 | The Island Queens : Or, The Death of Mary, Queen of Scotland |  |
54
ACTUS QUINTUS.
Scena Prima.
Morton, Davison, Severally.Mor.
Well have we met, thou Machiavel of England!
And Rival to great Cecil in his Fame;
There's something of Importance on thy Brow!
Where's to be read the great Delinquents Fate.
Dav.
Queen Mary is condemn'd, and which is worse,
The Sentence of the Duke must rest no longer,
And Norfolk is this hour to lose his Head.
Mor.
The Plot of Barny to release the Duke,
Was wisely made to urge his speedy End.
Dav.
And, but for that, 'twas thought he might been pardon'd,
His Circumstance of Treason was so slight.
Poor Duke! The most unfortunate and brave!
He comes to meet his Death without these Walls,
Where she must enter and prepare for hers;
And Chance, alas! may be so kind or cruel,
To let them meet—Her Sentence was pronounc'd,
And she preparing hither in her Barge.
Mor.
How did the haughty Queen submit her self?
Dav.
This high-Commission which consisted of
All the Queens Lords, and Counsellors of State,
Of which my self was one, with five of th'Judges,
Made up next Heav'n, the Godlik'st great Tribunal,
Which she deny'd, and scorn'd 'em as too base
To sit upon, and judge a Soveraign Queen.
Mor.
How cou'd you then proceed?
Dav.
The Court o'resway'd it as a wrong Objection,
And said, they wou'd not try her then as Queen,
But as a person tak'n into Protection
Of Englands Laws, and therefore but a Subject.
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A quaint Distinction that, and like your Lawyers;
But since it serves our Ends, no matter how.
Dav.
At last, having deny'd with Constancy,
The legal Power of this Imperial Court,
And finding they were all resolv'd against her,
As a rare Swimmer shiprack'd on the Ocean,
A vast and dreadful distance from the Shore,
And hopeless grown with all his Art to gain it,
Gives himself o're contentedly to drown;
So she sate down, and mildly then submitted.
Mor.
Were her two Secretaries heard in Court?
Dav.
No, tho' she still did urge to have 'em brought,
Pleading that Navus was a Forreigner,
And might, for fear of Tortures and the Wrack,
Be threatten'd to accuse her wrongfully;
Curl too she said, a timorous byass'd Man,
Wou'd sign to any thing that Navus wrote.
Mor.
But what was the most stabbing Proof against her?
Dav.
Her Correspondence had with Babington;
So by the fatal Oaths of two false Servants,
Never seen Face to Face to be confronted,
But more, to buy the safety of the Nation,
She was at last condemn'd, and soon must dye.
Mor.
But, as the Prophet in the guiltless Ship,
Was thrown into the Sea t'appease the Tempest;
If she on Land has, rais'd a Storm to wrack us,
'Tis fit She should be sacrific'd as he was.
Dav.
Behold the Duke's just coming forth to dye—
The Queen is entring too—'Tis as I fear'd.
[Exeunt Morton and Davison.
Enter Queen Mary with Dowglas attended, at one Door, and Norfolk going to Execution at the other; they meet.
Qu. M.
Must the brave Duke receive his Death to day?
Dow.
Alas! see where he comes, a Sight will kill you!
Qu. M.
Quick, drive me, scourge me, lash me from this Place—
Will the Queens Malice hunt me to the last?
Was there no Time but now? no Way but this?
O lead me through some Passage under ground,
Some horrid Vault, or Hell, but to avoid him!
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My Queen! my lovely Alban Queen! sure I'me
Already dead, and this the happy Place
Where Souls like hers receive their blest Rewards.
Qu. M.
Turn wretched Duke, or e're Death seals thy Eyes,
This moment tear 'em out, as I wou'd mine.
Shun me, as, if thou coud'st, thy horrid Fate,
Or a Goblin damn'd.
Norf.
What says my Goddess Queen?
Qu. M.
Is not your wrong'd and mighty Spirit shockt?
And Death a much more welcome Guest than I?
And worse to see me than to feel the Blow?
Norf.
By all your Wrongs and mine—
Qu. M.
O come not near me—
'Tis said a murther'd Body when 'tis cold,
And all it's Veins froz'n and congeal'd by Death,
When he approaches near that did the Deed,
Warn'd by the mighty Power of just Revenge,
Pours a warm Flood, and bleeds afresh again.
Why dart you not a Peal of Curses on me?
Your Eyes Promethean Fire to blast my Soul!
And why don't ev'ry Hair upon thy Head,
Arm like the brisled Porcupine against me?
Norf.
Lov's Wounds may bleed afresh; but no Grief else.
The Ax, these Guards, and this grim Pomp of Death,
Stir me no more than acted in a Play.
My Lov's immortal and can fear no Fate,
Nor feel a Terrour but to part with you,
And cou'd I but redeem your precious Life,
I'de fly to meet the Torments of the Damn'd
A thousand years, and dye thus ev'ry day.
Qu. M.
Alas, most pity'd Prince! force not these drops,
Tears the kind Balm to ease all tortur'd Breasts
But mine, and mine finds no Relief—Be gone—oh no;
For you must ne're return—Let me be gone.
Norf.
For Death I am prepar'd, but not to leave you.
Qu. M.
The dearest Friends ne're make a stir at parting.
Before so small a Journey as we take.
'Twill not be long, some two or three short days,
Or hou'rs perhaps, and we shall meet again.
We both are in the Ballance weigh'd for Death,
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And I hang wavering in uncertain hopes
Above, but when y'are mounted up to Heav'n,
I then shall drop where you'ar now going, to Earth.
Norf.
By Heav'n the Queen, the hungry Tigress durst not.
What! shed the Blood, the sacred Blood of Kings!
'Twere Blasphemy in Angels to suspect it.
But if she dare, I will my self descend,
And arm'd with Legions in the shades below,
Stand Century in the utmost Gap of Fate,
And drive your beauteous Spirit back to be
Inshrin'd within this sacred Mould again.
Q. M.
Ah Duke! are you so cruel and unkind?
I had but two priz'd Friends within this Bosome,
The Queen and you, and she forbids me Earth,
And you deny me Heav'n—Hear me Friend,
[To the Headsman.
Thou with the Vizour; if thou'rt Death, be not
Asham'd to shew thy Face, for I can dare thee.
How long hast thou been practis'd in this Art?
And how many brave Heads hast thou cut off?
Why dost not speak?
Dow.
He's not the publick Heads-man,
But one whose horrid Zeal has brib'd his Hand:
The common Executioner, who proffer'd
A mighty Sum refus'd to do the Deed.
Norf.
Can there be Conscience found in such as He?
What Villain then art thou?
Qu. M.
Thou art some Bungler, and com'st
To learn thy Trade on this brave wretched Man.
If thou shou'dst fail at once to take his Head,
Be sure you sever mine off at a Blow.
Norf.
Away, your Danger spurs me on my Race.
Swift as the Mind can think, my Soul shall fly,
And make the Scaffold but one step to Heav'n.
Qu. M.
And till I come, your happiness to see,
Kneel and attone th'offended Powers for me.
Norf.
Yes, all the shining Hoast shall plead your Cause,
The nearest Saints to the Imperial Chair,
Shall still repeat it in th'Almighty's Ear,
Whil'st round the dazling Throne, Queen Mary's Wrongs
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Whilst the great Deity for Revenge shall call,
All Heav'n shall shake, the Universe be aw'd,
But Rebel England feel the angry God.
Qu. M.
Farewel.
Our Souls a joyful Meeting soon shall feel.
Norf.
But to our Bodies here, a long Farewel.
[Exeunt severally.
Queen Elizabeth alone.
Qu. E.
A Midnight Silence sits upon the Morn;
The Eye of Day shuts, as afraid already,
And seems the setting, not the rising Sun.
Behold, a Crown, a Scepter, and Regalia's;
[Crown and Regalia's on a Table.
Without, two Kingdoms full of flattering Subjects,
Watching my Looks, and waiting on my Nod;
Yet where's the Quiet? where's the Freedom here?
Enter Cecil and Davison, with Commissioners from both Houses.
Dav.
My Lord, I fear we have transgress'd too far
Upon the Queens most private Thoughts—
Cec.
Thoughts or no thoughts, I must and will awake her;
Yet hold, do you with these retire a while,
And I'le wait near till she is pleas'd to call.
Qu. E.
Norfolk is dead;
His Body's freed from Pain, his mind from fear,
And feels like me no doleful Beatings here—
Curst be this Crown, and this loath'd Scene of Power,
And curst this Head that e're the Magick wore.
The careless Shepheard now feels no such Sting,
More lov'd, obey'd, and happier than a King:
His Subjects do not one another hate
For Malice, nor for Jealousie of State;
But harmlesly the Ewe and crested Ram
Walk Side by Side, and guard the tender Lamb.
This from some Bank beholds the Joyful Hind,
Tuning his Pipe, harmonious as his Mind,
Views all around, more blest than from a Throne,
Possessing all, and yet does nothing own—
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Welcome I hope, to rid this Breast from pain.
What say the Houses to their Queens demand?
Shall my dear Sister live? shall I be happy?
Cec.
Here's Davison commission'd from the Commons,
[Re-enter Davison and Commissioners.
And I from all the Lords, with both their Answers.
Qu. E.
Thanks my dear People—faithful Davison!
Speak, for my soul now starts to meet the sound.
Dav.
May't please your Majesty, your Loyal Commons,
To what you bid e'm think, that Mercy shou'd
Be shewn to one of Maries Dignity and Sex,
And near Relation that in Blood she's to you.
They humbly offer, that no Sex nor Title,
Nay, were they sprung from the same Royal Father,
Ought to protect Offenders 'gainst their Soveraign;
And boldly tell you, Mercy is a Crime,
When it is shewn to one that has no Mercy.
She wou'd have tak'n your Life, which is not safe
As long as Mary lives;
Whom if you save, in hopes that Heav'n will spare you,
Is not to trust th'Almighty, but provoke him.
Qu. E.
Is this the Censure then of the most wise,
And Arbitrary Commons?
Dav.
Mightiest Queen!
Do not miscall what is your Subjects Loves,
Their only Zeal is for your Royal Safety,
To whom one moment of your precious Welfare,
Is far more worth than all their Lives and Fortunes.
Qu. E.
The Commons, let e'm mean my Hurt or Fame,
They never want to give it a kind Name.
Dav.
To that Objection of your Majesty;
That this may draw a War from France or Spain,
They all agree with one entire Consent,
If any such shou'd be, to guard your Crown,
And Royal Person, with their whole Estates and Lives;
But such fond Fears are held impossible;
For they can ne're hurt England but by Her,
And all such Dangers at her Death will vanish.
Qu. E.
This then's the Commons Resolution?
Dav.
With which the Lords do with one Voice concur.
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Is this their Answer to their Soveraigns Tears?
This all the kindness that two Queens can beg?
Dav.
All fixt and firm as Fate they are resolv'd,
Like Rocks to stand the Tempest of vain Pity;
Since to deny you this, is to be Loyal.
To your most sacred Majesties Request,
And to asswage the Tyrant Mercy in your Bosome,
No other Answer we cou'd get but this.
They bid us humbly offer to your thinking
A Proverb no less true to be observ'd,
Than what was said of Conradine of Sicily,
And Charles of Anjou, Rivals in a Crown.
Which is—The Death of Mary, is the Life
Of Queen Elizabeth; the Life of Mary,
The Death of Queen Elizabeth.
Qu. E.
Hear you immortal and avenging Powers!
Are Kings Vicegerents of your Rule on Earth?
Breath's the rich Oyl yet fragrant on our Brows!
And are we thus obey'd? There are but two
Main Attributes, which stamp us like your selves,
Mercy and sole Prerogative, and those
Daring and saucy Senates wou'd deny us.
Why Heav'n! that gave my Ancestors a Crown,
Power uncontroll'd as any King cou'd wish;
Yet let e'm lavish out so vast a Stock,
Then Mortgage it, and put it in the Hands
Of such hard Usurers as these!
Cec.
May't please your Majesty—
Qu. E.
I'le hear no more—
Go tell your Masters, that their Queen is coming—
Give me my Robes, I'le instantly dissolve e'm.
I'le drive you from your Hives, your Sanctuary
To rail at, judge, and censure whom you please.
Asunder y'are such cringing, fawning Wretches,
And tremble like the Fox before the Lion;
But let us touch but one amongst your Herd,
Tho' an Offender, then you roar out all,
And Priviledge is the Word, like a whole Kennel,
If one of all the Hounds but make a noise—
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Fell as a Woman, awful as a King.
[Exeunt Cecil, Davison, and the rest cringing.
What have I done? with whom shall I advise?
Heav'n keeps at stately distance now, and treats not
With Kings, as they with Monarchs did of old
By Messengers of Angels, or of Prophets.
Inspire my Thoughts—Bid Davison come back;
And send 'em word that I'le not come to day.
Why incens'd Powers, have you decreed
So large a Road of Bliss to all Mankind,
And mark'd me out a Destiny so narrow?
That on one side I must be sure to err,
Or take my Sister's Life, or loose my own.
Re-enter Davison.
Dav.
I come at your dread Majesties Command.
Qu. E.
O Davison! thou art a man, on whom
I've showr'd rich Favours to adorn thy Person;
But thou hast Merits that outshine my Bounty.
Dav.
O whither wou'd your Majesty!
Qu. E.
Thou seest how thy poor Queen is tortur'd here;
'Tis vain to hide what thou hast Eyes to find:
How backward I am still to Cruelty;
How loth to drein the Blood, ev'n of my Foes.
Is there no way to satisfie my People,
Nor jealous Pow'r, but by my Sisters Death?
O speak, and call my Favours to thy mind!
And that on Earth there's none so curst as I.
There's none so wretched, but may hope for Ease,
But thy poor Queen has none. Now if thou hast
One spark of Comfort in thy grateful Breast,
O put it into mine!
Dav.
I wou'd advise,
But ah, what Hopes can that Physician have
Of Cure, whose Patient throws away his Medicine,
And says that it is Poyson?—Lo, I kneel
To you the wisest, Charming'st Queen on Earth,
The perfect'st Pattern of those Pow'rs above;
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Heav'n seems more fixt to save such Excellence,
Which cannot be, but by the Death of Mary.
Qu. E.
Vultures and Ravens! Schriech Owles, Croaks of Toads,
Are jarring in that Voice—Fly from my sight,
Run Monster, Fiend, and seek thy Habitation,
Where such loath'd Vermine build their fatal Nests;
Or sink thee into Hell, just where thou kneel'st,
Rather than that shou'd be—Rise and be gone.
Dav.
This shall not fright your Slave from his lov'd Duty;
Nor from this humble Posture; no, unless
You take this Weapon in your God-like Hand,
And thrust it in your Servants faithful Breast,
And let out all my Blood that's Loyal; yet
When I am dead, so well you are belov'd,
There's none of all your faithful Parliament, but wou'd
Thus kneel, implore, and hug the Fate that I had.
Qu. E.
Be gon, quick Davison, thou fatal Charmer,
Thou subtil Mouth of the Deluding Senate.
Dav.
Alas! what Ends can your kind Subjects have?
What private Benefit can they propose
By this Queens Death, but to preserve your Reign?
Which is the All and only Blessing aim'd at.
Perhaps, when you are murther'd, or depos'd,
(As Tyrants subtilly best reward their Foes,
And cheat the People with the wholsom'st Laws)
We then may hope to climb to vast Promotions,
And heap huge Sums, if Covetous or Ambitious,
Or at the least, enjoy those Wealth and Honours
Which you with liberal Hands bestow'd on us.
Believe, Consider—
Qu. E.
O Davison!
Dav.
Remember too your Danger—News is brought,
That Spain has an Armado launch'd, so vast,
That o're your narrow Seas will form a Bridge
To let in all their Living to this Island,
With Iron Rods to scourge, and Chains to bind us,
And lead your Subjects Captives to their Goals,
In greater Shoals than Balthazar the Jews.
The affrighted People hasten to their Shores,
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Darkning the Sky, and blacking all the Sea;
But cry, th'Armado's coming.
Qu. E.
Vain Reports!
Dav.
Upon this great surprize and strange Alarm,
I heard it run in Whispers through the House,
And 'mongst the Lords that sate upon the Queen,
How this Invasion was for Mary's sake,
And that if you'd not Sign her speedy Death,
They must be forc'd to fly, or set up Her,
In hopes that when She Reigns, that prosperous Act
May expiate their Crime in judging her.
Qu. E.
Ha!
Dav.
'Tis most true—Can you condemn 'em for it!
Sign but the Warrant, stay the Execution,
And then, perhaps, your Subjects when they find
How much their Queen did condescend to please 'em,
May soon relent, and with submissive tears
Request that Life which you so long had begg'd
In vain of them.
Qu. E.
I have consider'd—Write.
Dav.
Write what?
Qu. E.
Write what thou wilt, write any thing,
A Warrant for Queen Mary's Execution—
Queen did I say?
Dav.
O all good Angels bless you!
[Taking Pen and Paper.
Young Infants that y'ave now redeem'd from slaughter,
Shall live to the full Age of Man, and sing
[Davison writes.
Your Praise.
Qu. E.
Did I say Queen?
Shall this fell Hand of curst Elizabeth,
Condemn to dye her Cousin, and a Queen!—
Dispatch, and let thy hand fly o're the Paper.
Swift as thy Quill were on an Eagles wing;
For if thou giv'st my Thoughts one Moments Pause,
The Eloquence of Angels can't reprieve 'em.
Write, write, no matter how, if foul the better,
Foul as the Fact I am about to do.
Dav.
See, I've already done.
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Quick, give it me.
[Queen takes the Warrant and reads.
To Our Lieutenant of the Tower, Commanding
That the next Morning after sight of this,
You shall deliver to the Sheriffs of London,
[Reads.
The Body of your Priso'ner Mary Stewart—
Ah cruel Davison! when thou cam'st here,
Why for her Name did'st thou not write a Blot,
Or blot it with a Tear?
To be beheaded
Upon a Scaffold fix'd without the Tower.
[Reads.
To this I must subscribe Elizabeth;
O ye dread Powers and Saints that intercede
For Kings before the gawdy Throne, and must I!—
Quick, give my raving thoughts no time for Reason;
But thou successful Devil put the Pen
Into my Hand, and Hell into my Bosom.
Dav.
Consider that it is of no more force
[Queen Signs it.
Than Testaments, that may at any time,
The Party living, be revok'd or null'd.
Qu. E.
There, there it is; but then as sick Men loth
To make their Wills, and leave their dear Estates
To their glad Heirs, behold, I give it thee—
Yet stay, be sure thou keep'st it as thou wou'dst
Thy Flesh from Racks, and Soul from being damn'd,
Not as the Life of Mary, but thy Queen:
Think when I put into thy Hands this Paper,
I pawn my Peace on Earth, and Rest above.
That Moment when thou parts with it to Any,
Heav'n send as many Curses on thy Head,
As Ægypts Plagues, to scourge thee when th'art dead.
[Exit Queen Elizabeth.
Dav.
The Deed is done at last, but forc'd from her
With greater Art than Virgins made to yield,
Wh'are loth to part with what they long to grant,
Till ravish'd from them.
Enter Morton and Cecil.
Cec.
Hast thou got the Paper?
Dav.
'Tis in my hand.
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Victorious Davison!
Eternal Ages shall adore thy Statue,
And wise Historians when this Deed they note,
Shall lift thy Name amongst the Stars for this.
Cec.
Giv't me.
Dav.
But had you heard what Execrations—
Cec.
O 'tis no matter! our's be all the blame.
We'l carry to the Joyful Council This.
To morrow She shall dye, and the Queen rest,
When this hugg'd Cancer's parted from her Brest.
[Exeunt.
Queen Mary discover'd kneeling, with a Book in her Hand, her Women kneeling by her. Enter Dowglass and all her Men-Servants.
Dow.
Behold her kneeling—O y'immortal Powers!
If Powers there are so good, so mild as She,
Send Hoasts of Cherubs down to waft those Sighs.
Sure all the Worlds remember'd in thy Prayers,
And in those Tears thy guilty Foes are washt.
Qu. M.
Come all of you, draw near—how goes the Day?
Dow.
The Sun is ris'n, whose setting you'l ne're see.
Qu. M.
Perhaps I've but an hour of Life, and that's enough;
The Distance up to Heav'n, tho' it seems great,
Yet 'tis so nigh, and Mercy flies so fast,
That in less while than swiftest Lightning falls,
It saves the poor Delinquent at the bottom,
That has been Ages tumbling to Damnation.
Dow.
O ye dread Powers! ye soveraign Guard of Kings!
Must that bright Head be snatch'd off by an Ax?
Upon whose Brow's a Crown, a sacred Crown,
Just Heav'n!
Qu. M.
What matter is it how we dye?
When dead, w'are all the same—there's no distinction
Betwixt a Prince that on his Gorgeous Bed
Gives up a pamper'd Ghost, and Me upon
A Scaffold, and with that impartial Judge
That holds the equal, steady Beam of Justice,
A Crown weighs light with Virtue in the Ballance.
Dow.
How do you? and how bears that precious heart
Th'expected moment of its Body's Fate?
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Ne're better; for my Maids can bear me witness,
I laid me down to rest, and all the Night
Slept like a thoughtless Infant in his Cradle,
With Smiles imprinted on its lovely Cheeks;
And wak'd with Joy to dress me for my Journey,
Like one that on a May-Day Morn sets forth,
Pleas'd with the Beauties of the Lawns and Fields,
And hopes to come into his Inn at Night.
Dow.
O Miracle of Innocence!
Qu. M.
Thou Dowglas
Art young, may'st live my Story to relate
To men that now are Children in the Womb;
But Melvil, thou'st been long my faithful Servant,
Haste into France and Scotland when I'me dead,
There tell the Guises, my dear Cousins, and Son,
Thou saw'st me dye in the true Faith I liv'd in,
Not Scotland's Crown, nor England's Hopes cou'd tempt me,
Nor nineteen years a Prisoner, to apostate;
Nay, nor my Life, which now I seal its Martyr.
Dow.
O Saint-like Goodness!
Qu. M.
Y'ave been faithful all.
What poor Estate my cruel Wants have left me,
Here is my Will, I freely give amongst you,
Wou'd it were more, as much as you deserve.
Nay, weep not,—Some few Trifles
I will distribute with my own glad hands.
Here is some Gold and Jewels in this Casket,
Share 'em amongst you, and a Kiss to each.
[To her Women.
Heav'n bless you all—Here Melvil, take this Ring;
I wou'd not have thee ev'ry time thou look'st on it,
But sometimes call to mind that it was Mary's—
Poor Man! his Griefs have choak'd his Words—Dowglas,
Receive this Bracelet from thy Mistress Neck,
And ty't about thy Rist—Go to my Son,
The rising Sun from Mary's endless setting,
And he'l take care of thee, and all of you.
Dow.
Alas! I quickly shall be past all Care;
This fatal Day hangs heavier on my youth,
Than threescore years can do on Dowglas Head.
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I've nothing else to give but This, and this
I kiss, and beg that it be bury'd with me.
[Kisses her Crucifix.
And Mary, do not think it strange, that thou
A soveraign Queen dy'st by an Ax, and see
The King of Heav'n nail'd on a Cross for thee.
Dow.
'Twill not be long e're you will shine with him.
Qu. M.
Give me some Wine—your Mistress here bequeaths
Her last kind Wishes to you in this Draught.
I have no Friends, no Children nigh but you;
He whom I bore wrack'd from these tender Bowels,
Scarce blest his joyful Mother for her Labour,
With his first Infant Beams, but was by Villains,
Like little Romulus, from this Bosome torn,
And nurst with Wolves; wherefore, my dearest Friends,
My faithful, suffering, mourning, weeping Servants!
Your Queen, your Mistress drinks to all of you;
And all Revenge and Malice bury'd be
In this kind Bowl, as is this Wine in me.
[Drinks kneeling, they all kneel while she drink.
Dow.
Behold they're come to fetch you.
Qu. M.
They are welcome.
Enter Cecil, Morton, Lieutenant of the Tower, Guards.
My Lord, I have expected you with Joy,
You find me like a cheerful, longing Bride.
Must you conduct me to my Bride-Groom Death?
Cec.
Alas! I must,
Qu. M,
Has the Queen sent no Message?
No word of Farewel to her dying Cousin?
Cec.
Something She wou'd have said, but burst in Tears,
Whilst with a Groan her tortur'd Speech expir'd,
And only cry'd, O Mary! and no more.
Mor.
Madam, I kneel, in hopes that you'l forgive me.
Qu. M.
Thou'st done no ill to me, but as thy Nature.
A Wolf can do but as a Wolf—Thou hast it;
Tho Heav'n thy cursed Crimes may ne're forgive,
But make my Son revenge his Fathers Murther,
Which thou too surely did'st, and laid the Stain
On me.
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Dav.
My Lord, I've News;
Just now's arriv'd from Scotland, Patrick Gray
With Letters to the Queen, which have disturb'd her;
But more, my Lord, she seems incens'd at you.
[To Morton.
I wish this Execution had been done,
Or not to do.
Cec.
We'ave gone too far already
To think of going back.
Dav.
Room for the Queen.
Madam, 'tis fit you send back all your Servants,
The Scaffold will be crowded else.
Qu. M.
The Queen my Sister cannot be so cruel.
Shall this chast Body (which great Princesses
Have kneel'd to dress and undress) be expos'd
And made a common Spectacle,
To be prophan'd by ev'ry Villains Sight?
And none of all my Servants be allow'd
To weep and close my Eyes when I am dead?
Which these poor Wretches all wou'd thank you for.
Cec.
Madam, tho' contrary to Orders, you may take
Two of your Women-Servants and two Men,
Which you'l be pleas'd to choose.
Now have you ought for us to tell the Queen?
Qu. M.
I have but one Request, that She'l permit
My Friends to bear my Body into France,
There to be buried with my Ancestors
Of Lorrain, whence my Mother was descended:
For Scotland, thou that never gav'st me quiet
When I was living, ne'er shall rest me dead.
Dav.
On then—make way there.
Qu. M.
Come near, and you two take me by the Hands;
For to the last I wou'd with decent Form,
Tho' little Port, retain the Majesty
Of what I am, the rightful Queen of Scotland,
Queen Dowager of France, and Englands Heiress,
A glorious Shine of Titles that shou'd like
The Lambent Beams about the Heads of Angels,
69
Weep not, but take me thus as you have seen
[Melvil and her Physitian take her by each hand.
Your now expiring, then your Blooming Queen,
Brought by two Monarchs to the Dauphins Arms,
Adorn'd with all Lov's Pride and all Lov's Charms,
So lead me to the Place where I may gain
Immortal Pleasures, and immortal Reign.
[Exit Queen Ma. to Execution, manent Morton and Dowglas.
Mor.
Why dost thou weep and grovel on the Floor?
Dow.
Traytor! because I will not herd with Man.
'Tis happier thus to crawl like Snakes and Toads,
Than live and have a Face erect like thee.
Enter Queen Elizabeth, Attendants and Guards.
Qu. E.
Speak Morton, Villain, Traytor to thy Soveraign!
Yet give me Comfort, and Ile pardon all—,
Where is the Queen? say, is my Sister well?
Where is she?
Dow.
Dead e're this upon the Scaffold.
Qu. E.
Now which will swiftest run to save both Queens?
Fly fleeter than the rushing thought, and he
That from the lifted Ax the Dove can save,
Shall be my King, and I will be his Slave—
Vanish, a Kingdom's thy Reward.
Seize on that Fiend, for pitying Heav'n at last,
Has brought to light that he did murther Darnly.
Bind him in Chains, and in an Iron Cage,
Let him be sent to Scotland to be tortur'd.
[Exeunt Morton dragg'd away.
Re-enter Cecil and Davison.
Cec.
Madam, I wish the loss of both our Lives
Cou'd save the Queen's, or mediate our Offence,
If you shall think it one; for she is dead.
Qu. E.
How cou'dst thou be so false and curst a Villain?
What boot's the Thunder now, the Bolts of Kings,
[To Davison.
Which Traitors fear no more than Summers Hail,
Else why art thou alive?
And why dy'd Mary so? But I'me the Cause.
70
Gape wide the Center; open Earth and hide me;
For Hell does yawn, and Heav'n denies to take me.
[Falls down on the Floor.
Give me a Sword, a Dagger, or quick Poyson—
No, fetch the Ax, the horrid Ax, kind Cecil,
The Ax just reaking with my Sisters Veins,
And lop this hated Member from my Body,
This bloody, cruel Hand that sign'd her Death.
Cec.
O calm your Bosom, let no rage molest
Your quiet Spirit in it's God like Mansion.
Qu. E.
Hark how the World proclaims my Guilt already;
Christians and Pagans, all will now rejoyce,
That the long shining, fear'd and spotless Reign
Of fam'd Elizabeth is set in Night;
That England's stain'd, its Maiden Monarch stain'd,
Stain'd, stain'd, like banisht Cain for ever mark'd,
Immortally, eternally is stain'd—
Remove that Vulture from my Sight, and since
Death cannot reach him, the Star-Chamber shall,
Strip him of all his borrow'd Plumes, and leave him
As naked as he came into the World.
Dav.
Long may you live, till Heav'n at last make known
The Good that I've so ill rewarded, done.
[Exit Davison.
Qu. E.
Adorn'd with Crowns this Head no more shall sleep,
But cover'd o're with Dust, for ever weep;
No more on Down, nor Carpets will I rest,
But in some Wild, or Den of dreadful Beast,
Where undisturb'd by Traytors, Laws, and Power,
I ne're shall think of Man, nor Empire more;
With Wolves and Tigers rather Friendship share;
For they by far the gentler Monsters are:
Falshood from Eve on all her Race descends,
False Kindred all, false Subjects, and false Friends!
[Exeunt Omnes.
Finis Actus Quinti.
| The Island Queens : Or, The Death of Mary, Queen of Scotland | |