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    Mary Stuart

    Page 7
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      Anguish possesses me, and my soul bleeds

      To think that earthly goods are so unstable,

      And that the dreadful fate which rules mankind

      Should threaten mine own house, and scowl so near me.

      TALBOT.

      Oh, queen! the God of mercy hath informed

      Your heart; Oh! hearken to this heavenly guidance.

      Most grievously, indeed, hath she atoned.

      Her grievous crime, and it is time that now,

      At last, her heavy penance have an end.

      Stretch forth your hand to raise this abject queen,

      And, like the luminous vision of an angel,

      Descend into her gaol's sepulchral night.

      BURLEIGH.

      Be steadfast, mighty queen; let no emotion

      Of seeming laudable humanity

      Mislead thee; take not from thyself the power

      Of acting as necessity commands.

      Thou canst not pardon her, thou canst not save her:

      Then heap not on thyself the odious blame,

      That thou, with cruel and contemptuous triumph,

      Didst glut thyself with gazing on thy victim.

      LEICESTER.

      Let us, my lords, remain within our bounds;

      The queen is wise, and doth not need our counsels

      To lead her to the most becoming choice.

      This meeting of the queens hath naught in common

      With the proceedings of the court of justice.

      The law of England, not the monarch's will,

      Condemns the Queen of Scotland, and 'twere worthy

      Of the great soul of Queen Elizabeth,

      To follow the soft dictates of her heart,

      Though justice swerves not from its rigid path.

      ELIZABETH.

      Retire, my lords. We shall, perhaps, find means

      To reconcile the tender claims of pity

      With what necessity imposes on us.

      And now retire.

      [The LORDS retire; she calls SIR EDWARD MORTIMER back.

      Sir Edward Mortimer!

      SCENE V.

      ELIZABETH, MORTIMER.

      ELIZABETH (having measured him for some time with her eyes in silence).

      You've shown a spirit of adventurous courage

      And self-possession, far beyond your years.

      He who has timely learnt to play so well

      The difficult dissembler's needful task

      Becomes a perfect man before his time,

      And shortens his probationary years.

      Fate calls you to a lofty scene of action;

      I prophesy it, and can, happily

      For you, fulfil, myself, my own prediction.

      MORTIMER.

      Illustrious mistress, what I am, and all

      I can accomplish, is devoted to you.

      ELIZABETH.

      You've made acquaintance with the foes of England.

      Their hate against me is implacable;

      Their fell designs are inexhaustible.

      As yet, indeed, Almighty Providence

      Hath shielded me; but on my brows the crown

      Forever trembles, while she lives who fans

      Their bigot-zeal, and animates their hopes.

      MORTIMER.

      She lives no more, as soon as you command it.

      ELIZABETH.

      Oh, sir! I thought I saw my labors end,

      And I am come no further than at first,

      I wished to let the laws of England act,

      And keep my own hands pure from blood's defilement.

      The sentence is pronounced-what gain I by it?

      It must be executed, Mortimer,

      And I must authorize the execution.

      The blame will ever light on me, I must

      Avow it, nor can save appearances.

      That is the worst--

      MORTIMER.

      But can appearances

      Disturb your conscience where the cause is just?

      ELIZABETH.

      You are unpractised in the world, sir knight;

      What we appear, is subject to the judgment

      Of all mankind, and what we are, of no man.

      No one will be convinced that I am right:

      I must take care that my connivance in

      Her death be wrapped in everlasting doubt.

      In deeds of such uncertain double visage

      Safety lies only in obscurity.

      Those measures are the worst that stand avowed;

      What's not abandoned, is not wholly lost.

      MORTIMER (seeking to learn her meaning).

      Then it perhaps were best--

      ELIZABETH (quick).

      Ay, surely 'twere

      The best; Oh, sir, my better angel speaks

      Through you;-go on then, worthy sir, conclude

      You are in earnest, you examine deep,

      Have quite a different spirit from your uncle.

      MORTIMER (surprised).

      Have you imparted then your wishes to him?

      ELIZABETH.

      I am sorry that I have.

      MORTIMER.

      Excuse his age,

      The old man is grown scrupulous; such bold

      Adventures ask the enterprising heart

      Of youth--

      ELIZABETH.

      And may I venture then on you--

      MORTIMER.

      My hand I'll lend thee; save then as thou canst

      Thy reputation--

      ELIZABETH.

      Yes, sir; if you could

      But waken me some morning with this news

      "Maria Stuart, your bloodthirsty foe,

      Breathed yesternight her last"--

      MORTIMER.

      Depend on me.

      ELIZABETH.

      When shall my head lie calmly down to sleep?

      MORTIMER.

      The next new moon will terminate thy fears.

      ELIZABETH.

      And be the selfsame happy day the dawn

      Of your preferment-so God speed you, sir;

      And be not hurt, if, chance, my thankfulness

      Should wear the mask of darkness. Silence is

      The happy suitor's god. The closest bonds,

      The dearest, are the works of secrecy.

      [Exit.

      SCENE VI.

      MORTIMER (alone).

      Go, false, deceitful queen! As thou deludest

      The world, e'en so I cozen thee; 'tis right,

      Thus to betray thee; 'tis a worthy deed.

      Look I then like a murderer? Hast thou read

      Upon my brow such base dexterity?

      Trust only to my arm, and keep thine own

      Concealed-assume the pious outward show

      Of mercy 'fore the world, while reckoning

      In secret on my murderous aid; and thus

      By gaining time we shall insure her rescue.

      Thou wilt exalt me!-show'st me from afar

      The costly recompense: but even were

      Thyself the prize, and all thy woman's favor,

      What art thou, poor one, and what canst thou proffer?

      I scorn ambition's avaricious strife,

      With her alone is all the charm of life,

      O'er her, in rounds of endless glory, hover

      Spirits with grace, and youth eternal blessed,

      Celestial joy is throned upon her breast.

      Thou hast but earthly, mortal goods to offer-

      That sovereign good, for which all else be slighted,

      When heart in heart, delighting and delighted;

      Together flow in sweet forgetfulness;-

      Ne'er didst thou woman's fairest crown possess,

      Ne'er hast thou with thy hand a lover's heart requited.

      I must attend Lord Leicester, and deliver

      Her letter to him-'tis a hateful charge-

      I have no confidence in this court puppet-

      I can effect her rescue, I alone;

      Be danger, honor, and the prize my own.


      [As he is going, PAULET meets him.

      SCENE VII.

      MORTIMER, PAULET.

      PAULET.

      What said the queen to you?

      MORTIMER.

      'Twas nothing, sir;

      Nothing of consequence--

      PAULET (looking at him earnestly).

      Hear, Mortimer!

      It is a false and slippery ground on which

      You tread. The grace of princes is alluring,

      Youth loves ambition-let not yours betray you.

      MORTIMER.

      Was it not yourself that brought me to the court?

      PAULET.

      Oh, would to God I had not done as much!

      The honor of our house was never reaped

      In courts-stand fast, my nephew-purchase not

      Too dear, nor stain your conscience with a crime.

      MORTIMER.

      What are these fears? What are you dreaming of?

      PAULET.

      How high soever the queen may pledge herself

      To raise you, trust not her alluring words.

      [The spirit of the world's a lying spirit,

      And vice is a deceitful, treacherous friend.]

      She will deny you, if you listen to her;

      And, to preserve her own good name, will punish

      The bloody deed, which she herself enjoined.

      MORTIMER.

      The bloody deed!--

      PAULET.

      Away, dissimulation!-

      I know the deed the queen proposed to you.

      She hopes that your ambitious youth will prove

      More docile than my rigid age. But say,

      Have you then pledged your promise, have you?

      MORTIMER.

      Uncle!

      PAULET.

      If you have done so, I abandon you,

      And lay my curse upon you--

      LEICESTER (entering).

      Worthy sir!

      I with your nephew wish a word. The queen

      Is graciously inclined to him; she wills

      That to his custody the Scottish queen

      Be with full powers intrusted. She relies

      On his fidelity.

      PAULET.

      Relies!-'tis well--

      LEICESTER.

      What say you, sir?

      PAULET.

      Her majesty relies

      On him; and I, my noble lord, rely

      Upon myself, and my two open eyes.

      [Exit.

      SCENE VIII.

      LEICESTER, MORTIMER.

      LEICESTER (surprised).

      What ailed the knight?

      MORTIMER.

      My lord, I cannot tell

      What angers him: the confidence, perhaps,

      The queen so suddenly confers on me.

      LEICESTER.

      Are you deserving then of confidence?

      MORTIMER.

      This would I ask of you, my Lord of Leicester.

      LEICESTER.

      You said you wished to speak with me in private.

      MORTIMER.

      Assure me first that I may safely venture.

      LEICESTER.

      Who gives me an assurance on your side?

      Let not my want of confidence offend you;

      I see you, sir, exhibit at this court

      Two different aspects; one of them must be

      A borrowed one; but which of them is real?

      MORTIMER.

      The selfsame doubts I have concerning you.

      LEICESTER.

      Which, then, shall pave the way to confidence?

      MORTIMER.

      He, who by doing it, is least in danger.

      LEICESTER.

      Well, that are you--

      MORTIMER.

      No, you; the evidence

      Of such a weighty, powerful peer as you

      Can overwhelm my voice. My accusation

      Is weak against your rank and influence.

      LEICESTER.

      Sir, you mistake. In everything but this

      I'm powerful here; but in this tender point

      Which I am called upon to trust you with,

      I am the weakest man of all the court,

      The poorest testimony can undo me.

      MORTIMER.

      If the all-powerful Earl of Leicester deign

      To stoop so low to meet me, and to make

      Such a confession to me, I may venture

      To think a little better of myself,

      And lead the way in magnanimity.

      LEICESTER.

      Lead you the way of confidence, I'll follow.

      MORTIMER (producing suddenly the letter).

      Here is a letter from the Queen of Scotland.

      LEICESTER (alarmed, catches hastily at the letter).

      Speak softly, sir! what see I? Oh, it is

      Her picture!

      [Kisses and examines it with speechless joy-a pause.

      MORTIMER (who has watched him closely the whole tine).

      Now, my lord, I can believe you.

      LEICESTER (having hastily run through the letter).

      You know the purport of this letter, sir.

      MORTIMER.

      Not I.

      LEICESTER.

      Indeed! She surely hath informed you.

      MORTIMER.

      Nothing hath she informed me of. She said

      You would explain this riddle to me-'tis

      To me a riddle, that the Earl of Leicester,

      The far-famed favorite of Elizabeth,

      The open, bitter enemy of Mary,

      And one of those who spoke her mortal sentence,

      Should be the man from whom the queen expects

      Deliverance from her woes; and yet it must be;

      Your eyes express too plainly what your heart

      Feels for the hapless lady.

      LEICESTER.

      Tell me, Sir,

      First, how it comes that you should take so warm

      An interest in her fate; and what it was

      Gained you her confidence?

      MORTIMER.

      My lord, I can,

      And in few words, explain this mystery.

      I lately have at Rome abjured my creed,

      And stand in correspondence with the Guises.

      A letter from the cardinal archbishop

      Was my credential with the Queen of Scots.

      LEICESTER.

      I am acquainted, sir, with your conversion;

      'Twas that which waked my confidence towards you.

      [Each remnant of distrust be henceforth banished;]

      Your hand, sir, pardon me these idle doubts,

      I cannot use too much precaution here.

      Knowing how Walsingham and Burleigh hate me,

      And, watching me, in secret spread their snares;

      You might have been their instrument, their creature

      To lure me to their toils.

      MORTIMER.

      How poor a part

      So great a nobleman is forced to play

      At court! My lord, I pity you.

      LEICESTER.

      With joy

      I rest upon the faithful breast of friendship,

      Where I can ease me of this long constraint.

      You seem surprised, sir, that my heart is turned

      So suddenly towards the captive queen.

      In truth, I never hated her; the times

      Have forced me to be her enemy.

      She was, as you well know, my destined bride,

      Long since, ere she bestowed her hand on Darnley,

      While yet the beams of glory round her smiled,

      Coldly I then refused the proffered boon.

      Now in confinement, at the gates of death,

      I claim her at the hazard of my life.

      MORTIMER.

      True magnanimity, my lord.

      LEICESTER.

      The state

      Of circumstances since that time is changed.

      Ambition made me all insensible

      To youth and
    beauty. Mary's hand I held

      Too insignificant for me; I hoped

      To be the husband of the Queen of England.

      MORTIMER.

      It is well known she gave you preference

      Before all others.

      LEICESTER.

      So, indeed, it seemed.

      Now, after ten lost years of tedious courtship

      And hateful self-constraint-oh, sir, my heart

      Must ease itself of this long agony.

      They call me happy! Did they only know

      What the chains are, for which they envy me!

      When I had sacrificed ten bitter years

      To the proud idol of her vanity;

      Submitted with a slave's humility

      To every change of her despotic fancies

     


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