 | Mary Stuart |  |
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.
| Mary Stuart | |