University of Virginia Library

Scena. III.

To her, Enter Queen Mother suddainly, with Alvaro, and Roderigo, with Rapiers.
Q. Mo.
Lay hold upon the strumpet, where's the King?
Fernando, son; ah me your King is dead!
Lay hand upon the murdresse.

Maria.
Imperious Queen, I am as free from murder as thy self,
Which I will prove, if you will here me speak:
The King is living.

Roder.
If he liv'd his breath would beat within his breast.

Q. Mo.
The life he leads, Maria thou shalt soon participate.

Maria.
Oh father save me!

Alvero.
thou'rt no child of mine, had'st thou been owner of Alvero's spirit,
Thy heart would not have entertain'd a thought
That had converst with murder: yet mine eyes
(Howe're my tongue want words) brim full with tears,
Intreat her further tryal!

Verdugo.
To what end: here lies her tryall: from this royall brest
Hath she stolne all comfort, all the life
Of every bosom in the Realm of Spain.

Roder.
She's both a traytor and murdress.

Q. Mo.
I'le have her forthwith strangled.

Alv.
Hear her speak.

Q. Mo.
To heaven let her complain if she have wrong,
I murder but the murdresse of my son.

Alv.
We murder the murdresse of our King.

Alv.
Ah me my child oh! Oh cease your torturing!

Maria.
Heaven ope the windows, that my spotlesse soul,
Riding upon the wings of innocence,
May enter Paradice, Fairyes farewell;
Fernandoes death in mine you did foretell.

She dyes King wake,
King.
Who calls Fernando? love, Maria, speak:
Oh! whither art thou fled? whence flow these waters
That fall like winter storms, from the drown'd eyes.

Alv.
From my Maria's death!

King.
My Maria dead?
Damn'd be the soul to hell that stop'd her breath;
Maria, Oh me who durst murder her?

Q. M.
I thought my dear Fernando had been dead,
And in my indignation murdred her.

King.
I was not dead untill you murdred me
By killing fair Maria.

Qu. Mo.
Gentle son.

King.
Ungentle mother, you a deed have done,
Of so much ruth that no succeeding age
Can ever clear you of; Oh my dear love,
Yet heavens can witnesse thou wert never mine:
Spains wonder was Maria.

Qu. Mo.
Sweet have done:

King.
Have done! for what, for shedding zealous tears
Over the tomb of virtues chastitie;
You cry have done, now I am doing good,
But cri'd do on, when you were shedding blood:
Have you done mother; yes, yes, you have done,
That which will undo your unhappy son.

Roder.
These words become you not my gracious Lord.

King.
These words become not me, no more it did
Become you Lords to be mute standers by,
When lustfull fury ravish'd chastity.
It ill becoms mee to lament her death,
But it became you well to stop her breath:
Had she been fair and not so virtuous,
This deed had not been halfe so impious.

Alv.
But she was fair in virtue, virtuous fair, oh me!

King.
Oh me! she was true honours heir.
Hence beldame from my presence, all flye hence,
You are all murderers, com poor innocence,
Clasp thy cold hand in mine, for here I'le lye,
And since I liv'd for her, for her I'l die.