Mary Stuart - Фридрих Шиллер

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of great justice,

       You forced the judges of the land to clear

       The murderer of his guilt. You went still further—

       O God!

       MARY.

       Conclude—nay, pause not—say for this

       I gave my hand in marriage at the altar.

       KENNEDY.

       O let an everlasting silence veil

       That dreadful deed: the heart revolts at it.

       A crime to stain the darkest criminal!

       Yet you are no such lost one, that I know.

       I nursed your youth myself—your heart is framed

       For tender softness: 'tis alive to shame,

       And all your fault is thoughtless levity.

       Yes, I repeat it, there are evil spirits,

       Who sudden fix in man's unguarded breast

       Their fatal residence, and there delight

       To act their dev'lish deeds; then hurry back

       Unto their native hell, and leave behind

       Remorse and horror in the poisoned bosom.

       Since this misdeed, which blackens thus your life,

       You have done nothing ill; your conduct has

       Been pure; myself can witness your amendment.

       Take courage, then; with your own heart make peace.

       Whatever cause you have for penitence,

       You are not guilty here. Nor England's queen,

       Nor England's parliament can be your judge.

       Here might oppresses you: you may present

       Yourself before this self-created court

       With all the fortitude of innocence.

       MARY.

       I hear a step.

       KENNEDY.

       It is the nephew—In.

       Table of Contents

      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.

       Table of Contents

      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

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