LITMIR.BIZ

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Oh, hapless queen! who, since that fatal day

       When first she set her foot within this realm,

       And, as a suppliant—a fugitive—

       Came to implore protection from her sister,

       Has been condemned, despite the law of nations,

       And royal privilege, to weep away

       The fairest years of youth in prison walls.

       And now, when she hath suffered everything

       Which in imprisonment is hard and bitter,

       Is like a felon summoned to the bar,

       Foully accused, and though herself a queen,

       Constrained to plead for honor and for life.

       PAULET.

       She came amongst us as a murderess,

       Chased by her very subjects from a throne

       Which she had oft by vilest deeds disgraced.

       Sworn against England's welfare came she hither,

       To call the times of bloody Mary back,

       Betray our church to Romish tyranny,

       And sell our dear-bought liberties to France.

       Say, why disdained she to subscribe the treaty

       Of Edinborough—to resign her claim

       To England's crown—and with one single word,

       Traced by her pen, throw wide her prison gates?

       No:—she had rather live in vile confinement,

       And see herself ill-treated, than renounce

       The empty honors of her barren title.

       Why acts she thus? Because she trusts to wiles,

       And treacherous arts of base conspiracy;

       And, hourly plotting schemes of mischief, hopes

       To conquer, from her prison, all this isle.

       KENNEDY.

       You mock us, sir, and edge your cruelty

       With words of bitter scorn:—that she should form

       Such projects; she, who's here immured alive,

       To whom no sound of comfort, not a voice

       Of friendship comes from her beloved home;

       Who hath so long no human face beheld,

       Save her stern gaoler's unrelenting brows;

       Till now, of late, in your uncourteous cousin

       She sees a second keeper, and beholds

       Fresh bolts and bars against her multiplied.

       PAULET.

       No iron-grate is proof against her wiles.

       How do I know these bars are not filed through?

       How that this floor, these walls, that seem so strong

       Without, may not be hollow from within,

       And let in felon treachery when I sleep?

       Accursed office, that's intrusted to me,

       To guard this cunning mother of all ill!

       Fear scares me from my sleep; and in the night

       I, like a troubled spirit, roam and try

       The strength of every bolt, and put to proof

       Each guard's fidelity:—I see, with fear,

       The dawning of each morn, which may confirm

       My apprehensions:—yet, thank God, there's hope

       That all my fears will soon be at an end;

       For rather would I at the gates of hell

       Stand sentinel, and guard the devilish host

       Of damned souls, than this deceitful queen.

       KENNEDY.

       Here comes the queen.

       PAULET.

       Christ's image in her hand.

       Pride, and all worldly lusts within her heart.

SCENE II.

       Table of Contents

      The same. Enter MARY, veiled, a crucifix in her hand.

       KENNEDY (hastening toward her).

       O gracious queen! they tread us under foot;

       No end of tyranny and base oppression;

       Each coming day heaps fresh indignities,

       New sufferings on thy royal head.

       MARY.

       Be calm—

       Say, what has happened?

       KENNEDY.

       See! thy cabinet

       Is forced—thy papers—and thy only treasure,

       Which with such pains we had secured, the last

       Poor remnant of thy bridal ornaments

       From France, is in his hands—naught now remains

       Of royal state—thou art indeed bereft!

       MARY.

       Compose yourself, my Hannah! and believe me,

       'Tis not these baubles that can make a queen—

       Basely indeed they may behave to us,

       But they cannot debase us. I have learned

       To use myself to many a change in England;

       I can support this too. Sir, you have taken

       By force what I this very day designed

       To have delivered to you. There's a letter

       Amongst these papers for my royal sister

       Of England. Pledge me, sir, your word of honor,

       To give it to her majesty's own hands,

       And not to the deceitful care of Burleigh.

       PAULET.

       I shall consider what is best to do.

       MARY.

       Sir, you shall know its import. In this letter

       I beg a favor, a great favor of her—

       That she herself will give me audience—she

       Whom I have never seen. I have been summoned

       Before a court of men, whom I can ne'er

       Acknowledge as my peers—of men to whom

       My heart denies its confidence. The queen

       Is of my family, my rank, my sex;

       To her alone—a sister, queen, and woman—

       Can I unfold my heart.

       PAULET.

       Too oft, my lady,

       Have you intrusted both your fate and honor

       To men less worthy your esteem than these.

       MARY.

       I, in the letter, beg another favor,

       And surely naught but inhumanity

       Can here reject my prayer. These many years

       Have I, in prison, missed the church's comfort,

       The blessings of the sacraments—and she

      

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