QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS.

(During this speech Pygmalion has shown symptoms of irresolution; at its conclusion he takes her in his arms and embraces her passionately.)

W. S. Gilbert.

[7]C.indicatescentre;R.,right, andL.,leftof stage.

(A dialogue for two men. From Act IV. ofJulius Cæsar. Before rendering the dialogue it is presumed that the participants will read the whole play from a volume of Shakespeare, and familiarize themselves with the spirit of the selection. The interest will be enhanced by the use of proper costumes. Where these cannot be hired—as they generally may in cities and large towns—they may be easily improvised by observing the simple Roman dress as illustrated in historical works.)

(Curtain rises, revealingBrutusandCassiusin heated conversation on the stage.)

Cassius.That you have wronged me doth appear in this;You have condemned and noted Lucius PellaFor taking bribes here of Sardinians;Wherein my letters (praying on his sideBecause I knew the man) were slighted of.Brutus.You wronged yourself, to write in such a case.Cas.At such a time as this, it is not meetThat every nice offence should bear its comment.Bru.Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourselfAre much condemned to have an itching palm;To sell and mart your offices for gold,To undeservers.Cas.I an itching palm?You know that you are Brutus that speak this,Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last!Bru.The name of Cassius honors this corruption,And chastisement doth therefore hide its head.Cas.Chastisement!Bru.Remember March, the ides of March remember!Did not great Julius bleed for justice’ sake?What villain touched his body, that did stab,And not for justice?—What! shall one of us,That struck the foremost man of all this world,But for supporting robbers,—shall we nowContaminate our fingers with base bribes,And sell the mighty space of our large honorsFor so much trash as may be grasped thus?—I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,Than such a Roman!Cas.Brutus, bay not me!I’ll not endure it. You forget yourselfTo hedge me in: I am a soldier, I,Older in practice, abler than yourselfTo make conditions.Bru.Go to! you’re not Cassius!Cas.I am.Bru.I say you are not.Cas.Urge me no more: I shall forget myself:Have mind upon your health: tempt me no further!Bru.Away, slight man!Cas.Is’t possible?Bru.Hear me, for I will speak.Must I give way and room to your rash choler?Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?Cas.Must I endure all this?Bru.All this? Ay, more! Fret till your proud heart break!Go, show your slaves how choleric you are,And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge?Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouchUnder your testy humor?You shall digest the venom of your spleen,Though it do split you; for, from this day forth,I’ll use you for my mirth,—yea, for my laughter,—When you are waspish.Cas.Is it come to this?Bru.You say you are a better soldier,Let it appear so; make your vaunting true,And it shall please me well. For mine own part,I shall be glad to learn of noble men.Cas.You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus:I said an elder soldier, not a better.Did I say better?Bru.If you did, I care not.Cas.When Cæsar lived, he durst not thus have moved me.Bru.Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him.Cas.I durst not?Bru.No.Cas.What! durst not tempt him?Bru.For your life you durst not.Cas.Do not presume too much upon my love;I may do that I shall be sorry for.Bru.You have done that you should be sorry for.There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats;For I am armed so strong in honesty,That they pass by me as the idle wind,Which I respect not. I did send to youFor certain sums of gold, which you denied me;—For I can raise no money by vile means:I had rather coin my heart,And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wringFrom the hard hands of peasants their vile trashBy any indirection. I did sendTo you for gold to pay my legions;Which you denied me. Was that done like Cassius?Should I have answered Caius Cassius so?When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,To lock such rascal counters from his friends,Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts,Dash him to pieces!Cas.I denied you not.Bru.You did.Cas.I did not: he was but a foolThat brought my answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart,A friend should bear a friend’s infirmities;But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.Bru.I do not, till you practice them on me.Cas.You love me not.Bru.I do not like your faults.Cas.A friendly eye could never see such faults.Bru.A flatterer’s would not, though they do appearAs huge as high Olympus.Cas.Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come!Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius;For Cassius is a-weary of the world—Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother;Checked like a bondman; all his faults observed,Set in a note-book, learned and conned by rote,To cast into my teeth. O, I could weepMy spirit from my eyes!—There is my dagger,And here my naked breast; within, a heartDearer than Plutus’ mine, richer than gold;If that thou be’st a Roman, take it forth:I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart:Strike as thou didst at Cæsar; for I know,When thou didst hate him worse, thou lovedst him betterThan ever thou lovedst Cassius.Bru.Sheathe your dagger:Be angry when you will, it shall have scope:Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor.O, Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb,That carries anger as the flint bears fire;Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,And straight is cold again.Cas.Hath Cassius livedTo be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,When grief and blood ill-tempered vexeth him?Bru.When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too.Cas.Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.Bru.And my heart, too.—Cas.O, Brutus!Bru.What’s the matter?Cas.Have you not love enough to bear with me,When that rash humor which my mother gave meMakes me forgetful?Bru.Yes, Cassius; and, henceforth,When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,He’ll think your mother chides, and leave you so.

Cassius.That you have wronged me doth appear in this;

You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella

For taking bribes here of Sardinians;

Wherein my letters (praying on his side

Because I knew the man) were slighted of.

Brutus.You wronged yourself, to write in such a case.

Cas.At such a time as this, it is not meetThat every nice offence should bear its comment.

Cas.At such a time as this, it is not meet

That every nice offence should bear its comment.

Bru.Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourselfAre much condemned to have an itching palm;To sell and mart your offices for gold,To undeservers.

Bru.Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself

Are much condemned to have an itching palm;

To sell and mart your offices for gold,

To undeservers.

Cas.I an itching palm?You know that you are Brutus that speak this,Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last!

Cas.I an itching palm?

You know that you are Brutus that speak this,

Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last!

Bru.The name of Cassius honors this corruption,And chastisement doth therefore hide its head.

Bru.The name of Cassius honors this corruption,

And chastisement doth therefore hide its head.

Cas.Chastisement!

Bru.Remember March, the ides of March remember!Did not great Julius bleed for justice’ sake?What villain touched his body, that did stab,And not for justice?—What! shall one of us,That struck the foremost man of all this world,But for supporting robbers,—shall we nowContaminate our fingers with base bribes,And sell the mighty space of our large honorsFor so much trash as may be grasped thus?—I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,Than such a Roman!

Bru.Remember March, the ides of March remember!

Did not great Julius bleed for justice’ sake?

What villain touched his body, that did stab,

And not for justice?—What! shall one of us,

That struck the foremost man of all this world,

But for supporting robbers,—shall we now

Contaminate our fingers with base bribes,

And sell the mighty space of our large honors

For so much trash as may be grasped thus?—

I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,

Than such a Roman!

Cas.Brutus, bay not me!I’ll not endure it. You forget yourselfTo hedge me in: I am a soldier, I,Older in practice, abler than yourselfTo make conditions.

Cas.Brutus, bay not me!

I’ll not endure it. You forget yourself

To hedge me in: I am a soldier, I,

Older in practice, abler than yourself

To make conditions.

Bru.Go to! you’re not Cassius!

Cas.I am.

Bru.I say you are not.

Cas.Urge me no more: I shall forget myself:Have mind upon your health: tempt me no further!

Cas.Urge me no more: I shall forget myself:

Have mind upon your health: tempt me no further!

Bru.Away, slight man!

Cas.Is’t possible?

Bru.Hear me, for I will speak.Must I give way and room to your rash choler?Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?

Bru.Hear me, for I will speak.

Must I give way and room to your rash choler?

Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?

Cas.Must I endure all this?

Bru.All this? Ay, more! Fret till your proud heart break!Go, show your slaves how choleric you are,And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge?Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouchUnder your testy humor?You shall digest the venom of your spleen,Though it do split you; for, from this day forth,I’ll use you for my mirth,—yea, for my laughter,—When you are waspish.

Bru.All this? Ay, more! Fret till your proud heart break!

Go, show your slaves how choleric you are,

And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge?

Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch

Under your testy humor?

You shall digest the venom of your spleen,

Though it do split you; for, from this day forth,

I’ll use you for my mirth,—yea, for my laughter,—

When you are waspish.

Cas.Is it come to this?

Bru.You say you are a better soldier,Let it appear so; make your vaunting true,And it shall please me well. For mine own part,I shall be glad to learn of noble men.

Bru.You say you are a better soldier,

Let it appear so; make your vaunting true,

And it shall please me well. For mine own part,

I shall be glad to learn of noble men.

Cas.You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus:I said an elder soldier, not a better.Did I say better?

Cas.You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus:

I said an elder soldier, not a better.

Did I say better?

Bru.If you did, I care not.

Cas.When Cæsar lived, he durst not thus have moved me.

Bru.Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him.

Cas.I durst not?

Bru.No.

Cas.What! durst not tempt him?

Bru.For your life you durst not.

Cas.Do not presume too much upon my love;I may do that I shall be sorry for.

Cas.Do not presume too much upon my love;

I may do that I shall be sorry for.

Bru.You have done that you should be sorry for.There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats;For I am armed so strong in honesty,That they pass by me as the idle wind,Which I respect not. I did send to youFor certain sums of gold, which you denied me;—For I can raise no money by vile means:I had rather coin my heart,And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wringFrom the hard hands of peasants their vile trashBy any indirection. I did sendTo you for gold to pay my legions;Which you denied me. Was that done like Cassius?Should I have answered Caius Cassius so?When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,To lock such rascal counters from his friends,Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts,Dash him to pieces!

Bru.You have done that you should be sorry for.

There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats;

For I am armed so strong in honesty,

That they pass by me as the idle wind,

Which I respect not. I did send to you

For certain sums of gold, which you denied me;—

For I can raise no money by vile means:

I had rather coin my heart,

And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring

From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash

By any indirection. I did send

To you for gold to pay my legions;

Which you denied me. Was that done like Cassius?

Should I have answered Caius Cassius so?

When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,

To lock such rascal counters from his friends,

Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts,

Dash him to pieces!

Cas.I denied you not.

Bru.You did.

Cas.I did not: he was but a foolThat brought my answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart,A friend should bear a friend’s infirmities;But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

Cas.I did not: he was but a fool

That brought my answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart,

A friend should bear a friend’s infirmities;

But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

Bru.I do not, till you practice them on me.

Cas.You love me not.

Bru.I do not like your faults.

Cas.A friendly eye could never see such faults.

Bru.A flatterer’s would not, though they do appearAs huge as high Olympus.

Bru.A flatterer’s would not, though they do appear

As huge as high Olympus.

Cas.Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come!Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius;For Cassius is a-weary of the world—Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother;Checked like a bondman; all his faults observed,Set in a note-book, learned and conned by rote,To cast into my teeth. O, I could weepMy spirit from my eyes!—There is my dagger,And here my naked breast; within, a heartDearer than Plutus’ mine, richer than gold;If that thou be’st a Roman, take it forth:I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart:Strike as thou didst at Cæsar; for I know,When thou didst hate him worse, thou lovedst him betterThan ever thou lovedst Cassius.

Cas.Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come!

Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius;

For Cassius is a-weary of the world—

Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother;

Checked like a bondman; all his faults observed,

Set in a note-book, learned and conned by rote,

To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep

My spirit from my eyes!—There is my dagger,

And here my naked breast; within, a heart

Dearer than Plutus’ mine, richer than gold;

If that thou be’st a Roman, take it forth:

I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart:

Strike as thou didst at Cæsar; for I know,

When thou didst hate him worse, thou lovedst him better

Than ever thou lovedst Cassius.

Bru.Sheathe your dagger:Be angry when you will, it shall have scope:Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor.O, Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb,That carries anger as the flint bears fire;Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,And straight is cold again.

Bru.Sheathe your dagger:

Be angry when you will, it shall have scope:

Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor.

O, Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb,

That carries anger as the flint bears fire;

Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,

And straight is cold again.

Cas.Hath Cassius livedTo be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,When grief and blood ill-tempered vexeth him?

Cas.Hath Cassius lived

To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,

When grief and blood ill-tempered vexeth him?

Bru.When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too.

Cas.Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.

Bru.And my heart, too.—

Cas.O, Brutus!

Bru.What’s the matter?

Cas.Have you not love enough to bear with me,When that rash humor which my mother gave meMakes me forgetful?

Cas.Have you not love enough to bear with me,

When that rash humor which my mother gave me

Makes me forgetful?

Bru.Yes, Cassius; and, henceforth,When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,He’ll think your mother chides, and leave you so.

Bru.Yes, Cassius; and, henceforth,

When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,

He’ll think your mother chides, and leave you so.

[CURTAIN.]

Shakespeare.

TABLEAU.—Friendship Restored.

Curtain rises, revealingBrutusandCassiuswith one hand laid upon the other’s shoulder, while the right hands firmly clasp. On the face of each beams the light of noble love and manly friendship, showing their mutual joy. The bearing should be dignified and manly.

(Dialogue for elderly lady and young man. From Act III. of the tragedy ofHamlet. The part ofHamletis a very difficult one to play, and should be thoroughly studied. The whole tragedy should be read from Shakespeare, any illustrated volume of which will suggest appropriate costume. TheGhostmay be impersonated by a voice, unless a suitable costume and staging are available.)

(Curtain rises and revealsHamletapproaching hisMother, who may be seated and apparently in much distress.)

Hamlet.Now, mother, what’s the matter?Queen.Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.Hamlet.Mother, you have my father much offended.Queen.Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.Hamlet.Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.Queen.Why, how now, Hamlet!Hamlet.What’s the matter now?Queen.Have you forgot me?Hamlet.No, by the rood, not so.You are the queen, your husband’s brother’s wife;And—would it were not so—you are my mother.Queen.Nay, then, I’ll set those to you that can speak.Hamlet.Come, come, and sit you down you shall not budge:You go not till I set you up a glassWhere you may see the inmost part of you.Queen.What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murther me?Help, help, ho!Polonius(behind). What, ho! help, help, help!Hamlet(drawing.) How now! a rat? Dead, for a ducat, dead!(Makes a pass through the arras.)Polonius(behind). O, I am slain!(Falls and dies.)Queen.O me, what hast thou done?Hamlet.Nay, I know not;Is it the king?Queen.O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!Hamlet.A bloody deed! almost as bad, good mother,As kill a king, and marry with his brother.Queen.As kill a king!Hamlet.Ay, lady, ’twas my word.—(Lifts up the arras and discovers Polonius.)Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!I took thee for thy better:Leave wringing of your hands: peace! sit you down,And let me wring your heart; for so I shall,If it be made of penetrable stuff,If damned custom have not braz’d it soThat it is proof and bulwark against sense.Queen.What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tongueIn noise so rude against me?Hamlet.Such an actThat blurs the grace and blush of modesty,Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the roseFrom the fair forehead of an innocent loveAnd sets a blister there, makes marriage-vowsAs false as dicers’ oaths; O, such a deedAs from the body of contraction plucksThe very soul, and sweet religion makesA rhapsody of words: heaven’s face doth glow,Yea, this sondity and compound mass,With tristful visage, as against the doom,Is thought-sick at the act.Queen.Ay me, what act,That roars so loud and thunders in the index?Hamlet.Look here, upon this picture, and on this,The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.See what a grace was seated on this brow;Hyperion’s curls; the front of Jove himself;An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;A station like the herald MercuryNew lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;A combination and a form indeed,Where every god did seem to set his seal,To give the world assurance of a man.This was your husband. Look you now, what follows:Here is your husband; like a mildew’d ear.Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes?You cannot call it love, for at your ageThe hey-day in the blood is tame, it’s humble,And waits upon the judgment; and what judgmentWould step from this to this?O shame! where is thy blush?Queen.O Hamlet, speak no more;Thou turns’t mine eyes into my very soul,And there I see such black and grained spotsAs will not leave their tinct.O, speak to me no more;These words like daggers enter in mine ears;No more, sweet Hamlet!Hamlet.A murtherer and a villain;A slave that is not twentieth part the titheOf your precedent lord; a vice of kings;A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,And put it in his pocket!Queen.No more!Hamlet.A king of shreds and patches,—(EnterGhost.)Save me, and hover o’er me with your wings,You heavenly guards!—What would your gracious figure?Queen.Alas! he’s mad!Hamlet.Do you not come your tardy son to chide,That, laps’d in time and passion, lets go byThe important acting of your dread command?O, say!Ghost.Do not forget. This visitationIs but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.But, look, amazement on thy mother sitsO, step between her and her fighting soul:Speak to her, Hamlet.Hamlet.How is it with you, lady?Queen.Alas, how is’t with you,That you do bend your eye on vacancyAnd with the incorporal air do hold discourse?O gentle son,Upon the heat and flame of thy distemperSprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?Hamlet.On him, on him! Look you, how pale he glares!His form and cause conjoin’d, preaching to stones,Would make them capable. Do not look upon me;Lest with this piteous action you convertMy stern effects; then what I have to doWill want true color; tears perchance for blood.Queen.To whom do you speak this?Hamlet.Do you see nothing there?Queen.Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.Hamlet.Nor did you nothing hear?Queen.No, nothing but ourselves.Hamlet.Why, look you there! look, how it steals away!My father, in his habit as he liv’d!Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal.(ExitGhost.)Queen.This is the very coinage of your brain;This bodiless creation ecstasyIs very cunning in.Hamlet.Ecstasy!My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,And makes as healthful music: it is not madnessThat I have utter’d; bring me to the test,And I the matter will re-word, which madnessWould gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,Lay not that flattering unction to your soul,That not your trespass but my madness speaks;It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,Whilst rank corruption, mining all within,Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;Repent what’s past, avoid what is to come.Queen.O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain.Hamlet.O, throw away the worser part of it,And live the purer with the other half.For this same lord, (Pointing to Polonius.)I do repent;I will bestow him, and will answer wellThe death I gave him,—So, again, good-night.I must be cruel, only to be kind;Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.

Hamlet.Now, mother, what’s the matter?

Queen.Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.

Hamlet.Mother, you have my father much offended.

Queen.Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.

Hamlet.Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.

Queen.Why, how now, Hamlet!

Hamlet.What’s the matter now?

Queen.Have you forgot me?

Hamlet.No, by the rood, not so.You are the queen, your husband’s brother’s wife;And—would it were not so—you are my mother.

Hamlet.No, by the rood, not so.

You are the queen, your husband’s brother’s wife;

And—would it were not so—you are my mother.

Queen.Nay, then, I’ll set those to you that can speak.

Hamlet.Come, come, and sit you down you shall not budge:You go not till I set you up a glassWhere you may see the inmost part of you.

Hamlet.Come, come, and sit you down you shall not budge:

You go not till I set you up a glass

Where you may see the inmost part of you.

Queen.What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murther me?Help, help, ho!

Queen.What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murther me?

Help, help, ho!

Polonius(behind). What, ho! help, help, help!

Hamlet(drawing.) How now! a rat? Dead, for a ducat, dead!

(Makes a pass through the arras.)

Polonius(behind). O, I am slain!

(Falls and dies.)

Queen.O me, what hast thou done?

Hamlet.Nay, I know not;Is it the king?

Hamlet.Nay, I know not;

Is it the king?

Queen.O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!

Hamlet.A bloody deed! almost as bad, good mother,As kill a king, and marry with his brother.

Hamlet.A bloody deed! almost as bad, good mother,

As kill a king, and marry with his brother.

Queen.As kill a king!

Hamlet.Ay, lady, ’twas my word.—

(Lifts up the arras and discovers Polonius.)

Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!I took thee for thy better:Leave wringing of your hands: peace! sit you down,And let me wring your heart; for so I shall,If it be made of penetrable stuff,If damned custom have not braz’d it soThat it is proof and bulwark against sense.

Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!

I took thee for thy better:

Leave wringing of your hands: peace! sit you down,

And let me wring your heart; for so I shall,

If it be made of penetrable stuff,

If damned custom have not braz’d it so

That it is proof and bulwark against sense.

Queen.What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tongueIn noise so rude against me?

Queen.What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tongue

In noise so rude against me?

Hamlet.Such an actThat blurs the grace and blush of modesty,Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the roseFrom the fair forehead of an innocent loveAnd sets a blister there, makes marriage-vowsAs false as dicers’ oaths; O, such a deedAs from the body of contraction plucksThe very soul, and sweet religion makesA rhapsody of words: heaven’s face doth glow,Yea, this sondity and compound mass,With tristful visage, as against the doom,Is thought-sick at the act.

Hamlet.Such an act

That blurs the grace and blush of modesty,

Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose

From the fair forehead of an innocent love

And sets a blister there, makes marriage-vows

As false as dicers’ oaths; O, such a deed

As from the body of contraction plucks

The very soul, and sweet religion makes

A rhapsody of words: heaven’s face doth glow,

Yea, this sondity and compound mass,

With tristful visage, as against the doom,

Is thought-sick at the act.

Queen.Ay me, what act,That roars so loud and thunders in the index?

Queen.Ay me, what act,

That roars so loud and thunders in the index?

Hamlet.Look here, upon this picture, and on this,The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.See what a grace was seated on this brow;Hyperion’s curls; the front of Jove himself;An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;A station like the herald MercuryNew lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;A combination and a form indeed,Where every god did seem to set his seal,To give the world assurance of a man.This was your husband. Look you now, what follows:Here is your husband; like a mildew’d ear.Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes?You cannot call it love, for at your ageThe hey-day in the blood is tame, it’s humble,And waits upon the judgment; and what judgmentWould step from this to this?O shame! where is thy blush?

Hamlet.Look here, upon this picture, and on this,

The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.

See what a grace was seated on this brow;

Hyperion’s curls; the front of Jove himself;

An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;

A station like the herald Mercury

New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;

A combination and a form indeed,

Where every god did seem to set his seal,

To give the world assurance of a man.

This was your husband. Look you now, what follows:

Here is your husband; like a mildew’d ear.

Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?

Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,

And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes?

You cannot call it love, for at your age

The hey-day in the blood is tame, it’s humble,

And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment

Would step from this to this?

O shame! where is thy blush?

Queen.O Hamlet, speak no more;Thou turns’t mine eyes into my very soul,And there I see such black and grained spotsAs will not leave their tinct.O, speak to me no more;These words like daggers enter in mine ears;No more, sweet Hamlet!

Queen.O Hamlet, speak no more;

Thou turns’t mine eyes into my very soul,

And there I see such black and grained spots

As will not leave their tinct.

O, speak to me no more;

These words like daggers enter in mine ears;

No more, sweet Hamlet!

Hamlet.A murtherer and a villain;A slave that is not twentieth part the titheOf your precedent lord; a vice of kings;A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,And put it in his pocket!

Hamlet.A murtherer and a villain;

A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe

Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings;

A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,

That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,

And put it in his pocket!

Queen.No more!

Hamlet.A king of shreds and patches,—

(EnterGhost.)

Save me, and hover o’er me with your wings,You heavenly guards!—What would your gracious figure?

Save me, and hover o’er me with your wings,

You heavenly guards!—What would your gracious figure?

Queen.Alas! he’s mad!

Hamlet.Do you not come your tardy son to chide,That, laps’d in time and passion, lets go byThe important acting of your dread command?O, say!

Hamlet.Do you not come your tardy son to chide,

That, laps’d in time and passion, lets go by

The important acting of your dread command?

O, say!

Ghost.Do not forget. This visitationIs but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.But, look, amazement on thy mother sitsO, step between her and her fighting soul:Speak to her, Hamlet.

Ghost.Do not forget. This visitation

Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.

But, look, amazement on thy mother sits

O, step between her and her fighting soul:

Speak to her, Hamlet.

Hamlet.How is it with you, lady?

Queen.Alas, how is’t with you,That you do bend your eye on vacancyAnd with the incorporal air do hold discourse?O gentle son,Upon the heat and flame of thy distemperSprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?

Queen.Alas, how is’t with you,

That you do bend your eye on vacancy

And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?

O gentle son,

Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper

Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?

Hamlet.On him, on him! Look you, how pale he glares!His form and cause conjoin’d, preaching to stones,Would make them capable. Do not look upon me;Lest with this piteous action you convertMy stern effects; then what I have to doWill want true color; tears perchance for blood.

Hamlet.On him, on him! Look you, how pale he glares!

His form and cause conjoin’d, preaching to stones,

Would make them capable. Do not look upon me;

Lest with this piteous action you convert

My stern effects; then what I have to do

Will want true color; tears perchance for blood.

Queen.To whom do you speak this?

Hamlet.Do you see nothing there?

Queen.Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.

Hamlet.Nor did you nothing hear?

Queen.No, nothing but ourselves.

Hamlet.Why, look you there! look, how it steals away!My father, in his habit as he liv’d!Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal.

Hamlet.Why, look you there! look, how it steals away!

My father, in his habit as he liv’d!

Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal.

(ExitGhost.)

Queen.This is the very coinage of your brain;This bodiless creation ecstasyIs very cunning in.

Queen.This is the very coinage of your brain;

This bodiless creation ecstasy

Is very cunning in.

Hamlet.Ecstasy!My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,And makes as healthful music: it is not madnessThat I have utter’d; bring me to the test,And I the matter will re-word, which madnessWould gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,Lay not that flattering unction to your soul,That not your trespass but my madness speaks;It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,Whilst rank corruption, mining all within,Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;Repent what’s past, avoid what is to come.

Hamlet.Ecstasy!

My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,

And makes as healthful music: it is not madness

That I have utter’d; bring me to the test,

And I the matter will re-word, which madness

Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,

Lay not that flattering unction to your soul,

That not your trespass but my madness speaks;

It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,

Whilst rank corruption, mining all within,

Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;

Repent what’s past, avoid what is to come.

Queen.O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain.

Hamlet.O, throw away the worser part of it,And live the purer with the other half.For this same lord, (Pointing to Polonius.)I do repent;I will bestow him, and will answer wellThe death I gave him,—So, again, good-night.I must be cruel, only to be kind;Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.

Hamlet.O, throw away the worser part of it,

And live the purer with the other half.

For this same lord, (Pointing to Polonius.)

I do repent;

I will bestow him, and will answer well

The death I gave him,—So, again, good-night.

I must be cruel, only to be kind;

Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.

[CURTAIN.]

Shakespeare.

(This piece is frequently recited by one person, but is much more effective in dialogue.Lochiel, a Highland chieftain, while on his march to join the Pretender, is met by one of the Highland seers, or prophets, who warns him to return, and not incur the certain ruin and disaster which await the unfortunate prince and his followers on the field of Culloden. When used as a dialogue, a blast of trumpet is heard. The curtain being drawn,Lochielenters, attired in the Highland fighting costume, and following him should appear in the doorway of the stage two or three armed Scotch soldiers to give the idea of a large number behind them. TheSeermeets him from the other direction, dressed in flowing robes, and with long white hair and beard, and, raising his hands in the attitude of warning, speaks imploringly as follows:)

Seer.Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the dayWhen the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array!For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight,And the clans of Culloden are scattered in flight:They rally, they bleed, for their country and crown,—Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down!Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain,And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain.But, hark! through the fast-flashing lightning of war,What steed to the desert flies frantic and far?’Tis thine, O Glenullin! whose bride shall await,Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the gate.A steed comes at morning: no rider is there;But its bridle is red with the sign of despair!Weep, Albin! to death and captivity led!O! weep! but thy tears cannot number the dead!For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave—Culloden, that reeks with the blood of the brave!Lochiel.Go preach to the coward, thou death-telling seer!Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear,Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight,This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright!Seer.Ha! laugh’st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn?Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn!Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth,From his home in the dark-rolling clouds of the North?Lo! the death-shot of foemen out-speeding, he rodeCompanionless, bearing destruction abroad:But down let him stoop from his havoc on high!Ah! home let him speed, for the spoiler is nigh.Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blastThose embers, like stars from the firmament cast?’Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully drivenFrom his eyry, that beacons the darkness of Heaven.O, crested Lochiel! the peerless in might,Whose banners arise on the battlements’ height,Heaven’s fire is around thee, to blast and to burn;Return to thy dwelling! all lonely return!For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood,And a wild mother scream o’er her famishing brood!Lochiel.False Wizard, avaunt! I have marshall’d my clan:Their swords are a thousand; their bosoms are one:They are true to the last of their blood, and their breath,And like reapers, descend to the harvest of death.Then welcome be Cumberland’s steed to the shock!Let him dash his proud foam like a wave on the rock!But woe to his kindred, and woe to his cause,When Albin her claymore indignantly draws;When her bonneted chieftains to victory crowd,Clanronald the dauntless, and Moray the proud;All plaided, and plum’d in their tartan array—Seer.Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day!For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal,Yet man cannot cover what God would reveal:’Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore,And coming events cast their shadows before.I tell thee, Culloden’s dread echoes shall ringWith the bloodhounds that bark for thy fugitive king.Lo! anointed by Heaven with vials of wrath,Behold where he flies on his desolate path!Now in darkness, and billows, he sweeps from my sight:Rise! Rise! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight!’Tis finish’d.—Their thunders are hush’d on the moors;Culloden is lost, and my country deplores.But where is the iron-bound prisoner! Where?For the red eye of battle is shut in despair.Say, mounts he the ocean-wave, banish’d, forlorn,Like a limb from his country, cast bleeding, and torn?Ah! no; for a darker departure is near;The war-drum is muffled, and black is the bier;His death-bell is tolling; oh! mercy, dispelYon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell!Life flutters, convuls’d in his quivering limbs,And his blood-streaming nostril in agony swims.Accurs’d be the fagots that blaze at his feet,Where his heart shall be thrown ere it ceases to beat,With the smoke of its ashes to poison the gale—Lochiel.Down, soothless insulter! I trust not the tale,For never shall Albin a destiny meetSo black with dishonor—so foul with retreat.Tho’ his perishing ranks should be strow’d in their gore,Like ocean-weeds heap’d on the surf-beaten shore,Lochiel, untainted by flight, or by chains,While the kindling of life in his bosom remains,Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low,With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe!And, leaving in battle no blot on his name,Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame.Campbell.

Seer.

Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the dayWhen the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array!For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight,And the clans of Culloden are scattered in flight:They rally, they bleed, for their country and crown,—Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down!Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain,And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain.But, hark! through the fast-flashing lightning of war,What steed to the desert flies frantic and far?’Tis thine, O Glenullin! whose bride shall await,Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the gate.A steed comes at morning: no rider is there;But its bridle is red with the sign of despair!Weep, Albin! to death and captivity led!O! weep! but thy tears cannot number the dead!For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave—Culloden, that reeks with the blood of the brave!

Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day

When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array!

For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight,

And the clans of Culloden are scattered in flight:

They rally, they bleed, for their country and crown,—

Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down!

Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain,

And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain.

But, hark! through the fast-flashing lightning of war,

What steed to the desert flies frantic and far?

’Tis thine, O Glenullin! whose bride shall await,

Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the gate.

A steed comes at morning: no rider is there;

But its bridle is red with the sign of despair!

Weep, Albin! to death and captivity led!

O! weep! but thy tears cannot number the dead!

For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave—

Culloden, that reeks with the blood of the brave!

Lochiel.

Go preach to the coward, thou death-telling seer!Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear,Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight,This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright!

Go preach to the coward, thou death-telling seer!

Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear,

Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight,

This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright!

Seer.

Ha! laugh’st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn?Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn!Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth,From his home in the dark-rolling clouds of the North?Lo! the death-shot of foemen out-speeding, he rodeCompanionless, bearing destruction abroad:But down let him stoop from his havoc on high!Ah! home let him speed, for the spoiler is nigh.Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blastThose embers, like stars from the firmament cast?’Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully drivenFrom his eyry, that beacons the darkness of Heaven.O, crested Lochiel! the peerless in might,Whose banners arise on the battlements’ height,Heaven’s fire is around thee, to blast and to burn;Return to thy dwelling! all lonely return!For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood,And a wild mother scream o’er her famishing brood!

Ha! laugh’st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn?

Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn!

Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth,

From his home in the dark-rolling clouds of the North?

Lo! the death-shot of foemen out-speeding, he rode

Companionless, bearing destruction abroad:

But down let him stoop from his havoc on high!

Ah! home let him speed, for the spoiler is nigh.

Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blast

Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast?

’Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven

From his eyry, that beacons the darkness of Heaven.

O, crested Lochiel! the peerless in might,

Whose banners arise on the battlements’ height,

Heaven’s fire is around thee, to blast and to burn;

Return to thy dwelling! all lonely return!

For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood,

And a wild mother scream o’er her famishing brood!

Lochiel.

False Wizard, avaunt! I have marshall’d my clan:Their swords are a thousand; their bosoms are one:They are true to the last of their blood, and their breath,And like reapers, descend to the harvest of death.Then welcome be Cumberland’s steed to the shock!Let him dash his proud foam like a wave on the rock!But woe to his kindred, and woe to his cause,When Albin her claymore indignantly draws;When her bonneted chieftains to victory crowd,Clanronald the dauntless, and Moray the proud;All plaided, and plum’d in their tartan array—

False Wizard, avaunt! I have marshall’d my clan:

Their swords are a thousand; their bosoms are one:

They are true to the last of their blood, and their breath,

And like reapers, descend to the harvest of death.

Then welcome be Cumberland’s steed to the shock!

Let him dash his proud foam like a wave on the rock!

But woe to his kindred, and woe to his cause,

When Albin her claymore indignantly draws;

When her bonneted chieftains to victory crowd,

Clanronald the dauntless, and Moray the proud;

All plaided, and plum’d in their tartan array—

Seer.

Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day!For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal,Yet man cannot cover what God would reveal:’Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore,And coming events cast their shadows before.I tell thee, Culloden’s dread echoes shall ringWith the bloodhounds that bark for thy fugitive king.Lo! anointed by Heaven with vials of wrath,Behold where he flies on his desolate path!Now in darkness, and billows, he sweeps from my sight:Rise! Rise! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight!’Tis finish’d.—Their thunders are hush’d on the moors;Culloden is lost, and my country deplores.But where is the iron-bound prisoner! Where?For the red eye of battle is shut in despair.Say, mounts he the ocean-wave, banish’d, forlorn,Like a limb from his country, cast bleeding, and torn?Ah! no; for a darker departure is near;The war-drum is muffled, and black is the bier;His death-bell is tolling; oh! mercy, dispelYon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell!Life flutters, convuls’d in his quivering limbs,And his blood-streaming nostril in agony swims.Accurs’d be the fagots that blaze at his feet,Where his heart shall be thrown ere it ceases to beat,With the smoke of its ashes to poison the gale—

Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day!

For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal,

Yet man cannot cover what God would reveal:

’Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore,

And coming events cast their shadows before.

I tell thee, Culloden’s dread echoes shall ring

With the bloodhounds that bark for thy fugitive king.

Lo! anointed by Heaven with vials of wrath,

Behold where he flies on his desolate path!

Now in darkness, and billows, he sweeps from my sight:

Rise! Rise! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight!

’Tis finish’d.—Their thunders are hush’d on the moors;

Culloden is lost, and my country deplores.

But where is the iron-bound prisoner! Where?

For the red eye of battle is shut in despair.

Say, mounts he the ocean-wave, banish’d, forlorn,

Like a limb from his country, cast bleeding, and torn?

Ah! no; for a darker departure is near;

The war-drum is muffled, and black is the bier;

His death-bell is tolling; oh! mercy, dispel

Yon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell!

Life flutters, convuls’d in his quivering limbs,

And his blood-streaming nostril in agony swims.

Accurs’d be the fagots that blaze at his feet,

Where his heart shall be thrown ere it ceases to beat,

With the smoke of its ashes to poison the gale—

Lochiel.

Down, soothless insulter! I trust not the tale,For never shall Albin a destiny meetSo black with dishonor—so foul with retreat.Tho’ his perishing ranks should be strow’d in their gore,Like ocean-weeds heap’d on the surf-beaten shore,Lochiel, untainted by flight, or by chains,While the kindling of life in his bosom remains,Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low,With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe!And, leaving in battle no blot on his name,Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame.

Down, soothless insulter! I trust not the tale,

For never shall Albin a destiny meet

So black with dishonor—so foul with retreat.

Tho’ his perishing ranks should be strow’d in their gore,

Like ocean-weeds heap’d on the surf-beaten shore,

Lochiel, untainted by flight, or by chains,

While the kindling of life in his bosom remains,

Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low,

With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe!

And, leaving in battle no blot on his name,

Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame.

Campbell.

[CURTAIN.]

TABLEAU.

A very pretty tableau may be quickly formed behind the curtain, and at the close of applause from the audience the curtain be raised, showingLochielstanding proud and imperious, his clan gathered around him, and the oldSeerupon his knees, head thrown back, with hands and face raised imploringly.

(Adapted from Schiller, Scene II., Act III. Arranged for two ladies and two gentlemen.)

Characters:

Costumes.

EnterMaryandTalbot.

Mary.Talbot, Elizabeth will soon be here. I cannot see her. Preserve me from this hateful interview.

Talbot.Reflect a while. Recall thy courage. The moment is come upon which everything depends. Incline thyself; submit to the necessity of the moment. She is the stronger. Thou must bend before her.

Mary.Before her? I cannot!

Tal.Thou must do so. Speak to her humbly; invoke the greatness of her generous heart; dwell not too much upon thy rights. But see first how she bears herself towards thee. I myself did witness her emotion on reading thy letter. The tears stood in her eyes. Her heart, ’tis sure, is not a stranger to compassion; therefore place more confidence in her, and prepare thyself for her reception.

Mary.(Taking his hand.) Thou wert ever my faithful friend. Oh, that I had always remained beneath thy kind guardianship, Talbot! Their care of me has indeed been harsh. Who attends her?

Tal.Leicester. You need not fear him; the earl doth not seek thy fall. Behold, the queen approaches. (Retires.)

EnterElizabethandLeicester.

Mary.(Aside.) O heavens! Protect me! her features say she has no heart!

Elizabeth.(ToLeicester.) Who is this woman? (Feigning surprise.) Robert, who has dared to—

Lei.Be not angry, queen, and since heaven has hither directed thee, suffer pity to triumph in thy noble heart.

Tal.(Advancing.) Deign, royal lady, to cast a look of compassion on the unhappy woman who prostrates herself at thy feet.

[Mary, having attempted to approachElizabeth, stops short, overcome by repugnance, her gestures indicating internal struggle.]

Eliz.(Haughtily.) Sirs, which of you spoke of humility and submission? I see nothing but a proud lady, whom misfortune has not succeeded in subduing.

Mary.(Aside.) I will undergo even this last degree of ignominy. My soul discards its noble but, alas! impotent pride. I will seek to forget who I am, what I have suffered, and will humble myself before her who has caused my disgrace. (Turns toElizabeth.) Heaven, O sister, has declared itself on thy side, and has graced thy happy head with the crown of victory. (Kneeling.) I worship the Deity who hath rendered thee so powerful. Show thyself noble in thy triumph, and leave me not overwhelmed by shame! Open thy arms, extend in mercy to me thy royal hand, and raise me from my fearful fall.

Eliz.(Drawing back.) Thy place, Stuart, is there, and I shall ever raise my hands in gratitude to heaven that it has not willed that I should kneel at thy feet, as thou now crouchest in the dust at mine.

Mary.(With great emotion.) Think of the vicissitudes of all things human! There is a Deity above who punisheth pride. Respect the Providence who now doth prostrate me at thy feet. Do not show thyself insensible and pitiless as the rock, to which the drowning man, with failing breath and outstretched arms, doth cling. My life, my entire destiny, depend upon my words and the power of my tears. Inspire my heart, teach me to move, to touch thine own. Thou turnest such icy looks upon me, that my soul doth sink within me, my grief parches my lips, and a cold shudder renders my entreaties mute. (Rises.)

Eliz.(Coldly.) What wouldst thou say to me? thou didst seek converse with me. Forgetting that I am an outraged sovereign, I honor thee with my royal presence. ’Tis in obedience to a generous impulse that I incur the reproach of having sacrificed my dignity.

Mary.How can I express myself? how shall I so choose every word that it may penetrate, without irritating, thy heart? God of mercy! aid my lips, and banish from them whatever may offend my sister! I cannot relate to thee my woes without appearing to accuse thee, and this is not my wish. Towards me thou hast been neither merciful nor just. I am thine equal, and yet thou hast made me a prisoner, a suppliant, and a fugitive. I turned to thee for aid, and thou, trampling on the rights of nations and of hospitality, hast immured me in a living tomb! Thou hast abandoned me to the most shameful need, and finally exposed me to the ignominy of a trial! But, no more of the past; we are now face to face. Display the goodness of thy heart! tell me the crimes of which I am accused! Wherefore didst thou not grant me this friendly audience when I so eagerly desired it? Years of misery would have been spared me, and this painful interview would not have occurred in this abode of gloom and horror.

Eliz.Accuse not fate, but thine own wayward soul and the unreasonable ambition of thy house. There was no quarrel between us until thy most worthy ally inspired thee with the mad and rash desire to claim for thyself the royal titles and my throne! Not satisfied with this, he then urged thee to make war against me, to threaten my crown and my life. Amidst the peace which reigned in my dominions, he fraudulently excited my subjects to revolt. But heaven doth protect me, and the attempt was abandoned in despair. The blow was aimed at my head, but ’tis on thine that it will fall.

Mary.I am in the hand of my God, but thou wilt not exceed thy power by committing a deed so atrocious?

Eliz.What could prevent me? Thy kinsman has shown monarchs how to make peace with their enemies! Who would be surety for thee if, imprudently, I were to release thee? How can I rely on thy pledged faith? Nought but my power renders me secure. No! there can be no friendship with a race of vipers.

Mary.Are these thy dark suspicions? To thine eyes, then, I have ever seemed a stranger and an enemy. If thou hadst but recognized me as heiress to thy throne—as is my lawful right—love, friendship, would have made me thy friend—thy sister.

Eliz.What affection hast thou that is not feigned? I declare thee heiress to my throne! Insidious treachery! In order, forsooth, to overturn the state, and—wily Armida that thou art—entrap within thy snares all the youthful spirits of my kingdom, so that during my own lifetime all eyes would turn towards thee—the new constellation!

Mary.Reign on in peace! I renounce all right to thy sceptre. The wings of my ambition have long drooped, and greatness has no longer charms for me. ’Tis thou who hast it all; I am now only the shade of Mary Stuart! My pristine ardor has been subdued by the ignominy of my chains. Thou hast nipped my existence in the bud. But pronounce those magnanimous words for which thou cam’st hither; for I will not believe that thou art come to enjoy the base delight of insulting thy victim! Pronounce the words so longed for, and say, “Mary, thou art free! Till now thou hast known only my power;now know my greatness.” Woe to thee, shouldst thou not depart from me propitious, beneficent, like an invoked Deity. O sister! not for all England, not for all the lands the vast ocean embraces, would I present myself to thee with the inexorable aspect with which thou now regardest me!

Eliz.At length thou confessest thyself vanquished! Hast thou emptied thy quiver of the artifices it contained? Hast thou no more assassins? Does there not remain to thee one single hero to undertake in thy defence the duties of knight-errant? Gone, Mary, gone forever are those days. Thou canst no longer seduce a follower of mine; other causes now inflame men’s hearts. In vain didst thou seek a fourth husband among my English subjects; they knew too well that thou murderest thy husbands, as thou dost thy lovers.

Mary.(Shuddering.) O heavens! sister! Grant me resignation.

Eliz.(ToLeicester, with contempt.) Earl, are these the boasted features, on which no mortal eye could gaze with safety? Is this the beauty to which no other woman’s could be compared? In sooth, the reputation appears to have been easily won. To be thus celebrated as the reigning beauty of the universe seems merely to infer that she has been universal in the distribution of her favors.

Mary.Ah, ’tis too much.

Eliz.(With a smile of satisfaction.) Now thou showest thyself in thine own form. Till now thou hast worn a mask.

Mary.(With dignified pride.) They were mere human errors that overcame my youth. My grandeur dazzled me. I have nought to conceal, nor deny my faults; my pride has ever disdained the base artifices of vile intriguers. The worst I ever did is known, and I may boast myself far better than my reputation. But woe to thee, thou malignant hypocrite, if thou ever lettest fall the mantle beneath which thou concealest thy shameless amours! Thou, the daughter of Anne Boleyn, hast not inherited virtue! The causes that brought thy sinful mother to the block are known to all.

Tal.(Stepping between them.) Is this, O Mary, thine endurance? Is this thy humility?

Mary.Endurance? I have endured all that a mortal heart can bear. Hence, abject humility! Insulted patience, get ye from my heart! And thou, my long pent-up indignation, break thy bonds, and burst forth from thy lair! Oh, thou gavest to the angry serpent his deadly glance; arm my tongue with poisonous stings.

Tal.(ToElizabeth.) Forgive the angry transports which thou hast thyself provoked.

Lei.(InducingElizabethto withdraw.) Hear not the ravings of a distracted woman. Leave this ill—

Mary.The throne of England is profaned by a base-born—the British nation is duped by a vile pretender! If right did prevail, thou wouldst be grovelling at my feet, for ’tis I who am thy sovereign. (Elizabethretires.LeicesterandTalbotfollow.) She departs, burning with rage, and with bitterness of death at heart. Now happy I am! I have degraded her in Leicester’s presence. At last! at last! After long years of insult and contumely, I have at least enjoyed a season of triumph. (Sinks upon the floor.)

[CURTAIN.]

Schiller.

TABLEAU.

Curtain rises.Maryreclines upon the floor, disheveled hair, face buried in hands, shaking with emotion.Elizabethstands glaring at her, face livid with anger, clenched fists.Leicesteris restraining her; his hand is raised as if admonishing her not to yield to her rage and do an act unbecoming a queen.Talbotleans overMary, to whom he appears to offer words of hope and consolation, at the same time lifting his right hand imploringly toElizabeth.

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