Kitabı oku: «Mary Stuart», sayfa 2

SCENE V

The same. Enter MORTIMER, approaching cautiously.

MORTIMER (to KENNEDY)

 
   Step to the door, and keep a careful watch,
   I have important business with the queen.
 

MARY (with dignity)

 
   I charge thee, Hannah, go not hence – remain.
 

MORTIMER

 
   Fear not, my gracious lady – learn to know me.
      [He gives her a card.
 

MARY (She examines it, and starts back astonished)

 
   Heavens! What is this?
 

MORTIMER (to KENNEDY)

 
                Retire, good Kennedy;
   See that my uncle comes not unawares.
 

MARY (to KENNEDY, who hesitates, and looks at the QUEEN inquiringly)

 
   Go in; do as he bids you.
 

[KENNEDY retires with signs of wonder.

SCENE VI

MARY, MORTIMER.

MARY

 
                 From my uncle
   In France – the worthy Cardinal of Lorrain?
 

[She reads.

 
   "Confide in Mortimer, who brings you this;
   You have no truer, firmer friend in England."
 

[Looking at him with astonishment.

 
   Can I believe it? Is there no delusion
   To cheat my senses? Do I find a friend
   So near, when I conceived myself abandoned
   By the whole world? And find that friend in you,
   The nephew of my gaoler, whom I thought
   My most inveterate enemy?
 

MORTIMER (kneeling)

 
                 Oh, pardon,
   My gracious liege, for the detested mask,
   Which it has cost me pain enough to wear;
   Yet through such means alone have I the power
   To see you, and to bring you help and rescue.
 

MARY

 
   Arise, sir; you astonish me; I cannot
   So suddenly emerge from the abyss
   Of wretchedness to hope: let me conceive
   This happiness, that I may credit it.
 

MORTIMER

 
   Our time is brief: each moment I expect
   My uncle, whom a hated man attends;
   Hear, then, before his terrible commission
   Surprises you, how heaven prepares your rescue.
 

MARY

 
   You come in token of its wondrous power.
 

MORTIMER

 
   Allow me of myself to speak.
 

MARY

 
                  Say on.
 

MORTIMER

 
   I scarce, my liege, had numbered twenty years,
   Trained in the path of strictest discipline
   And nursed in deadliest hate to papacy,
   When led by irresistible desire
   For foreign travel, I resolved to leave
   My country and its puritanic faith
   Far, far behind me: soon with rapid speed
   I flew through France, and bent my eager course
   On to the plains of far-famed Italy.
   'Twas then the time of the great jubilee:
   And crowds of palmers filled the public roads;
   Each image was adorned with garlands; 'twas
   As if all human-kind were wandering forth
   In pilgrimage towards the heavenly kingdom.
   The tide of the believing multitude
   Bore me too onward, with resistless force,
   Into the streets of Rome. What was my wonder,
   As the magnificence of stately columns
   Rushed on my sight! the vast triumphal arches,
   The Colosseum's grandeur, with amazement
   Struck my admiring senses; the sublime
   Creative spirit held my soul a prisoner
   In the fair world of wonders it had framed.
   I ne'er had felt the power of art till now.
   The church that reared me hates the charms of sense;
   It tolerates no image, it adores
   But the unseen, the incorporeal word.
   What were my feelings, then, as I approached
   The threshold of the churches, and within,
   Heard heavenly music floating in the air:
   While from the walls and high-wrought roofs there streamed
   Crowds of celestial forms in endless train —
   When the Most High, Most Glorious pervaded
   My captivated sense in real presence!
   And when I saw the great and godlike visions,
   The Salutation, the Nativity,
   The Holy Mother, and the Trinity's
   Descent, the luminous transfiguration
   And last the holy pontiff, clad in all
   The glory of his office, bless the people!
   Oh! what is all the pomp of gold and jewels
   With which the kings of earth adorn themselves!
   He is alone surrounded by the Godhead;
   His mansion is in truth an heavenly kingdom,
   For not of earthly moulding are these forms!
 

MARY

 
   O spare me, sir! No further. Spread no more
   Life's verdant carpet out before my eyes,
   Remember I am wretched, and a prisoner.
 

MORTIMER

 
   I was a prisoner, too, my queen; but swift
   My prison-gates flew open, when at once
   My spirit felt its liberty, and hailed
   The smiling dawn of life. I learned to burst
   Each narrow prejudice of education,
   To crown my brow with never-fading wreaths,
   And mix my joy with the rejoicing crowd.
   Full many noble Scots, who saw my zeal,
   Encouraged me, and with the gallant French
   They kindly led me to your princely uncle,
   The Cardinal of Guise. Oh, what a man!
   How firm, how clear, how manly, and how great!
   Born to control the human mind at will!
   The very model of a royal priest;
   A ruler of the church without an equal!
 

MARY

 
   You've seen him then, – the much loved, honored man,
   Who was the guardian of my tender years!
   Oh, speak of him! Does he remember me?
   Does fortune favor him? And prospers still
   His life? And does he still majestic stand,
   A very rock and pillar of the church?
 

MORTIMER

 
   The holy man descended from his height,
   And deigned to teach me the important creed
   Of the true church, and dissipate my doubts.
   He showed me how the glimmering light of reason
   Serves but to lead us to eternal error:
   That what the heart is called on to believe
   The eye must see: that he who rules the church
   Must needs be visible; and that the spirit
   Of truth inspired the councils of the fathers.
   How vanished then the fond imaginings
   And weak conceptions of my childish soul
   Before his conquering judgment, and the soft
   Persuasion of his tongue! So I returned
   Back to the bosom of the holy church,
   And at his feet abjured my heresies.
 

MARY

 
   Then of those happy thousands you are one,
   Whom he, with his celestial eloquence,
   Like the immortal preacher of the mount,
   Has turned and led to everlasting joy!
 

MORTIMER

 
   The duties of his office called him soon
   To France, and I was sent by him to Rheims,
   Where, by the Jesuits' anxious labor, priests
   Are trained to preach our holy faith in England.
   There, 'mongst the Scots, I found the noble Morgan,
   And your true Lesley, Ross's learned bishop,
   Who pass in France their joyless days of exile.
   I joined with heartfelt zeal these worthy men,
   And fortified my faith. As I one day
   Roamed through the bishop's dwelling, I was struck
   With a fair female portrait; it was full
   Of touching wond'rous charms; with magic might
   It moved my inmost soul, and there I stood
   Speechless, and overmastered by my feelings.
   "Well," cried the bishop, "may you linger thus
   In deep emotion near this lovely face!
   For the most beautiful of womankind,
   Is also matchless in calamity.
   She is a prisoner for our holy faith,
   And in your native land, alas! she suffers."
 

[MARY is in great agitation. He pauses.

MARY

 
   Excellent man! All is not lost, indeed,
   While such a friend remains in my misfortunes!
 

MORTIMER

 
   Then he began, with moving eloquence,
   To paint the sufferings of your martyrdom;
   He showed me then your lofty pedigree,
   And your descent from Tudor's royal house.
   He proved to me that you alone have right
   To reign in England, not this upstart queen,
   The base-born fruit of an adult'rous bed,
   Whom Henry's self rejected as a bastard.
 

[He from my eyes removed delusion's mist,

 
   And taught me to lament you as a victim,
   To honor you as my true queen, whom I,
   Deceived, like thousands of my noble fellows,
   Had ever hated as my country's foe.]
   I would not trust his evidence alone;
   I questioned learned doctors; I consulted
   The most authentic books of heraldry;
   And every man of knowledge whom I asked
   Confirmed to me your claim's validity.
   And now I know that your undoubted right
   To England's throne has been your only wrong,
   This realm is justly yours by heritage,
   In which you innocently pine as prisoner.
 

MARY

 
   Oh, this unhappy right! – 'tis this alone
   Which is the source of all my sufferings.
 

MORTIMER

 
   Just at this time the tidings reached my ears
   Of your removal from old Talbot's charge,
   And your committal to my uncle's care.
   It seemed to me that this disposal marked
   The wond'rous, outstretched hand of favoring heaven;
   It seemed to be a loud decree of fate,
   That it had chosen me to rescue you.
   My friends concur with me; the cardinal
   Bestows on me his counsel and his blessing,
   And tutors me in the hard task of feigning.
   The plan in haste digested, I commenced
   My journey homewards, and ten days ago
   On England's shores I landed. Oh, my queen.
 

[He pauses.

 
   I saw then, not your picture, but yourself —
   Oh, what a treasure do these walls enclose!
   No prison this, but the abode of gods,
   More splendid far than England's royal court.
   Happy, thrice happy he, whose envied lot
   Permits to breathe the selfsame air with you!
   It is a prudent policy in her
   To bury you so deep! All England's youth
   Would rise at once in general mutiny,
   And not a sword lie quiet in its sheath:
   Rebellion would uprear its giant head,
   Through all this peaceful isle, if Britons once
   Beheld their captive queen.
 

MARY

 
                  'Twere well with her,
   If every Briton saw her with your eyes!
 

MORTIMER

 
   Were each, like me, a witness of your wrongs,
   Your meekness, and the noble fortitude
   With which you suffer these indignities —
   Would you not then emerge from all these trials
   Like a true queen? Your prison's infamy,
   Hath it despoiled your beauty of its charms?
   You are deprived of all that graces life,
   Yet round you life and light eternal beam.
   Ne'er on this threshold can I set my foot,
   That my poor heart with anguish is not torn,
   Nor ravished with delight at gazing on you.
   Yet fearfully the fatal time draws near,
   And danger hourly growing presses on.
   I can delay no longer – can no more
   Conceal the dreadful news.
 

MARY

 
                 My sentence then!
   It is pronounced? Speak freely – I can bear it.
 

MORTIMER

 
   It is pronounced! The two-and-forty judges
   Have given the verdict, "guilty"; and the Houses
   Of Lords and Commons, with the citizens
   Of London, eagerly and urgently
   Demand the execution of the sentence: —
   The queen alone still craftily delays,
   That she may be constrained to yield, but not
   From feelings of humanity or mercy.
 

MARY (collected)

 
   Sir, I am not surprised, nor terrified.
   I have been long prepared for such a message.
   Too well I know my judges. After all
   Their cruel treatment I can well conceive
   They dare not now restore my liberty.
   I know their aim: they mean to keep me here
   In everlasting bondage, and to bury,
   In the sepulchral darkness of my prison,
   My vengeance with me, and my rightful claims.
 

MORTIMER

 
   Oh, no, my gracious queen; – they stop not there:
   Oppression will not be content to do
   Its work by halves: – as long as e'en you live,
   Distrust and fear will haunt the English queen.
   No dungeon can inter you deep enough;
   Your death alone can make her throne secure.
 

MARY

 
   Will she then dare, regardless of the shame,
   Lay my crowned head upon the fatal block?
 

MORTIMER

 
   She will most surely dare it, doubt it not.
 

MARY

 
   And can she thus roll in the very dust
   Her own, and every monarch's majesty?
 

MORTIMER

 
   She thinks on nothing now but present danger,
   Nor looks to that which is so far removed.
 

MARY

 
   And fears she not the dread revenge of France?
 

MORTIMER

 
   With France she makes an everlasting peace;
   And gives to Anjou's duke her throne and hand.
 

MARY

 
   Will not the King of Spain rise up in arms?
 

MORTIMER

 
   She fears not a collected world in arms?
   If with her people she remains at peace.
 

MARY

 
   Were this a spectacle for British eyes?
 

MORTIMER

 
   This land, my queen, has, in these latter days,
   Seen many a royal woman from the throne
   Descend and mount the scaffold: – her own mother
   And Catherine Howard trod this fatal path;
   And was not Lady Grey a crowned head?
 

MARY (after a pause)

 
   No, Mortimer, vain fears have blinded you;
   'Tis but the honest care of your true heart,
   Which conjures up these empty apprehensions.
   It is not, sir, the scaffold that I fear:
   There are so many still and secret means
   By which her majesty of England may
   Set all my claims to rest. Oh, trust me, ere
   An executioner is found for me,
   Assassins will be hired to do their work.
   'Tis that which makes me tremble, Mortimer:
   I never lift the goblet to my lips
   Without an inward shuddering, lest the draught
   May have been mingled by my sister's love.
 

MORTIMER

 
   No: – neither open or disguised murder
   Shall e'er prevail against you: – fear no more;
   All is prepared; – twelve nobles of the land
   Are my confederates, and have pledged to-day,
   Upon the sacrament, their faith to free you,
   With dauntless arm, from this captivity.
   Count Aubespine, the French ambassador,
   Knows of our plot, and offers his assistance:
   'Tis in his palace that we hold our meetings.
 

NARY

 
   You make me tremble, sir, but not for joy!
   An evil boding penetrates my heart.
   Know you, then, what you risk? Are you not scared
   By Babington and Tichburn's bloody heads,
   Set up as warnings upon London's bridge?
   Nor by the ruin of those many victims
   Who have, in such attempts, found certain death,
   And only made my chains the heavier?
   Fly hence, deluded, most unhappy youth!
   Fly, if there yet be time for you, before
   That crafty spy, Lord Burleigh, track your schemes,
   And mix his traitors in your secret plots.
   Fly hence: – as yet, success hath never smiled
   On Mary Stuart's champions.
 

MORTIMER

 
                  I am not scared
   By Babington and Tichburn's bloody heads
   Set up as warnings upon London's bridge;
   Nor by the ruin of those many victims
   Who have, in such attempts, found certain death:
   They also found therein immortal honor,
   And death, in rescuing you, is dearest bliss.
 

MARY

 
   It is in vain: nor force nor guile can save me: —
   My enemies are watchful, and the power
   Is in their hands. It is not Paulet only
   And his dependent host; all England guards
   My prison gates: Elizabeth's free will
   Alone can open them.
 

MORTIMER

 
              Expect not that.
 

MARY

 
   One man alone on earth can open them.
 

MORTIMER

 
   Oh, let me know his name!
 

MARY

 
                 Lord Leicester.
 

MORTIMER

 
                         He!
 

[Starts back in wonder.

 
   The Earl of Leicester! Your most bloody foe,
   The favorite of Elizabeth! through him —
 

MARY

 
   If I am to be saved at all, 'twill be
   Through him, and him alone. Go to him, sir;
   Freely confide in him: and, as a proof
   You come from me, present this paper to him.
 

[She takes a paper from her bosom; MORTIMER draws back,

 
      and hesitates to take it.
   It doth contain my portrait: – take it, sir;
   I've borne it long about me; but your uncle's
   Close watchfulness has cut me off from all
   Communication with him; – you were sent
   By my good angel.
 

[He takes it.

MORTIMER

 
             Oh, my queen! Explain
   This mystery.
 

MARY

 
           Lord Leicester will resolve it.
   Confide in him, and he'll confide in you.
   Who comes?
 

KENNEDY (entering hastily)

 
         'Tis Paulet; and he brings with him
   A nobleman from court.
 

MORTIMER

 
               It is Lord Burleigh.
   Collect yourself, my queen, and strive to hear
   The news he brings with equanimity.
 

[He retires through a side door, and KENNEDY follows him.

SCENE VII

Enter LORD BURLEIGH, and PAULET.

PAULET (to MARY)

 
   You wished to-day assurance of your fate;
   My Lord of Burleigh brings it to you now;
   Hear it with resignation, as beseems you.
 

MARY

 
   I hope with dignity, as it becomes
   My innocence, and my exalted station.
 

BURLEIGH

 
   I come deputed from the court of justice.
 

MARY

 
   Lord Burleigh lends that court his willing tongue,
   Which was already guided by his spirit.
 

PAULET

 
   You speak as if no stranger to the sentence.
 

MARY

 
   Lord Burleigh brings it; therefore do I know it.
 

PAULET

[It would become you better, Lady Stuart,

 
   To listen less to hatred.
 

MARY

 
                 I but name
   My enemy: I said not that I hate him.]
   But to the matter, sir.
 

BURLEIGH

 
                You have acknowledged
   The jurisdiction of the two-and-forty.
 

MARY

 
   My lord, excuse me, if I am obliged
   So soon to interrupt you. I acknowledged,
   Say you, the competence of the commission?
   I never have acknowledged it, my lord;
   How could I so? I could not give away
   My own prerogative, the intrusted rights
   Of my own people, the inheritance
   Of my own son, and every monarch's honor
 

[The very laws of England say I could not.]

 
   It is enacted by the English laws
   That every one who stands arraigned of crime
   Shall plead before a jury of his equals:
   Who is my equal in this high commission?
   Kings only are my peers.
 

BURLEIGH

 
                But yet you heard
   The points of accusation, answered them
   Before the court —
 

MARY

 
             'Tis true, I was deceived
   By Hatton's crafty counsel: – he advised me,
   For my own honor, and in confidence
   In my good cause, and my most strong defence,
   To listen to the points of accusation,
   And prove their falsehoods. This, my lord, I did
   From personal respect for the lords' names,
   Not their usurped charge, which I disclaim.
 

BURLEIGH

 
   Acknowledge you the court, or not, that is
   Only a point of mere formality,
   Which cannot here arrest the course of justice.
   You breathe the air of England; you enjoy
   The law's protection, and its benefits;
   You therefore are its subject.
 

MARY

 
                   Sir, I breathe
   The air within an English prison walls:
   Is that to live in England; to enjoy
   Protection from its laws? I scarcely know
   And never have I pledged my faith to keep them.
   I am no member of this realm; I am
   An independent, and a foreign queen.
 

BURLEIGH

 
   And do you think that the mere name of queen
   Can serve you as a charter to foment
   In other countries, with impunity,
   This bloody discord? Where would be the state's
   Security, if the stern sword of justice
   Could not as freely smite the guilty brow
   Of the imperial stranger as the beggar's?
 

MARY

 
   I do not wish to be exempt from judgment,
   It is the judges only I disclaim.
 

BURLEIGH

 
   The judges? How now, madam? Are they then
   Base wretches, snatched at hazard from the crowd?
   Vile wranglers that make sale of truth and justice;
   Oppression's willing hirelings, and its tools?
   Are they not all the foremost of this land,
   Too independent to be else than honest,
   And too exalted not to soar above
   The fear of kings, or base servility?
   Are they not those who rule a generous people
   In liberty and justice; men, whose names
   I need but mention to dispel each doubt,
   Each mean suspicion which is raised against them?
   Stands not the reverend primate at their head,
   The pious shepherd of his faithful people,
   The learned Talbot, keeper of the seals,
   And Howard, who commands our conquering fleets?
   Say, then, could England's sovereign do more
   Than, out of all the monarchy, elect
   The very noblest, and appoint them judges
   In this great suit? And were it probable
   That party hatred could corrupt one heart;
   Can forty chosen men unite to speak
   A sentence just as passion gives command?
 

MARY (after a short pause)

 
   I am struck dumb by that tongue's eloquence,
   Which ever was so ominous to me.
   And how shall I, a weak, untutored woman,
   Cope with so subtle, learned an orator?
   Yes truly; were these lords as you describe them,
   I must be mute; my cause were lost indeed,
   Beyond all hope, if they pronounce me guilty.
   But, sir, these names, which you are pleased to praise,
   These very men, whose weight you think will crush me,
   I see performing in the history
   Of these dominions very different parts:
   I see this high nobility of England,
   This grave majestic senate of the realm,
   Like to an eastern monarch's vilest slaves,
   Flatter my uncle Henry's sultan fancies:
   I see this noble, reverend House of Lords,
   Venal alike with the corrupted Commons,
   Make statutes and annul them, ratify
   A marriage and dissolve it, as the voice
   Of power commands: to-day it disinherits,
   And brands the royal daughters of the realm
   With the vile name of bastards, and to-morrow
   Crowns them as queens, and leads them to the throne.
   I see them in four reigns, with pliant conscience,
   Four times abjure their faith; renounce the pope
   With Henry, yet retain the old belief;
   Reform themselves with Edward; hear the mass
   Again with Mary; with Elizabeth,
   Who governs now, reform themselves again.
 

BURLEIGH

 
   You say you are not versed in England's laws,
   You seem well read, methinks, in her disasters.
 

MARY

 
   And these men are my judges?
 

[As LORD BURLEIGH seems to wish to speak.

 
                  My lord treasurer,
   Towards you I will be just, be you but just
   To me. 'Tis said that you consult with zeal
   The good of England, and of England's queen;
   Are honest, watchful, indefatigable;
   I will believe it. Not your private ends,
   Your sovereign and your country's weal alone,
   Inspire your counsels and direct your deeds.
   Therefore, my noble lord, you should the more
   Distrust your heart; should see that you mistake not
   The welfare of the government for justice.
   I do not doubt, besides yourself, there are
   Among my judges many upright men:
   But they are Protestants, are eager all
   For England's quiet, and they sit in judgment
   On me, the Queen of Scotland, and the papist.
   It is an ancient saying, that the Scots
   And England to each other are unjust;
   And hence the rightful custom that a Scot
   Against an Englishman, or Englishman
   Against a Scot, cannot be heard in judgment.
   Necessity prescribed this cautious law;
   Deep policy oft lies in ancient customs:
   My lord, we must respect them. Nature cast
   Into the ocean these two fiery nations
   Upon this plank, and she divided it
   Unequally, and bade them fight for it.
   The narrow bed of Tweed alone divides
   These daring spirits; often hath the blood
   Of the contending parties dyed its waves.
   Threatening, and sword in hand, these thousand years,
   From both its banks they watch their rival's motions,
   Most vigilant and true confederates,
   With every enemy of the neighbor state.
   No foe oppresses England, but the Scot
   Becomes his firm ally; no civil war
   Inflames the towns of Scotland, but the English
   Add fuel to the fire: this raging hate
   Will never be extinguished till, at last,
   One parliament in concord shall unite them,
   One common sceptre rule throughout the isle.
 

BURLEIGH

 
   And from a Stuart, then, should England hope
   This happiness?
 

MARY

 
            Oh! why should I deny it?
   Yes, I confess, I cherished the fond hope;
   I thought myself the happy instrument
   To join in freedom, 'neath the olive's shade,
   Two generous realms in lasting happiness!
   I little thought I should become the victim
   Of their old hate, their long-lived jealousy;
   And the sad flames of that unhappy strife,
   I hoped at last to smother, and forever:
   And, as my ancestor, great Richmond, joined
   The rival roses after bloody contest,
   To join in peace the Scotch and English crowns.
 

BURLEIGH

 
   An evil way you took to this good end,
   To set the realm on fire, and through the flames
   Of civil war to strive to mount the throne.
 

MARY

 
   I wished not that: – I wished it not, by Heaven!
   When did I strive at that? Where are your proofs?
 

BURLEIGH

 
   I came not hither to dispute; your cause
   Is no more subject to a war of words.
   The great majority of forty voices
   Hath found that you have contravened the law
   Last year enacted, and have now incurred
   Its penalty.
      [Producing the verdict.
 

MARY

 
          Upon this statute, then,
   My lord, is built the verdict of my judges?
 

BURLEIGH (reading)

 
   Last year it was enacted, "If a plot
   Henceforth should rise in England, in the name
   Or for the benefit of any claimant
   To England's crown, that justice should be done
   On such pretender, and the guilty party
   Be prosecuted unto death." Now, since
   It has been proved —
 

MARY

 
              Lord Burleigh, I can well
   Imagine that a law expressly aimed
   At me, and framed to compass my destruction
   May to my prejudice be used. Oh! Woe
   To the unhappy victim, when the tongue
   That frames the law shall execute the sentence.
   Can you deny it, sir, that this same statute
   Was made for my destruction, and naught else?
 

BURLEIGH

 
   It should have acted as a warning to you:
   By your imprudence it became a snare.
   You saw the precipice which yawned before you;
   Yet, truly warned, you plunged into the deep.
   With Babington, the traitor, and his bands
   Of murderous companions, were you leagued.
   You knew of all, and from your prison led
   Their treasonous plottings with a deep-laid plan.
 

MARY

 
   When did I that, my lord? Let them produce
   The documents.
 

BURLEIGH

 
           You have already seen them
   They were before the court, presented to you.
 

MARY

 
   Mere copies written by another hand;
   Show me the proof that they were dictated
   By me, that they proceeded from my lips,
   And in those very terms in which you read them.
 

BURLEIGH

 
   Before his execution, Babington
   Confessed they were the same which he received.
 

MARY

 
   Why was he in his lifetime not produced
   Before my face? Why was he then despatched
   So quickly that he could not be confronted
   With her whom he accused?
 

BURLEIGH

 
                 Besides, my lady,
   Your secretaries, Curl and Nau, declare
   On oath, they are the very selfsame letters
   Which from your lips they faithfully transcribed.
 

MARY

 
   And on my menials' testimony, then,
   I am condemned; upon the word of those
   Who have betrayed me, me, their rightful queen!
   Who in that very moment, when they came
   As witnesses against me, broke their faith!
 

BURLEIGH

 
   You said yourself, you held your countryman
   To be an upright, conscientious man.
 

MARY

 
   I thought him such; but 'tis the hour of danger
   Alone, which tries the virtue of a man.
 

[He ever was an honest man, but weak

 
   In understanding; and his subtle comrade,
   Whose faith, observe, I never answered for,
   Might easily seduce him to write down
   More than he should;] the rack may have compelled him
   To say and to confess more than he knew.
   He hoped to save himself by this false witness,
   And thought it could not injure me – a queen.
 

BURLEIGH

 
   The oath he swore was free and unconstrained.
 

MARY

 
   But not before my face! How now, my lord?
   The witnesses you name are still alive;
   Let them appear against me face to face,
   And there repeat what they have testified.
   Why am I then denied that privilege,
   That right which e'en the murderer enjoys?
   I know from Talbot's mouth, my former keeper,
   That in this reign a statute has been passed
   Which orders that the plaintiff be confronted
   With the defendant; is it so, good Paulet?
   I e'er have known you as an honest man;
   Now prove it to me; tell me, on your conscience,
   If such a law exist or not in England?
 

PAULET

 
   Madam, there does: that is the law in England.
   I must declare the truth.
 

MARY

 
                 Well, then, my lord,
   If I am treated by the law of England
   So hardly, when that law oppresses me,
   Say, why avoid this selfsame country's law,
   When 'tis for my advantage? Answer me;
   Why was not Babington confronted with me?
   Why not my servants, who are both alive?
 

BURLEIGH

 
   Be not so hasty, lady; 'tis not only
   Your plot with Babington —
 

MARY

 
                 'Tis that alone
   Which arms the law against me; that alone
   From which I'm called upon to clear myself.
   Stick to the point, my lord; evade it not.
 

BURLEIGH

 
   It has been proved that you have corresponded
   With the ambassador of Spain, Mendoza —
 

MARY

 
   Stick to the point, my lord.
 

BURLEIGH

 
                  That you have formed
   Conspiracies to overturn the fixed
   Religion of the realm; that you have called
   Into this kingdom foreign powers, and roused
   All kings in Europe to a war with England.
 

MARY

 
   And were it so, my lord – though I deny it —
   But e'en suppose it were so: I am kept
   Imprisoned here against all laws of nations.
   I came not into England sword in hand;
   I came a suppliant; and at the hands
   Of my imperial kinswoman I claimed
   The sacred rights of hospitality,
   When power seized upon me, and prepared
   To rivet fetters where I hoped protection.
   Say, is my conscience bound, then, to this realm?
   What are the duties that I owe to England?
   I should but exercise a sacred right,
   Derived from sad necessity, if I
   Warred with these bonds, encountered might with might,
   Roused and incited every state in Europe
   For my protection to unite in arms.
   Whatever in a rightful war is just
   And loyal, 'tis my right to exercise:
   Murder alone, the secret, bloody deed,
   My conscience and my pride alike forbid.
   Murder would stain me, would dishonor me:
   Dishonor me, my lord, but not condemn me,
   Nor subject me to England's courts of law:
   For 'tis not justice, but mere violence,
   Which is the question 'tween myself and England.
 

BURLEIGH (significantly)

 
   Talk not, my lady, of the dreadful right
   Of power: 'tis seldom on the prisoner's side.
 

MARY

 
   I am the weak, she is the mighty one:
   'Tis well, my lord; let her, then, use her power;
   Let her destroy me; let me bleed, that she
   May live secure; but let her, then, confess
   That she hath exercised her power alone,
   And not contaminate the name of justice.
   Let her not borrow from the laws the sword
   To rid her of her hated enemy;
   Let her not clothe in this religious garb
   The bloody daring of licentious might;
   Let not these juggling tricks deceive the world.
 

[Returning the sentence.

 
   Though she may murder me, she cannot judge me:
   Let her no longer strive to join the fruits
   Of vice with virtue's fair and angel show;
   But let her dare to seem the thing she is.
 

[Exit.