University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE FIRST.

Henry, Mary.
Hen.
Queen, I abhor deceit; it serves me not;
And, if it served me, I would not adopt it.
But thou, why dost thou clothe perfidious schemes,
With simulated love? I have, I know,
Offended thee; but openly I did it.
Thou should'st from me have learn'd at least the rules
By which 'tis lawful to offend an equal.

Ma.
What words are these? What hast thou met with, say?
Or ere firm peace betwixt us is renew'd,
I hear already ...

Hen.
Peace 'twixt us, say'st thou?
I swear betwixt us everlasting discord:
Avow thy purposes; and copy me:
I would, at last, to thee point out the way,
By which thou may'st pour out thy fathomless,
And pent-up rancour; I would spare to thee
Further deceptions, further flatteries,
And further crimes.

Ma.
Oh heavens! and such rebuke
Do I deserve from thee?

Hen.
'Tis fitly said.
Thy guilt at length to such a pitch is risen,
That all rebukes are vain. Disdainful silence
Were more judicious; to thy crimes more fitted:—
But yet, this transient utterance somewhat soothes me;
And, for the last time, now to make thee hear
This voice, which to thy conscience-stricken heart
Is not supportable. Means of redress,
Less infamous, and more effectual far
Than thine, are in my power. In thousand ways
I might, within thy realm, make head against thee:
Nor does thy power divert me from the purpose:
Myself alone commands inaction here:
I would not in our private broils involve
This unoffending people.—But to-morrow
Thou shalt hear tidings of my destiny:
And may I never more behold thy face.
To thy remorse, (if even that remains)
And to thy faithful counsellors, I leave thee.

Ma.
Ungrateful ... with more fitting epithet
Not to address thee ... of my boundless love
Is this the recompense? My sufferance long?
My unexampled sufferance? ... Speak'st thou thus? ...
Thus clear'st thee of thy fault?—Whence thy contempt?
Dost thou no more remember who I am?
And who thou wert? Ah, pardon, pardon me;
Thou now compellest me to adopt a language,
To her that speaks it, far more than to him
Who hears it, insupportable. But how,
In what have I offended thee? By thus
Inviting thee, entreating thy return?
By the unguarded warmth of my reception?
By yielding thee too much? By deeming thee
Accessible to penitential thoughts,
Or wise resolves, or thy hard heart possess'd
E'en of a momentary gratitude.

Hen.
The throne thou fillest: and the throne was ever
Prolific in conclusive arguments.
But I am not amazed: whate'er has happen'd
Confirms the fears of my foreboding heart.
Yet, is it fitting that I should assure thee
I never had recourse to artifice;
That I have not, so much as thou may'st deem,
A weak, a headstrong, or an abject spirit;
And that thy shameful arts ...

Ma.
Act as thou wilt:
I only do beseech thee not to soil
Thy language towards me with injurious phrases;
Thence equally unworthy him who speaks,
And her constrain'd to hear them.

Hen.
Evermore
In words do I offend thee; thou in deeds
Offendest me. Is the remembrance fled? ...

Ma.
Profound remembrance in my heart I keep
Of the remonstrances so often utter'd,
And so much disregarded; faithful, true,
And wise remonstrances, which, what thou art,
Thy manners, and thy dispositions, painted,
Ere I bestowed on thee this hand of mine.—
Blinded by love, I would not see, believe ...
Who then dissembled? ... Speak, ungrateful, speak ...
Alas, alas!—Repentance now is late,
And fruitless ... Oh my God! ... and is it true
That thou, at all events, would'st rather I
Should be thy foe? ... That thou canst never make me.
Thou plainly seest, that thou canst scarcely raise
A transient flame of anger in my breast:
One word of thine, one little word, suffices
To cancel every provocation past:
Provided thou would'st hear it, my affection
Is ready still to whisper to my heart
All its too welcome flatteries. Oh my husband,
Why wilt thou not, whate'er it be, confess
The reason of thy recent discontent?
Quickly will I ...

Hen.
Art thou desirous then
To hear it from my lips; although it is
Well known to thee, no less than to myself?
Thou shalt be satisfied without delay.
'Tis not thy feign'd affection; not thy feign'd,
And flattering words; not the allotted dwelling;
'Tis not the separation from my son;
The promise of supreme authority
Changed into more intolerable wrongs;
I do not, no, of all these things complain:
These with the usual tenor correspond
Of thy deportment towards me; all the fault
Is mine, that I believed thee. But the wrong,
The only wrong that I cannot endure,
Is that which thou hast recently contrived.
And what? At last thou call'st Elizabeth,
In the so many indiscreet offences
With which thou plottest hourly to annoy me,
The false Elizabeth to take a part?

Ma.
What dost thou now allege against me? What?
And say what proof hast thou? ...

Hen.
Ormond, 'tis true,
Is, but is not like others here, perfidious:
In vain thou sentest him to flatter me,
To tempt, to promise, to seduce. Didst thou
E'er hear of such a plot? At all events,
To wish to goad me into treachery?
Whence pretexts thou might'st afterwards derive
For thy concealed iniquity ...

Ma.
What do I hear?
May heaven to ashes instantly reduce me,
If I e'er ...

Hen.
Perjury avails not here.
At once I recognized the artifice,
And, the deceiver to deceive, I feign'd
To yield to his entreaties: but I loathe,
And I am wearied of, such abject arts.
Ormond already has received from me
A final answer. Now Elizabeth
Will scorn thee, who detested thee before,
And she will be the first to blame, and raise
A clamorous outcry 'gainst those very crimes,
To which herself impell'd thee.

Ma.
This is all
A vile imposture. Who thus dares to soil
My name with guilt? ...

Hen.
Thy minions possess
Souls thoroughly imbued with perfidy.
Do not afflict thyself: they have but shewn
Themselves not fully skill'd in choice of time.
Bothwell and Ormond, nobly emulous
To fathom the recesses of my heart,
Have both their own, and thine, too much exposed.

Ma.
—If reason could have influence o'er thy soul,
Or wert thou in a state to hear it now,
It would be easy here to explain the whole;
To call them both together; and to hear ...

Hen.
I be confronted with such men as these? ...

Ma.
And how by any other means can I
Convince thee of the truth? How from thine eyes
Remove the bandage?

Hen.
'Tis removed already:
I see too clearly ... —yet would'st thou at once
Convince me, and my apprehensions quell?
To thee but one infallible resource
Remains for this. From thee too I require
The execrable head of haughty Bothwell;
And Ormond's instant banishment—With this,
Say, art thou ready to comply?

Ma.
At length
I see, (alas, too evidently see!)
To what thy wishes tend. Whoe'er he be
That may communicate to me the truth,
Is for that cause alone obnoxious to thee:
He, be he who he may, in whom I trust,
Becomes thy foe. Quickly, renew at once
The massacre of Rizio: thou art used
With thy own hands to execute thy vile
And unjust vengeances. Thou may'st destroy,
In the same generous, heroic guise,
The life of Bothwell. To interdict thy crimes
I have no power: reason forbids that I
Should imitate thee in these bloody rites.
Let Bothwell be condemned, if he is guilty;
But let him first be heard. While I disdain not
To subject e'en myself to the tribunal
Of solemn, and irrefragable justice,
E'en the most abject individual here
Shall I dare subject to despotic power?

Hen.
Here guilty men can always challenge favour,
While from the worthy justice stands aloof:
See, what it is to reign.—I take my leave;
Farewell.

Ma.
Ah! hear me ...

Hen.
I intend to pass
In the allotted fortress this last night,
Which I devote to anguish, not to sleep.—
The invitation I accept; a dwelling,
Which I am not constrain'd to share with thee,
Is welcome to me, till to-morrow's dawn
Beholds me far from thy abhorred city.
I thought indeed e'en yet to excite in thee
Some perturbation; but I fondly thought it.—
Thy face is tranquil as thy heart is false.