 | Mary, Queen of Scots |  |
Scene I.
ELIZABETH in Council, CECIL, LEICESTER, &c.LEICESTER.
With grief, my liege, this day we meet you here,
To lay our cares before you, and lament
Our country's fate; for never, since the hour
That gave the best of sov'reigns to our wishes,
Hath England felt such sad variety
Of pressing ills, or stood so much in need
Of all the aid which wisdom can suggest,
Or zeal inspire. We know, alas! too well,
What ills have flow'd from a disputed right
To England's throne, when York and Lancaster
Contended for the prize in fields of blood.
Permit us, therefore, good my liege, to urge
Our humble suit, and once more to request
That you would take a partner in your throne:
Some powerful friend that may support our cause,
Relieve your cares, and lessen your affliction.
Such is the wish of your assembled senate,
Such is the voice of your united people.
ELIZABETH.
My noble subjects, councillors, and friends,
What have I done to forfeit thus your love?
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To think that, after we so long have trod
The paths of peace and happiness together,
Ye should at last be weary of your queen.
Sink I at length, my friends, beneath the weight
Of England's crown, that thus you cast it from me,
And kindly would relieve me of a burthen
I am no longer able to support?
Why would ye rob me of my noblest power,
The glorious right to make my country happy?
Heaven is my witness: I have struggled hard
For your religion, liberty, and laws;
I wake, my subjects, but for your repose;
Live but to serve, and rule but to obey you.
SOUTHAMPTON.
We know it well, and wish but to secure
The bliss which we enjoy to future times.
In your own royal race we would transmit
Your virtues, and to ages yet unborn
Extend the blessings of Eliza's reign.
ELIZABETH.
Urge me no more, my lords, I do beseech you,
On this ungrateful subject; am I not
Already wedded? England is my husband,
And you my children; all alike shall share
A parent's riches, all divide her love.
Why was I raised to this exalted rank,
Why breathes Elizabeth but to promote
Her people's welfare and her kingdom's glory?
That pleasing task I would myself perform,
Nor will I trust it to another's hand.
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If it be so, my liege, we must submit
In humble silence to your grace's will.
But O, reflect on England's hapless state,
And tremble at our danger: mark the clouds
That gather round, and soon will burst upon us.
Not one of those whom we so oft relieved
Will stretch a hand to save: in vain we ask
Of Belgia's tardy sons the promised aid
Which or they will not, or they dare not lend:
The northern powers, unfeeling and unmoved,
Or smile in cruel mirth at our misfortunes,
Or freeze in cold indifference around us.
CECIL.
Add we to this, my lords, that Spain, grown proud
By Philip's conquests, and of rival France,
No longer jealous, every hour increases
Her naval strength, and binds her force against us:
We are encircled by combining foes
On every side, and left without a friend.
ELIZABETH.
Forbid it, Heaven! there is a guardian power
Commission'd from above, that still hath made
This land of freedom his peculiar care;
He will not leave us in the perilous hour
Of our distress, but send a gracious hand
To stop th'impending ruin, and preserve us.
CECIL.
'Tis nobly urged, and in that hope we rest;
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To brave the storm, it is a dangerous conflict.
ELIZABETH.
And therefore worthy of us: Yes, my friends,
Against opposing millions England still
Shall guard her rights, and vindicate her throne.
The more she suffers, she but shines the more;
She grows, she thrives beneath oppression's weight,
With double strength; and, like her native oak
When winds assail, and tempests howl around,
Spreads her broad leaf, and rises from the blow.
CECIL.
Meantime it well befits us to prepare
Against the worst.
ELIZABETH.
I am prepared; for know,
Nor awed by faction, nor by parties led,
Nor sooth'd by flatterers, I repose my safety
On the firm basis of my subjects' love;
Our views, our hopes, our interests are the same.
Bless'd be the man, who, like my Cecil, knits
The sacred friendship in a golden chain;
And cursed be he who strives to disunite them.
Shall we then tremble at a distant power
That threats us from afar?
CECIL.
O, would to Heaven
Britain had nought but foreign foes to fear!
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Domestic traitors, who unhinge the state;
Of these are form'd the secret friends of Rome:
Hence the rank crowd of Mary's partisans.
NORFOLK.
My lord!—
CECIL.
Nay, start not; from that poison'd spring
Rise all the noxious vapours that afflict
This wholesome land, rebellion, treasons, plots,
And foul conspiracies, that wound the peace
Of our loved sovereign's mind, and shake her throne.
Where is the man that will stand boldly forth,
And say it is not so?
NORFOLK.
Behold him here:
Norfolk, the friend of injured majesty,
Beauty oppress'd, and innocence betray'd.
CECIL.
Perdition on her charms! They have involved
One hapless nation in perpetual discord,
And half destroy'd another.
NORFOLK.
O, my lords,
If you have hearts to feel for the distress'd,
You must lament in sympathetic sorrow
Her hard, her cruel sufferings: but last night
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Had pitied, if like me you had beheld
The lovely mourner: on her homely couch
Reclined, she sate in mean and coarse attire,
(Ill suited to her rank,) whose sable hue
Gave sweet relief to her contrasted beauties,
And doubled all her charms; her lovely cheek
Was wetted, like the dew-besprinkled rose,
With many a tear, whilst sighs unnumber'd stole
From her full heart, and spoke the grief within.
Pensive she lean'd upon her snowy arm,
That mock'd the Parian marble's rival whiteness,
Then stretch'd her hand, and in a voice as sweet
As ever brighten'd the fair face of joy,
Or sooth'd the soul of anguish to repose,
Told her sad tale.
ELIZABETH.
Which we have heard before,
My lord of Norfolk; 'tis a tedious story,
And may be spared.
We came not here, my lords,
To talk of Mary's suff'rings, or to hear
A rapt'rous lover déscant on her beauties.
Cecil, what tidings do those letters bring?
CECIL.
Sussex informs us here, the northern rebels
Are up in arms, headed by Westmoreland.
ELIZABETH.
This wounds us deep indeed. Alas! how much
Hath England suffer'd from ingratitude;
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In impious rebel-league combined, and those
Who should support, united to destroy her.
ARUNDEL.
Fear not, my liege, the sons of loyalty
Will soon chastise their insolence; brave Rutland,
The noble Warwick, Willoughby, and Clinton
Will stop their rapid course, and turn the storm.
CECIL.
I doubt it not; nor had they dared so far
Without the kind support of fellow-madmen
Amongst us here. What says my lord of Norfolk?
Are there not some who wish these rebels well?
Some who would smile to see their country lost,
Enjoy her chains, and triumph in her ruin?
NORFOLK.
There may be such, there may be statesmen too,
Sagacious ministers, who love to find
A plot, or make one, to alarm their sov'reign
With fancied ills, or visionary danger;
Who raise the peaceful waves into a storm,
Only to shew how well their skilful hand
Can smooth the turbid seas, and quell their rage.
CECIL.
Neglect and cold indifference, my lord,
At times like these are little less than treason;
And he who is not now an open friend,
And zealous too, may prove a secret foe.
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A foe to whom? my country, or my queen?
When we shall both be call'd on for our service,
'Twill then be seen who best deserves that name.
ELIZABETH.
For shame, my lords, I charge you on your duties,
Urge it no further now; is this a time
For private quarrels, and domestic feuds,
For party rage, and idle jealousies,
When every nerve should strain, and every arm
Be raised with vigour in our country's cause;
When universal ruin threatens all,
And nothing but our union can preserve us?
Begone! I'll hear no more: break up the council.
Cecil, a word with you—we'll meet again
To-morrow. For my lord of Norfolk there,
Let him be careful on what pillow next
He lays his head; it may concern him near.
[The Council breaks up and disperses.
| Mary, Queen of Scots | |