ACT III. SCENE IV.
THE PARK AT FOTHERINGAY.
MARY. Farewell high thought, and pride of noble mind! I will forget my dignity, and all My sufferings; I will fall before _her_ feet, Who hath reduced me to this wretchedness. [_She turns towards Elizabeth._ The voice of Heaven decides for you, my sister. Your happy brows are now with triumph crown'd, I bless the Power Divine, which thus hath rais'd you. [_She kneels._ But in your turn be merciful, my sister; Let me not lie before you thus disgraced; Stretch forth your hand, your royal hand, to raise Your sister from the depths of her distress
ELIZ. (_stepping back_). You are where it becomes you, Lady Stuart; And thankfully I prize my God's protection, Who hath not suffer'd me to kneel a suppliant Thus at your feet, as you now kneel at mine.
MARY. (_with increasing energy of feeling_). Think on all earthly things, vicissitudes. Oh! there are gods who punish haughty pride; Respect them, honour them, the dreadful ones Who thus before thy feet have humbled me! Dishonour not Yourself in me; profane not, nor disgrace The royal blood of Tudor.
ELIZ. (_cold and severe_). What would you say to me, my Lady Stuart? You wish'd to speak with me; and I, forgetting The Queen, and all the wrongs I have sustained, Fulfil the pious duty of the sister, And grant the boon you wished for of my presence. Yet I, in yielding to the gen'rous feelings Of magnanimity, expose myself To rightful censure, that I stoop so low, For well you know, you would have had me murder'd.
MARY. O! how shall I begin? O, how shall I So artfully arrange my cautious words, That they may touch, yet not offend your heart?-- I am a Queen, like you, yet you have held me Confin'd in prison. As a suppliant I came to you, yet you in me insulted The pious use of hospitality; Slighting in me the holy law of nations, Immur'd me in a dungeon--tore from me My friends and servants; to unseemly want I was exposed, and hurried to the bar Of a disgraceful, insolent tribunal. No more of this;--in everlasting silence Be buried all the cruelties I suffer'd! See--I will throw the blame of all on fate, 'Twas not your fault, no more than it was mine, An evil spirit rose from the abyss, To kindle in our hearts the flames of hate, By which our tender youth had been divided.
[_Approaching her confidently, and with a flattering tone._
Now stand we face to face; now sister, speak; Name but my crime, I'll fully satisfy you,-- Alas! had you vouchsaf'd to hear me then, When I so earnest sought to meet your eye, It never would have come to this, nor would, Here in this mournful place, have happen'd now This so distressful, this so mournful meeting.
ELIZ. My better stars preserved me. I was warn'd, And laid not to my breast the pois'nous adder! Accuse not fate! your own deceitful heart It was, the wild ambition of your house. But God is with me. The blow was aim'd Full at my head, but your's it is which falls!
MARY. I'm in the hand of Heav'n. You never will Exert so cruelly the pow'r it gives you.
ELIZ. Who shall prevent me? Say, did not your uncle Set all the Kings of Europe the example How to conclude a peace with those they hate. Force is my only surety; no alliance Can be concluded with a race of vipers.
MARY. You have constantly regarded me But as a stranger, and an enemy, Had you declared me heir to your dominions, As is my right, then gratitude and love In me had fixed, for you a faithful friend And kinswoman.
ELIZ. Your friendship is abroad. Name _you_ my successor! The treach'rous snare! That in my life you might seduce my people; And, like a sly Armida, in your net Entangle all our noble English youth; That all might turn to the new rising sun, And I--
MARY. O sister, rule your realm in peace. I give up ev'ry claim to these domains-- Alas! the pinions of my soul are lam'd; Greatness entices me no more; your point Is gained; I am but Mary's shadow now-- My noble spirit is at last broke down By long captivity:--You're done your worst On me; you have destroy'd me in my bloom! Now, end your work, my sister;--speak at length The word, which to pronounce has brought you hither; For I will ne'er believe, that you are come, To mock unfeelingly your hapless victim. Pronounce this word;--say, "Mary, you are free; You have already felt my pow'r,--Learn now To honour too my generosity." Say this, and I will take my life, will take My freedom, as a present from your hands. One word makes all undone;--I wait for it;-- O let it not be needlessly delay'd. Woe to you, if you end not with this word! For should you not, like some divinity, Dispensing noble blessings, quit me now, Then, sister, not for all this island's wealth, For all the realms encircled by the deep, Would I exchange my present lot for yours.
ELIZ. And you confess at last that you are conquer'd Are all you schemes run out? No more assassins Now on the road? Will no adventurer Attempt again for you the sad achievement? Yes, madam, it is over:--You'll seduce No mortal more--The world has other cares;-- None is ambitious of the dang'rous honour Of being your fourth husband.
MARY (_starting angrily_) Sister, sister-- Grant me forbearance, all ye pow'rs of heaven!
ELIZ. (_regards her long with a look of proud contempt_). These then, are the charms Which no man with impunity can view, Near which no woman dare attempt to stand? In sooth, this honour has been cheaply gain'd,
MARY. This is too much!
ELIZ. (_laughing insultingly_). You show us, now indeed, Your real face; till now 'twas but the mask.
MARY, (_burning with rage, yet dignified and noble_). My sins were human, and the faults of youth; Superior force misled me. I have never Denied or sought to hide it; I despis'd, All false appearance as became a Queen. The worst of me is known, and I can say, That I am better than the fame I bear. Woe to you! when, in time to come, the world Shall draw the robe of honour from your deeds, With which thy arch-hypocrisy has veil'd The raging flames of lawless secret lust. Virtue was not your portion from your mother; Well know we what it was which brought the head Of Anne Boleyn to the fatal block. I've supported What human nature can support; farewell, Lamb-hearted resignation, passive patience, Fly to thy native heaven; burst at length Thy bonds, come forward from thy dreary cave, In all thy fury, long-suppressed rancour! And thou, who to the anger'd basilisk Impart'st the murd'rous glance, O, arm my tongue With poison'd darts! (_raising her voice_). A pretender Profanes the English throne! The gen'rous Britons Are cheated by a juggler, [whose whole figure Is false and painted, heart at well as face!] If right prevail'd, you now would in the dust Before me lie, for I'm your rightful monarch!
[Elizabeth _hastily retires_.
MARY. At last, at last, After whole years of sorrow and abasement, One moment of victorious revenge!
* * * * *
SCENE FROM LEAH, THE FORSAKEN.