 | Mary Stuart |  |
26
ACT II.
SCENE I.
Holyrood House. An Open Court.Suitors waiting before the door.
Enter George Douglas and Chalmers.
CHALMERS.
You're an unwilling visitor to Court?
DOUGLAS.
Unwilling and unwelcome. I hate Rizzio;
And he returns it. Once he sneered at me
Because I did not walk into the world
Through the church door. He should have paid his life for't,
But that Lord Morton struck my blade aside,
And saved his fiddle-strings.
CHALMERS.
'Twas not fair play.
But who are these?
DOUGLAS.
All suitors, as I guess;
Come, like ourselves, to swell the great man's levée.
Enter Garcia, with Papers, &c. The Suitors crowd round him.
First Suitor.
Is Signor David,—is the Secretary
At leisure?
GARCIA.
He will pass anon this way.
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I come to beg his interest with the Queen.
GARCIA.
He'll give you audience in the proper course.
[Exit.
DOUGLAS.
Mark you that lofty phrase—“He'll give you audience!”
He'll condescend his ear.—It makes one's blood boil.
CHALMERS.
Keep down your choler, if you'd speak him fair.
Look how they crowd, and cringe, and crawl to him.
Enter Rizzio, with Letters.
First Suitor.
Good Signor!
Second Suitor.
Signor David!
Third Suitor.
Signor Rizzio!
Second Suitor.
Most honorable Secretary!
CHALMERS.
Soh!
They'll make a king of him at last.
DOUGLAS.
He's that
Already, if, to wield the functions, be
To be a king.
RIZZIO.
I cannot hear you now.
First Suitor.
But one word, Signor; I have a brave son,
Who deems it misery to be unknown:
A word from you would lift him to distinction.
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I have a brother, who, in fighting fields,
Hath won his way through danger to neglect:
A helping hand from you would make his fortune.
RIZZIO.
We'll talk of this another time—not now;
For I am pressed by matters of deep moment.
Your cause shall fare no worse for your consenting.
First Suitor.
We will not trespass further, noble Signor.
[Exeunt Suitors, bowing.
DOUGLAS.
They say the Devil has his worshippers,
And I believe it.—Sir, a word with you.
[Coming down.
RIZZIO.
Ha! gentlemen! I pray you pardon me—
I saw you not before.
DOUGLAS.
We know what 'tis
To wait, Sir.
RIZZIO.
But you should not practise it,
If I had seen you. Is there any thing,
So poor a man can do to serve you, Sirs?
DOUGLAS.
Nothing. Our suit is to Her Majesty—
And from the Lords of Morton and of Ruthven.
RIZZIO.
I thought Lord Ruthven was abed, and ill?
DOUGLAS.
But there are two ways out of sickness;—one
Is death: the other is recovery:
He chose the latter.
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And a prudent choice.
But what has he? what can he have to ask
Of the Queen's favour?
CHALMERS.
To be honoured with
A private audience, that he may deliver,
With his own hand, petitions from the people.
RIZZIO.
You know, the Secretary should present
Such documents.
CHALMERS.
But then, a Lord, methinks
May claim some relaxation of the rule.
RIZZIO.
A friendly Lord.
DOUGLAS.
And who says Ruthven's not so?
RIZZIO.
Sir, 'tis enough, the Queen will listen to
Lord Morton; but I cannot answer for
The other Lord.
DOUGLAS.
Then, why presume for either?
RIZZIO.
Presume?
DOUGLAS.
Ha! Does the word offend your Highness?
RIZZIO.
It is not gracious, Sir, to taunt me thus,
When I bespeak you fairly. What I said
Was in obedience, not in pride: I dare not
Mention Lord Ruthven to the Queen.
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And why?
Because an insect buzzing round her ear
Hath trickled poison in't. Why, 'twas but now,
Not weeks, nor days, but some few hours ago,
The Queen received his daughter as a friend:
Is't possible she can account the father
An enemy?
RIZZIO.
'Tis not for me to say;
But what my orders are I must abide by.
DOUGLAS.
This comes of harbouring knaves and sycophants.
CHALMERS.
Douglas, be patient.
RIZZIO.
Let him rail, good Sir:
My duty to the Queen forbids retort;
And so I take my leave, to spare disturbance.
[Exit.
CHALMERS.
We've lost our suit.
DOUGLAS.
'Tis all the better: Ruthven
Will urge the strong petitions still more strongly
Before the open Court.—Let's hasten to him.
[Exeunt.
31
SCENE II.
A State Apartment in Holyrood House.Queen, Countess of Argyle, Marguerite, and Celine.
Ladies discovered laughing. Catherine apart.
QUEEN.
Hark'ye, Argyle! Is't fitting they should laugh thus;
Talk thus, and bear thus hard upon our cousin
Of England? She's a maiden Queen, you know!
MARGUERITE.
She's an old witch.
CELINE.
A red haired witch.
MARGUERITE.
A grey one.
ARGYLE.
Both red and grey; a sweet variety.
MARGUERITE.
'Tis said, her heart hath felt the power of love.
CELINE.
And welcomed it, or fame has much belied her.
QUEEN.
O slanderers! Why! a Queen fares with your tongues
No better than a chambermaid. But where's
Our Secretary, Rizzio?
CELINE.
The last time
I saw the Signor, he was on his knees
Before the picture of your Majesty
That hangs i'th'Hall. Thinking himself alone,
He poured forth such sweet raptures to the picture,
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'Twould have walked down to him.
QUEEN.
Yes, if it had
Your love of flattery.
Enter Rizzio with papers.
But here he is;
Now, Signor, what are these?
RIZZIO.
Letters, so please
Your Majesty.
QUEEN.
Come they from France?
RIZZIO.
From France,
And England too.
[Giving letters.
QUEEN.
And what has England now to say to us?
RIZZIO.
Some new remonstrance touching your late marriage.
QUEEN.
Let her remonstrate with her looking-glass
Against her small grey eyes, and freckled face.
[Reads.
Ha! look you here! She calls my lord and husband
The King, her servant! What! are Kings and Queens
But vassals to this haughty woman's pride?
[Flourish.
RIZZIO.
Madam, the King, the Ambassador of England,
And all your Court approach.
QUEEN.
I'm glad to see
The Ambassador, that he may know my mind.
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King and Queen sit.
So, Sir! your Queen would queen it every where;
Aye, even in Scotland, as this protest shews,
And her known succour to the traitor, Murray.
AMBASSADOR.
Beseech you, Madam, to think lightly of it:
The marriage o'er what can protesting signify?
QUEEN.
'Tis strange, methinks, she has not yet protested
Against the unlicensed rising of the sun;
The flowing of the tides; the mad career
Of winds, and other insubordinate acts
Which unsubmissive nature practises!
Yet, let her look to her own crown, or rather
To that she calls her own; and say, if right
Were done between us, who should reign in England?
AMBASSADOR.
I dare not, Madam, for the love I bear
Your Majesty, report so rash a speech
To England's Court—the answer would be war.
BOTHWELL.
Well, Sir, suppose it war!
RIZZIO.
My Lord, forbear—
War should be met, as wise men meet misfortune,
With manly temper, not with levity:
A demon's breath alone should fan the flame.
QUEEN.
Rizzio advises rightly.
Sir Nicholas, inform the Queen, your mistress,
That, of our own free will and royal power,
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'Tis done; and that's our answer.
AMBASSADOR.
Gracious Madam!
I will repeat your answer faithfully.
[Exit with suite.
DARNLEY
(descending from the throne).
What! no appeal to me! to none but Rizzio!
They rule the land between 'em: let 'em rule it.
[aside.
QUEEN
(descending from the throne.)
You've heard, my Lords, the insolence of England.
'Twere well her pride stopped here—but we have learnt,
By sure advices, she gives succour and
Protection to our enemies. There's Murray:
You know what I have done and suffered for him.
His titles and estates were all the gift
Of this fool hand; yet now he turns upon it!
Elizabeth abets his hostile purpose;
Nay, more, supplies him with the means of our
Annoyance—is this well?
RIZZIO.
'Twill come at last
To blows with England's Queen.
QUEEN.
I seek it not.
But, if 'tis forced upon me, let it come.
DARNLEY.
She's all the sovereign;—no appeal to me!
But what am I?—She has her councillor.
[aside.
MELVILLE.
Madam, the King seems moved.
QUEEN.
How now, my Lord!
Has aught displeased you?
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No; 'tis nothing—but
The vision of the matrimonial crown
Will sometimes cross my thought.
QUEEN.
Remember, Sir,
You are a King.
DARNLEY.
Yes, yes, you call me King,
As slaves are called by mighty Cæsar's name,
To mock their wretchedness more bitterly:
I thank you for the boon.
QUEEN.
O! Darnley, Darnley!
Have I not done enough in doing all?
[A Page enters.
PAGE.
Madam; the Lords of Ruthven and of Morton,
Crave, with the younger Douglas, and some others,
Permission to approach your Majesty.
QUEEN.
Admit them; we've almost forgot their faces.
Enter Ruthven, Morton, Douglas, Chalmers, Maitland, Lindsay, and others.
You've ta'en us by surprise, my Lord; we thought
Your sickness more acute.
RUTHVEN.
Great Madam, there
Are claims that sickness self must yield to: death
Alone can cancel them. I am deputed
By hundreds—thousands—of your Majesty's
Most loyal subjects, to lay at your feet
These, their petitions.
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What's the prayer they urge?
RUTHVEN.
In chief, the pardon of the Earl of Murray.
QUEEN.
Hear this, my Lords: his pardon! Murray's! that—
What shall I call him?
RUTHVEN.
Call him what he is—
Your brother, Madam.
QUEEN.
Then, the baser he,
To be my foe.
RUTHVEN.
And the more blessed you,
To be his pardoner.
QUEEN.
His! his! that traitor's!
Never—so help me heaven, and as I hope,
Myself, for mercy!
RUTHVEN.
Ha! mark that! you hope it;
O! give it to that hope. You cannot tear—
Tear, with your delicate hand, the bonds that nature
Tied with her own:—you cannot put to death
Affection in your living bosom:—no!—
Pride, passion, or some bitter ecstacy
May, for a moment, hide it from yourself,
But there it is, mixed in the blood that sweeps
The circle of your being, to revive
Again, when the rash fit has spent its rage,
And mercy claims her sway.
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Should mercy shut
Her eyes to guilt?
RUTHVEN.
No; but with open eyes
Should pardon it: for what is mercy? Is't not
Forgiveness? And what is forgiveness, but
Remission of the penalty of crime?
If we must keep our mercy for the guiltless,
We might as well give alms to rich abundance,
Fire to the tropic's arid bosom, frost
To the baked pole, and raindrops to the deep!
The fault you hint at is in mercy's self,
That spreads her wing above the head of guilt,
And saves it for repentance.
QUEEN.
Say no more.
BOTHWELL.
Ruthven knows well that Murray still persists
In plotting for the ruin of his country.
RUTHVEN.
Ha! Bothwell, is that you? I thought so! You
Know where to plant the foot, when a man's down;—
And Murray's down.
BOTHWELL.
And you know how to take
The part of Rebels.
RUTHVEN.
Not, when you were one.
DARNLEY.
But is't not true, what Bothwell says of Murray?
Has he not sworn it?
RUTHVEN.
O! when Bothwell swears,
38
BOTHWELL.
Sneering villain!
[touching his sword.
RUTHVEN.
Psha! Take your hand from off that heated steel—
'Twill burn your fingers else.
BOTHWELL.
You need not fear—
I thirst not for your blood.
RUTHVEN.
I know not that;
But this I know—my blood, Sir, hath its price;
And he must be no niggard of his own,
Who takes it at the cost 'twill put him to.
RIZZIO.
My Lords, is this a tone for the Queen's presence?
RUTHVEN.
What crawling thing is that, whose hiss I hear?
DOUGLAS.
'Tis Rizzio!—David Rizzio!
RUTHVEN.
He, who plays
The lute, and sings! Back, minion, to your place!
Your office is to whisper, Sir; to whisper—
Not to speak out like a man; for that were e'en
As if a mole should strive to scale the wall,
Instead of undermining it. Look to
Your occupation;—'twill be better for you—
Neglecting it, you'll lose your way, and fall
Wretchedly into mischief.
RIZZIO.
Still I say
You ought not to forget, Her Majesty,
The Queen is here.
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So is the King here too!—
And asks no upstart to assume his power.
DARNLEY.
'Tis true, that Rizzio takes too much upon him—
QUEEN.
He takes my part. Is that a fault? to take
His mistress' part against that scornful man?
RUTHVEN.
I do beseech you, Madam, pardon me—
I bend with reverence to the throne and you—
But, when I'm barked at by so many curs,
Passion will leap the bounds of ceremony,
And anger bite its cords:—forgive me, Madam.
QUEEN.
Pass to the next Petition.
RUTHVEN.
There is yet
Another prayer in this—it humbly begs
For the dismissal of the foreigners.
QUEEN.
What have they done?
RUTHVEN.
No matter—they are foreign.
Our ancestors were wont to hate that name—
And their example still should govern us.
QUEEN.
But they're all dead. You would not have the dead
Govern the living!—If the dead could peep
Out of their graves, they would not know this world
To be the world they used to tread upon;—
Why should they rule it then? Death knows no change;
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With many weathers; and our planet rolls
Amongst a thousand scattered influences
All turning upon change.
RIZZIO.
Lord Ruthven speaks
As if he'd stamp upon the rolling earth
And cry out—“stop!” to the spheres.
DOUGLAS.
Peace! Dastard, peace!
My Lord! he sees your health has suffered lately!—
That gives him courage.
RUTHVEN.
Be't so, 'tis his instinct.
The cur will bark to see the lion fall.
RIZZIO.
'Tis possible, you may o'er-rate your lion,
And under-rate your cur. I've known such slips—
But why denounce me? 'Sdeath, I'm not a worm—
A thing without a name, save the vile sound
That covers all the species ignominiously;—
I have a man's heart beating in my breast,
And a man's arm to guard it.
DARNLEY.
Madam, are
The nobles to be taunted by your minion?
QUEEN.
If nobles will begin the strife of words,
I cannot regulate its course to please them—
My business in this audience is to listen!
But those who break down fences should not murmur
That the way's clear for others as for them.
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I thought you'd take this course to succour him.
QUEEN.
Indeed, Sir! As for these petitioners,
Your clients, my Lord Ruthven, let them know
That we will duly weigh their least requests,
And to our best of judgment, deal with 'em.
Rizzio, attend us—we shall need your skill
In harmony to drown the discords here.
[Flourish. Exit Queen, followed by Rizzio, &c.
DARNLEY.
Ruthven?
RUTHVEN.
You called me?
DARNLEY.
Yes! I'd speak with you.
[Ruthven dismisses Douglas.
O Ruthven, be my friend, for I have need.
RUTHVEN.
I am your friend—what can I do to serve you?
DARNLEY.
How should the wronged be served, but by revenge?
Is every woman, think you, music's slave?
RUTHVEN.
There was a Queen of Egypt once—I mean
The jilt that made a fool of Antony—
And she loved music too! We know the dance
She led her dupe.—By heaven! I'd rather die
Of Egypt's plague than trust its Cleopatras!
DARNLEY.
You'd say that I'm deceived, disgraced, dishonoured.
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Do you suspect them, then?
DARNLEY.
Suspect!—By heaven
You've almost stopped my breath with a word! You dropped
Some hints of this before, and so did Morton;—
Hints that have scorched me with the penal fire
Of this world's hell; and yet the miscreant lives!
Will no one rid me of that David?
RUTHVEN.
Hush! Keep back your vengeance 'till we've further proof.
DARNLEY.
You talk of vengeance, as if 'twere an art
Men learnt at school, and not a rooted instinct.
RUTHVEN.
I talk of vengeance, as an act of reason.
Why does the lightning's flash so seldom kill,
While the poised engine of inferior fire
Counts every round to death? Because the one
Bursts from the bosom of the thunder cloud,
And one is thought—directed. Leave revenge
To time and me: 'twill not be lost between us.
Enter Douglas.
But look! George Douglas comes again! How now?
DOUGLAS.
The Commons are assembled to discuss
The subject of the matrimonial crown.
I thought it right to warn you.
DARNLEY.
There again
My wrongs cry out. The Queen declines to use,
Without their sanction, her prerogative.
43
I'll try what may be done to win their favour.
Come, Douglas: as we go, I've something for
Your private ear, to help the working of
Our plans. Farewell, Sir: when we meet again,
I hope to bring the Crown along with me.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The Gallery.The Queen, Countess of Argyle, Catherine, Celine, Marguerite, and Ladies, &c. discovered.
Rizzio at the Harp. Music.
ARGYLE.
Would you not augur, from his bended brow,
Leaning on thought, he loved ambitiously?
And so he does; but mark him, when he strikes
The magic string, and lifts his eyes to Heaven,
As if he looked at inspiration.
CATHERINE.
O there's a melody even in the pause
And stoppage of his song; for fancy fills
The resting place more sweet than others' music
[Bold Music—Symphony.
QUEEN.
Hark! hark! the echoes ring.
[Air.
(Leaning on Argyle.)
Is it the soul
Of genius, or the storm that wakes that note?
Or heaven or earth that tunes it to the swell
Of mighty winds and tempests? Hark, again
The minstrel hangs his head in melancholy—
[soft music.
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To touch his hand and die.—It was not falsehood
That bade the poet fancy stones to move;
For there's a spirit in creation,
A mind in matter, captivate to song:—
The very comet, in his random sphere,
Obeys its voice, and smooths his bristling fires,
To listen while the golden planets sing;—
The smallest clod of earth does, in its fair
Proportion to the wheeling worlds above,
Sustain the universal harmony,
And follow nature in her heavenly round!
'Twas therefore truth, not falsehood, told how trees
And stones could move, when music tried her skill;
And thus the poet's thought is justified!
CELINE.
“Nay I'll appeal at once to our good Queen
[to Catherine.
“For her decision—Please your Majesty,
“The Lady Catherine will contend with us
“That Scotland boasts a brighter sun than France.
MARGUERITE.
“Why, now in truth does the sun ever shine on't?
CATHERINE.
“Ay, sweeter than on any other shore,
“The wind may blow on Scotland harshly, yet
“Its breath is healthful, and at winter's worst
“Endurable, and when the summer comes,
“'Tis not a demon from the burning zone
“That fires our climate, but a genial power,
“The sister of the spring illumines it.
“O! how the hills and valleys welcome her!
“The poorest weed that grows attempts a flower
“To cast it at her feet.
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“Well spoken, dear
“Enthusiast, lover of thy native land.”
But this is too akin to gravity,
And we've enow of that when business calls us.
Come, what device? We've no sour faces here,
To make their sourer comments on our mirth;
So we'll enact the matter of a play,
In our court fashion—ha! ha! when the Signor wakes
Out of his sleep.
[Pointing to Rizzio, who in wrapt in thought.
RIZZIO.
Forgive an absent mind,—
And yet not absent neither; for my dream
Was e'en where all my thoughts are.
All.
But the play!
Let's have the play!
QUEEN.
I'll take the heroine's part;
And, Rizzio, you shall thunder in the hero.
CATHERINE.
Good Heaven! Has madness slipped its chain to make
A show of Scotland's throne?
[Aside.
QUEEN.
Now for the cue.
[Goes to Rizzio.
Suppose yourself some troubadour of old,
And me the lady of your love.—Call down
The muse from Heaven to lend her burning tongue,
That you may speak in fire:—there is my hand.
Begin your speech with wax or alabaster.
RIZZIO.
What say you to the snow so white, so pure—
So like the mind that prompts this beauteous hand
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The tongue that trembles to pronounce thy name,
Can ill perform thy praise, unequalled fair,
Surpassing all that ever fable told
Of loveliness.
[Kneeling, he is about to rise.
QUEEN.
Good minstrel, ere you rise,
Wear this in token of your Queen's regard:
Around thy neck I twine the ribbon's coil,
An emblem of the love that merit wins:
And, pendent at thine heart, my likeness place
To last—
[Hanging a portrait round his neck.
RIZZIO.
Till death; for death shall find it there.
QUEEN.
Now, friends, your judgment on this moving scene—
Which is the better actor—he, or I?
CELINE.
The Queen, who still is best in every thing,
Is best in this.
QUEEN.
Go to! You flatter me.
What says our thoughtful friend?
CATHERINE.
If acting be
The best that is the most unlike pretence,
I vote the Signor first; tho' both were better
Than either ought to be.
QUEEN.
Tis well defined.
'You're a just judge, and I confirm your judgment.
But, Rizzio, we must mend our ways, and turn
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The play is ended, and the banquet waits,
And welcome is already at the door,
Impatient for your salutation.
[Exeunt all but Rizzio.
RIZZIO.
Oh! that I were a troubadour indeed,
And thou my lady love! too charming Queen!
I do remember, when I saw her first,
She deigned to notice and to honour me;
I kissed her white hand, as the votary kisses
The waxen image of his patron saint,
And then began the dream that ends in madness!
Come, then, thou bright perdition of the mind;
Thou bane of manly thought, and enterprise;
But dearer than their fame, whate'er thou art,
That in mysterious thraldom hold my soul;
I'm thine, and though destruction yawn, I clasp thee!—
Garcia! how now?—Whence come you?
Enter Garcia.
GARCIA.
From your friends,
Who suffer much indignity, because
Of your high bearing to the nobles. They—
Your friends, I mean—are discontent at this.
RIZZIO.
Indeed! Then is
Your mission to advise me how to crawl?
I've had some stern instructors in that lesson.
GARCIA.
You feel too deeply these indignities.
RIZZIO.
Tis not so easy, as your thoughts may tell you,
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But there's a sting—a galling sting in scorn
That finds the weaker part of nature out,
And flings the nobler moral to the wind—
Wouldst have me thank contempt?
GARCIA.
I'd teach you patience.
RIZZIO.
Observe how darkly Douglas scowls upon us.
But patience is a virtue—you shall see
That I can practise it.
Enter Douglas and Chalmers.
DOUGLAS.
Is there no corner
Free from these foreign reptiles?
RIZZIO.
Come: he's in
A mood to quarrel now. We have no chance
But instant flight.
[With affected humility to Garcia.
There's no way else to save us.
GARCIA.
I hope there's some salvation in our own
Right hands, if we're put to't.
RIZZIO.
No, that would be
High bearing, and I'm convert to the low.
[With a sneer.
CHALMERS.
They speak of us.
DOUGLAS.
Ay, let them.—Rizzio, I
Owe you a favour for my mother's sake.
You chafed her memory once, and, like a dog,
Barked at her grave.
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'Twas in my passion, Sir,
A passion you provoked by fouler language.
But as it is, I'm sorry for it—Forget it.
DOUGLAS.
Your sorrow is a cheat,—a coward's falsehood!
GARCIA.
Falsehood! Did you hear that? Coward and false!
Is your hand palsied?—If you dare not use it,
[to Rizzio, in great agitation.
Give me the sword.
[offering to take his sword.
RIZZIO.
Hold off! my sword's my own.
You see I can forbear;—remember that,
And so report it. As for this small man
[pointing to Douglas.
With the great voice, I have no fear of him;
He thunders, but not lightens,—harmless noise.
DOUGLAS.
Find me an equal who will tell me so,
And mark how soon my sword—
RIZZIO.
What could it do?
An ungrown boy would whip you through the ribs
While you were looking for your courage to
Persuade it from the scabbard!
DOUGLAS.
Foreign slave!
Again thou ly'st.
RIZZIO.
Take back the lie thrice-charged.
For thee—thy very name's a lie; thy place
Is with the caitiffs, who take pride in shame,
And know not how to feel even for their mothers.
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Ha, villain! Draw! Draw—and defend thy life.
RIZZIO.
Blows are the best defence when ruffians brave us.
[they fight.
Darnley, Morton, Lords, and Officers, &c. &c. rush in.
DARNLEY.
Beat down their swords and seize 'em. Now what's here?
A riot in the palace! Rizzio! You
Shall answer this.
RIZZIO.
And Douglas, Royal Sir,—
He shared the fault, and should the penalty.
DARNLEY.
Bear him to the strong chamber,
[pointing to Rizzio.
Till we've time
To sit in judgment on his great offence.
RIZZIO.
Remember, Sir, I claim—
DARNLEY.
Away with him.
[Rizzio is borne off. Exeunt all but Darnley.
Now, now he's in my power and he shall feel it.
Before another night steals on the world
I'll rid myself of him. But where is Ruthven?
He promised soon to greet me with the news
How the bloat Commons have decided on
My title to the matrimonial Crown.—
Let them beware. Rizzio shall feel my power,
And all who brave my hate, shall taste my vengeance.
[exit.
END OF ACT II.
| Mary Stuart | |