 | Mary Tudor |  |
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Scene II.
Wanstead Heath.Enter Mary, Elizabeth, Arundel, &c.
ARUNDEL.
Heaven smiles, my liege, upon the righteous cause.
Welcome thus far upon your prosperous way.
Here rest your wearied foot—your foes disperse
Frail as the dust before their giddy feet.
MARY.
How name you this fair prospect?
ARUNDEL.
Wanstead Heath:
By Epping chase.
MARY.
How blest these breezy downs,
With purple heath and golden gorse enamelled;
Each bosky bank with dewy windflowers strewn,
Each dell with cowslip and rathe violet—
And the sun-loving daisy on hill tops
Drinking the light! Ah, happy shepherd's life!
He this sweet solitude, without constraint,
Explores, his chosen damsel at his side:
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Or from his pipe pours such delicious song
That the wild hare in the close bitten lane
Pauses with ear erect, and timorous deer
That down the labyrinthine forest glade
Goes bounding, starts aside, and turns to gaze.
ELIZABETH.
Old times return—discourse for ever thus.
MARY.
Beneath this chesnut canopy, sun-proof,
Cool as a cavern on the ocean shore,
I'll take my rest.
ELIZABETH.
Not new to me this scene.
Oft have I chased the red deer through these wilds,
With our loved Edward.
MARY.
Saints be with him now!
He loved you, Bess: not me the unbeloved!
ELIZABETH.
He loved you well till traitors edged between.
God pardon him.
MARY.
And them! Preserve me, Lord,
From the vindictive Fiend that tempts my spirit.
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Forswear sad thoughts. In fancy let us rove
These downs and coverts. From yon breezy brow,
Like a monk's head close-shaven, with boscage fringed,
Oft have I watched Paul's steeple, o'er the smoke
Of the great City glistering like a pyre.
Along the horizon spread the billowy tops
Of Hainault's forest oaks: nor far uprears
The Fairlop tree his huge trunk, grey and bossy;
A mighty shade, where village maids at eve
In dance and song with rural archers sport.
[A distant Trumpet sounds.
ARUNDEL.
The hart is near the toils. Thoughtless of fate,
I hear his wanton belling on the wind.
Enter Winchester and Pembroke.
MARY.
You are welcome.
PEMBROKE.
On our knees we sue for pardon:
For that, long hampered in false Dudley's meshes,
We stood aloof, in mock disloyalty.
Praise be to God! the summer Sun hath risen
To dry our tearful cheeks. God save the Queen!
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Well have I known your hearts were dutiful
Albeit your outward carriage was unliegeful.
Let worthy posts, Lord Marshal, be assigned them!
[Great shouting heard.
ARUNDEL.
Fortune comes bounding on a flowing tide.
MARY.
What means this tumult?
ARUNDEL.
Dudley's ill-sorted Bands
Have flung their arms aside; and hither rush,
Frenzied with loyal zeal.
Enter Northumberland with Soldiery in disorder.
NORTHUMBERLAND.
Hold back! this ardour
Shall fright the Queen, not please her! Thus, my men!
[Throwing up his cap.
God save Queen Mary!
MARY.
Down with your sword! what mean you?
Me thou can'st neither frighten nor cajole.
Kneel, traitor, kneel!
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Lowly to earth abased,
A penitent sincere, I crave your mercy!
I might have lived an exile; but prefer
To stoop my forfeit head and trust your pity.
Too well my momentary treason (yea
Treason it seems till you have read my soul)
Deserves death. Yet considerately judge
Confessed infirmity; remembering mercy,
That best prerogative of Royalty!
The common herd—
[Pauses.
MARY.
Nay, let your say be said.
You have license, Sir; proceed.
NORTHUMBERLAND.
I cannot harm you—
But can well serve. For I have piloted
The state so long that all its perilous leaks
And privy treasons are to me revealed,
And shall to your Grace if this poor life be spared.
MARY.
My Lord, I muse much at your strange appeal:
And shall take counsel on it.
NORTHUMBERLAND.
Not with my foes!
So were I crushed to screen their double treason.
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Trust your own wisdom. Give me hope!
MARY.
To live
In righteous hope needs hope beyond this world.
They only who serve God in his true Church
Partake that blessing. Sir, you should have hope:
But you have served, till now, whom hope disowns.
I shall revolve your suit. My Lord, retire.
Keep him in ward, not rigorous, but observant.
[Exit Queen Mary, attended.
NORTHUMBERLAND.
My title she withholds not. That is well.
And when she lectured of the hope men feel
Who serve in the true Church, her eye had meaning,
Beyond her words. True Church? there's food herein
For cautious meditation.
ARUNDEL.
Please you, my Lord,
We must proceed. Time presses. Forward, my men!
[Exeunt.
| Mary Tudor | |