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Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series)

Page 206

by Algernon Charles Swinburne

Save, save me, madam!

  QUEEN.

  You are within my ward.

  Stand from him, sirs; what! treason!

  FAULDONSIDE.

  Nay, then, thus.

  Putting a pistol to her breast.

  QUEEN.

  Do him no wrong; ye dare not murder me:

  If he have sinned let justice pass on him.

  FAULDONSIDE.

  This cord shall justify him.

  RIZZIO.

  Help me! help!

  SIR GEORGE DOUGLAS.

  Let go the queen.

  RIZZIO.

  Help me, my mistress!

  FAULDONSIDE.

  Out!

  QUEEN.

  Have mercy!

  RIZZIO.

  Mercy! nay, I am innocent!

  Save me, sweet lady!

  QUEEN.

  Will ye slay me too?

  FAULDONSIDE.

  Drag him away; pluck his hands off her.

  RIZZIO.

  Help!

  They force him out.

  QUEEN.

  Why does that sheath sit empty on your side?

  Where is the dagger?

  DARNLEY.

  Why, I know not where.

  QUEEN.

  It will be known hereafter; it shall be

  Dear blood to some of you if David’s here

  Be spilt, my faithful servant’s; but may God,

  My poor true friend, have mercy on your soul!

  RUTHVEN.

  Here, take your wife into your arms, my lord,

  And bid her fear not. Madam, have no fear;

  We had sooner spend the blood of our own hearts

  Than you should suffer harm; and what we do

  Is but your husband’s bidding. Let them pass:

  He shall be kept for this time safe enough

  In my lord’s chamber here.

  DARNLEY.

  Ay shall he, safe -

  In that same chamber where you used of old

  Before this fellow grew so in your grace

  To come and seek me; but since he so fell

  In credit with you and familiar use,

  Even if I come to yours I find of late

  Small entertainment of you, save so far

  As David may sit third with us, and set

  To cards with you even till an hour or twain

  Be gone past midnight.

  QUEEN.

  I have heard not said

  It was a duteous gentlewoman’s part

  To seek her husband’s chamber, but the man’s

  To seek the wife when he would aught with her.

  DARNLEY.

  Why came you to my chamber then at first,

  And ever till these few months back that he

  Became familiar with you? or am I

  In any part now of my body failed,

  To fall out of your grace? or what disdain

  Have you of me? or what offence of mine

  Makes you not use me at all times alike,

  Seeing I am willing to do all good things

  That may become a husband to his wife?

  QUEEN.

  My lord, of all the shame here done to me

  You have the fault: for which sake I henceforth

  Shall never be your wife nor lie with you,

  Nor ever shall have liking of my life

  Till I may make you bear as sore a heart

  As I bear now.

  RUTHVEN.

  Madam, for honour’s sake,

  Be reasonably and timely reconciled

  To your wed lord; and with him take advice

  Of such good friends as love you. Give me leave:

  I am faint, and cannot stand to plead with you.

  Sits.

  Bring me to drink, for God’s sake.

  DARNLEY.

  Give my lord

  A cup of wine.

  QUEEN.

  Is this your malady?

  If ye shall slay me or my six months’ child

  By this night’s force and fear, my friends yet live

  To wreak me of Lord Ruthven.

  RUTHVEN.

  Be content.

  QUEEN.

  When word goes forth how I am handled here -

  What, am I kinless, think you, without help?

  Mine uncles and my brother king of France,

  All lords of all lands living, all heads crowned,

  Shall be one storm to shake you from the world;

  And the Pope with me, and the Catholic king,

  And all that live or of my faith or blood,

  Shall all make way upon you.

  RUTHVEN.

  I am too mean

  That these so many and mighty should take aim

  At one such poor man here as I am. See,

  If you will weigh it worthily yourself,

  This is no treason; never till this night

  Was so good service done you. For myself,

  I will make answer to God’s charge and man’s

  How I have served you in it.

  QUEEN.

  What have I done?

  What thing am I that ye should use me thus?

  O miserable and desertless that I am,

  Unkingdomed of mine honour! I that had

  Lordship of land and natural rule of men

  Am poorer here than any landless man

  And weaker than all women. Pray you, sir,

  By what law’s sentence am I made man’s thrall?

  What lord have I offended that can bid

  My face for shame be covered in your sight?

  Whom have I wronged? or who hath power on me,

  What thing soever I be, to do me wrong?

  Who hath given forth judgment on me? what man’s right

  Calls me his servant? Nay, there is no slave

  Men strike without a sentence; and ye strike

  Your own right in me and your name to death

  With one self-ruinous violence.

  RUTHVEN.

  Be at peace;

  We strike but your own sickness off yourself

  Who cut off him to save you: the disease

  That dies of the physician leaves no cause

  That you should curse but thank him.

  QUEEN.

  Thank? ay, thank -

  God give me grace to give you thanks! be sure

  Ye shall not lack my memory to it, nor will

  To make me worthy of you. What, no more?

  Exit Ruthven.

  I thought his wrath was large enough for me

  To find a murderous part in where to die

  And share it with my servant. Must I live?

  Sir, you that make death warm between your lips,

  And, silent, let fall murder from your mouth,

  Have you no kiss to kill me? no love left

  To give me poison? Why is he gone forth?

  Hath the hot falsehood eaten through your tongue?

  Speak.

  DARNLEY.

  Why, I bade him look to those your friends

  That might have risen upon us; hear you that?

  Noise outside.

  There is a clamour of them in the courts,

  But nought to help or hurt now. He is gone

  To read our will out in the general ear,

  And by proclaiming of my share with them

  In this their new-born justice to make sure

  Men’s hearts that hearken; and lest fear shake our friends,

  Or illwill toward us and goodwill toward you

  Make our foes strong in malice of design,

  To warn them of your brother’s present speed,

  Who must be here with morning: my device,

  My trick to win all faiths that hang on him

  And tie them to my service with his hand.

  So have we all souls instant on our side,

  And you no way to wound us: for by this,

  Even with the hearing of my n
ame given forth

  As parcel of the bond that writes him dead,

  Which is now cancelled with his bloodshedding,

  This your good town is with us, and your lords

  That stood for you with this man fled or dead,

  If they dare strike or stand yet. What shift now?

  What wit? what craft?

  QUEEN.

  My friends driven forth the court?

  No help upon my side? The town raised too?

  DARNLEY.

  We had no heart nor wit to work with, ha?

  We were your fools, and heartless?

  QUEEN at the window.

  Help, all friends!

  All good men help your queen here! Ho, my lord,

  My lord the Provost!

  DARNLEY.

  He is raised indeed.

  QUEEN.

  Help for the queen! help, Provost!

  DARNLEY.

  Peace, I say;

  You may fare worse: these are wild hours.

  VOICE WITHOUT.

  Sit down;

  You shall be hewn in pieces if you stir

  And flung into the Nor’-Loch.

  DARNLEY.

  Nay, be wise;

  Pluck not their madness on you.

  QUEEN.

  O, your love!

  It shows now kindly in you.

  Re-enter Ruthven

  RUTHVEN.

  All is sped;

  The lords of the adverse party being roused up

  And hearing with what large applause of men

  The reading of our sentence in the bond

  And names subscribed, and proclamation made

  Of Murray even at heel of the act returned,

  Was of all mouths made welcome, in fierce haste

  Forth of their lodging fled confusedly

  With no more tarriance than to bring their lives

  Clear of the press and cry of peril at hand,

  And their folk round them in a beaten rank

  Hurled all together; so no man being left,

  The earls of Huntley and of Bothwell gone,

  To lift a hand against the general peace,

  The townsmen, of their surety satisfied,

  Brake up with acclamation of content

  For the good comfort done them in this deed.

  QUEEN.

  What have ye made my servant?

  RUTHVEN.

  A dead dog.

  His turn is done of service.

  DARNLEY.

  Yea, stark dead?

  RUTHVEN.

  They stabbed him through and through with edge on edge

  Till all their points met in him; there he lies,

  Cast forth in the outer lodge, a piteous knave

  And poor enough to look on.

  QUEEN.

  I am content.

  Now must I study how to be revenged.

  DARNLEY.

  Nay, think not that way: make it not so much;

  Be warned, and wiser.

  QUEEN.

  Must I not, my lord?

  You have taught me worthier wisdom than of words;

  And I will lay it up against my heart.

  ACT II

  Bothwell

  Time from March 10, 1566, to February 9, 1567

  Scene I. The Queen’s Chamber

  Enter Darnley and Arthur Erskine, severally

  DARNLEY.

  Is the queen risen?

  ARTHUR ERSKINE.

  She has not slept, my lord.

  They say she is in some peril of mishap

  Through the sore handling of this violent night;

  Mortal mishap it may be.

  DARNLEY.

  Ay! who say it?

  What should be mortal to her? she was not sick

  Nor near enough her danger.

  ARTHUR ERSKINE.

  I am no leech;

  Haply the fright of murderous menaces

  And noise of swords is held medicinal;

  The savour of a slain friend comfortable

  And his blood balm: if these be healthful things,

  You have given her weakness physic.

  Enter the Queen

  QUEEN.

  Ah, our lord!

  Comes he with death about him? I could take it

  As readily as condemned men take reprieve,

  For of a life much deadlier than itself

  Death would reprieve me.

  DARNLEY.

  I am come to bring you help.

  QUEEN.

  You are ever helpful, even at all needs good,

  For stroke or speech, good always. I am weak;

  Let me have execution swift or soft;

  Here is no strength to suffer.

  DARNLEY.

  Sit, and rest.

  QUEEN.

  Nay, I can stand; or should I kneel, my plight

  Were one with my new fortune. You may go:

  I have but private penitence to do,

  And privy grace to get me; for indeed

  I were stark mad to hope by any mean

  For public pardon; I am condemned, and have

  No hope but of such pity as dead men gain

  Who living found no grace in the great world.

  Exit Arthur Erskine.

  Now, what death, sir?

  DARNLEY.

  You think not as you speak;

  Your thought has other business than your tongue,

  And death has no part in it.

  QUEEN.

  I am assured

  I must not live.

  DARNLEY.

  Whose doom has passed on you?

  Not mine; I would not have you go in fear;

  You may be safe as I am.

  QUEEN.

  As you, my lord?

  I think I may, and yet may chance but find

  A little day of surety.

  DARNLEY.

  By mine honour,

  My word and place of sovereignty is pledged

  For your fair usage; they that unseat you

  Shall find no king in me.

  QUEEN.

  Nay, I think not.

  DARNLEY.

  As they would have me friend and firm to them,

  I told them, they should use you royally,

  No state or privilege plucked off you; nay,

  I have no thought by stolen strength of yours

  To increase myself out of your weakness; only

  I would have royalty remade in you,

  And in your honour an honourable part;

  See the state in you and the name shine fair,

  And in your praise mine own praise perfected

  As parcel of it, and in your good fame

  Mine own fame stablished; as from your repute

  Shaken or sullied, my name too takes soil,

  And in your insufficience I wax weak,

  So would I have the grace I gain and strength

  Redound to youward; who being queen indeed,

  I cannot seem unkingly.

  QUEEN.

  ’Tis well thought.

  It was my curse to know not in good time

  How high a sense and royal of itself

  I had in you so near me.

  DARNLEY.

  That your thought,

  Misdeeming me worth no more weight with you,

  Hath brought us to this breach. Now lies it in you

  To make all whole; these lords that in my name

  And for mine ends and with my leave rose up

  To rid out peril and scandal from us all,

  And make red-handed witness of themselves

  Against the shame and scathe of royalty,

  Are not the traitors of your thought, but keep

  Faith flawless toward the personal empire here

  And spirit of rule, dishonouring not the law

  By forceful chastisement of secret breach

  That did it bloodless violence; this blood shed

>   Must heal indeed the privy hurt of law

  And all but death of kingship, in such pass

  Wasted and wounded; but no hand of theirs

  Would stab through you your holy majesty,

  Cut off all life of law with yours, and make

  Authority die with you one visible death;

  No thought put out your office, though yourself

  Were found come short thereof, to leave this land

  A kingless kingdom; wherefore with good will

  I counsel you make peace with their designs

  And friends with mine intent, which for us both

  Is but all power and honour.

  QUEEN.

  So you see it;

  But were your eyes no flatterers of themselves

  The sight were other: yet for my poor part

  I cannot care though power be out of sight,

  Save that mine honour visibly is marred

  By wreck in you of either; for indeed

  Nor power nor honour shall hang on to you

  If you must wear them but at will of men

  And by strange leave of chance authority

  Reign or not reign; but all concerns me not;

  Rule as you may, be lord of that you can,

  I can contend not with your lords or you,

  Their master-servant. Pardon me; I am weak,

  A feeble simple woman, without stay,

  And witless of your worth; yet I might fear

  Their policies were no good friends of yours,

  Could we see all; men’s hearts are manifold,

  Not made of glass like women’s such as mine,

  At once transpicuous and perceptible

  To eyes like yours that look their faults through; yet

  Perchance you see more faults than lie there, spots

  That are not natural to us; or make too much

  Of our light thoughts and weakness; yet, your pardon:

  You have reason in it, being more wise than we

 

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