Mary Stuart Read online

  She fears to speak her wishes, yet her looks,

  Her silent looks, significantly ask,

  "Is there not one amongst my many servants

  To save me from this sad alternative?

  Either to tremble in eternal fear

  Upon my throne, or else to sacrifice

  A queen of my own kindred on the block?"

  PAULET.

  'Tis even so; nor can it be avoided--

  BURLEIGH.

  Well might it be avoided, thinks the queen,

  If she had only more attentive servants.

  PAULET.

  How more attentive?

  BURLEIGH.

  Such as could interpret

  A silent mandate.

  PAULET.

  What? A silent mandate!

  BURLEIGH.

  Who, when a poisonous adder is delivered

  Into their hands, would keep the treacherous charge

  As if it were a sacred, precious jewel?

  PAULET.

  A precious jewel is the queen's good name

  And spotless reputation: good my lord,

  One cannot guard it with sufficient care.

  BURLEIGH.

  When out of Shrewsbury's hands the Queen of Scots

  Was trusted to Sir Amias Paulet's care,

  The meaning was--

  PAULET.

  I hope to God, my lord,

  The meaning was to give the weightiest charge

  Into the purest hands; my lord, my lord!

  By heaven I had disdained this bailiff's office

  Had I not thought the service claimed the care

  Of the best man that England's realm can boast.

  Let me not think I am indebted for it

  To anything but my unblemished name.

  BURLEIGH.

  Spread the report she wastes; grows sicker still

  And sicker; and expires at last in peace;

  Thus will she perish in the world's remembrance,

  And your good name is pure.

  PAULET.

  But not my conscience.

  BURLEIGH.

  Though you refuse us, sir, your own assistance,

  You will not sure prevent another's hand.

  PAULET.

  No murderer's foot shall e'er approach her threshold

  Whilst she's protected by my household gods.

  Her life's a sacred trust; to me the head

  Of Queen Elizabeth is not more sacred.

  Ye are the judges; judge, and break the staff;

  And when 'tis time then let the carpenter

  With axe and saw appear to build the scaffold.

  My castle's portals shall be open to him,

  The sheriff and the executioners:

  Till then she is intrusted to my care;

  And be assured I will fulfil my trust,

  She shall nor do nor suffer what's unjust.

  [Exeunt.

  ACT II.

  SCENE I.

  London, a Hall in the Palace of Westminster. The EARL OF KENT

  and SIR WILLIAM DAVISON meeting.

  DAVISON.

  Is that my Lord of Kent? So soon returned?

  Is then the tourney, the carousal over?

  KENT.

  How now? Were you not present at the tilt?

  DAVISON.

  My office kept me here.

  KENT.

  Believe me, sir,

  You've lost the fairest show which ever state

  Devised, or graceful dignity performed:

  For beauty's virgin fortress was presented

  As by desire invested; the Earl-Marshal,

  The Lord-High Admiral, and ten other knights

  Belonging to the queen defended it,

  And France's cavaliers led the attack.

  A herald marched before the gallant troop,

  And summoned, in a madrigal, the fortress;

  And from the walls the chancellor replied;

  And then the artillery was played, and nosegays

  Breathing delicious fragrance were discharged

  From neat field-pieces; but in vain, the storm

  Was valiantly resisted, and desire

  Was forced, unwillingly, to raise the siege.

  DAVISON.

  A sign of evil-boding, good my lord,

  For the French Suitors.

  KENT.

  Why, you know that this

  Was but in sport; when the attack's in earnest

  The fortress will, no doubt, capitulate.

  DAVISON.

  Ha! think you so? I never can believe it.

  KENT.

  The hardest article of all is now

  Adjusted and acceded to by France;

  The Duke of Anjou is content to hold

  His holy worship in a private chapel;

  And openly he promises to honor

  And to protect the realm's established faith.

  Had ye but heard the people's joyful shouts

  Where'er the tidings spread, for it has been

  The country's constant fear the queen might die

  Without immediate issue of her body;

  And England bear again the Romish chains

  If Mary Stuart should ascend the throne.

  DAVISON.

  This fear appears superfluous; she goes

  Into the bridal chamber; Mary Stuart

  Enters the gates of death.

  KENT.

  The queen approaches.

  SCENE II.

  Enter ELIZABETH, led in by LEICESTER, COUNT AUBESPINE,

  BELLIEVRE, LORDS SHREWSBURY and BURLEIGH, with other

  French and English gentlemen.

  ELIZABETH (to AUBESPINE).

  Count, I am sorry for these noblemen

  Whose gallant zeal hath brought them over sea

  To visit these our shores, that they, with us,

  Must miss the splendor of St. Germain's court.

  Such pompous festivals of godlike state

  I cannot furnish as the royal court

  Of France. A sober and contented people,

  Which crowd around me with a thousand blessings

  Whene'er in public I present myself:

  This is the spectacle which I can show,

  And not without some pride, to foreign eyes.

  The splendor of the noble dames who bloom

  In Catherine's beauteous garden would, I know,

  Eclipse myself, and my more modest merits.

  AUBESPINE.

  The court of England has one lady only

  To show the wondering foreigner; but all

  That charms our hearts in the accomplished sex

  Is seen united in her single person.

  BELLIEVRE.

  Great majesty of England, suffer us

  To take our leave, and to our royal master,

  The Duke of Anjou, bring the happy news.

  The hot impatience of his heart would not

  Permit him to remain at Paris; he

  At Amiens awaits the joyful tidings;

  And thence to Calais reach his posts to bring

  With winged swiftness to his tranced ear

  The sweet consent which, still we humbly hope,

  Your royal lips will graciously pronounce.

  ELIZABETH.

  Press me no further now, Count Bellievre.

  It is not now a time, I must repeat,

  To kindle here the joyful marriage torch.

  The heavens lower black and heavy o'er this land;

  And weeds of mourning would become me better

  Than the magnificence of bridal robes.

  A fatal blow is aimed against my heart;

  A blow which threatens to oppress my house.

  BELLIEVRE.

  We only ask your majesty to promise

  Your royal hand when brighter days shall come.

  ELIZABETH.

  Monarchs are but the slaves of their condition;

/>   They dare not hear the dictates of their hearts;

  My wish was ever to remain unmarried,

  And I had placed my greatest pride in this,

  That men hereafter on my tomb might read,

  "Here rests the virgin queen." But my good subjects

  Are not content that this should be: they think,

  E'en now they often think upon the time

  When I shall be no more. 'Tis not enough

  That blessings now are showered upon this land;

  They ask a sacrifice for future welfare,

  And I must offer up my liberty,

  My virgin liberty, my greatest good,

  To satisfy my people. Thus they'd force

  A lord and master on me. 'Tis by this

  I see that I am nothing but a woman

  In their regard; and yet methought that I

  Had governed like a man, and like a king.

  Well wot I that it is not serving God

  To quit the laws of nature; and that those

  Who here have ruled before me merit praise,

  That they have oped the cloister gates, and given

  Thousands of victims of ill-taught devotion

  Back to the duties of humanity.

  But yet a queen who hath not spent her days

  In fruitless, idle contemplation; who,

  Without murmur, indefatigably

  Performs the hardest of all duties; she

  Should be exempted from that natural law

  Which doth ordain one half of human kind

  Shall ever be subservient to the other.

  AUBESPINE.

  Great queen, you have upon your throne done honor

  To every virtue; nothing now remains

  But to the sex, whose greatest boast you are

  To be the leading star, and give the great

  Example of its most consistent duties.

  'Tis true, the man exists not who deserves

  That you to him should sacrifice your freedom;

  Yet if a hero's soul, descent, and rank,

  And manly beauty can make mortal man

  Deserving of this honor--

  ELIZABETH.

  Without doubt,

  My lord ambassador, a marriage union

  With France's royal son would do me honor;

  Yes, I acknowledge it without disguise,

  If it must be, if I cannot prevent it,

  If I must yield unto my people's prayers,

  And much I fear they will o'erpower me,

  I do not know in Europe any prince

  To whom with less reluctance I would yield

  My greatest treasure, my dear liberty.

  Let this confession satisfy your master.

  BELLIEVRE.

  It gives the fairest hope, and yet it gives

  Nothing but hope; my master wishes more.

  ELIZABETH.

  What wishes he?

  [She takes a ring from her finger, and thoughtfully examines it.

  In this a queen has not

  One privilege above all other women.

  This common token marks one common duty,

  One common servitude; the ring denotes

  Marriage, and 'tis of rings a chain is formed.

  Convey this present to his highness; 'tis

  As yet no chain, it binds me not as yet,

  But out of it may grow a link to bind me.

  BELLIEVRE (kneeling).

  This present, in his name, upon my knees,

  I do receive, great queen, and press the kiss

  Of homage on the hand of her who is

  Henceforth my princess.

  ELIZABETH (to the EARL OF LEICESTER, whom she, during the last speeches,

  had continually regarded).

  By your leave, my lord.

  [She takes the blue ribbon from his neck [1], and invests Bellievre

  with it.

  Invest his highness with this ornament,

  As I invest you with it, and receive you

  Into the duties of my gallant order.

  And, "Honi soit qui mal y pense." Thus perish

  All jealousy between our several realms,

  And let the bond of confidence unite

  Henceforth, the crowns of Britain and of France.

  BELLIEVRE.

  Most sovereign queen, this is a day of joy;

  Oh that it could be so for all, and no

  Afflicted heart within this island mourn.

  See! mercy beams upon thy radiant brow;

  Let the reflection of its cheering light

  Fall on a wretched princess, who concerns

  Britain and France alike.

  ELIZABETH.

  No further, count!

  Let us not mix two inconsistent things;

  If France be truly anxious for my hand,

  It must partake my interests, and renounce

  Alliance with my foes.

  AUBESPINE.

  In thine own eyes

  Would she not seem to act unworthily,

  If in this joyous treaty she forgot

  This hapless queen, the widow of her king;

  In whose behalf her honor and her faith

  Are bound to plead for grace.

  ELIZABETH.

  Thus urged, I know

  To rate this intercession at its worth;

  France has discharged her duties as a friend,

  I will fulfil my own as England's queen.

  [She bows to the French ambassadors, who, with the other

  gentlemen, retire respectfully.

  [1] Till the time of Charles the First, the Knights of the Garter

  wore the blue ribbon with the George about their necks, as they

  still do the collars, on great days.-TRANSLATOR.

  SCENE III.

  Enter BURLEIGH, LEICESTER, and TALBOT.

  The QUEEN takes her seat.

  BURLEIGH.

  Illustrious sovereign, thou crown'st to-day

  The fervent wishes of thy people; now

  We can rejoice in the propitious days

  Which thou bestowest upon us; and we look

  No more with fear and trembling towards the time

  Which, charged with storms, futurity presented.

  Now, but one only care disturbs this land;

  It is a sacrifice which every voice

  Demands; Oh! grant but this and England's peace

  Will be established now and evermore.

  ELIZABETH.

  What wish they still, my lord? Speak.

  BURLEIGH.

  They demand

  The Stuart's head. If to thy people thou

  Wouldst now secure the precious boon of freedom,

  And the fair light of truth so dearly won,

  Then she must die; if we are not to live

  In endless terror for thy precious life

  The enemy must fall; for well thou know'st

  That all thy Britons are not true alike;

  Romish idolatry has still its friends

  In secret, in this island, who foment

  The hatred of our enemies. Their hearts

  All turn toward this Stuart; they are leagued

  With the two plotting brothers of Lorrain,

  The foes inveterate of thy house and name.

  'Gainst thee this raging faction hath declared

  A war of desolation, which they wage

  With the deceitful instruments of hell.

  At Rheims, the cardinal archbishop's see,

  There is the arsenal from which they dart

  These lightnings; there the school of regicide;

  Thence, in a thousand shapes disguised, are sent

  Their secret missionaries to this isle;

  Their bold and daring zealots; for from thence

  Have we not seen the third assassin come?

  And inexhausted is the direful breed

  Of secret enemies in this abyss.

  While in he
r castle sits at Fotheringay,

  The Ate [1] of this everlasting war,

  Who, with the torch of love, spreads flames around;

  For her who sheds delusive hopes on all,

  Youth dedicates itself to certain death;

  To set her free is the pretence-the aim

  Is to establish her upon the throne.

  For this accursed House of Guise denies

  Thy sacred right; and in their mouths thou art

  A robber of the throne, whom chance has crowned.

  By them this thoughtless woman was deluded,

  Proudly to style herself the Queen of England;

  No peace can be with her, and with her house;

  [Their hatred is too bloody, and their crimes

  Too great;] thou must resolve to strike, or suffer-

  Her life is death to thee, her death thy life.

  ELIZABETH.

  My lord, you bear a melancholy office;

  I know the purity which guides your zeal,

  The solid wisdom which informs your speech;

  And yet I hate this wisdom, when it calls

  For blood, I hate it in my inmost soul.

  Think of a milder counsel-Good my Lord

  Of Shrewsbury, we crave your judgment here.

  TALBOT.

  [Desire you but to know, most gracious queen,

  What is for your advantage, I can add

  Nothing to what my lord high-treasurer

  Has urged; then, for your welfare, let the sentence