MORTIMER.True magnanimity, my lord.
LEICESTER.The stateOf circumstances since that time is changed.Ambition made me all insensibleTo youth and beauty. Mary's hand I heldToo insignificant for me; I hopedTo be the husband of the Queen of England.
MORTIMER.It is well known she gave you preferenceBefore all others.
LEICESTER.So, indeed, it seemed.Now, after ten lost years of tedious courtshipAnd hateful self-constraint—oh, sir, my heartMust ease itself of this long agony.They call me happy! Did they only knowWhat the chains are, for which they envy me!When I had sacrificed ten bitter yearsTo the proud idol of her vanity;Submitted with a slave's humilityTo every change of her despotic fanciesThe plaything of each little wayward whim.At times by seeming tenderness caressed,As oft repulsed with proud and cold disdain;Alike tormented by her grace and rigor:Watched like a prisoner by the Argus eyesOf jealousy; examined like a schoolboy,And railed at like a servant. Oh, no tongueCan paint this hell.
MORTIMER.My lord, I feel for you.
LEICESTER.To lose, and at the very goal, the prizeAnother comes to rob me of the fruitsOf my so anxious wooing. I must loseTo her young blooming husband all those rightsOf which I was so long in full possession;And I must from the stage descend, where ISo long have played the most distinguished part.'Tis not her hand alone this envious strangerThreatens, he'd rob me of her favor too;She is a woman, and he formed to please.
MORTIMER.He is the son of Catherine. He has learntIn a good school the arts of flattery.
LEICESTER.Thus fall my hopes; I strove to seize a plankTo bear me in this shipwreck of my fortunes,And my eye turned itself towards the hopeOf former days once more; then Mary's imageWithin me was renewed, and youth and beautyOnce more asserted all their former rights.No more 'twas cold ambition; 'twas my heartWhich now compared, and with regret I feltThe value of the jewel I had lost.With horror I beheld her in the depths.Of misery, cast down by my transgression;Then waked the hope in me that I might stillDeliver and possess her; I contrivedTo send her, through a faithful hand, the newsOf my conversion to her interests;And in this letter which you brought me, sheAssures me that she pardons me, and offersHerself as guerdon if I rescue her.
MORTIMER.But you attempted nothing for her rescue.You let her be condemned without a word:You gave, yourself, your verdict for her death;A miracle must happen, and the lightOf truth must move me, me, her keeper's nephew,And heaven must in the Vatican at RomePrepare for her an unexpected succour,Else had she never found the way to you.
LEICESTER.Oh, sir, it has tormented me enough!About this time it was that they removed herFrom Talbot's castle, and delivered herUp to your uncle's stricter custody.Each way to her was shut. I was obligedBefore the world to persecute her still;But do not think that I would patientlyHave seen her led to death. No, Sir; I hoped,And still I hope, to ward off all extremes,Till I can find some certain means to save her.
MORTIMER.These are already found: my Lord of Leicester;Your generous confidence in me deservesA like return. I will deliver her.That is my object here; my dispositionsAre made already, and your powerful aidAssures us of success in our attempt.
LEICESTER.What say you? You alarm me! How? You would——
MORTIMER.I'll open forcibly her prison-gates;I have confederates, and all is ready.
LEICESTER.You have confederates, accomplices?Alas! In what rash enterprise would youEngage me? And these friends, know they my secret?
MORTIMER.Fear not; our plan was laid without your help,Without your help it would have been accomplished,Had she not signified her resolutionTo owe her liberty to you alone.
LEICESTER.And can you, then, with certainty assure meThat in your plot my name has not been mentioned?
MORTIMER.You may depend upon it. How, my lord,So scrupulous when help is offered you?You wish to rescue Mary, and possess her;You find confederates; sudden, unexpected,The readiest means fall, as it were from Heaven,Yet you show more perplexity than joy.
LEICESTER.We must avoid all violence; it isToo dangerous an enterprise.
MORTIMER.DelayIs also dangerous.
LEICESTER.I tell you, Sir,'Tis not to be attempted——
MORTIMER.My lord,Too hazardous for you, who would possess her;But we, who only wish to rescue her,We are more bold.
LEICESTER.Young man, you are too hastyIn such a thorny, dangerous attempt.
MORTIMER.And you too scrupulous in honor's cause.
LEICESTER.I see the trammels that are spread around us.
MORTIMER.And I feel courage to break through them all.
LEICESTER.Foolhardiness and madness, is this courage?
MORTIMER.This prudence is not bravery, my lord.
LEICESTER.You surely wish to end like Babington.
MORTIMER.You not to imitate great Norfolk's virtue.
LEICESTER.Norfolk ne'er won the bride he wooed so fondly.
MORTIMER.But yet he proved how truly he deserved her.
LEICESTER.If we are ruined, she must fall with us.
MORTIMER.If we risk nothing, she will ne'er be rescued.
LEICESTER.You will not weigh the matter, will not hear;With blind and hasty rashness you destroyThe plans which I so happily had framed.
MORTIMER.And what were then the plans which you had framed?What have you done then to deliver her?And how, if I were miscreant enoughTo murder her, as was proposed to meThis moment by Elizabeth, and whichShe looks upon as certain; only nameThe measures you have taken to protect her?
LEICESTER.Did the queen give you, then, this bloody order?
MORTIMER.She was deceived in me, as Mary is in you.
LEICESTER.And have you promised it? Say, have you?
MORTIMER.That she might not engage another's hand,I offered mine.
LEICESTER.Well done, sir; that was right;This gives us leisure, for she rests secureUpon your bloody service, and the sentenceIs unfulfilled the while, and we gain time.
MORTIMER (angrily).No, we are losing time.
LEICESTER.The queen dependsOn you, and will the readier make a showOf mercy; and I may prevail on herTo give an audience to her adversary;And by this stratagem we tie her handsYes! I will make the attempt, strain every nerve.
MORTIMER.And what is gained by this? When she discoversThat I am cheating her, that Mary lives;Are we not where we were? She never willBe free; the mildest doom which can await herAt best is but perpetual confinement.A daring deed must one day end the matter;Why will you not with such a deed begin?The power is in your hands, would you but rouseThe might of your dependents round aboutYour many castles, 'twere an host; and stillHas Mary many secret friends. The HowardsAnd Percies' noble houses, though their chiefsBe fallen, are rich in heroes; they but waitFor the example of some potent lord.Away with feigning—act an open part,And, like a loyal knight, protect your fair;Fight a good fight for her! You know you areLord of the person of the Queen of England,Whene'er you will: invite her to your castle,Oft hath she thither followed you—then showThat you're a man; then speak as master; keep herConfined till she release the Queen of Scots.
LEICESTER.I am astonished—I am terrified!Where would your giddy madness hurry you?Are you acquainted with this country? Know youThe deeps and shallows of this court? With whatA potent spell this female sceptre bindsAnd rules men's spirits round her? 'Tis in vainYou seek the heroic energy which onceWas active in this land! it is subdued,A woman holds it under lock and key,And every spring of courage is relaxed.Follow my counsel—venture nothing rashly.Some one approaches-go——
MORTIMER.And Mary hopes—Shall I return to her with empty comfort?
LEICESTER.Bear her my vows of everlasting love.
MORTIMER.Bear them yourself! I offered my assistanceAs her deliverer, not your messenger.
[Exit.
ELIZABETH.Say, who was here? I heard the sound of voices.
LEICESTER (turning quickly and perplexed round on hearing the QUEEN).It was young Mortimer——
ELIZABETH.How now, my lord:Why so confused?
LEICESTER (collecting himself).Your presence is the cause.Ne'er did I see thy beauty so resplendent,My sight is dazzled by thy heavenly charms.Oh!
ELIZABETH.Whence this sigh?
LEICESTER.Have I no reason, then,To sigh? When I behold you in your glory,I feel anew, with pain unspeakable,The loss which threatens me.
ELIZABETH.What loss, my lord?
LEICESTER.Your heart; your own inestimable selfSoon will you feel yourself within the armsOf your young ardent husband, highly blessed;He will possess your heart without a rival.He is of royal blood, that am not I.Yet, spite of all the world can say, there lives notOne on this globe who with such fervent zealAdores you as the man who loses you.Anjou hath never seen you, can but loveYour glory and the splendor of your reign;But I love you, and were you born of allThe peasant maids the poorest, I the firstOf kings, I would descend to your condition,And lay my crown and sceptre at your feet!
ELIZABETH.Oh, pity me, my Dudley; do not blame me;I cannot ask my heart. Oh, that had chosenFar otherwise! Ah, how I envy othersWho can exalt the object of their love!But I am not so blest: 'tis not my fortuneTo place upon the brows of him, the dearestOf men to me, the royal crown of England.The Queen of Scotland was allowed to makeHer hand the token of her inclination;She hath had every freedom, and hath drunk,Even to the very dregs, the cup of joy.
LEICESTER.And now she drinks the bitter cup of sorrow.
ELIZABETH.She never did respect the world's opinion;Life was to her a sport; she never courtedThe yoke to which I bowed my willing neck.And yet, methinks, I had as just a claimAs she to please myself and taste the joysOf life: but I preferred the rigid dutiesWhich royalty imposed on me; yet she,She was the favorite of all the menBecause she only strove to be a woman;And youth and age became alike her suitors.Thus are the men voluptuaries all!The willing slaves of levity and pleasure;Value that least which claims their reverence.And did not even Talbot, though gray-headed,Grow young again when speaking of her charms?
LEICESTER.Forgive him, for he was her keeper once,And she has fooled him with her cunning wiles.
ELIZABETH.And is it really true that she's so fair?So often have I been obliged to hearThe praises of this wonder—it were wellIf I could learn on what I might depend:Pictures are flattering, and description lies;I will trust nothing but my own conviction.Why gaze you at me thus?
LEICESTER.I placed in thoughtYou and Maria Stuart side by side.Yes! I confess I oft have felt a wish,If it could be but secretly contrived,To see you placed beside the Scottish queen,Then would you feel, and not till then, the fullEnjoyment of your triumph: she deservesTo be thus humbled; she deserves to see,With her own eyes, and envy's glance is keen,Herself surpassed, to feel herself o'ermatched,As much by thee in form and princely graceAs in each virtue that adorns the sex.
ELIZABETH.In years she has the advantage——
LEICESTER.Has she so?I never should have thought it. But her griefs,Her sufferings, indeed! 'tis possibleHave brought down age upon her ere her time.Yes, and 'twould mortify her more to see theeAs bride—she hath already turned her backOn each fair hope of life, and she would see theeAdvancing towards the open arms of joy.See thee as bride of France's royal son,She who hath always plumed herself so highOn her connection with the house of France,And still depends upon its mighty aid.
ELIZABETH (with a careless air).I'm teazed to grant this interview.
LEICESTER.She asks itAs a favor; grant it as a punishment.For though you should conduct her to the block,Yet would it less torment her than to seeHerself extinguished by your beauty's splendor.Thus can you murder her as she hath wishedTo murder you. When she beholds your beauty,Guarded by modesty, and beaming bright,In the clear glory of unspotted fame(Which she with thoughtless levity discarded),Exalted by the splendor of the crown,And blooming now with tender bridal graces—Then is the hour of her destruction come.Yes—when I now behold you—you were never,No, never were you so prepared to sealThe triumph of your beauty. As but nowYou entered the apartment, I was dazzledAs by a glorious vision from on high.Could you but now, now as you are, appearBefore her, you could find no better moment.
ELIZABETH.Now? no, not now; no, Leicester; this must beMaturely weighed—I must with Burleigh——
LEICESTER.Burleigh!To him you are but sovereign, and as suchAlone he seeks your welfare; but your rights,Derived from womanhood, this tender pointMust be decided by your own tribunal,Not by the statesman; yet e'en policyDemands that you should see her, and allureBy such a generous deed the public voice.You can hereafter act as it may please you,To rid you of the hateful enemy.
ELIZABETH.But would it then become me to beholdMy kinswoman in infamy and want?They say she is not royally attended;Would not the sight of her distress reproach me?
LEICESTER.You need not cross her threshold; hear my counsel.A fortunate conjuncture favors it.The hunt you mean to honor with your presenceIs in the neighborhood of Fotheringay;Permission may be given to Lady StuartTo take the air; you meet her in the park,As if by accident; it must not seemTo have been planned, and should you not incline,You need not speak to her.
ELIZABETH.If I am foolish,Be yours the fault, not mine. I would not careTo-day to cross your wishes; for to-dayI've grieved you more than all my other subjects.[Tenderly.Let it then be your fancy. Leicester, henceYou see the free obsequiousness of love.Which suffers that which it cannot approve.
[LEICESTER prostrates himself before her, and the curtain falls.
In a park. In the foreground trees; in the backgrounda distant prospect.
MARY advances, running from behind the trees.HANNAH KENNEDY follows slowly.
KENNEDY.You hasten on as if endowed with wings;I cannot follow you so swiftly; wait.
MARY.Freedom returns! Oh let me enjoy it.Let me be childish; be thou childish with me.Freedom invites me! Oh, let me employ itSkimming with winged step light o'er the lea;Have I escaped from this mansion of mourning?Holds me no more the sad dungeon of care?Let me, with joy and with eagerness burning,Drink in the free, the celestial air.
KENNEDY.Oh, my dear lady! but a very littleIs your sad gaol extended; you behold notThe wall that shuts us in; these plaited tuftsOf trees hide from your sight the hated object.
MARY.Thanks to these friendly trees, that hide from meMy prison walls, and flatter my illusion!Happy I now may deem myself, and free;Why wake me from my dream's so sweet confusion?The extended vault of heaven around me lies,Free and unfettered range my wandering eyesO'er space's vast, immeasurable sea!From where yon misty mountains rise on highI can my empire's boundaries explore;And those light clouds which, steering southwards, fly,Seek the mild clime of France's genial shore.Fast fleeting clouds! ye meteors that fly;Could I but with you sail through the sky!Tenderly greet the dear land of my youth!Here I am captive! oppressed by my foes,No other than you may carry my woes.Free through the ether your pathway is seen,Ye own not the power of this tyrant queen.
KENNEDY.Alas! dear lady! You're beside yourself,This long-lost, long-sought freedom makes you rave.
MARY.Yonder's a fisher returning to his home;Poor though it be, would he lend me his wherry,Quick to congenial shores would I ferry.Spare is his trade, and labor's his doom;Rich would I freight his vessel with treasure;Such a draught should be his as he never had seen;Wealth should he find in his nets without measure,Would he but rescue a poor captive queen.
KENNEDY.Fond, fruitless wishes! See you not from farHow we are followed by observing spies?A dismal, barbarous prohibition scaresEach sympathetic being from our path.
MARY.No, gentle Hannah! Trust me, not in vainMy prison gates are opened. This small graceIs harbinger of greater happiness.No! I mistake not; 'tis the active handOf love to which I owe this kind indulgence.I recognize in this the mighty armOf Leicester. They will by degrees expandMy prison; will accustom me, through small,To greater liberty, until at lastI shall behold the face of him whose handWill dash my fetters off, and that forever.
KENNEDY.Oh, my dear queen! I cannot reconcileThese contradictions. 'Twas but yesterdayThat they announced your death, and all at once,To-day, you have such liberty. Their chainsAre also loosed, as I have oft been told,Whom everlasting liberty awaits.
[Hunting horns at a distance.
MARY.Hear'st then the bugle, so blithely resounding?Hear'st thou its echoes through wood and through plain?Oh, might I now, on my nimble steed bounding,Join with the jocund, the frolicsome train.
[Hunting horns again heard.
Again! Oh, this sad and this pleasing remembrance!These are the sounds which, so sprightly and clear,Oft, when with music the hounds and the hornSo cheerfully welcomed the break of the morn,On the heaths of the Highlands delighted my ear.
Enter PAULET.
PAULET.Well, have I acted right at last, my lady?Do I for once, at least, deserve your thanks?
MARY.How! Do I owe this favor, sir, to you?
PAULET.Why not to me? I visited the court,And gave the queen your letter.
MARY.Did you give it?In very truth did you deliver it?And is this freedom which I now enjoyThe happy consequence?
PAULET (significantly).Nor that alone;Prepare yourself to see a greater still.
MARY.A greater still! What do you mean by that?
PAULET.You heard the bugle-horns?
MARY (starting back with foreboding apprehension).You frighten me.
PAULET.The queen is hunting in the neighborhood——
MARY.What!
PAULET.In a few moments she'll appear before you.
KENNEDY (hastening towards MARY, and about to fall).How fare you, dearest lady? You grow pale.
PAULET.How? Is't not well? Was it not then your prayer?'Tis granted now, before it was expected;You who had ever such a ready speech,Now summon all your powers of eloquence,The important time to use them now is come.
MARY.Oh, why was I not told of this before?Now I am not prepared for it—not nowWhat, as the greatest favor, I besought,Seems to me now most fearful; Hannah, come,Lead me into the house, till I collectMy spirits.
PAULET.Stay; you must await her here.Yes! I believe you may be well alarmedTo stand before your judge.
Enter the EARL OF SHREWSBURY.
MARY.'Tis not for that, O God!Far other thoughts possess me now.Oh, worthy Shrewsbury! You come as thoughYou were an angel sent to me from heaven.I cannot, will not see her. Save me, save meFrom the detested sight!
SHREWSBURY.Your majesty,Command yourself, and summon all your courage,'Tis the decisive moment of your fate.
MARY.For years I've waited, and prepared myself.For this I've studied, weighed, and written downEach word within the tablet of my memoryThat was to touch and move her to compassion.Forgotten suddenly, effaced is all,And nothing lives within me at this momentBut the fierce, burning feeling of my wrongs.My heart is turned to direst hate against her;All gentle thoughts, all sweet forgiving words,Are gone, and round me stand with grisly mien,The fiends of hell, and shake their snaky locks!
SHREWSBURY.Command your wild, rebellious blood;—constrainThe bitterness which fills your heart. No goodEnsues when hatred is opposed to hate.How much soe'er the inward struggle costYou must submit to stern necessity,The power is in her hand, be therefore humble.
MARY.To her? I never can.
SHREWSBURY.But pray, submit.Speak with respect, with calmness! Strive to moveHer magnanimity; insist not nowUpon your rights, not now—'tis not the season.
MARY.Ah! woe is me! I've prayed for my destruction,And, as a curse to me, my prayer is heard.We never should have seen each other—never!Oh, this can never, never come to good.Rather in love could fire and water meet,The timid lamb embrace the roaring tiger!I have been hurt too grievously; she hathToo grievously oppressed me;—no atonementCan make us friends!
SHREWSBURY.First see her, face to face:Did I not see how she was moved at readingYour letter? How her eyes were drowned in tears?No—she is not unfeeling; only placeMore confidence in her. It was for thisThat I came on before her, to entreat youTo be collected—to admonish you——
MARY (seizing his hand).Oh, Talbot! you have ever been my friend,Had I but stayed beneath your kindly care!They have, indeed, misused me, Shrewsbury.
SHREWSBURY.Let all be now forgot, and only thinkHow to receive her with submissiveness.
MARY.Is Burleigh with her, too, my evil genius?
SHREWSBURY.No one attends her but the Earl of Leicester.
MARY.Lord Leicester?
SHREWSBURY.Fear not him; it is not heWho wishes your destruction;—'twas his workThat here the queen hath granted you this meeting.
MARY.Ah! well I knew it.
SHREWSBURY.What?
PAULET.The queen approaches.
[They all draw aside; MARY alone remains, leaning on KENNEDY.
The same, ELIZABETH, EARL OF LEICESTER, and Retinue.
ELIZABETH (to LEICESTER).What seat is that, my lord?
LEICESTER.'Tis Fotheringay.
ELIZABETH (to SHREWSBURY).My lord, send back our retinue to London;The people crowd too eager in the roads,We'll seek a refuge in this quiet park.
[TALBOT sends the train away. She looks steadfastly at MARY,as she speaks further with PAULET.
My honest people love me overmuch.These signs of joy are quite idolatrous.Thus should a God be honored, not a mortal.
MARY (who the whole time had leaned, almost fainting, on KENNEDY, risesnow, and her eyes meet the steady, piercing look of ELIZABETH; sheshudders and throws herself again upon KENNEDY'S bosom).O God! from out these features speaks no heart.
ELIZABETH.What lady's that?
[A general, embarrassed silence.
LEICESTER.You are at Fotheringay,My liege!
ELIZABETH (as if surprised, casting an angry look at LEICESTER).Who hath done this, my Lord of Leicester?
LEICESTER.'Tis past, my queen;—and now that heaven hath ledYour footsteps hither, be magnanimous;And let sweet pity be triumphant now.
SHREWSBURY.Oh, royal mistress! yield to our entreaties;Oh, cast your eyes on this unhappy oneWho stands dissolved in anguish.
[MARY collects herself, and begins to advance towardsELIZABETH, stops shuddering at half way: her actionexpresses the most violent internal struggle.
ELIZABETH.How, my lords!Which of you then announced to me a prisonerBowed down by woe? I see a haughty oneBy no means humbled by calamity.
MARY.Well, be it so:—to this will I submit.Farewell high thought, and pride of noble mind!I will forget my dignity, and allMy sufferings; I will fall before her feetWho hath reduced me to this wretchedness.
[She turns towards the QUEEN.
The voice of heaven decides for you, my sister.Your happy brows are now with triumph crowned,I bless the Power Divine which thus hath raised you.But in your turn be merciful, my sister;[She kneels.Let me not lie before you thus disgraced;Stretch forth your hand, your royal hand, to raiseYour sister from the depths of her distress.
ELIZABETH (stepping back).You are where it becomes you, Lady Stuart;And thankfully I prize my God's protection,Who hath not suffered me to kneel a suppliantThus at your feet, as you now kneel at mine.
MARY (with increasing energy of feeling).Think on all earthly things, vicissitudes.Oh! there are gods who punish haughty pride:Respect them, honor them, the dreadful onesWho thus before thy feet have humbled me!Before these strangers' eyes dishonor notYourself in me: profane not, nor disgraceThe royal blood of Tudor. In my veinsIt flows as pure a stream as in your own.Oh, for God's pity, stand not so estrangedAnd inaccessible, like some tall cliff,Which the poor shipwrecked mariner in vainStruggles to seize, and labors to embrace.My all, my life, my fortune now dependsUpon the influence of my words and tears;That I may touch your heart, oh, set mine free.If you regard me with those icy looksMy shuddering heart contracts itself, the streamOf tears is dried, and frigid horror chainsThe words of supplication in my bosom!
ELIZABETH (cold and severe).What would you say to me, my Lady Stuart?You wished to speak with me; and I, forgettingThe queen, and all the wrongs I have sustained,Fulfil the pious duty of the sister,And grant the boon you wished for of my presence.Yet I, in yielding to the generous feelingsOf magnanimity, expose myselfTo rightful censure, that I stoop so low.For well you know you would have had me murdered.
MARY.Oh! how shall I begin? Oh, how shall ISo artfully arrange my cautious wordsThat they may touch, yet not offend your heart?Strengthen my words, O Heaven! and take from themWhate'er might wound. Alas! I cannot speakIn my own cause without impeaching you,And that most heavily, I wish not so;You have not as you ought behaved to me:I am a queen, like you: yet you have held meConfined in prison. As a suppliantI came to you, yet you in me insultedThe pious use of hospitality;Slighting in me the holy law of nations,Immured me in a dungeon—tore from meMy friends and servants; to unseemly wantI was exposed, and hurried to the barOf a disgraceful, insolent tribunal.No more of this;—in everlasting silenceBe buried all the cruelties I suffered!See—I will throw the blame of all on fate,'Twere not your fault, no more than it was mine.An evil spirit rose from the abyss,To kindle in our hearts the flame of hate,By which our tender youth had been divided.It grew with us, and bad, designing menFanned with their ready breath the fatal fire:Frantics, enthusiasts, with sword and daggerArmed the uncalled-for hand! This is the curseOf kings, that they, divided, tear the worldIn pieces with their hatred, and let looseThe raging furies of all hellish strife!No foreign tongue is now between us, sister,
[Approaching her confidently, and with a flattering tone.
Now stand we face to face; now, sister, speak:Name but my crime, I'll fully satisfy you,—Alas! had you vouchsafed to hear me then,When I so earnest sought to meet your eye,It never would have come to this, nor would,Here in this mournful place, have happened nowThis so distressful, this so mournful meeting.
ELIZABETH.My better stars preserved me. I was warned,And laid not to my breast the poisonous adder!Accuse not fate! your own deceitful heartIt was, the wild ambition of your houseAs yet no enmities had passed between us,When your imperious uncle, the proud priest,Whose shameless hand grasps at all crowns, attacked meWith unprovoked hostility, and taughtYou, but too docile, to assume my arms,To vest yourself with my imperial title,And meet me in the lists in mortal strife:What arms employed he not to storm my throne?The curses of the priests, the people's sword,The dreadful weapons of religious frenzy;—Even here in my own kingdom's peaceful hauntsHe fanned the flames of civil insurrection;But God is with me, and the haughty priestHas not maintained the field. The blow was aimedFull at my head, but yours it is which falls!
MARY.I'm in the hand of heaven. You never willExert so cruelly the power it gives you.
ELIZABETH.Who shall prevent me? Say, did not your uncleSet all the kings of Europe the example,How to conclude a peace with those they hate.Be mine the school of Saint Bartholomew;What's kindred then to me, or nation's laws?The church can break the bands of every duty;It consecrates the regicide, the traitor;I only practise what your priests have taught!Say then, what surety can be offered me,Should I magnanimously loose your bonds?Say, with what lock can I secure your faith,Which by Saint Peter's keys cannot be opened?Force is my only surety; no allianceCan be concluded with a race of vipers.
MARY.Oh! this is but your wretched, dark suspicion!For you have constantly regarded meBut as a stranger, and an enemy.Had you declared me heir to your dominions,As is my right, then gratitude and loveIn me had fixed, for you, a faithful friendAnd kinswoman.
ELIZABETH.Your friendship is abroad,Your house is papacy, the monk your brother.Name you my successor! The treacherous snare!That in my life you might seduce my people;And, like a sly Armida, in your netEntangle all our noble English youth;That all might turn to the new rising sun,And I——
MARY.O sister, rule your realm in peace;I give up every claim to these domains—Alas! the pinions of my soul are lamed;Greatness entices me no more: your pointIs gained; I am but Mary's shadow now—My noble spirit is at last broke downBy long captivity:—you've done your worstOn me; you have destroyed me in my bloom!Now, end your work, my sister;—speak at lengthThe word, which to pronounce has brought you hither;For I will ne'er believe that you are come,To mock unfeelingly your hapless victim.Pronounce this word;—say, "Mary, you are free:You have already felt my power,—learn nowTo honor too my generosity."Say this, and I will take my life, will takeMy freedom, as a present from your hands.One word makes all undone;—I wait for it;—Oh, let it not be needlessly delayed.Woe to you if you end not with this word!For should you not, like some divinity,Dispensing noble blessings, quit me now,Then, sister, not for all this island's wealth,For all the realms encircled by the deep,Would I exchange my present lot for yours.
ELIZABETH.And you confess at last that you are conquered:Are all your schemes run out? No more assassinsNow on the road? Will no adventurerAttempt again for you the sad achievement?Yes, madam, it is over:—you'll seduceNo mortal more. The world has other cares;—None is ambitious of the dangerous honorOf being your fourth husband—you destroyYour wooers like your husbands.
MARY (starting angrily).Sister, sister!—Grant me forbearance, all ye powers of heaven!
ELIZABETH (regards her long with a look of proud contempt).Those then, my Lord of Leicester, are the charmsWhich no man with impunity can view,Near which no woman dare to stand?In sooth, this honor has been cheaply gained;She who to all is common, may with easeBecome the common object of applause.
MARY.This is too much!
ELIZABETH (laughing insultingly).You show us now, indeed,Your real face; till now 'twas but the mask.
MARY (burning with rage, yet dignified and noble).My sins were human, and the faults of youth:Superior force misled me. I have neverDenied or sought to hide it: I despisedAll false appearance, as became a queen.The worst of me is known, and I can say,That I am better than the fame I bear.Woe to you! when, in time to come, the worldShall draw the robe of honor from your deeds,With which thy arch-hypocrisy has veiledThe raging flames of lawless, secret lust.Virtue was not your portion from your mother;Well know we what it was which brought the headOf Anna Boleyn to the fatal block.
SHREWSBURY (stepping between both QUEENS).Oh! Heaven! Alas, and must it come to this!Is this the moderation, the submission,My lady?——
MARY.Moderation! I've supportedWhat human nature can support: farewell,Lamb-hearted resignation, passive patience,Fly to thy native heaven; burst at lengthThy bonds, come forward from thy dreary cave,In all thy fury, long suppressed rancor!And thou, who to the angered basiliskImpart'st the murderous glance, oh, arm my tongueWith poisoned darts!
SHREWSBURY.She is beside herself!Exasperated, mad! My liege, forgive her.
[ELIZABETH, speechless with anger, casts enraged looks at MARY.
LEICESTER (in the most violent agitation; he seeks to lead ELIZABETHaway).Attend not to her rage! Away, away,From this disastrous place!
MARY (raising her voice).A bastard soils,Profanes the English throne! The generous BritonsAre cheated by a juggler, [whose whole figureIs false and painted, heart as well as face!]If right prevailed, you now would in the dustBefore me lie, for I'm your rightful monarch!
[ELIZABETH hastily quits the stage; the lords follow herin the greatest consternation.
KENNEDY.What have you done? She has gone hence in wrathAll hope is over now!
MARY (still quite beside herself).Gone hence in wrath!She carries death within her heart! I know it.
[Falling on KENNEDY'S bosom.
Now I am happy, Hannah! and at last,After whole years of sorrow and abasement,One moment of victorious revengeA weight falls off my heart, a weight of mountains;I plunged the steel in my oppressor's breast!
KENNEDY.Unhappy lady! Frenzy overcomes you.Yes, you have wounded your inveterate foe;'Tis she who wields the lightning, she is queen,You have insulted her before her minion.
MARY.I have abased her before Leicester's eyes;He saw it, he was witness of my triumph.How did I hurl her from her haughty height,He saw it, and his presence strengthened me.
Enter MORTIMER.
KENNEDY.Oh, Sir! What an occurrence!
MORTIMER.I heard all—
[Gives the nurse a sign to repair to her post,and draws nearer; his whole appearance expressesthe utmost violence of passion.
Thine is the palm;—thou trod'st her to the dust!—Thou wast the queen, she was the malefactor;—I am transported with thy noble courage;—Yes! I adore thee; like a Deity,My sense is dazzled by thy heavenly beams.
MARY (with vivacity and expectation).You spoke with Leicester, gave my letter to him.My present, too?—oh, speak, sir.
MORTIMER (beholding her with glowing looks).How thy noble,Thy royal indignation shone, and castA glory round thy beauty; yes, by heavens,Thou art the fairest woman upon earth!
MARY.Sir, satisfy, I beg you, my impatience;What says his lordship? Say, sir, may I hope?
MORTIMER.Who?—he?—he is a wretch, a very coward,Hope naught from him; despise him, and forget him!
MARY.What say you?
MORTIMER.He deliver, and possess you!Why let him dare it:—he!—he must with meIn mortal contest first deserve the prize!
MARY.You gave him not my letter? Then, indeedMy hopes are lost!
MORTIMER.The coward loves his life.Whoe'er would rescue you, and call you his,Must boldly dare affront e'en death itself!
MARY.Will he do nothing for me?
MORTIMER.Speak not of him.What can he do? What need have we of him?I will release you; I alone.
MARY.Alas!What power have you?
MORTIMER.Deceive yourself no more;Think not your case is now as formerly;The moment that the queen thus quitted you,And that your interview had ta'en this turn,All hope was lost, each way of mercy shut.Now deeds must speak, now boldness must decide,To compass all must all be hazarded;You must be free before the morning break.
MARY.What say you, sir—to-night?—impossible!
MORTIMER.Hear what has been resolved:—I led my friendsInto a private chapel, where a priestHeard our confession, and, for every sinWe had committed, gave us absolution;He gave us absolution too, beforehand,For every crime we might commit in future;He gave us too the final sacrament,And we are ready for the final journey.
MARY.Oh, what an awful, dreadful preparation!
MORTIMER.We scale, this very night, the castle's walls;The keys are in my power; the guards we murder!Then from thy chamber bear thee forcibly.Each living soul must die beneath our hands,That none remain who might disclose the deed.
MARY.And Drury, Paulet, my two keepers, theyWould sooner spill their dearest drop of blood.
MORTIMER.They fall the very first beneath my steel.
MARY.What, sir! Your uncle? How! Your second father!
MORTIMER.Must perish by my hand—I murder him!
MARY.Oh, bloody outrage!
MORTIMER.We have been absolvedBeforehand; I may perpetrate the worst;I can, I will do so!
MARY.Oh, dreadful, dreadful!
MORTIMER.And should I be obliged to kill the queen,I've sworn upon the host, it must be done!
MARY.No, Mortimer; ere so much blood for me——
MORTIMER.What is the life of all compared to thee,And to my love? The bond which holds the worldTogether may be loosed, a second delugeCome rolling on, and swallow all creation!Henceforth I value nothing; ere I quitMy hold on thee, may earth and time be ended!
MARY (retiring)Heavens! Sir, what language, and what looks! They scare,They frighten me!
MORTIMER (with unsteady looks, expressive of great madness).Life's but a moment—deathIs but a moment too. Why! let them drag meTo Tyburn, let them tear me limb from limb,With red-hot pincers——[Violently approaching her with extended arms.If I clasp but theeWithin my arms, thou fervently beloved!
MARY.Madman, avaunt!
MORTIMER.To rest upon this bosom,To press upon this passion-breathing mouth——
MARY.Leave me, for God's sake, sir; let me go in——
MORTIMER.He is a madman who neglects to claspHis bliss in folds that never may be loosed,When Heaven has kindly given it to his arms.I will deliver you, and though it costA thousand lives, I do it; but I swear,As God's in Heaven I will possess you too!
MARY.Oh! will no God, no angel shelter me?Dread destiny! thou throwest me, in thy wrath,From one tremendous terror to the other!Was I then born to waken naught but frenzy?Do hate and love conspire alike to fright me!
MORTIMER.Yes, glowing as their hatred is my love;They would behead thee, they would wound this neck,So dazzling white, with the disgraceful axe!Oh! offer to the living god of joyWhat thou must sacrifice to bloody hate!Inspire thy happy lover with those charmsWhich are no more thine own. Those golden locksAre forfeit to the dismal powers of death,Oh! use them to entwine thy slave forever!
MARY.Alas! alas! what language must I hear!My woe, my sufferings should be sacred to you,Although my royal brows are so no more.
MORTIMER.The crown is fallen from thy brows, thou hastNo more of earthly majesty. Make trial,Raise thy imperial voice, see if a friend,If a deliverer will rise to save you.Thy moving form alone remains, the high,The godlike influence of thy heavenly beauty;This bids me venture all, this arms my handWith might, and drives me tow'rd the headsman's axe.
MARY.Oh! who will save me from his raging madness?
MORTIMER.Service that's bold demands a bold reward.Why shed their blood the daring? Is not lifeLife's highest good? And he a madman whoCasts life away? First will I take my rest,Upon the breast that glows with love's own fire!
[He presses her violently to his bosom.
MARY.Oh, must I call for help against the manWho would deliver me!
MORTIMER.Thou'rt not unfeeling,The world ne'er censured thee for frigid rigor;The fervent prayer of love can touch thy heart.Thou mad'st the minstrel Rizzio blest, and gavestThyself a willing prey to Bothwell's arms.
MARY.Presumptuous man!
MORTIMER.He was indeed thy tyrant,Thou trembled'st at his rudeness, whilst thou loved'st him;Well, then—if only terror can obtain thee—By the infernal gods!
MARY.Away—you're mad!
MORTIMER.I'll teach thee then before me, too, to tremble.
KENNEDY (entering suddenly).They're coming—they approach—the park is filledWith men in arms.
MORTIMER (starting and catching at his sword).I will defend you-I——
MARY.O Hannah! save me, save me from his hands.Where shall I find, poor sufferer, an asylum?Oh! to what saint shall I address my prayers?Here force assails me, and within is murder!
[She flies towards the house, KENNEDY follows her.
MORTIMER, PAULET, and DRURY rush in in the greatestconsternation. Attendants hasten over the stage.
PAULET.Shut all the portals—draw the bridges up.
MORTIMER.What is the matter, uncle?
PAULET.Where is the murderess?Down with her, down into the darkest dungeon!
MORTIMER.What is the matter? What has passed?
PAULET.The queen!Accursed hand! Infernal machination!
MORTIMER.The queen! What queen?
PAULET.What queen! The Queen of England;She has been murdered on the road to London.
[Hastens into the house.
MORTIMER, soon after O'KELLY.
MORTIMER (after a pause).Am I then mad? Came not one running byBut now, and cried aloud, the queen is murdered!No, no! I did but dream. A feverish fancyPaints that upon my mind as true and real,Which but existed in my frantic thoughts.Who's there? It is O'Kelly. So dismayed!
O'KELLY (rushing in).Flee, Mortimer, oh! flee—for all is lost!
MORTIMER.What then is lost?
O'KELLY.Stand not on question. ThinkOn speedy flight.
MORTIMER.What has occurred?
O'KELLY.Sauvage,That madman, struck the blow.
MORTIMER.It is then true!
O'KELLY.True, true—oh! save yourself.
MORTIMER (exultingly).The queen is murdered—And Mary shall ascend the English throne!
O'KELLY.Is murdered! Who said that?
MORTIMER.Yourself.
O'KELLY.She lives,And I, and you, and all of us are lost.
MORTIMER.She lives!
O'KELLY.The blow was badly aimed, her cloakReceived it. Shrewsbury disarmed the murderer.
MORTIMER.She lives!
O'KELLY.She lives to whelm us all in ruin;Come, they surround the park already; come.
MORTIMER.Who did this frantic deed?
O'KELLY.It was the monkFrom Toulon, whom you saw immersed in thought,As in the chapel the pope's bull was read,Which poured anathemas upon the queen.He wished to take the nearest, shortest way,To free, with one bold stroke, the church of God,And gain the crown of martyrdom: he trustedHis purpose only to the priest, and struckThe fatal blow upon the road to London.
MORTIMER (after a long silence).Alas! a fierce, destructive fate pursues thee,Unhappy one! Yes—now thy death is fixed;Thy very angel has prepared thy fall!
O'KELLY.Say, whither will you take your flight? I goTo hide me in the forests of the north.
MORTIMER.Fly thither, and may God attend your flight;I will remain, and still attempt to saveMy love; if not, my bed shall be upon her grave.
[Exeunt at different sides.
COUNT AUBESPINE, the EARLS Of KENT and LEICESTER.
AUBESPINE.How fares her majesty? My lords, you see meStill stunned, and quite beside myself for terror!How happened it? How was it possibleThat in the midst of this most loyal people——
LEICESTER.The deed was not attempted by the people.The assassin was a subject of your king,A Frenchman.
AUBESPINE.Sure a lunatic.
LEICESTER.A papist,Count Aubespine!
Enter BURLEIGH, in conversation with DAVISON.
BURLEIGH.Sir; let the death-warrantBe instantly made out, and pass the seal;Then let it be presented to the queen;Her majesty must sign it. Hasten, sir,We have no time to lose.
DAVISON.It shall be done.
[Exit.
AUBESPINE.My lord high-treasurer, my faithful heartShares in the just rejoicings of the realm.Praised be almighty Heaven, who hath avertedAssassination from our much-loved queen!
BURLEIGH.Praised be His name, who thus hath turned to scornThe malice of our foes!
AUBESPINE.May heaven confoundThe perpetrator of this cursed deed!
BURLEIGH.Its perpetrator and its base contriver!
AUBESPINE.Please you, my lord, to bring me to the queen,That I may lay the warm congratulationsOf my imperial master at her feet.
BURLEIGH.There is no need of this.
AUBESPINE (officiously).My Lord of Burleigh,I know my duty.
BURLEIGH.Sir, your duty isTo quit, and that without delay, this kingdom.
AUBESPINE (stepping back with surprise).What! How is this?
BURLEIGH.The sacred characterOf an ambassador to-day protects you,But not to-morrow.
AUBESPINE.What's my crime?
BURLEIGH.Should IOnce name it, there were then no pardon for it.
AUBESPINE.I hope, my lord, my charge's privilege——
BURLEIGH.Screens not a traitor.
LEICESTER and KENT.Traitor! How?
AUBESPINE.My Lord,Consider well——
BURLEIGH.Your passport was discoveredIn the assassin's pocket.
KENT.Righteous heaven!
AUBESPINE.Sir, many passports are subscribed by me;I cannot know the secret thoughts of men.
BURLEIGH.He in your house confessed, and was absolved.
AUBESPINE.My house is open——
BURLEIGH.To our enemies.
AUBESPINE.I claim a strict inquiry.
BURLEIGH.Tremble at it.
AUBESPINE.My monarch in my person is insulted,He will annul the marriage contract.
BURLEIGH.ThatMy royal mistress has annulled already;England will not unite herself with France.My Lord of Kent, I give to you the chargeTo see Count Aubespine embarked in safety.The furious populace has stormed his palace,Where a whole arsenal of arms was found;Should he be found, they'll tear him limb from limb,Conceal him till the fury is abated—You answer for his life.
AUBESPINE.I go—I leaveThis kingdom where they sport with public treatiesAnd trample on the laws of nations. YetMy monarch, be assured, will vent his rageIn direst vengeance!
BURLEIGH.Let him seek it here.
[Exeunt KENT and AUBESPINE.
LEICESTER.And thus you loose yourself the knot of unionWhich you officiously, uncalled for, bound!You have deserved but little of your country,My lord; this trouble was superfluous.
BURLEIGH.My aim was good, though fate declared against it;Happy is he who has so fair a conscience!
LEICESTER.Well know we the mysterious mien of BurleighWhen he is on the hunt for deeds of treason.Now you are in your element, my lord;A monstrous outrage has been just committed,And darkness veils as yet its perpetrators:Now will a court of inquisition rise;Each word, each look be weighed; men's very thoughtsBe summoned to the bar. You are, my lord,The mighty man, the Atlas of the state,All England's weight lies upon your shoulders.
BURLEIGH.In you, my lord, I recognize my master;For such a victory as your eloquenceHas gained I cannot boast.
LEICESTER.What means your lordship?
BURLEIGH.You were the man who knew, behind my back,To lure the queen to Fotheringay Castle.
LEICESTER.Behind your back! When did I fear to actBefore your face?
BURLEIGH.You led her majesty?Oh, no—you led her not—it was the queenWho was so gracious as to lead you thither.
LEICESTER.What mean you, my lord, by that?
BURLEIGH.The noble partYou forced the queen to play! The glorious triumphWhich you prepared for her! Too gracious princess!So shamelessly, so wantonly to mockThy unsuspecting goodness, to betray theeSo pitiless to thy exulting foe!This, then, is the magnanimity, the graceWhich suddenly possessed you in the council!The Stuart is for this so despicable,So weak an enemy, that it would scarceBe worth the pains to stain us with her blood.A specious plan! and sharply pointed too;'Tis only pity this sharp point is broken.
LEICESTER.Unworthy wretch! this instant follow me,And answer at the throne this insolence.
BURLEIGH.You'll find me there, my lord; and look you wellThat there your eloquence desert you not.
[Exit.