Henry Drummond of Ricarton.
Archibald Beaton.
John Hepburn of Bolton, Ormiston, Hay of Talla, Conspirators with Bothwell.
Crawford, Nelson, Taylor, servants to Darnley.
Nicholas Hubert, surnamed Paris, servant to Bothwell.
The Provost of Edinburgh.
Robert Cunningham, steward to the Earl of Lennox.
Page and Girl attending on Lady Lochleven.
Burgesses, Citizens, Soldiers, Attendants, etc.
Time - March 9, 1566, to May 16, 1568
ACT I
David Rizzio
Time, March 9, 1566
Scene I. Holyrood
Enter Darnley and Mary Carmichael
DARNLEY.
But you will not believe me though you hear;
You have no faith; you steer by sight, and see
This fellow gilt and garnished with her grace
Sit covered by the queen where lords stand bare
And jet before them lordlier; and the sight
Makes firm your faith that in his hand and eye
This land is but a harp to play upon,
Whose strings may turn to serpents or to swords
To maim his hand or charm his eye to death.
You have no faith to see this, or to read
The sentence that ensuing shall write me king,
And worth men’s fears or faiths: lo, now you laugh,
As though my hope were braggart, and myself
A fool and mouthpiece of its foolish vaunt:
You have no faith.
MARY CARMICHAEL.
I have no wit nor will
To choose between St. David for my lord
And sweet St. Henry.
DARNLEY.
Nay, King David now,
King David psalmist; but for all his song
I doubt he hath lost the old trick of touch he had
Once in the sword-play.
MARY CARMICHAEL.
See you play not Saul,
Who are something of his stature in our eyes,
Much of his mighty presence; be it not said
He hath snipt your skirts already.
DARNLEY.
Who said that?
Who speaks of me so, lies to the blood and bone,
To the heart and soul lies. I am no king mayhap -
I do not say yet I shall die no king -
God knows that, and is wise - but man I am,
Look else, who love you -
MARY CARMICHAEL.
Sir, be king for me,
It shall content my will to youward, seeing
I take you to be royal, and myself
Honest.
DARNLEY.
Why honest? what a gibe is this!
What make you of me?
MARY CARMICHAEL.
Yea, what should I make?
’Tis time I were on service.
DARNLEY.
O, the queen’s?
She gets good service, excellent service done,
And worthy servants hath she - a liberal queen.
Well, if you will.
Exit Mary Carmichael.
I would the month were out,
If earth were easier by just one less knave,
I might sleep well and laugh and walk at ease,
With none to mate me.
Enter Morton
Ah, my good lord and friend,
I had somewhat I would say - but let words be.
The man you know of - I would you had made him safe;
I would have told you this much.
MORTON.
Sir, the earl
Murray being with us in the main thing here,
Though he keep hand from the red handiwork,
Shall enough help us.
DARNLEY.
Let him know it not then:
Let him stand by: he must not know it. Why, well,
It is the more our honour: yet would God
He, being not with us, were not anywhere,
Rut dead, sir, dead. I say, who hath eyes to see
May see him dangerous to us, and manifest.
Ye have no eyes who see not: for my part,
I noted him at once. Sir, by this light,
When I first saw him - and I have eyes to see -
I knew what manner of meaning in his face
Lay privy and folded up and sealed and signed.
I would you lords had sight and heart like mine,
He should not long live dangerous; yet, God wot,
For my poor personal peril I would match
This body against his better.
MORTON.
There’s no need
Of iron words and matches here of men,
Save this we meet upon; which being played out
Leaves our hands full and henceforth peaceable.
For the earl, he makes no part of men’s designs,
Nor would I have you keen to strive with him
Who lies yet still and is well liked of men
That are well-willers to this common state
And the open peace of the people. Let him be;
Keep your heart here.
DARNLEY.
Here is it fixed and set
With roots of iron. ’Tis more honour to us,
Being so more perilous, to have no help
Of popular hands and common friendliness,
But our hearts helpful only. I am sure of her,
That she suspects not - I do surely think:
But yet she is subtle and secret-souled and wise,
Wise woman-fashion; look you be not caught
Through too much trust in what of her is weak,
In her light mind and mutability,
For subtlety lies close in her light wit,
And wisdom wantons in her wantonness:
I know her, I know her; I have seen ere now, and am
Not all to learn in women.
MORTON.
I believe
Your grace hath grace with women as with men,
And skill of sense alike in those and these,
I doubt not; which is well and profitable.
For this, how shall she know it, except you slip
And let her wring the truth out from your hand,
Or kiss the truth out, hanging mouth on mouth?
But if no pressure press from hand or lip
The unripe truth, the fruit so soon so red,
What can she to us, though doubting, help or harm?
How, if she know not surely?
DARNLEY.
So I say.
And we that do it, we do it for all men’s good,
For the main people’s love, thankworthily -
And this is matter of law we take in hand,
Is it not, lawful? for the man is judged,
Doomed dead and damned by sentence, in good deed,
Though not by scruple and show of trial and test,
By clearer cause and purer policy -
We cannot stand toward any accountable
As for a slaughter, a treasonable shame,
To mark us red in the world’s eyes? no man
Can say our fame is blotted with his blood,
No man, albeit he hate us, bring in doubt -
Woman or man - our right, our absolute law,
Giving us leave - nay, bidding us do so?
So that we stand after the deed as now,
In no more danger or fear?
MORTON.
In less fear, you,
And much more honour; now it might please you fear,
Being overborne of woman and fast bound
With feminine shame and weakness; the man’s strength,
The sinew and nerve and spirit of royalty,
Hers, and all power to use her power on you
Hers, and all honour and pleasure of high place
That should make sweet your lips and bright your brows
Hers, a
nd the mockery of mismarried men
Yours.
DARNLEY.
Nay, by God I said so; why, I knew it;
I told you thus aforetime, did I not?
MORTON.
Truly and wisely; if this content you thus,
He is even our king.
DARNLEY.
Methinks he should be king,
And I, God wot, content. Here came a man
Some few days back, a goodly, a gentleman,
An honourable, that for king knave’s behoof
Was stript out of the better of all his lands
As I of what was best part of my wife,
My place, and honour that grows up with hers -
For of her love small fruit was left to strip,
Few leaves for winter weather - but of these,
These good things, am I stript as bare as shame,
Even beggared as was this man. By God’s light,
It seems this is but justice, doth it not,
And I so gentle and temperate - as, by God,
I was not nor I will not.
MORTON.
There’s more need
That you seem resolutely temperate then
And temperately be resolute, I say,
Till the hour to cast off temperance and put on
Plain passion for the habit of your heart
Which now it wears in darkness, and by day
The cloak and hood of temperance. But these fits
And gusts and starts of will and will not, these
Blow you this side and that side till men see
Too much, and trust too little.
DARNLEY.
O sir, you are wise,
You are honourable, and a counsellor, and my friend,
And I too light, too light - yet by this light
I think I am worth more than your counsel is
If I be worth this work here to be done -
I think I am so much.
MORTON.
It may well be, sir,
And you much wiser; yet forbear your wrath
If you would have it ready to your hand.
DARNLEY.
I will forbear nothing - nor nothing bear -
Nor live by no man’s bidding. This year through
I have even been surfeited with wise men’s breath
And winds of wordy weather round mine ears -
Do this, spare that, walk thus, look otherwise,
Hold your head kingly, or wisely bow your neck -
A man might come to doubt himself no man,
Being so long childlike handled. Now, look you,
Look she, look God to it if I be not man!
Now is my way swept, and my foot shod now,
My wallet full now for the travelling day
That I fare forth and forward, arrow straight,
Girt for the goal, red battle-ripe at need -
As need there is - you are sure - and utter need?
MORTON.
Is my lord not sure?
DARNLEY.
Ay, as sure as you -
Surer maybe - the need is more of mine -
This grazes your bare hand that grates my heart:
Your queen it is wrongs you, and me my wife.
MORTON.
You see that sure, too? sharp sight, have you not?
DARNLEY.
I saw it, I first - I knew her - who knew her but I,
That swore - at least I swore to mine own soul,
Would not for shame’s sake swear out wide to the world,
But in myself swore with my heart to hear -
There was more in it, in all their commerce, more
Than the mere music - he is warped, worn through,
Bow-bent, uncomely in wholesome eyes that see
Straight, seeing him crooked - but she seeing awry
Sees the man straight enough for paramour.
This I saw, this I swore to - silently,
Not loud but sure, till time should be to speak
Sword’s language, no fool’s jargon like his tongue,
But plain broad steel speech and intelligible,
Though not to the ear, Italian’s be it or Scot’s,
But to the very life intelligible,
To the loosed soul, to the shed blood - for blood
There must be - one must slay him - you are sure - as I am?
For I was sure of it always - while you said,
All you, ’twas council-stuff, state-handicraft,
Cunning of card-play between here and there,
I knew ’twas this and more, sir, I kept sight,
Kept heed of her, what thing she was, what wife,
What manner of stateswoman and governess -
More than all you saw - did you see it or I?
MORTON.
You saw first surely, and some one spoke first out -
You had eyes, he tongue - and both bear witness now
If this must be or not be.
DARNLEY.
Death, is that?
I must kill - bid you kill him?
MORTON.
Nowise, sir;
As little need of one as the other is here;
As little of either as no need at all.
DARNLEY.
You doubt or hand or tongue then, sir, of mine?
I would not strike, if need were, or bid strike?
MORTON.
Neither we doubt, nor neither do we need -
Having you with us.
DARNLEY.
’Twas but so you meant?
I had else been angry - nay, half wroth I was -
Not as I took it - I had else been wroth indeed.
MORTON.
That had been grievous to me and perilous,
This time of all times.
DARNLEY.
Ay, you need me, ay,
I am somewhat now then, somewhat more than wont,
Who thus long have been nothing - but will be?
Well, so, I am with you. Shall he die - how soon?
To-day I had said, but haply not to-day -
There might fall somewhat, something slip awry,
In such swift work, ha? Then, what day? Perchance
‘Twere better he died abed - or were there charms,
Spells - if himself though be not witch, drug-proof
’Tis like, and devil-witted, being a knave
Born poisonous and bred sorcerous like his kind -
We have heard what manner of plague his south land spawns,
What sort of kith and kin to hell and him,
How subtle in starry riddles and earth’s roots
The dog-leeches that kill your soul in you,
Or only body, or both, as Catherine please,
Mother that was to our Mary - have we not?
We must look to it, and closely look.
MORTON.
My lord,
Of so much being so sure, of this be too;
That surely and soon in some wise very sure
We are quit of him with God’s help or without.
DARNLEY.
Why, that were well. I hold you resolute;
I pray you stay so, and all is well enough.
We have talked our time out - you had all to say -
All the thing’s carriage - and my mind to take,
Which with plain heart I have made you understand.
My mind is, he must die then: keep you there.
Exit.
MORTON.
Had God but plagued Egypt with fools for flies,
His Jews had sped the quicker.
Enter Mary Beaton
Is the queen risen, Lady?
MARY BEATON.
Not yet. Was not the king with you?
I heard him high and shrill.
MORTON.
Ay, he was here,
If anywhere the king be. You are sad.
MARY BEATON.
I am not blithe of b
earing, I wot well,
But the word sad is sadder than I am.
Is he not vexed?
MORTON.
I have never seen him else,
Save when light-heartedness and loose-hung brain
Have made him proud and drunken: as of late
He has been but seldom. There’s one sad at least;
If it be sad to hang the head apart,
Walk with brows drawn and eyes disquieted,
Speak sullen under breath, and shrug and swear,
If any move him, and then again fall dumb;
He has changed his fresher manner, and put off
What little grace made his ungracious youth
Fair in men’s eyes a little; if this last,
He will not long last in men’s lordship here,
Except by love and favour shown of the queen.
MARY BEATON.
There he sits strong in surety; yet men say
He is discontent, disheartened, for distaste
Of the like love and favour shown of her
(Or not the like, yet too much near the like)
Toward Rizzio; but such men, seeing visionary,
Run wide in talk, and sleep with speech awake
And sight shut fast: are you not of my mind?
MORTON.
I am most of theirs whose mind is most toward hers,
As whose should be most noble; but in truth
Mine own is moved to hear her gracious heart
Mismade of, her clear courtesies misread,
Misliked her liking, her goodwill maligned,
Even of his mouth who owes life, breath, and place,
Honour and title, even to that clear goodwill,
To that her grace, liking, and courtesy.
MARY BEATON.
You mean our lord and hers and king of Scots?
MORTON.
As kingly a king as masterful a lord,
And no less hers than ours; as strong each way.
MARY BEATON.
And he misreads so much the queen’s pure heart
As to mistake aloud her manner of life,
And teach the world’s broad open popular ear
His graceless commentary on her mere grace
Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series) Page 199