University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—AN APARTMENT OF THE QUEEN MOTHER'S.
The Queen is discovered writing.—Enter Gonzales.
GONZALES.
So please your highness, the Duke de Bourbon
Attends your grace.

QUEEN.
Give him admittance straight.
[Exit Gonzales.
Now then to try the mettle of his soul,
And tempt him with the glitter of a crown.

Enter Bourbon.
BOURBON.
Madam, I humbly kiss your highness's hands.

QUEEN.
I thank you, sir; and though last night's blithe close
Was hardly rest to one o'ermarch'd before,
I trust you are recover'd from the weariness
Of your long journey.

BOURBON
(aside).
Pray heaven, she go no further with that theme!
(Aloud.)
I thank your grace, but owing to the speed
Enjoined by those who penn'd my—my recall—
My journey was a short one.—

QUEEN.
Did ye not rest at Chantelle?

BOURBON.
Ay, good madam.

QUEEN.
Short as you hold your march, my lord, and lightly
As you think fit to speak of it, I trow
It was swift riding to reach Paris yesterday.

BOURBON
(aside).
Hell!—how she hangs upon the cursed subject.
(Aloud).
To me both time and road seem short, indeed,
From a proud kingdom back to a poor dukedom.

QUEEN.
My lord, there is much bitterness in that!

BOURBON.
Bitterness! madam—oh, I do not doubt
There were high, weighty reasons warranted
My being thus recalled from Italy:
And those same weighty reasons will, no doubt,
Point out a fit successor to me also.

QUEEN.
There is much bitterness in that, my lord;—
Your mind is apt to start at fancied wrongs,
And makes a shadow where no substance is.

BOURBON.
Your grace will pardon me; but hitherto
We have not seen such payment given to service;
Can governments be wrested from a man
Unheard,—nay, unaccused, without a cause?

QUEEN.
No, sir, they cannot—but might not the cause
Have been your future profit and advancement,
Instead of your disgrace?

BOURBON.
Oh! we all know
The government of our Italian states
Must henceforth be a post for beardless soldiers,
Lacking wit wherewithal to win their honours,
Or courtiers lacking valour to deserve them.

QUEEN.
I see the bent and mark of this discourse;
And though, be well assured, no other man
That breathes had thus far ventured in his speech,—
Your daring I have borne with patiently.

BOURBON.
Borne with me! Borne with me, forsooth!—

QUEEN.
Ay, sir,
Borne with you: further still,—for in that sorrow
Hath fallen on your mind too bitterly,
And well nigh chang'd its bright and polish'd metal
With its corrosive touch,—I've pitied you.

BOURBON.
Wrong'd! borne with! pitied! By our Lady, madam—
This is too much.

QUEEN.
Oh, sir, the King's advisers—

BOURBON.
The King should hearken less to false advice,
And more to honest service, madam.

QUEEN.
(Aside)
—Ha!
Now is the bridle thrown upon the steed;
That word, that one unguarded word, shall make
My victory, or thy perdition sure!
(Aloud)
—I pass you that, my lord, you are too hot—
And now that I have curb'd all proud respects
In kind indulgence of your hasty spleen,
Hear me: what if (I will repeat the question),
'Stead of ingratitude or envy, motives
With which you seem full well contented,
Being the spring of this your swift return,
Your quick preferment, and increase of glory
Had been alone consulted?

BOURBON.
How so, madam?

QUEEN.
Ever too rash in your belief, my lord,
You run before the truth—you've followers,
Eager and zealous partisans you have;
Think you it is impossible some friend
May haply have contriv'd this prompt recall,
To bring you nearer to a court, where you
May find paths unexplor'd as yet, in which
Ambition might discover such a prize,
As were worth winning?

BOURBON.
I would have you know
De Bourbon storms, and does not steal his honours
And though your highness thinks I am ambitious,
(And rightly thinks) I am not so ambitious
Ever to beg rewards that I can win,—
No man shall call me debtor to his tongue.

QUEEN
(rising).
'Tis proudly spoken; nobly too—but what,
What if a woman's hand were to bestow
Upon the Duke de Bourbon such high honours,
To raise him to such state, that grasping man,
E'en in his wildest thoughts of mad ambition,
Ne'er dreamt of a more glorious pinnacle?

BOURBON.
I'd kiss the lady's hand, an she were fair.
But if this world fill'd up the universe,—
If it could gather all the light that lives
In ev'ry other star or sun, or world;
If kings could be my subjects, and that I
Could call such pow'r and such a world my own,
I would not take it from a woman's hand.
Fame is my mistress, madam, and my sword
The only friend I ever wooed her with.
I hate all honours smelling of the distaff,
And, by this light, would as lief wear a spindle
Hung round my neck, as thank a lady's hand
For any favour greater than a kiss.—

QUEEN.
And how, if such a woman loved you,—how
If, while she crown'd your proud ambition, she
Could crown her own ungovernable passion,
And felt that all this earth possess'd, and she
Could give, were all too little for your love?
Oh good, my lord! there may be such a woman.

BOURBON
(aside).
Amazement! can it be, sweet Margaret—
That she has read our love?—impossible!—and yet—
That lip ne'er wore so sweet a smile!—it is,
That look is pardon and acceptance! (aloud)
—speak.
(He falls at the Queen's feet.)
Madam, in pity speak but one word more,—
Who is that woman?

QUEEN
(throwing off her veil).
I am that woman!

BOURBON
(starting up).
You, by the holy mass! I scorn your proffers;—
Is there no crimson blush to tell of fame
And shrinking womanhood! Oh shame! shame! shame!

(The Queen remains clasping her hands to her temples, while De Bourbon walks hastily up and down: after a long pause the Queen speaks.)
QUEEN.
What ho! Marlon! St. Evreux!
Enter two Gentlemen.
Summon my confessor! (Exeunt)
—And now, my lord,
I know not how your memory serves you;
Mine fails not me—If I remember well,
You made some mention of the King but now—
No matter—we will speak of that anon.—
Enter Gonzales.
Sir, we have business with this holy father;
You may retire.

BOURBON.
Confusion!

QUEEN.
Are we obeyed?

BOURBON
(aside).
Oh Margaret!—for thee! for thy dear sake!

[Rushes out. The Queen sinks into a chair.
QUEEN.
Refus'd and scorn'd! Infamy!—the word chokes me!—
How now! why stand'st thou gazing at me thus?—

GONZALES.
I wait your highness' pleasure,— (Aside)
So, all is well—
A crown hath fail'd to tempt him—as I see
In yonder lady's eyes.

QUEEN.
Oh sweet revenge!
Thou art my only hope, my only dower,
And I will make thee worthy of a Queen.
Proud noble, I will weave thee such a web,—
I will so spoil and trample on thy pride,
That thou shalt wish the woman's distaff were
Ten thousand lances rather than itself.
Ha! waiting still, sir Priest! Well, as thou seest
Our venture hath been somewhat baulk'd,—'tis not
Each arrow reaches swift and true the aim,—
Love having fail'd, we'll try the best expedient,
That offers next,—what sayst thou to revenge?
'Tis not so soft, but then 'tis very sure;
Say, shall we wring this haughty soul a little?
Tame this proud spirit, curb this untrain'd charger?
We will not weigh too heavily, nor grind
Too hard, but, having bow'd him to the earth,
Leave the pursuit to others—carrion birds,
Who stoop, but not until the falcon's gorg'd
Upon the prey he leaves to their base talons.

GONZALES.
It rests but with your grace to point the means.

QUEEN.
Where be the plans of those possessions
Of Bourbon's house?—see that thou find them straight:
His mother was my kinswoman, and I
Could aptly once trace characters like those
She used to write—enough—Guienne—Auvergne—
And all Provence that lies beneath his claim,—
That claim disprov'd, of right belong to me.—
The path is clear, do thou fetch me those parchments.
[Exit Gonzales.
Not dearer to my heart will be the day
When first the crown of France deck'd my son's forehead,
Than that when I can compass thy perdition,—
When I can strip the halo of thy fame
From off thy brow, seize on the wide domains,
That make thy hated house akin to empire,
And give thy name to deathless infamy.

[Exit.