 | Mary Stuart |  |
SCENE THE SIXTH.
Mary, Bothwell.Both.
There's art, but mistimed art, in all his words.
'Twixt truth and lies how clumsily he shuffles!
'Tis well that he's found out in time.
Ma.
I find not in me in this hour of need
Or strength to act, or wisdom to explore:
By doubts, by anger, and by fear, at once
297
And, would'st thou think it? still that heart retains
I know not what of hope ...
Both.
And I too hope,
That now, since the discover'd plot's defeated,
No others lurk behind it.
Ma.
Be it so.
Yet such is he, that now that he perceives
His foolish enterprize discover'd ...
Both.
He! ...
What can he do?
Ma.
He may forsake my realm.
His cruel, last farewell, already he ...
Both.
Forsake thy realm!—Even before 'twas known,
This new aggression, thou didst interdict
With justice such a step: more just would be
That interdiction now; now that perchance,
As an atonement for his frustrate schemes,
Others he would devise in foreign climes
With more successful boldness.
Ma.
'Tis most just:
I oft have thought of this; but yet ...
Both.
Who knows
Where his malignant steps might carry him?
Who knows what succour he might dare solicit? ...
He would obtain it; yes, too certainly
In others' rancour he would surely find
A firm alliance.—Thou should'st now select
The lesser evil ...
Ma.
But what may that be?
Both.
Better than I thou know'st it. But to have
Recourse to violence shocks thy noble heart ...
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Protection from Elizabeth? If he
In person treat with her, far other plots ...
Ma.
Oh fatal day! and perhaps the harbinger
Of others still more fatal! Is it true
That thou at length art come? ... Disastrous day!
And apprehended long! ... Ah wretched me!
'Gainst him who heretofore has shared my love,
Who shared the fondest wishes of my heart,
Shall I use violence? ... I cannot do it ...
And, come what may come, I can never do it.
Both.
But think how deeply he may injure thee? ...
Ma.
What injury can he inflict, that equals
The loss of his affection?
Both.
Should he once
Make good his flight from hence, assuredly
Thou ne'er would'st see him more ...
Ma.
Oh heaven forbid!
May I not lose him quite ...
Both.
And dost thou not,
Much as thy husband, love thy son, oh mother?
That son is now in everlasting danger;
Death of the soul, the only real death,
Errors corrupting and heretical,
Await, thou know'st, his youthful innocence.
Mary.
Assuredly I ought ... but how, alas! ...
Both.
If Henry's liberty were somewhat lessen'd,
Or round his sacred royal person placed
Some slight impediments to its abuse ...
Ma.
He's too impatient of controul already:
Remorse, disgrace, and turbulent despair,
Might make him still more headstrong than he is,
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Would be his partizans.
Both.
I now perceive
One means by which thou may'st accomplish this,
And yet excite no tumult. One, no more.—
The night descends: surround with armed men
Amid its shades, the hill, where singly towers
His royal dwelling. There is he ere now
Retired, to wait there for the dawn of day,
And then depart from thence: he has with him
There a few obscure friends. There he may stay,
Courteously guarded: no one will attempt
Thus to lay hands on him; and thus at once
Thou mak'st his rage abortive. Through this night
No man to him can penetrate: to-morrow
To thy just arguments for this allow
Free circulation; and to him allow
Permission to impugn them if he can.
Ma.
This seems the safest plan; but yet ...
Both.
Ah! think,
Thou hast no other.
Ma.
But, in the execution ...
Both.
I will take care of that, if thou desirest.
Ma.
But should perchance the orders be exceeded? ...
Be on thy guard ...
Both.
What dost thou apprehend?
That I'm incompetent to the execution?
But, ere we miss the occasion, time is short;
I fly ...
Ma.
Ah no; ... stay here ...
Both.
For once, at least,
I will use violence with thee: recollect,
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Ma.
I know it; but ...
Both.
Confide in me.
| Mary Stuart | |