University of Virginia Library

Scene VIII

—Dunbar: ante-chamber to the room in which the Queen is captive
Enter Bothwell
Bothwell
She leans her ear for ever toward the bridge
Across which press the armaments of wind,
But no leal rescue. I importuned her
Seven blank and awful days, until I breathed
Within a vacuum; the estrangement grew
So heavy, insupportable, I fain
Had murdered her to crush the anguish out,
But then I knew her smile would welcome death,
And leave me stunned and jealous. Once indeed
She flooded me with a wide gaze of love
Dazzling, forlorn: and I beholding it
Could make no sign,—it was as if a damned,
A new-damned soul had caught God's agony
At sight of the impenetrable fosse.
Since then I have not plagued her. Horrible
This lonesomeness, abandon! I have wandered
Two days among the gullies on the coast,
And watched the embattled breakers bursting through
Their narrow, counter archways in the rocks,
To heave together in a central mound
Of foam, then fall back in a refluent peace.
A stormy clash of marriage! Why this harass,
Withdrawal and exclusion? In her heart
She keeps the bounties of her nature guarded
For my attainment, yet suppresses them,
Wronging herself, polluting me. I never
Will take what is a rapture in the gift;
But force the tardy welcome in her blood
To speak truth to me, for there is a truth
Between us: I have lived on it from day
To stormy daybreak.
(To Paris who has entered with food and wine)
Paris, go within;
Say I have fallen from the cliff, and lie
Below stark in the courtyard. Do my will,
And leave the door flung open.
(Paris passes within)
(Listening and repeating the Queen's words)
He is dead!
How shall I wait the issue? There is pause,
And then a fond, low sobbing, and a cry—
(Springing to the open doorway)
My love, my love!