.Why am I then denied that privilege,That right which e'en the murderer enjoys?I know from Talbot's mouth, my former keeper,That in this reign a statute has been passedWhich orders that the plaintiff be confrontedWith the defendant; is it so, good Paulet?I e'er have known you as an honest man;Now prove it to me; tell me, on your conscience,If such a law exist or not in England?PAULET.Madam, there does: that is the law in England.I must declare the truth.MARY.Well, then, my lord,If I am treated by the law of EnglandSo hardly, when that law oppresses me,Say, why avoid this selfsame country's law,When 'tis for my advantage? Answer me;Why was not Babington confronted with me?Why not my servants, who are both alive?BURLEIGH.Be not so hasty, lady; 'tis not onlyYour plot with Babington——MARY.'Tis that aloneWhich arms the law against me; that aloneFrom which I'm called upon to clear myself.Stick to the point, my lord; evade it not.BURLEIGH.It has been proved that you have correspondedWith the ambassador of Spain, Mendoza——MARY.Stick to the point, my lord.BURLEIGH.That you have formedConspiracies to overturn the fixedReligion of the realm; that you have calledInto this kingdom foreign powers, and rousedAll kings in Europe to a war with England.MARY.And were it so, my lord—though I deny it—But e'en suppose it were so: I am keptImprisoned here against all laws of nations.I came not into England sword in hand;I came a suppliant; and at the handsOf my imperial kinswoman I claimedThe sacred rights of hospitality,When power seized upon me, and preparedTo rivet fetters where I hoped protection.Say, is my conscience bound, then, to this realm?What are the duties that I owe to England?I should but exercise a sacred right,Derived from sad necessity, if IWarred with these bonds, encountered might with might,Roused and incited every state in EuropeFor my protection to unite in arms.Whatever in a rightful war is justAnd loyal, 'tis my right to exercise:Murder alone, the secret, bloody deed,My conscience and my pride alike forbid.Murder would stain me, would dishonor me:Dishonor me, my lord, but not condemn me,Nor subject me to England's courts of law:For 'tis not justice, but mere violence,Which is the question 'tween myself and England.BURLEIGH (significantly).Talk not, my lady, of the dreadful rightOf power: 'tis seldom on the prisoner's side.MARY.I am the weak, she is the mighty one:'Tis well, my lord; let her, then, use her power;Let her destroy me; let me bleed, that sheMay live secure; but let her, then, confessThat she hath exercised her power alone,And not contaminate the name of justice.Let her not borrow from the laws the swordTo rid her of her hated enemy;Let her not clothe in this religious garbThe bloody daring of licentious might;Let not these juggling tricks deceive the world.[Returning the sentence.Though she may murder me, she cannot judge me:Let her no longer strive to join the fruitsOf vice with virtue's fair and angel show;But let her dare to seem the thing she is.[Exit.
BURLEIGH, PAULET.BURLEIGH.She scorns us, she defies us! will defy us,Even at the scaffold's foot. This haughty heartIs not to be subdued. Say, did the sentenceSurprise her? Did you see her shed one tear,Or even change her color? She disdainsTo make appeal to our compassion. WellShe knows the wavering mind of England's queen.Our apprehensions make her bold.PAULET.My lord,Take the pretext away which buoys it up,And you shall see this proud defiance failThat very moment. I must say, my lord,Irregularities have been allowedIn these proceedings; Babington and BallardShould have been brought, with her two secretaries,Before her, face to face.BURLEIGH.No, Paulet, no.That was not to be risked; her influenceUpon the human heart is too supreme;Too strong the female empire of her tears.Her secretary, Curl, if brought before her,And called upon to speak the weighty wordOn which her life depends, would straight shrink backAnd fearfully revoke his own confession.PAULET.Then England's enemies will fill the worldWith evil rumors; and the formal pompOf these proceedings to the minds of allWill only signalize an act of outrage.BURLEIGH.That is the greatest torment of our queen,[That she can never 'scape the blame. Oh God!]Had but this lovely mischief died beforeShe set her faithless foot on English ground.PAULET.Amen, say I!BURLEIGH.Had sickness but consumed her!PAULET.England had been secured from such misfortune.BURLEIGH.And yet, if she had died in nature's course,The world would still have called us murderers.PAULET.'Tis true, the world will think, despite of us,Whate'er it list.BURLEIGH.Yet could it not be proved?And it would make less noise.
PAULET.Why, let it makeWhat noise it may. It is not clamorous blame,'Tis righteous censure only which can wound.BURLEIGH.We know that holy justice cannot 'scapeThe voice of censure; and the public cryIs ever on the side of the unhappy:Envy pursues the laurelled conqueror;The sword of justice, which adorns the man,Is hateful in a woman's hand; the worldWill give no credit to a woman's justiceIf woman be the victim. Vain that we,The judges, spoke what conscience dictated;She has the royal privilege of mercy;She must exert it: 'twere not to be borne,Should she let justice take its full career.PAULET.And therefore——BURLEIGH.Therefore should she live? Oh, no,She must not live; it must not be. 'Tis this,Even this, my friend, which so disturbs the queen,And scares all slumber from her couch; I readHer soul's distracting contest in her eyes:She fears to speak her wishes, yet her looks,Her silent looks, significantly ask,"Is there not one amongst my many servantsTo save me from this sad alternative?Either to tremble in eternal fearUpon my throne, or else to sacrificeA queen of my own kindred on the block?"PAULET.'Tis even so; nor can it be avoided——BURLEIGH.Well might it be avoided, thinks the queen,If she had only more attentive servants.PAULET.How more attentive?BURLEIGH.Such as could interpretA silent mandate.PAULET.What? A silent mandate!BURLEIGH.Who, when a poisonous adder is deliveredInto their hands, would keep the treacherous chargeAs if it were a sacred, precious jewel?PAULET.A precious jewel is the queen's good nameAnd spotless reputation: good my lord,One cannot guard it with sufficient care.BURLEIGH.When out of Shrewsbury's hands the Queen of ScotsWas trusted to Sir Amias Paulet's care,The meaning was——PAULET.I hope to God, my lord,The meaning was to give the weightiest chargeInto the purest hands; my lord, my lord!By heaven I had disdained this bailiff's officeHad I not thought the service claimed the careOf the best man that England's realm can boast.Let me not think I am indebted for itTo anything but my unblemished name.BURLEIGH.Spread the report she wastes; grows sicker stillAnd sicker; and expires at last in peace;Thus will she perish in the world's remembrance,And your good name is pure.PAULET.But not my conscience.BURLEIGH.Though you refuse us, sir, your own assistance,You will not sure prevent another's hand.PAULET.No murderer's foot shall e'er approach her thresholdWhilst she's protected by my household gods.Her life's a sacred trust; to me the headOf Queen Elizabeth is not more sacred.Ye are the judges; judge, and break the staff;And when 'tis time then let the carpenterWith axe and saw appear to build the scaffold.My castle's portals shall be open to him,The sheriff and the executioners:Till then she is intrusted to my care;And be assured I will fulfil my trust,She shall nor do nor suffer what's unjust.[Exeunt.
London, a Hall in the Palace of Westminster. The EARL OF KENTand SIR WILLIAM DAVISON meeting.DAVISON.Is that my Lord of Kent? So soon returned?Is then the tourney, the carousal over?KENT.How now? Were you not present at the tilt?DAVISON.My office kept me here.KENT.Believe me, sir,You've lost the fairest show which ever stateDevised, or graceful dignity performed:For beauty's virgin fortress was presentedAs by desire invested; the Earl-Marshal,The Lord-High Admiral, and ten other knightsBelonging to the queen defended it,And France's cavaliers led the attack.A herald marched before the gallant troop,And summoned, in a madrigal, the fortress;And from the walls the chancellor replied;And then the artillery was played, and nosegaysBreathing delicious fragrance were dischargedFrom neat field-pieces; but in vain, the stormWas valiantly resisted, and desireWas forced, unwillingly, to raise the siege.DAVISON.A sign of evil-boding, good my lord,For the French Suitors.KENT.Why, you know that thisWas but in sport; when the attack's in earnestThe fortress will, no doubt, capitulate.DAVISON.Ha! think you so? I never can believe it.KENT.The hardest article of all is nowAdjusted and acceded to by France;The Duke of Anjou is content to holdHis holy worship in a private chapel;And openly he promises to honorAnd to protect the realm's established faith.Had ye but heard the people's joyful shoutsWhere'er the tidings spread, for it has beenThe country's constant fear the queen might dieWithout immediate issue of her body;And England bear again the Romish chainsIf Mary Stuart should ascend the throne.DAVISON.This fear appears superfluous; she goesInto the bridal chamber; Mary StuartEnters the gates of death.KENT.The queen approaches.
Enter ELIZABETH, led in by LEICESTER, COUNT AUBESPINE,BELLIEVRE, LORDS SHREWSBURY and BURLEIGH, with otherFrench and English gentlemen.ELIZABETH (to AUBESPINE).Count, I am sorry for these noblemenWhose gallant zeal hath brought them over seaTo visit these our shores, that they, with us,Must miss the splendor of St. Germain's court.Such pompous festivals of godlike stateI cannot furnish as the royal courtOf France. A sober and contented people,Which crowd around me with a thousand blessingsWhene'er in public I present myself:This is the spectacle which I can show,And not without some pride, to foreign eyes.The splendor of the noble dames who bloomIn Catherine's beauteous garden would, I know,Eclipse myself, and my more modest merits.AUBESPINE.The court of England has one lady onlyTo show the wondering foreigner; but allThat charms our hearts in the accomplished sexIs seen united in her single person.BELLIEVRE.Great majesty of England, suffer usTo take our leave, and to our royal master,The Duke of Anjou, bring the happy news.The hot impatience of his heart would notPermit him to remain at Paris; heAt Amiens awaits the joyful tidings;And thence to Calais reach his posts to bringWith winged swiftness to his tranced earThe sweet consent which, still we humbly hope,Your royal lips will graciously pronounce.ELIZABETH.Press me no further now, Count Bellievre.It is not now a time, I must repeat,To kindle here the joyful marriage torch.The heavens lower black and heavy o'er this land;And weeds of mourning would become me betterThan the magnificence of bridal robes.A fatal blow is aimed against my heart;A blow which threatens to oppress my house.BELLIEVRE.We only ask your majesty to promiseYour royal hand when brighter days shall come.ELIZABETH.Monarchs are but the slaves of their condition;They dare not hear the dictates of their hearts;My wish was ever to remain unmarried,And I had placed my greatest pride in this,That men hereafter on my tomb might read,"Here rests the virgin queen." But my good subjectsAre not content that this should be: they think,E'en now they often think upon the timeWhen I shall be no more. 'Tis not enoughThat blessings now are showered upon this land;They ask a sacrifice for future welfare,And I must offer up my liberty,My virgin liberty, my greatest good,To satisfy my people. Thus they'd forceA lord and master on me. 'Tis by thisI see that I am nothing but a womanIn their regard; and yet methought that IHad governed like a man, and like a king.Well wot I that it is not serving GodTo quit the laws of nature; and that thoseWho here have ruled before me merit praise,That they have oped the cloister gates, and givenThousands of victims of ill-taught devotionBack to the duties of humanity.But yet a queen who hath not spent her daysIn fruitless, idle contemplation; who,Without murmur, indefatigablyPerforms the hardest of all duties; sheShould be exempted from that natural lawWhich doth ordain one half of human kindShall ever be subservient to the other.AUBESPINE.Great queen, you have upon your throne done honorTo every virtue; nothing now remainsBut to the sex, whose greatest boast you areTo be the leading star, and give the greatExample of its most consistent duties.'Tis true, the man exists not who deservesThat you to him should sacrifice your freedom;Yet if a hero's soul, descent, and rank,And manly beauty can make mortal manDeserving of this honor——ELIZABETH.Without doubt,My lord ambassador, a marriage unionWith France's royal son would do me honor;Yes, I acknowledge it without disguise,If it must be, if I cannot prevent it,If I must yield unto my people's prayers,And much I fear they will o'erpower me,I do not know in Europe any princeTo whom with less reluctance I would yieldMy greatest treasure, my dear liberty.Let this confession satisfy your master.BELLIEVRE.It gives the fairest hope, and yet it givesNothing but hope; my master wishes more.ELIZABETH.What wishes he?[She takes a ring from her finger, and thoughtfully examines it.In this a queen has notOne privilege above all other women.This common token marks one common duty,One common servitude; the ring denotesMarriage, and 'tis of rings a chain is formed.Convey this present to his highness; 'tisAs yet no chain, it binds me not as yet,But out of it may grow a link to bind me.BELLIEVRE (kneeling).This present, in his name, upon my knees,I do receive, great queen, and press the kissOf homage on the hand of her who isHenceforth my princess.ELIZABETH (to the EARL OF LEICESTER, whom she, during the last speeches,had continually regarded).By your leave, my lord.[She takes the blue ribbon from his neck [1], and invests Bellievrewith it.Invest his highness with this ornament,As I invest you with it, and receive youInto the duties of my gallant order.And, "Honi soit qui mal y pense." Thus perishAll jealousy between our several realms,And let the bond of confidence uniteHenceforth, the crowns of Britain and of France.BELLIEVRE.Most sovereign queen, this is a day of joy;Oh that it could be so for all, and noAfflicted heart within this island mourn.See! mercy beams upon thy radiant brow;Let the reflection of its cheering lightFall on a wretched princess, who concernsBritain and France alike.ELIZABETH.No further, count!Let us not mix two inconsistent things;If France be truly anxious for my hand,It must partake my interests, and renounceAlliance with my foes.AUBESPINE.In thine own eyesWould she not seem to act unworthily,If in this joyous treaty she forgotThis hapless queen, the widow of her king;In whose behalf her honor and her faithAre bound to plead for grace.ELIZABETH.Thus urged, I knowTo rate this intercession at its worth;France has discharged her duties as a friend,I will fulfil my own as England's queen.[She bows to the French ambassadors, who, with the othergentlemen, retire respectfully.
[Till the time of Charles the First, the Knights of the Garterwore the blue ribbon with the George about their necks, as theystill do the collars, on great days.—TRANSLATOR.]
Enter BURLEIGH, LEICESTER, and TALBOT.The QUEEN takes her seat.BURLEIGH.Illustrious sovereign, thou crown'st to-dayThe fervent wishes of thy people; nowWe can rejoice in the propitious daysWhich thou bestowest upon us; and we lookNo more with fear and trembling towards the timeWhich, charged with storms, futurity presented.Now, but one only care disturbs this land;It is a sacrifice which every voiceDemands; Oh! grant but this and England's peaceWill be established now and evermore.ELIZABETH.What wish they still, my lord? Speak.BURLEIGH.They demandThe Stuart's head. If to thy people thouWouldst now secure the precious boon of freedom,And the fair light of truth so dearly won,Then she must die; if we are not to liveIn endless terror for thy precious lifeThe enemy must fall; for well thou know'stThat all thy Britons are not true alike;Romish idolatry has still its friendsIn secret, in this island, who fomentThe hatred of our enemies. Their heartsAll turn toward this Stuart; they are leaguedWith the two plotting brothers of Lorrain,The foes inveterate of thy house and name.'Gainst thee this raging faction hath declaredA war of desolation, which they wageWith the deceitful instruments of hell.At Rheims, the cardinal archbishop's see,There is the arsenal from which they dartThese lightnings; there the school of regicide;Thence, in a thousand shapes disguised, are sentTheir secret missionaries to this isle;Their bold and daring zealots; for from thenceHave we not seen the third assassin come?And inexhausted is the direful breedOf secret enemies in this abyss.While in her castle sits at Fotheringay,The Ate1of this everlasting war,Who, with the torch of love, spreads flames around;For her who sheds delusive hopes on all,Youth dedicates itself to certain death;To set her free is the pretence—the aimIs to establish her upon the throne.For this accursed House of Guise deniesThy sacred right; and in their mouths thou artA robber of the throne, whom chance has crowned.By them this thoughtless woman was deluded,Proudly to style herself the Queen of England;No peace can be with her, and with her house;[Their hatred is too bloody, and their crimesToo great;] thou must resolve to strike, or suffer—Her life is death to thee, her death thy life.ELIZABETH.My lord, you bear a melancholy office;I know the purity which guides your zeal,The solid wisdom which informs your speech;And yet I hate this wisdom, when it callsFor blood, I hate it in my inmost soul.Think of a milder counsel—Good my LordOf Shrewsbury, we crave your judgment here.TALBOT.[Desire you but to know, most gracious queen,What is for your advantage, I can addNothing to what my lord high-treasurerHas urged; then, for your welfare, let the sentenceBe now confirmed—this much is proved already:There is no surer method to avertThe danger from your head and from the state.Should you in this reject our true advice,You can dismiss your council. We are placedHere as your counsellors, but to consultThe welfare of this land, and with our knowledgeAnd our experience we are bound to serve you!But in what's good and just, most gracious queen,You have no need of counsellors, your conscienceKnows it full well, and it is written there.Nay, it were overstepping our commissionIf we attempted to instruct you in it.ELIZABETH.Yet speak, my worthy Lord of Shrewsbury,'Tis not our understanding fails alone,Our heart too feels it wants some sage advice.]TALBOT.Well did you praise the upright zeal which firesLord Burleigh's loyal breast; my bosom, too,Although my tongue be not so eloquent,Beats with no weaker, no less faithful pulse.Long may you live, my queen, to be the joyOf your delighted people, to prolongPeace and its envied blessings in this realm.Ne'er hath this isle beheld such happy daysSince it was governed by its native kings.Oh, let it never buy its happinessWith its good name; at least, may Talbot's eyesBe closed in death e'er this shall come to pass.ELIZABETH.Forbid it, heaven, that our good name be stained!TALBOT.Then must you find some other way than thisTo save thy kingdom, for the sentence passedOf death against the Stuart is unjust.You cannot upon her pronounce a sentenceWho is not subject to you.ELIZABETH.Then, it seems,My council and my parliament have erred;Each bench of justice in the land is wrong,Which did with one accord admit this right.TALBOT (after a pause).The proof of justice lies not in the voiceOf numbers; England's not the world, nor isThy parliament the focus, which collectsThe vast opinion of the human race.This present England is no more the futureThan 'tis the past; as inclination changes,Thus ever ebbs and flows the unstable tideOf public judgment. Say not, then, that thouMust act as stern necessity compels,That thou must yield to the importunatePetitions of thy people; every hourThou canst experience that thy will is free.Make trial, and declare thou hatest blood,And that thou wilt protect thy sister's life;Show those who wish to give thee other counsels,That here thy royal anger is not feigned,And thou shalt see how stern necessityCan vanish, and what once was titled justiceInto injustice be converted: thouThyself must pass the sentence, thou aloneTrust not to this unsteady, trembling reed,But hear the gracious dictates of thy heart.God hath not planted rigor in the frameOf woman; and the founders of this realm,Who to the female hand have not deniedThe reins of government, intend by thisTo show that mercy, not severity,Is the best virtue to adorn a crown.ELIZABETH.Lord Shrewsbury is a fervent advocateFor mine and England's enemy; I mustPrefer those counsellors who wish my welfare.TALBOT.Her advocates have an invidious task!None will, by speaking in her favor, dareTo meet thy anger: stiffer, then, an oldAnd faithful counsellor (whom naught on earthCan tempt on the grave's brink) to exerciseThe pious duty of humanity.It never shall be said that, in thy council,Passion and interest could find a tongue,While mercy's pleading voice alone was mute,All circumstances have conspired against her;Thou ne'er hast seen her face, and nothing speaksWithin thy breast for one that's stranger to thee.I do not take the part of her misdeeds;They say 'twas she who planned her husband's murder:'Tis true that she espoused his murderer.A grievous crime, no doubt; but then it happenedIn darksome days of trouble and dismay,In the stern agony of civil war,When she, a woman, helpless and hemmed inBy a rude crowd of rebel vassals, soughtProtection in a powerful chieftain's arms.God knows what arts were used to overcome her!For woman is a weak and fragile thing.ELIZABETH.Woman's not weak; there are heroic soulsAmong the sex; and, in my presence, sir,I do forbid to speak of woman's weakness.TALBOT.Misfortune was for thee a rigid school;Thou wast not stationed on the sunny sideOf life; thou sawest no throne, from far, before thee;The grave was gaping for thee at thy feet.At Woodstock, and in London's gloomy tower,'Twas there the gracious father of this landTaught thee to know thy duty, by misfortune.No flatterer sought thee there: there learned thy soul,Far from the noisy world and its distractions,To commune with itself, to think apart,And estimate the real goods of life.No God protected this poor sufferer:Transplanted in her early youth to France,The court of levity and thoughtless joys,There, in the round of constant dissipation,She never heard the earnest voice of truth;She was deluded by the glare of vice,And driven onward by the stream of ruin.Hers was the vain possession of a face,And she outshone all others of her sexAs far in beauty, as in noble birth.ELIZABETH.Collect yourself, my Lord of Shrewsbury;Bethink you we are met in solemn council.Those charms must surely be without compare,Which can engender, in an elder's blood,Such fire. My Lord of Leicester, you aloneAre silent; does the subject which has madeHim eloquent, deprive you of your speech?LEICESTER.Amazement ties my tongue, my queen, to thinkThat they should fill thy soul with such alarms,And that the idle tales, which, in the streets,Of London, terrify the people's ears,Should reach the enlightened circle of thy council,And gravely occupy our statesmen's minds.Astonishment possesses me, I own,To think this lackland Queen of Scotland, sheWho could not save her own poor throne, the jestOf her own vassals, and her country's refuse,[Who in her fairest days of freedom, wasBut thy despised puppet,] should becomeAt once thy terror when a prisoner.What, in Heaven's name, can make her formidable?That she lays claim to England? that the GuisesWill not acknowledge thee as queen?[Did then Thy people's loyal fealty awaitThese Guises' approbation?] Can these Guises,With their objections, ever shake the rightWhich birth hath given thee; which, with one consent,The votes of parliament have ratified?And is not she, by Henry's will, passed o'erIn silence? Is it probable that England,As yet so blessed in the new light's enjoyment,Should throw itself into this papist's arms?From thee, the sovereign it adores, desertTo Darnley's murderess? What will they then,These restless men, who even in thy lifetimeTorment thee with a successor; who cannotDispose of thee in marriage soon enoughTo rescue church and state from fancied peril?Stand'st thou not blooming there in youthful primeWhile each step leads her towards the expecting tomb?By Heavens, I hope thou wilt full many a yearWalk o'er the Stuart's grave, and ne'er becomeThyself the instrument of her sad end.BURLEIGH.Lord Leicester hath not always held this tone.LEICESTER.'Tis true, I in the court of justice gaveMy verdict for her death; here, in the council,I may consistently speak otherwiseHere, right is not the question, but advantage.Is this a time to fear her power, when France,Her only succor, has abandoned her?When thou preparest with thy hand to blessThe royal son of France, when the fair hopeOf a new, glorious stem of sovereignsBegins again to blossom in this land?Why hasten then her death? She's dead already.Contempt and scorn are death to her; take heedLest ill-timed pity call her into life.'Tis therefore my advice to leave the sentence,By which her life is forfeit, in full force.Let her live on; but let her live beneathThe headsman's axe, and, from the very hourOne arm is lifted for her, let it fall.ELIZABETH (rises).My lords, I now have heard your several thoughts,And give my ardent thanks for this your zeal.With God's assistance, who the hearts of kingsIllumines, I will weigh your arguments,And choose what best my judgment shall approve.[To BURLEIGH.[Lord Burleigh's honest fears, I know it well,Are but the offspring of his faithful care;But yet, Lord Leicester has most truly said,There is no need of haste; our enemyHath lost already her most dangerous sting—The mighty arm of France: the fear that sheMight quickly be the victim of their zealWill curb the blind impatience of her friends.]