Kitabı oku: «Mary Stuart», sayfa 7

SCENE V

The apartment of the Queen.

ELIZABETH, with a letter in her hand, BURLEIGH.

ELIZABETH

 
   To lure me thither! trifle with me thus!
   The traitor! Thus to lead me, as in triumph,
   Into the presence of his paramour!
   Oh, Burleigh! ne'er was woman so deceived.
 

BURLEIGH

 
   I cannot yet conceive what potent means,
   What magic he exerted, to surprise
   My queen's accustomed prudence.
 

ELIZABETH

 
                    Oh, I die
   For shame! How must he laugh to scorn my weakness!
   I thought to humble her, and was myself
   The object of her bitter scorn.
 

BURLEIGH

 
                    By this
   You see how faithfully I counselled you.
 

ELIZABETH

 
   Oh, I am sorely punished, that I turned
   My ear from your wise counsels; yet I thought
   I might confide in him. Who could suspect
   Beneath the vows of faithfullest devotion
   A deadly snare? In whom can I confide
   When he deceives me? He, whom I have made
   The greatest of the great, and ever set
   The nearest to my heart, and in this court
   Allowed to play the master and the king.
 

BURLEIGH

 
   Yet in that very moment he betrayed you,
   Betrayed you to this wily Queen of Scots.
 

ELIZABETH

 
   Oh, she shall pay me for it with her life!
   Is the death-warrant ready?
 

BURLEIGH

 
                  'Tis prepared
   As you commanded.
 

ELIZABETH

 
             She shall surely die —
   He shall behold her fall, and fall himself!
   I've driven him from my heart. No longer love,
   Revenge alone is there: and high as once
   He stood, so low and shameful be his fall!
   A monument of my severity,
   As once the proud example of my weakness.
   Conduct him to the Tower; let a commission
   Of peers be named to try him. He shall feel
   In its full weight the rigor of the law.
 

BURLEIGH

 
   But he will seek thy presence; he will clear —
 

ELIZABETH

 
   How can he clear himself? Does not the letter
   Convict him. Oh, his crimes are manifest!
 

BURLEIGH

 
   But thou art mild and gracious! His appearance,
   His powerful presence —
 

ELIZABETH

 
                I will never see him;
   No never, never more. Are orders given
   Not to admit him should he come?
 

BURLEIGH

 
                    'Tis done.
 

PAGE (entering)

 
   The Earl of Leicester!
 

ELIZABETH

 
               The presumptuous man!
   I will not see him. Tell him that I will not.
 

PAGE

 
   I am afraid to bring my lord this message,
   Nor would he credit it.
 

ELIZABETH

 
                And I have raised him
   So high that my own servants tremble more
   At him than me!
 

BURLEIGH (to the PAGE)

 
            The queen forbids his presence.
 

[The PAGE retires slowly.

ELIZABETH (after a pause)

 
   Yet, if it still were possible? If he
   Could clear himself? Might it not be a snare
   Laid by the cunning one, to sever me
   From my best friends – the ever-treacherous harlot!
   She might have writ the letter, but to raise
   Poisonous suspicion in my heart, to ruin
   The man she hates.
 

BURLEIGH

 
             Yet, gracious queen, consider.
 

SCENE VI

LEICESTER (bursts open the door with violence, and enters with an imperious air).

LEICESTER

 
   Fain would I see the shameless man who dares
   Forbid me the apartments of my queen!
 

ELIZABETH (avoiding his sight)

 
   Audacious slave!
 

LEICESTER

 
            To turn me from the door!
   If for a Burleigh she be visible,
   She must be so to me!
 

BURLEIGH

 
               My lord, you are
   Too bold, without permission to intrude.
 

LEICESTER

 
   My lord, you are too arrogant, to take
   The lead in these apartments. What! Permission!
   I know of none who stands so high at court
   As to permit my doings, or refuse them.
 

[Humbly approaching ELIZABETH.

 
   'Tis from my sovereign's lips alone that I —
 

ELIZABETH (without looking at him)

 
   Out of my sight, deceitful, worthless traitor!
 

LEICESTER

 
   'Tis not my gracious queen I hear, but Burleigh,
   My enemy, in these ungentle words.
   To my imperial mistress I appeal;
   Thou hast lent him thine ear; I ask the like.
 

ELIZABETH

 
   Speak, shameless wretch! Increase your crime – deny it.
 

LEICESTER

 
   Dismiss this troublesome intruder first.
   Withdraw, my lord; it is not of your office
   To play the third man here: between the queen
   And me there is no need of witnesses.
   Retire —
 

ELIZABETH (to BURLEIGH)

 
        Remain, my lord; 'tis my command.
 

LEICESTER

 
   What has a third to do 'twixt thee and me?
   I have to clear myself before my queen,
   My worshipped queen; I will maintain the rights
   Which thou hast given me; these rights are sacred,
   And I insist upon it, that my lord
   Retire.
 

ELIZABETH

 
        This haughty tone befits you well.
 

LEICESTER

 
   It well befits me; am not I the man,
   The happy man, to whom thy gracious favor
   Has given the highest station? this exalts me
   Above this Burleigh, and above them all.
   Thy heart imparted me this rank, and what
   Thy favor gave, by heavens I will maintain
   At my life's hazard. Let him go, it needs
   Two moments only to exculpate me.
 

ELIZABETH

 
   Think not, with cunning words, to hide the truth.
 

LEICESTER

 
   That fear from him, so voluble of speech:
   But what I say is to the heart addressed;
   And I will justify what I have dared
   To do, confiding in thy generous favor,
   Before thy heart alone. I recognize
   No other jurisdiction.
 

ELIZABETH

 
               Base deceiver
   'Tis this, e'en this, which above all condemns you.
   My lord, produce the letter.
 

[To BURLEIGH.

BURLEIGH

 
                   Here it is.
 

LEICESTER (running over the letter without losing his presence of mind)

 
   'Tis Mary Stuart's hand —
 

ELIZABETH

 
                 Read and be dumb!
 

LEICESTER (having read it quietly)

 
   Appearance is against me, yet I hope
   I shall not by appearances be judged.
 

ELIZABETH

 
   Can you deny your secret correspondence
   With Mary? – that she sent and you received
   Her picture, that you gave her hopes of rescue?
 

LEICESTER

 
   It were an easy matter, if I felt
   That I were guilty of a crime, to challenge
   The testimony of my enemy:
   Yet bold is my good conscience. I confess
   That she hath said the truth.
 

ELIZABETH

 
                   Well then, thou wretch!
 

BURLEIGH

 
   His own words sentence him —
 

ELIZABETH

 
                  Out of my sight!
   Away! Conduct the traitor to the Tower!
 

LEICESTER

 
   I am no traitor; it was wrong, I own,
   To make a secret of this step to thee;
   Yet pure was my intention, it was done
   To search into her plots and to confound them.
 

ELIZABETH

 
   Vain subterfuge!
 

BURLEIGH

 
            And do you think, my lord —
 

LEICESTER

 
   I've played a dangerous game, I know it well,
   And none but Leicester dare be bold enough
   To risk it at this court. The world must know
   How I detest this Stuart, and the rank
   Which here I hold; my monarch's confidence,
   With which she honors me, must sure suffice
   To overturn all doubt of my intentions.
   Well may the man thy favor above all
   Distinguishes pursue a daring course
   To do his duty!
 

BURLEIGH

 
            If the course was good,
   Wherefore conceal it?
 

LEICESTER

 
               You are used, my lord,
   To prate before you act; the very chime
   Of your own deeds. This is your manner, lord;
   But mine is first to act, and then to speak.
 

BURLEIGH

 
   Yes, now you speak because you must.
 

LEICESTER (measuring him proudly and disdainfully with his eyes)

 
                      And you
   Boast of a wonderful, a mighty action,
   That you have saved the queen, have snatched away
   The mask from treachery; all is known to you;
   You think, forsooth, that nothing can escape
   Your penetrating eyes. Poor, idle boaster!
   In spite of all your cunning, Mary Stuart
   Was free to-day, had I not hindered it.
 

BURLEIGH

 
                        How? You?
 

LEICESTER

 
   Yes, I, my lord; the queen confided
   In Mortimer; she opened to the youth
   Her inmost soul! Yes, she went further still;
   She gave him, too, a secret, bloody charge,
 

Which Paulet had before refused with horror.

 
   Say, is it so, or not?
 

[The QUEEN and BURLEIGH look at one another with astonishment.

BURLEIGH

 
               Whence know ye this?
 

LEICESTER

 
   Nay, is it not a fact? Now answer me.
   And where, my lord, where were your thousand eyes,
   Not to discover Mortimer was false?
   That he, the Guise's tool, and Mary's creature,
   A raging papist, daring fanatic,
   Was come to free the Stuart, and to murder
   The Queen of England!
 

ELIZABETH (with the utmost astonishment)

 
               How! This Mortimer!
 

LEICESTER

 
   'Twas he through whom our correspondence passed.
   This plot it was which introduced me to him.
   This very day she was to have been torn
   From her confinement; he, this very moment,
   Disclosed his plan to me: I took him prisoner,
   And gave him to the guard, when in despair
   To see his work o'erturned, himself unmasked,
   He slew himself!
 

ELIZABETH

 
            Oh, I indeed have been
   Deceived beyond example, Mortimer!
 

BURLEIGH

 
   This happened then but now? Since last we parted?
 

LEICESTER

 
   For my own sake, I must lament the deed;
   That he was thus cut off. His testimony,
   Were he alive, had fully cleared my fame,
   And freed me from suspicion; 'twas for this
   That I surrendered him to open justice.
   I thought to choose the most impartial course
   To verify and fix my innocence
   Before the world.
 

BURLEIGH

 
             He killed himself, you say
   Is't so? Or did you kill him?
 

LEICESTER

 
                   Vile suspicion!
   Hear but the guard who seized him.
      [He goes to the door, and calls.
                     Ho! who waits?
 

[Enter the officer of the guard.

 
   Sir, tell the queen how Mortimer expired.
 

OFFICER

 
   I was on duty in the palace porch,
   When suddenly my lord threw wide the door,
   And ordered me to take the knight in charge,
   Denouncing him a traitor: upon this
   He grew enraged, and with most bitter curses
   Against our sovereign and our holy faith,
   He drew a dagger, and before the guards
   Could hinder his intention, plunged the steel
   Into his heart, and fell a lifeless corpse.
 

LEICESTER

 
   'Tis well; you may withdraw. Her majesty
   Has heard enough.
 

[The officer withdraws.

ELIZABETH

 
             Oh, what a deep abyss
   Of monstrous deeds?
 

LEICESTER

 
              Who was it, then, my queen,
   Who saved you? Was it Burleigh? Did he know
   The dangers which surrounded you? Did he
   Avert them from your head? Your faithful Leicester
   Was your good angel.
 

BURLEIGH

 
              This same Mortimer
   Died most conveniently for you, my lord.
 

ELIZABETH

 
   What I should say I know not. I believe you,
   And I believe you not. I think you guilty,
   And yet I think you not. A curse on her
   Who caused me all this anguish.
 

LEICESTER

 
                    She must die;
   I now myself consent unto her death.
   I formerly advised you to suspend
   The sentence, till some arm should rise anew
   On her behalf; the case has happened now,
   And I demand her instant execution.
 

BURLEIGH

 
   You give this counsel? You?
 

LEICESTER

 
                  Howe'er it wound
   My feelings to be forced to this extreme,
   Yet now I see most clearly, now I feel
   That the queen's welfare asks this bloody victim.
   'Tis my proposal, therefore, that the writ
   Be drawn at once to fix the execution.
 

BURLEIGH (to the QUEEN)

 
   Since, then, his lordship shows such earnest zeal,
   Such loyalty, 'twere well were he appointed
   To see the execution of the sentence.
 

LEICESTER

 
   Who? I?
 

BURLEIGH

 
        Yes, you; you surely ne'er could find
   A better means to shake off the suspicion
   Which rests upon you still, than to command
   Her, whom 'tis said you love, to be beheaded.
 

ELIZABETH (looking steadfastly at LEICESTER)

 
   My lord advises well. So be it, then.
 

LEICESTER

 
   It were but fit that my exalted rank
   Should free me from so mournful a commission,
   Which would indeed, in every sense, become
   A Burleigh better than the Earl of Leicester.
   The man who stands so near the royal person
   Should have no knowledge of such fatal scenes:
   But yet to prove my zeal, to satisfy
   My queen, I waive my charge's privilege,
   And take upon myself this hateful duty.
 

ELIZABETH

 
   Lord Burleigh shall partake this duty with you.
 

[To BURLEIGH.

 
   So be the warrant instantly prepared.
 

[BURLEIGH withdraws; a tumult heard without.

SCENE VII

The QUEEN, the EARL OF KENT.

ELIZABETH

 
   How now, my Lord of Kent? What uproar's this
   I hear without?
 

KENT

 
            My queen, it is thy people,
   Who, round the palace ranged, impatiently
   Demand to see their sovereign.
 

ELIZABETH

 
                    What's their wish?
 

KENT

 
   A panic terror has already spread
   Through London, that thy life has been attempted;
   That murderers commissioned from the pope
   Beset thee; that the Catholics have sworn
   To rescue from her prison Mary Stuart,
   And to proclaim her queen. Thy loyal people
   Believe it, and are mad; her head alone
   Can quiet them; this day must be her last.
 

ELIZABETH

 
   How! Will they force me, then?
 

KENT

 
                    They are resolved —
 

SCENE VIII

Enter BURLEIGH and DAVISON, with a paper.

ELIZABETH

 
   Well, Davison?
 

DAVISON (approaches earnestly)

 
           Your orders are obeyed,
   My queen —
 

ELIZABETH

 
         What orders, sir?
 

[As she is about to take the paper, she shudders, and starts back.

 
                   Oh, God!
 

BURLEIGH

 
                        Obey
   Thy people's voice; it is the voice of God.
 

ELIZABETH (irresolute, as if in contest with herself)

 
   Oh, my good lord, who will assure me now
   That what I hear is my whole people's voice,
   The voice of all the world! Ah! much I fear,
   That, if I now should listen to the wish
   Of the wild multitude, a different voice
   Might soon be heard; – and that the very men,
   Who now by force oblige me to this step,
   May, when 'tis taken, heavily condemn me!
 

SCENE IX

Enter the EARL OF SHREWSBURY (who enters with great emotion).

SHREWSBURY

 
   Hold fast, my queen, they wish to hurry thee;
 

[Seeing DAVISON with the paper.

 
   Be firm – or is it then decided? – is it
   Indeed decided? I behold a paper
   Of ominous appearance in his hand;
   Let it not at this moment meet thy eyes,
   My queen! —
 

ELIZABETH

 
         Good Shrewsbury! I am constrained —
 

SHREWSBURY

 
   Who can constrain thee? Thou art Queen of England,
   Here must thy majesty assert its rights:
   Command those savage voices to be silent,
   Who take upon themselves to put constraint
   Upon thy royal will, to rule thy judgment.
   Fear only, blind conjecture, moves thy people;
   Thou art thyself beside thyself; thy wrath
   Is grievously provoked: thou art but mortal,
   And canst not thus ascend the judgment seat.
 

BURLEIGH

 
   Judgment has long been past. It is not now
   The time to speak but execute the sentence.
 

KENT (who upon SHREWSBURY'S entry had retired, comes back)

 
   The tumult gains apace; there are no means
   To moderate the people.
 

ELIZABETH (to SHREWSBURY)

 
                See, my lord,
   How they press on.
 

SHREWSBURY

 
             I only ask a respite;
   A single word traced by thy hand decides
   The peace, the happiness of all thy life!
   Thou hast for years considered, let not then
   A moment ruled by passion hurry thee —
   But a short respite – recollect thyself!
   Wait for a moment of tranquillity.
 

BURLEIGH (violently)

 
   Wait for it – pause – delay – till flames of fire
   Consume the realm; until the fifth attempt
   Of murder be successful! God, indeed,
   Hath thrice delivered thee; thy late escape
   Was marvellous, and to expect again
   A miracle would be to tempt thy God!
 

SHREWSBURY

 
   That God, whose potent hand hath thrice preserved thee,
   Who lent my aged feeble arm its strength
   To overcome the madman: – he deserves
   Thy confidence. I will not raise the voice
   Of justice now, for now is not the time;
   Thou canst not hear it in this storm of passion.
   Yet listen but to this! Thou tremblest now
   Before this living Mary – tremble rather
   Before the murdered, the beheaded Mary.
   She will arise, and quit her grave, will range
   A fiend of discord, an avenging ghost,
   Around thy realm, and turn thy people's hearts
   From their allegiance. For as yet the Britons
   Hate her, because they fear her; but most surely
   Will they avenge her when she is no more.
   They will no more behold the enemy
   Of their belief, they will but see in her
   The much-lamented issue of their kings
   A sacrifice to jealousy and hate.
   Then quickly shalt thou see the sudden change
   When thou hast done the bloody deed; then go
   Through London, seek thy people, which till now
   Around thee swarmed delighted; thou shalt see
   Another England, and another people;
   For then no more the godlike dignity
   Of justice, which subdued thy subjects' hearts,
   Will beam around thee. Fear, the dread ally
   Of tyranny, will shuddering march before thee,
   And make a wilderness in every street —
   The last, extremest crime thou hast committed.
   What head is safe, if the anointed fall?
 

ELIZABETH

 
   Ah! Shrewsbury, you saved my life, you turned
   The murderous steel aside; why let you not
   The dagger take its course? then all these broils
   Would have been ended; then, released from doubt,
   And free from blame, I should be now at rest
   In my still, peaceful grave. In very sooth
   I'm weary of my life, and of my crown.
   If Heaven decree that one of us two queens
   Must perish, to secure the other's life —
   And sure it must be so – why should not I
   Be she who yields? My people must decide;
   I give them back the sovereignty they gave.
   God is my witness that I have not lived
   For my own sake, but for my people's welfare.
   If they expect from this false, fawning Stuart,
   The younger sovereign, more happy days,
   I will descend with pleasure from the throne,
   Again repair to Woodstock's quiet bowers,
   Where once I spent my unambitious youth;
   Where far removed from all the vanities
   Of earthly power, I found within myself
   True majesty. I am not made to rule —
   A ruler should be made of sterner stuff:
   My heart is soft and tender. I have governed
   These many years this kingdom happily,
   But then I only needed to make happy:
   Now, comes my first important regal duty,
   And now I feel how weak a thing I am.
 

BURLEIGH

 
   Now by mine honor, when I hear my queen,
   My royal liege, speak such unroyal words,
   I should betray my office, should betray
   My country, were I longer to be silent.
   You say you love your people 'bove yourself,
   Now prove it. Choose not peace for your own heart,
   And leave your kingdom to the storms of discord.
   Think on the church. Shall, with this papist queen
   The ancient superstition be renewed?
   The monk resume his sway, the Roman legate
   In pomp march hither; lock our churches up,
   Dethrone our monarchs? I demand of you
   The souls of all your subjects – as you now
   Shall act, they all are saved, or all are lost!
   Here is no time for mercy; – to promote
   Your people's welfare is your highest duty.
   If Shrewsbury has saved your life, then I
   Will save both you and England – that is more!
 

ELIZABETH

 
   I would be left alone. No consolation,
   No counsel can be drawn from human aid
   In this conjecture: – I will lay my doubts
   Before the Judge of all: – I am resolved
   To act as He shall teach. Withdraw, my lords.
 

[To DAVISON, who lays the paper on the table.

 
   You, sir, remain in waiting – close at hand.
 

[The lords withdraw, SHREWSBURY alone stands for a few moments before the QUEEN, regards her significantly, then withdraws slowly, and with an expression of the deepest anguish.

SCENE X

ELIZABETH alone.

 
   Oh! servitude of popularity!
   Disgraceful slavery! How weary am I
   Of flattering this idol, which my soul
   Despises in its inmost depth! Oh! when
   Shall I once more be free upon this throne?
   I must respect the people's voice, and strive
   To win the favor of the multitude,
   And please the fancies of a mob, whom naught
   But jugglers' tricks delight. O call not him
   A king who needs must please the world: 'tis he
   Alone, who in his actions does not heed
   The fickle approbation of mankind.
   Have I then practised justice, all my life
   Shunned each despotic deed; have I done this
   Only to bind my hands against this first,
   This necessary act of violence?
   My own example now condemns myself!
   Had I but been a tyrant, like my sister,
   My predecessor, I could fearless then
   Have shed this royal blood: – but am I now
   Just by my own free choice? No – I was forced
   By stern necessity to use this virtue;
   Necessity, which binds e'en monarch's wills.
   Surrounded by my foes, my people's love
   Alone supports me on my envied throne.
   All Europe's powers confederate to destroy me;
   The pope's inveterate decree declares me
   Accursed and excommunicated. France
   Betrays me with a kiss, and Spain prepares
   At sea a fierce exterminating war;
   Thus stand I, in contention with the world,
   A poor defenceless woman: I must seek
   To veil the spot in my imperial birth,
   By which my father cast disgrace upon me:
   In vain with princely virtues would I hide it;
   The envious hatred of my enemies
   Uncovers it, and places Mary Stuart,
   A threatening fiend, before me evermore!
 

[Walking up and down, with quick and agitated steps.

 
   Oh, no! this fear must end. Her head must fall!
   I will have peace. She is the very fury
   Of my existence; a tormenting demon,
   Which destiny has fastened on my soul.
   Wherever I had planted me a comfort,
   A flattering hope, my way was ever crossed
   By this infernal viper! She has torn
   My favorite, and my destined bridegroom from me.
   The hated name of every ill I feel
   Is Mary Stuart – were but she no more
   On earth I should be free as mountain air.
 

[Standing still.

 
   With what disdain did she look down on me,
   As if her eye should blast me like the lightning!
   Poor feeble wretch! I bear far other arms,
   Their touch is mortal, and thou art no more.
 

[Advancing to the table hastily, and taking the pen.

 
   I am a bastard, am I? Hapless wretch,
   I am but so the while thou liv'st and breath'st.
   Thy death will make my birth legitimate.
   The moment I destroy thee is the doubt
   Destroyed which hangs o'er my imperial right.
   As soon as England has no other choice,
   My mother's honor and my birthright triumphs!
 

[She signs with resolution; lets her pen then fall, and steps back with an expression of terror. After a pause she rings.