University of Virginia Library

SCENE VI.

The Tower Green At the back of the stage is a scaffold, hung with black, on which are the block, Headsman, Attendants, Guard, etc. The citizens gradually assemble in front of the scaffold. A bell tolls at long intervals.
First Citizen.
I'll watch all day, but what I'll see her die.—
Let them change hours, I care not. Come along.

Second Citizen.
Here's a good stand.

Third Citizen.
Yes; if 't is good to stand,
And see our poor queen mangled.

First C.
“Poor queen,” sooth!

Second C.
You are a scholar, neighbor Marmaduke;
I pray you, was there e'er a queen before
Who graced a scaffold?

Third C.
Ne'er before in England
Did monarch dare so try his people's patience.

First C.
We are in luck.

Third C.
Fie! fie! you bloody knave!

First C.
Marry, and if a king cannot behead
His own liege wife, whom can he?

Third C.
Monstrous dolt!

First C.
What were the good of treason, then, if we
Could have no executions?—Mistress Maud,—
Hey, hey! you brought the children?

[To a woman.]
Woman.
Yes, indeed;
They cannot see a queen die every day.

Third C.
You tiger-hearted woman, do you love
The sight of blood?

Woman.
Nay; the example, sir.

Third C.
Lord, Lord! who ever caught a woman yet
Without pretexts in thousands!

First C.
'T is a shame
To keep us honest people waiting so.

Citizens.
(Without.)
The queen! the queen!

First C.
Move nearer.

Citizens.
Make way there!

Solemn music. Enter Duke of Norfolk, Duke of Suffolk, and other Noblemen; Queen Anne in custody of Sir William Kingston; Mary Wyatt, and other Maids of Honor; Guards, Attendants, etc. They mount the scaffold. Then enter, below Thomas Wyatt.
Wyatt.
One look, no more. O! wondrous, wondrous fair!
Death has made treaty with thy loveliness,
To hide the horrors that invest his state.
These spiteful clouds of earth-born misery
But add a glory to thy going down.
Slander, disgrace, fraud, legal infamy,
Imprisonment, this hideous form of death,
Each gains a splendor from its touch of thee
That robs regret of tears. How bright, how calm!
There is a voiceless sermon in that face,
To cheer the lonely heart of martyrdom,
And make it court its fate. O, Anne, Anne!
The world may banish all regard for thee,
Mewing thy fame in frigid chronicles,
But every memory that haunts my mind
Shall cluster round thee still. I'll hide thy name
Under the coverture of even lines,
I'll hint it darkly in familiar songs,
I'll mix each melancholy thought of thee
Through all my numbers: so that heedless men
Shall hold my love for thee within their hearts,
Not knowing of the treasure. 'T would be sin
To keep so fair a flower from paradise,—
That, in the very flush of earthly bloom,
Felt mildew blown on every ruffian wind,
And canker at the heart. Go, go,—farewell!
The sun that seems departing, to our eyes,
Is but arising on another land;
Thy death to us is the short, painful birth
That ushers in thy taintless soul to heaven.—
Go, go! I would not raise a hand to keep thee here.

[Exit.]
Third C.
Be silent! Hear her majesty.

Citizens.
Hush, hush!

Queen Anne.
Good Christian people, I am come to die,
According to the judgment of the law;
And therefore it would ill become me now,
After my doom is past, to censure it.
I am come hither to accuse no man,
Nor to say aught upon the many things
Whereof I am accused: for well I know
That my defence doth not pertain to you,
Nor from your favor could I hope for grace.
I am come here to die, to yield myself
To the king's will, with all humility.
I pray God save him, and extend his reign;
For he has been a gracious prince to you:
To me—I doubt not but his goodness went
Beyond my slender merit. I but ask,
Should you hereafter judge my luckless cause,
The best of each man's judgment. Now, farewell,
To you and to the world! Forget me not,
In the still places of your earnest prayers
Attend me, maidens.

Mary Wyatt.
O! not yet, not yet!

[Weeping.]
Queen A.
Well, I have played the waiting-maid before,
In happier hours. Alas! poor head, thou 'lt roll
In a brief time amid this scaffold's dust;
As thou in life didst not deserve a crown,
So by thy doom is justice satisfied,
And her great beam repoised.
[Removing her collar and coifs.]
And ye, my damsels,
Who whilst I lived did ever show yourselves
So diligent in service, and are now
To be here present in my latest hour
Of mortal agony,—as in good times
Ye were most trustworthy, even so in this,
My miserable death, ye leave me not.
As a poor recompense for your rich love,
I pray you to take comfort for my loss—
And yet forget me not. To the king's grace,
And to the happier one whom you may serve
In place of me, be faithful as to me.
Learn from this scene, the triumph of my fate,
To hold your honors far above your lives.
When you are praying to the martyred Christ,
Remember me, who, as my weakness could,
Faltered afar behind His shining steps,
And died for truth, forgiving all mankind.
The Lord have pity on my helpless soul!

[Kneels at the block.]
(As the curtain falls, a peal of ordnance announces the death of Queen Anne.)