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.
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,
Mary Stuart Page 10