Part 6
The voice of heaven decides for you, my sister. Your happy brows are now with triumph crowned, I bless the Power Divine which thus hath raised you. But in your turn be merciful, my sister; [She kneels. Let me not lie before you thus disgraced; Stretch forth your hand, your royal hand, to raise Your sister from the depths of her distress.
ELIZABETH (stepping back). You are where it becomes you, Lady Stuart; And thankfully I prize my God's protection, Who hath not suffered me to kneel a suppliant Thus at your feet, as you now kneel at mine.
MARY (with increasing energy of feeling). Think on all earthly things, vicissitudes. Oh! there are gods who punish haughty pride: Respect them, honor them, the dreadful ones Who thus before thy feet have humbled me! Before these strangers' eyes dishonor not Yourself in me: profane not, nor disgrace The royal blood of Tudor. In my veins It flows as pure a stream as in your own. Oh, for God's pity, stand not so estranged And inaccessible, like some tall cliff, Which the poor shipwrecked mariner in vain Struggles to seize, and labors to embrace. My all, my life, my fortune now depends Upon the influence of my words and tears; That I may touch your heart, oh, set mine free. If you regard me with those icy looks My shuddering heart contracts itself, the stream Of tears is dried, and frigid horror chains The words of supplication in my bosom!
ELIZABETH (cold and severe). What would you say to me, my Lady Stuart? You wished to speak with me; and I, forgetting The queen, and all the wrongs I have sustained, Fulfil the pious duty of the sister, And grant the boon you wished for of my presence. Yet I, in yielding to the generous feelings Of magnanimity, expose myself To rightful censure, that I stoop so low. For well you know you would have had me murdered.
MARY. Oh! how shall I begin? Oh, how shall I So artfully arrange my cautious words That they may touch, yet not offend your heart? Strengthen my words, O Heaven! and take from them Whate'er might wound. Alas! I cannot speak In my own cause without impeaching you, And that most heavily, I wish not so; You have not as you ought behaved to me: I am a queen, like you: yet you have held me Confined in prison. As a suppliant I came to you, yet you in me insulted The pious use of hospitality; Slighting in me the holy law of nations, Immured me in a dungeon--tore from me My friends and servants; to unseemly want I was exposed, and hurried to the bar Of a disgraceful, insolent tribunal. No more of this;--in everlasting silence Be buried all the cruelties I suffered! See--I will throw the blame of all on fate, 'Twere not your fault, no more than it was mine. An evil spirit rose from the abyss, To kindle in our hearts the flame of hate, By which our tender youth had been divided. It grew with us, and bad, designing men Fanned with their ready breath the fatal fire: Frantics, enthusiasts, with sword and dagger Armed the uncalled-for hand! This is the curse Of kings, that they, divided, tear the world In pieces with their hatred, and let loose The raging furies of all hellish strife! No foreign tongue is now between us, sister,
[Approaching her confidently, and with a flattering tone.
Now stand we face to face; now, sister, speak: Name but my crime, I'll fully satisfy you,-- Alas! had you vouchsafed to hear me then, When I so earnest sought to meet your eye, It never would have come to this, nor would, Here in this mournful place, have happened now This so distressful, this so mournful meeting.
ELIZABETH. My better stars preserved me. I was warned, And laid not to my breast the poisonous adder! Accuse not fate! your own deceitful heart It was, the wild ambition of your house As yet no enmities had passed between us, When your imperious uncle, the proud priest, Whose shameless hand grasps at all crowns, attacked me With unprovoked hostility, and taught You, but too docile, to assume my arms, To vest yourself with my imperial title, And meet me in the lists in mortal strife: What arms employed he not to storm my throne? The curses of the priests, the people's sword, The dreadful weapons of religious frenzy;-- Even here in my own kingdom's peaceful haunts He fanned the flames of civil insurrection; But God is with me, and the haughty priest Has not maintained the field. The blow was aimed Full at my head, but yours it is which falls!
MARY. I'm in the hand of heaven. You never will Exert so cruelly the power it gives you.
ELIZABETH. Who shall prevent me? Say, did not your uncle Set all the kings of Europe the example, How to conclude a peace with those they hate. Be mine the school of Saint Bartholomew; What's kindred then to me, or nation's laws? The church can break the bands of every duty; It consecrates the regicide, the traitor; I only practise what your priests have taught! Say then, what surety can be offered me, Should I magnanimously loose your bonds? Say, with what lock can I secure your faith, Which by Saint Peter's keys cannot be opened? Force is my only surety; no alliance Can be concluded with a race of vipers.
MARY. Oh! this is but your wretched, dark suspicion! For you have constantly regarded me But as a stranger, and an enemy. Had you declared me heir to your dominions, As is my right, then gratitude and love In me had fixed, for you, a faithful friend And kinswoman.
ELIZABETH. Your friendship is abroad, Your house is papacy, the monk your brother. Name you my successor! The treacherous snare! That in my life you might seduce my people; And, like a sly Armida, in your net Entangle all our noble English youth; That all might turn to the new rising sun, And I----
MARY. O sister, rule your realm in peace; I give up every claim to these domains-- Alas! the pinions of my soul are lamed; Greatness entices me no more: your point Is gained; I am but Mary's shadow now-- My noble spirit is at last broke down By long captivity:--you've done your worst On me; you have destroyed me in my bloom! Now, end your work, my sister;--speak at length The word, which to pronounce has brought you hither; For I will ne'er believe that you are come, To mock unfeelingly your hapless victim. Pronounce this word;--say, "Mary, you are free: You have already felt my power,--learn now To honor too my generosity." Say this, and I will take my life, will take My freedom, as a present from your hands. One word makes all undone;--I wait for it;-- Oh, let it not be needlessly delayed. Woe to you if you end not with this word! For should you not, like some divinity, Dispensing noble blessings, quit me now, Then, sister, not for all this island's wealth, For all the realms encircled by the deep, Would I exchange my present lot for yours.
ELIZABETH. And you confess at last that you are conquered: Are all your schemes run out? No more assassins Now on the road? Will no adventurer Attempt again for you the sad achievement? Yes, madam, it is over:--you'll seduce No mortal more. The world has other cares;-- None is ambitious of the dangerous honor Of being your fourth husband--you destroy Your wooers like your husbands.
MARY (starting angrily). Sister, sister!-- Grant me forbearance, all ye powers of heaven!
ELIZABETH (regards her long with a look of proud contempt). Those then, my Lord of Leicester, are the charms Which no man with impunity can view, Near which no woman dare to stand? In sooth, this honor has been cheaply gained; She who to all is common, may with ease Become the common object of applause.
MARY. This is too much!
ELIZABETH (laughing insultingly). You show us now, indeed, Your real face; till now 'twas but the mask.
MARY (burning with rage, yet dignified and noble). My sins were human, and the faults of youth: Superior force misled me. I have never Denied or sought to hide it: I despised All false appearance, as became a queen. The worst of me is known, and I can say, That I am better than the fame I bear. Woe to you! when, in time to come, the world Shall draw the robe of honor from your deeds, With which thy arch-hypocrisy has veiled The raging flames of lawless, secret lust. Virtue was not your portion from your mother; Well know we what it was which brought the head Of Anna Boleyn to the fatal block.
SHREWSBURY (stepping between both QUEENS). Oh! Heaven! Alas, and must it come to this! Is this the moderation, the submission, My lady?----
MARY. Moderation! I've supported What human nature can support: farewell, Lamb-hearted resignation, passive patience, Fly to thy native heaven; burst at length Thy bonds, come forward from thy dreary cave, In all thy fury, long suppressed rancor! And thou, who to the angered basilisk Impart'st the murderous glance, oh, arm my tongue With poisoned darts!
SHREWSBURY. She is beside herself! Exasperated, mad! My liege, forgive her.
[ELIZABETH, speechless with anger, casts enraged looks at MARY.
LEICESTER (in the most violent agitation; he seeks to lead ELIZABETH away). Attend not to her rage! Away, away, From this disastrous place!
MARY (raising her voice). A bastard soils, Profanes the English throne! The generous Britons Are cheated by a juggler, [whose whole figure Is false and painted, heart as well as face!] If right prevailed, you now would in the dust Before me lie, for I'm your rightful monarch!
[ELIZABETH hastily quits the stage; the lords follow her in the greatest consternation.
SCENE V.
MARY, KENNEDY.
KENNEDY. What have you done? She has gone hence in wrath All hope is over now!
MARY (still quite beside herself). Gone hence in wrath! She carries death within her heart! I know it.
[Falling on KENNEDY'S bosom.
Now I am happy, Hannah! and at last, After whole years of sorrow and abasement, One moment of victorious revenge A weight falls off my heart, a weight of mountains; I plunged the steel in my oppressor's breast!
KENNEDY. Unhappy lady! Frenzy overcomes you. Yes, you have wounded your inveterate foe; 'Tis she who wields the lightning, she is queen, You have insulted her before her minion.
MARY. I have abased her before Leicester's eyes; He saw it, he was witness of my triumph. How did I hurl her from her haughty height, He saw it, and his presence strengthened me.
SCENE VI.
Enter MORTIMER.
KENNEDY. Oh, Sir! What an occurrence!
MORTIMER. I heard all--
[Gives the nurse a sign to repair to her post, and draws nearer; his whole appearance expresses the utmost violence of passion.
Thine is the palm;--thou trod'st her to the dust!-- Thou wast the queen, she was the malefactor;-- I am transported with thy noble courage;-- Yes! I adore thee; like a Deity, My sense is dazzled by thy heavenly beams.
MARY (with vivacity and expectation). You spoke with Leicester, gave my letter to him. My present, too?--oh, speak, sir.
MORTIMER (beholding her with glowing looks). How thy noble, Thy royal indignation shone, and cast A glory round thy beauty; yes, by heavens, Thou art the fairest woman upon earth!
MARY. Sir, satisfy, I beg you, my impatience; What says his lordship? Say, sir, may I hope?
MORTIMER. Who?--he?--he is a wretch, a very coward, Hope naught from him; despise him, and forget him!
MARY. What say you?
MORTIMER. He deliver, and possess you! Why let him dare it:--he!--he must with me In mortal contest first deserve the prize!
MARY. You gave him not my letter? Then, indeed My hopes are lost!
MORTIMER. The coward loves his life. Whoe'er would rescue you, and call you his, Must boldly dare affront e'en death itself!
MARY. Will he do nothing for me?
MORTIMER. Speak not of him. What can he do? What need have we of him? I will release you; I alone.
MARY. Alas! What power have you?
MORTIMER. Deceive yourself no more; Think not your case is now as formerly; The moment that the queen thus quitted you, And that your interview had ta'en this turn, All hope was lost, each way of mercy shut. Now deeds must speak, now boldness must decide, To compass all must all be hazarded; You must be free before the morning break.
MARY. What say you, sir--to-night?--impossible!
MORTIMER. Hear what has been resolved:--I led my friends Into a private chapel, where a priest Heard our confession, and, for every sin We had committed, gave us absolution; He gave us absolution too, beforehand, For every crime we might commit in future; He gave us too the final sacrament, And we are ready for the final journey.
MARY. Oh, what an awful, dreadful preparation!
MORTIMER. We scale, this very night, the castle's walls; The keys are in my power; the guards we murder! Then from thy chamber bear thee forcibly. Each living soul must die beneath our hands, That none remain who might disclose the deed.
MARY. And Drury, Paulet, my two keepers, they Would sooner spill their dearest drop of blood.
MORTIMER. They fall the very first beneath my steel.
MARY. What, sir! Your uncle? How! Your second father!
MORTIMER. Must perish by my hand--I murder him!
MARY. Oh, bloody outrage!
MORTIMER. We have been absolved Beforehand; I may perpetrate the worst; I can, I will do so!
MARY. Oh, dreadful, dreadful!
MORTIMER. And should I be obliged to kill the queen, I've sworn upon the host, it must be done!
MARY. No, Mortimer; ere so much blood for me----
MORTIMER. What is the life of all compared to thee, And to my love? The bond which holds the world Together may be loosed, a second deluge Come rolling on, and swallow all creation! Henceforth I value nothing; ere I quit My hold on thee, may earth and time be ended!
MARY (retiring) Heavens! Sir, what language, and what looks! They scare, They frighten me!
MORTIMER (with unsteady looks, expressive of great madness). Life's but a moment--death Is but a moment too. Why! let them drag me To Tyburn, let them tear me limb from limb, With red-hot pincers---- [Violently approaching her with extended arms. If I clasp but thee Within my arms, thou fervently beloved!
MARY. Madman, avaunt!
MORTIMER. To rest upon this bosom, To press upon this passion-breathing mouth----
MARY. Leave me, for God's sake, sir; let me go in----
MORTIMER. He is a madman who neglects to clasp His bliss in folds that never may be loosed, When Heaven has kindly given it to his arms. I will deliver you, and though it cost A thousand lives, I do it; but I swear, As God's in Heaven I will possess you too!
MARY. Oh! will no God, no angel shelter me? Dread destiny! thou throwest me, in thy wrath, From one tremendous terror to the other! Was I then born to waken naught but frenzy? Do hate and love conspire alike to fright me!
MORTIMER. Yes, glowing as their hatred is my love; They would behead thee, they would wound this neck, So dazzling white, with the disgraceful axe! Oh! offer to the living god of joy What thou must sacrifice to bloody hate! Inspire thy happy lover with those charms Which are no more thine own. Those golden locks Are forfeit to the dismal powers of death, Oh! use them to entwine thy slave forever!
MARY. Alas! alas! what language must I hear! My woe, my sufferings should be sacred to you, Although my royal brows are so no more.
MORTIMER. The crown is fallen from thy brows, thou hast No more of earthly majesty. Make trial, Raise thy imperial voice, see if a friend, If a deliverer will rise to save you. Thy moving form alone remains, the high, The godlike influence of thy heavenly beauty; This bids me venture all, this arms my hand With might, and drives me tow'rd the headsman's axe.
MARY. Oh! who will save me from his raging madness?
MORTIMER. Service that's bold demands a bold reward. Why shed their blood the daring? Is not life Life's highest good? And he a madman who Casts life away? First will I take my rest, Upon the breast that glows with love's own fire!
[He presses her violently to his bosom.
MARY. Oh, must I call for help against the man Who would deliver me!
MORTIMER. Thou'rt not unfeeling, The world ne'er censured thee for frigid rigor; The fervent prayer of love can touch thy heart. Thou mad'st the minstrel Rizzio blest, and gavest Thyself a willing prey to Bothwell's arms.
MARY. Presumptuous man!
MORTIMER. He was indeed thy tyrant, Thou trembled'st at his rudeness, whilst thou loved'st him; Well, then--if only terror can obtain thee-- By the infernal gods!
MARY. Away--you're mad!
MORTIMER. I'll teach thee then before me, too, to tremble.
KENNEDY (entering suddenly). They're coming--they approach--the park is filled With men in arms.
MORTIMER (starting and catching at his sword). I will defend you-I----
MARY. O Hannah! save me, save me from his hands. Where shall I find, poor sufferer, an asylum? Oh! to what saint shall I address my prayers? Here force assails me, and within is murder!
[She flies towards the house, KENNEDY follows her.
SCENE VII.
MORTIMER, PAULET, and DRURY rush in in the greatest consternation. Attendants hasten over the stage.
PAULET. Shut all the portals--draw the bridges up.
MORTIMER. What is the matter, uncle?
PAULET. Where is the murderess? Down with her, down into the darkest dungeon!
MORTIMER. What is the matter? What has passed?
PAULET. The queen! Accursed hand! Infernal machination!
MORTIMER. The queen! What queen?
PAULET. What queen! The Queen of England; She has been murdered on the road to London.
[Hastens into the house.
SCENE VIII.
MORTIMER, soon after O'KELLY.
MORTIMER (after a pause). Am I then mad? Came not one running by But now, and cried aloud, the queen is murdered! No, no! I did but dream. A feverish fancy Paints that upon my mind as true and real, Which but existed in my frantic thoughts. Who's there? It is O'Kelly. So dismayed!
O'KELLY (rushing in). Flee, Mortimer, oh! flee--for all is lost!
MORTIMER. What then is lost?
O'KELLY. Stand not on question. Think On speedy flight.
MORTIMER. What has occurred?
O'KELLY. Sauvage, That madman, struck the blow.
MORTIMER. It is then true!
O'KELLY. True, true--oh! save yourself.
MORTIMER (exultingly). The queen is murdered-- And Mary shall ascend the English throne!
O'KELLY. Is murdered! Who said that?
MORTIMER. Yourself.
O'KELLY. She lives, And I, and you, and all of us are lost.
MORTIMER. She lives!
O'KELLY. The blow was badly aimed, her cloak Received it. Shrewsbury disarmed the murderer.
MORTIMER. She lives!
O'KELLY. She lives to whelm us all in ruin; Come, they surround the park already; come.
MORTIMER. Who did this frantic deed?
O'KELLY. It was the monk From Toulon, whom you saw immersed in thought, As in the chapel the pope's bull was read, Which poured anathemas upon the queen. He wished to take the nearest, shortest way, To free, with one bold stroke, the church of God, And gain the crown of martyrdom: he trusted His purpose only to the priest, and struck The fatal blow upon the road to London.
MORTIMER (after a long silence). Alas! a fierce, destructive fate pursues thee, Unhappy one! Yes--now thy death is fixed; Thy very angel has prepared thy fall!
O'KELLY. Say, whither will you take your flight? I go To hide me in the forests of the north.
MORTIMER. Fly thither, and may God attend your flight; I will remain, and still attempt to save My love; if not, my bed shall be upon her grave.
[Exeunt at different sides.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.--Antechamber.
COUNT AUBESPINE, the EARLS Of KENT and LEICESTER.
AUBESPINE. How fares her majesty? My lords, you see me Still stunned, and quite beside myself for terror! How happened it? How was it possible That in the midst of this most loyal people----
LEICESTER. The deed was not attempted by the people. The assassin was a subject of your king, A Frenchman.
AUBESPINE. Sure a lunatic.
LEICESTER. A papist, Count Aubespine!
SCENE II.
Enter BURLEIGH, in conversation with DAVISON.
BURLEIGH. Sir; let the death-warrant Be instantly made out, and pass the seal; Then let it be presented to the queen; Her majesty must sign it. Hasten, sir, We have no time to lose.
DAVISON. It shall be done.
[Exit.
AUBESPINE. My lord high-treasurer, my faithful heart Shares in the just rejoicings of the realm. Praised be almighty Heaven, who hath averted Assassination from our much-loved queen!
BURLEIGH. Praised be His name, who thus hath turned to scorn The malice of our foes!
AUBESPINE. May heaven confound The perpetrator of this cursed deed!
BURLEIGH. Its perpetrator and its base contriver!
AUBESPINE. Please you, my lord, to bring me to the queen, That I may lay the warm congratulations Of my imperial master at her feet.
BURLEIGH. There is no need of this.
AUBESPINE (officiously). My Lord of Burleigh, I know my duty.
BURLEIGH. Sir, your duty is To quit, and that without delay, this kingdom.
AUBESPINE (stepping back with surprise). What! How is this?
BURLEIGH. The sacred character Of an ambassador to-day protects you, But not to-morrow.
AUBESPINE. What's my crime?
BURLEIGH. Should I Once name it, there were then no pardon for it.
AUBESPINE. I hope, my lord, my charge's privilege----
BURLEIGH. Screens not a traitor.
LEICESTER and KENT. Traitor! How?
AUBESPINE. My Lord, Consider well----
BURLEIGH. Your passport was discovered In the assassin's pocket.
KENT. Righteous heaven!
AUBESPINE. Sir, many passports are subscribed by me; I cannot know the secret thoughts of men.
BURLEIGH. He in your house confessed, and was absolved.
AUBESPINE. My house is open----
BURLEIGH. To our enemies.
AUBESPINE. I claim a strict inquiry.
BURLEIGH. Tremble at it.
AUBESPINE. My monarch in my person is insulted, He will annul the marriage contract.
BURLEIGH. That My royal mistress has annulled already; England will not unite herself with France. My Lord of Kent, I give to you the charge To see Count Aubespine embarked in safety. The furious populace has stormed his palace, Where a whole arsenal of arms was found; Should he be found, they'll tear him limb from limb, Conceal him till the fury is abated-- You answer for his life.
AUBESPINE. I go--I leave This kingdom where they sport with public treaties And trample on the laws of nations. Yet My monarch, be assured, will vent his rage In direst vengeance!
BURLEIGH. Let him seek it here.
[Exeunt KENT and AUBESPINE.
SCENE III.
LEICESTER, BURLEIGH.
LEICESTER. And thus you loose yourself the knot of union Which you officiously, uncalled for, bound! You have deserved but little of your country, My lord; this trouble was superfluous.
BURLEIGH. My aim was good, though fate declared against it; Happy is he who has so fair a conscience!
LEICESTER. Well know we the mysterious mien of Burleigh When he is on the hunt for deeds of treason. Now you are in your element, my lord; A monstrous outrage has been just committed, And darkness veils as yet its perpetrators: Now will a court of inquisition rise; Each word, each look be weighed; men's very thoughts Be summoned to the bar. You are, my lord, The mighty man, the Atlas of the state, All England's weight lies upon your shoulders.
BURLEIGH. In you, my lord, I recognize my master; For such a victory as your eloquence Has gained I cannot boast.