University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

The Great Hall of the Tower, arranged for the Queen's trial. On one side are seated Dukes of Norfolk, Suffolk, and Richmond, Marquis of Exeter, Earl of Arundel, and other Peers, as Lords Triers, with Officers, &c.; on the other, Queen Anne, in the custody of Sir William Kingston, Ladies, Attendants, Guards, &c.
Norfolk.
Are we agreed? [To the Lords.]


Suffolk.
Here is our verdict, sir.

[Hands a paper.]
(Richmond and Suffolk talk apart.)
Richmond.
I hope, your grace, I have damned my soul enough
To please the most fastidious father.

Suf.
Stuff!

Rich.
Yes, “stuff!” substantial, downright villany,
That I shall bear upon my aching heart
Till death unload it.

Suf.
Come, be cheerful, sir.
It ill becomes heroic minds to shrink
From the first blood of triumph. You are young
And dainty-minded; time will strengthen you.

Rich.
Courage but adds deformity to crime.
A wicked heart, though placid as a lake,
Girt and controlled by rigid barriers,
Can but reflect each blessing of sweet heaven,
And every bordering virtue of our earth,
All topsy-turvy. I am hardened, sir;
If not by years, at least by sinfulness,
That wrinkled register of ill-spent days,
Who scars his moments on the erring heart,
While yet the brow is smooth!

Suf.
The saints look down!
This pretty sermon must have washed you clean.
Hist! hear the sentence.

Nor.
Lady Anne Boleyn,
Marchioness of Pembroke, sometime England's queen—
Though most unworthily, as the strict course
Of equal justice has so clearly proved—
Arise. (The Queen rises.)
Lay off your crown and vestured marks
Of royal dignity, to hear from me
The solemn finding of this high tribunal.

(Queen Anne puts off her crown and robe of state.)
Queen Anne.
Your grace's first commands, though harshly meant,
Are merciful indeed.

Nor.
Be silent, madam!
Upon each several charge, whereon you stand
Indicted by the law, we do pronounce
Your guilt most clear; and therefore do condemn you,
At such time as his majesty may name,
To suffer death by burning at the stake,
Or by beheading, as may please the king.—
God give you patience to endure your doom!

Queen A.
I doubt it not. O Father, O Creator,
Who art the way, the life, the truth, Thou know'st
If I deserve this death!

Rich.
O! base, base, base!
This pardons Herod in the eye of Heaven.

[Aside.]
Nor.
Marchioness of Pembroke, have you aught to say
Touching the judgment of this court?

Queen A.
My lords,
I will not say your sentence is unjust—
Presuming that my reasons can prevail
Against your firm convictions;—I would rather
Believe that you have reasons for your acts,
Of ample power to vindicate your fames;
But, then, they must be other than the court
Has heard produced: for by the evidence
I have been cleared, to all unbiassed minds,
Of each offence 'gainst which that proof was brought.
I have been ever to his majesty
A faithful wife: O! could I say as truly
That I have shown him the humility
His goodness, and the honor he conferred,
Deserved from me! I have, I do confess,
Had jealous fancies and suspicious thoughts—
In which, perchance, I wronged him—that had I
Been more discreet and anxious to conceal,
I had been more the queen, but less the wife.
God is my witness, that in no way else
Have I e'er sinned against him.
Think not, my lords, I say this to prolong
My heavy life; for God has fortified
My trust in Him, and taught me how to die.
Think me not so bewildered in my mind,
As not to lay my chastity to heart,
Now in my last extremity; for I
Have held its honor far above my crown,
And have maintained no queenly dignity
More pure from vulgar stain. I know my words
Can naught avail me, save to justify
My chastity, so perilled by your doom.
As for my brother, and those constant friends
With me unjustly sentenced, I would die
A thousand deaths to save their guiltless lives:
But since it has so pleased his majesty,
I will accompany them, most willingly,
Through death to heaven, through pain to endless peace.
I have said all.

Nor.
Remove the prisoner.

(Queen Anne bows to the Court, and is led off by Sir William Kingston. Then exeunt all but the Lords Triers.)
Rich.
We are damned forever!

Nor.
Poh, poh! saved, I think.
While she held power heads flew like tennis-balls.

Arundel.
Why did she touch so lightly on the king?

Exeter.
'T was for a cause no deeper than the heart,—
She loves him yet.

Arun.
The sentimental fool!

Rich.
Have you no grosser phrases? “Fool,” forsooth!
There 's the last blow to greatness!—Arundel
Claims her as kindred!

Nor.
Gentlemen, away!
Our sun of power is burning in mid air;
We waste the daylight. Come, let us seek the king.
Hug every Seymour that you chance to meet!

[Exeunt.]