University of Virginia Library

ACT THE FOURTH.

Scene I.

BURLEIGH.
(Alone.)
Some dark intelligence, this morning sent
By Walsingham, alarms my fears: he says,
I shall know more hereafter. Ha! who's there?

Enter a SERVANT.
SERVANT.
A man, my lord, he seems of holy function,
With melancholy aspect, presses much
To have some conference with you.

BURLEIGH.
Let him enter.
Enter GIFFORD.
Well, whence com'st thou?

GIFFORD.
From Rheims, my lord; my name is
Gifford.

BURLEIGH.
Look on me: thy face and garb
Are not unknown: I have observed thee oft
Watching my steps, and lurking round the court,
As if some secret labour'd in thy breast,
And press'd for utterance.

GIFFORD.
So, perhaps, it did.

BURLEIGH.
Say what thou art.

GIFFORD.
A murtherer and a priest,
The minister of heaven and slave of hell.

BURLEIGH.
That characters like those should e'er unite
Is horrible to nature: if thou art
Indeed a priest, thou know'st thy danger here.
What ho! who waits within?

GIFFORD.
But one word more
Of threats or anger, and I close these lips
In everlasting silence.—Dost thou love
Elizabeth, thy queen?

BURLEIGH.
My royal mistress?
Dear as my life.—But what art thou to her?

GIFFORD.
I am her guardian angel; sent by heaven
To save her from destruction.

BURLEIGH.
Then, thou'rt mine;
Go on, and tell me all:—what is thy errand?
Who sent thee hither?

GIFFORD.
Horror and remorse,
That would not let me rest. I came to tell thee
Thy sov'reign's life hangs on a silken thread
Which I suspend:—for know, her doom is fix'd.
A band of desperate villains, I am one,
Have bound themselves by every solemn oath
To murther her.

BURLEIGH.
Thou chill'st my blood! and what
Could urge thee to a deed so vile?

GIFFORD.
Religion,—
That raises virtue to its noblest height,
Or sinks the weak and vicious soul in foul
Corruption. Know'st thou not, our holy pontiffs
Deem it an act of meritorious grace
To spill the blood of heretics; and such
Is England's queen.

BURLEIGH.
Why, what a faith is thine,
That marks its way with death, and would persuade us
It is a pious duty to destroy
Our fellow creatures.—Execrable doctrine!

GIFFORD.
But I was warn'd of heaven, and do repent
My rash resolve.

BURLEIGH.
Then thou wilt tell me who
And what they are, that urged thee to a deed
So foul as this.

GIFFORD.
This paper will unfold
The dreadful tale. There thou wilt find the names
Of all the actors in this bloody scene:
Determin'd spirits, resolute and bold,
Men that were fit to set the world on fire,
And leap into the flame. Read that, and tremble.

BURLEIGH.
Give me the horrid scroll:
(reads).
Ha! Tilney here,
And Babington! of Dethrick is he not?

GIFFORD.
The same, my lord.

BURLEIGH.
I know him: that a youth
Of ample fortune and fair character
Should league with ruffians in a cause so vile
Is strange indeed: but bigotry will stoop
To all that's mean, and all that's infamous.
Did Mary give consent to this dark business?

GIFFORD.
Letters have past 'twixt her and Babington.

BURLEIGH.
Touching the murther of Elizabeth?

GIFFORD.
'Tis so reported.

BURLEIGH.
Make me sure of that;
Swear it, good priest.

GIFFORD.
If it be true, I will;
If not, a kingdom should not bribe me to it.

BURLEIGH.
Thou art a noble traitor.

GIFFORD.
I have been
A villain, but am honest: was once
Thy foe, but thou shalt find me now thy friend.
Give me the means, and not a slave amongst them
Shall live to say, “That's Gifford who betray'd us.”

BURLEIGH.
How shall I thank thee? say, what wilt thou have
Which Burleigh's ample power can give thee?

GIFFORD.
Nothing;
I ask no meed: confession of our crimes,
Like every virtue, is its own reward.
Think'st thou, the man who sacrificed his friends
To serve thee can be purchas'd? No, my lord;
I have a nobler aim: ambition acts
As strongly in a cloister as a court.
The priest of Rheims would wish to be remembered
In future times, and rival thee hereafter.
It may be said, perchance, that Cecil lov'd,
But Gifford saved, Elizabeth.—Farewell.
[Exit Gifford.

BURLEIGH.
(Alone.)
How much to thee, all gracious Providence,
Doth England stand indebted: thy kind hand
Averts each threatening ill, and from her fall
She rises still unconquered by misfortune.
This fellow is sincere, and has a spirit
That soars above his humble sphere; he may
Be useful to us. Ha! my Walsingham.

Enter WALSINGHAM.
WALSINGHAM.
I give you joy, my friend, the work is done.

BURLEIGH.
Thou comest in happy hour, to save thy queen,
Thy country, and thyself; for know, a band
Of vile conspirators—

WALSINGHAM.
I know it all.
Thou'st seen the priest of Rheims;—I sent him to thee,
And flew on wings of loyalty and love,
To warn our sovereign of her danger.

BURLEIGH.
How
Bore she the news?

WALSINGHAM.
With more than Roman firmness
And manly courage: “Thanks to Heaven,” she said,
“Then England will be safe.” And when I urged her
To guard her person well, she smiled and cried,
“My people will defend me.”

BURLEIGH.
There she shines
Unrivall'd. Passion ofttimes will betray her
To female weakness; but, when public danger
And great events call forth her faculties,
She rises into dignity and grace.

WALSINGHAM.
When I informed her Mary had conspired
Against her life, her eyes indignant flash'd,
As if transported with unusual gladness.

BURLEIGH.
I doubt it not; and we too may rejoice.
Could we but fix the letters there, my friend,
It would confirm her guilt.

WALSINGHAM.
Know then, 'tis done:
Navus and Curl, her faithful ministers,
Whom I have taken special care to list
Into our service, have acknowledged it;
And, if her secretaries say 'tis so,
We'll not dispute their kind authority.

BURLEIGH.
Then we may rest secure. The net of death
Is wreath'd around her, and she can't escape.
Knows she that Gifford hath betray'd her?

WALSINGHAM.
No;
For she is closely watch'd. She little thinks
What fatal change a few short hours have wrought;
But soon we shall inform her; for this morn,
Sir Walter Mildmay, Barker, and myself,
With Paulet, were commission'd by the queen
Instant to see the fair conspirator,
And bid her make, with all convenient speed,
The best defence her cunning can supply.
I hope, my lord, you will attend to grace
Our embassy.

BURLEIGH.
If Cecil can do ought
To serve his country and his queen, depend
On his assistance.

WALSINGHAM.
Whilst Elizabeth
Is warm in her resentment, let us keep
The glorious flame alive, 'till it consume
The guilty victim.

BURLEIGH.
Come, my friend, lead on;
'Tis the last blow, and we must strike it home.

[Exit.

Scene II.

MARY, EMILY.
MARY.
No news from France, from Paget or Mendoza:
Suspense is sure the worst of human ills;
Would I could know my fate! good Emily:
What's this? a picture.

[Takes up a small picture from the table.
EMILY.
'Tis a gift from Rome;
I found it in the garden, thus to you
Directed.

[Reads the direction.
MARY.
‘To the persecuted queen,’
Oppress'd, it might have said, beyond compare;
But see! the cunning artist has pourtray'd
An emblem of approaching liberty.
'Tis the God Mercury striking off the head
Of subtle Argus, when he kept in bonds
The beauteous Iö. Take it, Emily,
I like it not: the jealous queen may wrest
This innocent device to my destruction;
I must not listen to such flattering dreams
Of visionary bliss. Alas, my friend,
For miseries like mine there is no cure
But death; and see! his harbingers appear;
For these, I know, are from Elizabeth.
Enter the Commissioners, HATTON, LORD CHANCELLOR, BURLEIGH, &c.
Who's there? my lords, this is a rough intrusion;
But, 'tis no matter: proud authority
Is ever wont to trample on distress,
And treat misfortune with indignity.

HATTON.
Forgive us, madam, the unwelcome visit,
If, in obedience to the queen's command,
We come the mournful messengers of woe.

MARY.
Sorrow and I, my lords, have been so long
Acquainted with each other, that what form
Soe'er she takes, I am prepared to meet
The worst that can befal: thank heaven, my spirit,
As if it rose with my misfortunes, soars
Above itself, and seems to brave my fate.
What are these melancholy tidings? Speak,
And I attend; command, and I obey.

HATTON.
You stand accused of foul conspiracy
Against our sovereign liege, her throne and life.

MARY.
Treason and murther! am I fallen so low
As to be rank'd amongst the savage herd
Of vile assassins? Look, my lords, on me,
And ask yourselves, if subtle policy
Would not have found a fitter instrument
To work its bloody purpose, to dethrone
A princess, and destroy a powerful empire,
Than the poor inmate of this lonely cell?

HATTON.
But those who cannot execute may yet
Command, direct, and govern: ministers
Of vengeance may be hired in every rank
And every nation; some have been employ'd
To serve your cause; by you have been rewarded,
As Morgan and his base adherents know,
By every hour's experience of your bounty.

MARY.
He lost his all for me, and 'twas my duty:
Did not your idol mistress do the same?
Who pension'd Grey, and my apostate son,
The King of Scotland? why am I alone
Forbid to think on those who loved and served me?

BURLEIGH.
The villain, Parry, was dispatch'd by him
To assassinate the queen.

MARY.
It may be so;
I sent him not: but every needy slave,
Whom bigot zeal, or shatter'd fortunes prompt
To deeds of desperation, steals my name
To gild his treason, sanctify oppression,
And plead for murther. Thus am I condemn'd,
By an unfeeling, cruel world, for crimes
Which I abhor, and guilt I never knew.

BURLEIGH.
It will be urged against you; and 'tis fit,
Strait you appear and answer to the charge,
That to proud Philip, Spain's ambitious king,
In solemn form, you have deliver'd up
Your claim and title to the throne of England.

MARY.
When I am minded to dispose of that
Which is my own, I shall not ask the leave
Of England's queen: but what have I to give?
You talk, my lords, as if a wretch like me,
Bereaved of every aid, had crowns to scatter
Amongst her friends, and kingdoms to bestow.

BURLEIGH.
You might have had a noble one to give,
If heaven, in pity, had not interposed
To save the best of princes from destruction,
From you, and instant death.

MARY.
Amazement! I
Destroy your queen? I own, if France had sent
Its promised succours, and deceitful Spain
Join'd its free aid, I would have fought my way
To freedom: but I would not stain my soul
With horrid murther, for a thousand kingdoms.
Who dares accuse me of a crime so base?

BURLEIGH.
Know you not Babington?

MARY.
I know him not,
Nor ever heard his name.

BURLEIGH.
Nor Ballard?

MARY.
No.

BURLEIGH.
'Tis pity then you ventured to entrust
Such dangerous secrets in a stranger's breast;
For know, they are reveal'd.

MARY.
What sland'rous tongue
Hath, with its deadly venom, poison'd thus
The royal ear? Where are your witnesses,
My base accusers? bring them face to face;
Let me confront them here.

WALSINGHAM.
Alas, they are dead,
And their last breath confirm'd the charge against you.

MARY.
Confirm'd the charge! O, shameless artifice;
To catch with eager haste the welcome falsehood,
Then close the traitor's lips, lest he should live
To wish he had been honest and disclaim it.
But ye are prodigal of royal blood,
And thirst, I know, for mine: nor is it strange,
A foreign prince should meet with chains and death
From those whose malice hath not spared their own.

WALSINGHAM.
We want not living witnesses to prove
The melancholy truth. Your letters sent
To Paget and Mendoza; others, fraught
With full instructions to your Romish friends,
By your own faithful minions, Nau and Curl,
Have been produced.

MARY.
Ungrateful, perjured slaves;
Did they not swear obedience to their queen,
And silence too? and shall a hireling slave,
Awed by the fear of death, or bribed to sell
His wretched mistress, thus be credited
Before a princess?

BURLEIGH.
This is not the time
For your defence, but may be urged hereafter:
It is her highness' pleasure, you prepare
For instant trial.

MARY.
Trial? and by whom?
I am a sov'reign still: where are my peers?
Or who shall sit in judgment on a queen?

BURLEIGH.
That title, madam, will avail you nought.
We know, that princes in a land of slaves
May plead a tyrant's privilege, and defy
The sword of justice; but on freedom's throne
She sits supreme. Within this realm, thank heaven,
The proudest peer, who injures or oppresses
The meanest subject, will not pass unpunish'd

MARY.
Am I a subject? to acknowledge it
Were to debase the Majesty of Kings,
And stain the blood that flows within my veins.
The crown I wear was given me from above:
I have received it from the hand of heaven,
Nor can an earthly power deprive me of it.

BURLEIGH.
Yet here you must submit: in every state,
The laws that grant protection claim obedience.

MARY.
Protection? gracious heaven! to be deny'd
The common rights which nature gives to all:
To be oppress'd, insulted, and betray'd;
Stripp'd of the small remains of royalty
Which I possess'd: committed to the care
Of ruffian slaves, regardless of my sex,
My birth, and honour; call you this protection?
You talk of laws; but know, there is a law,
In every age and every clime revered;
Which Greece and Rome in ancient times adored,
Barbarians teach, and savages obey,
Which you have broken and contemn'd,—the law
Of hospitality.

BURLEIGH.
More sacred still,
Is that superior duty which we owe
Our country and our king. Of human laws
The first and greatest is the people's safety.

MARY.
Which you, its watchful guardian, must protect
From every ill. But say, my gentle lords,
Who are these chosen ministers of fate
Appointed to perform the royal will?
O, ye are all an honourable band:
Amongst the rest, I am to number you,
And you, my lord, no doubt; is it not so?
My pre-determined, my acknowled foes,
Cecil and Walsingham! illustrious names!
How will they shine in future story, when,
To latest times, your annals shall record
This noble deed, shall celebrate your triumph,
Your glorious conquest, o'er a helpless woman!

BURLEIGH.
Unkind suggestion! Cecil's honour scorns
To act from passion, pride, or mean resentment.
The friend of England and Elizabeth,
His wishes centre in the public good.

MARY.
And I must fall; 'tis fix'd, my doom is past;
I am th'appointed victim to be slain.
Bind me with cords, and lead me to the altar;
But know, I'll not be made a spectacle
For fools to gaze at: misery hath not sunk,
Or so subdued, my yet unconquer'd spirit,
That I should stoop to such indignity,
Or deign to plead before your mock tribunal.

BURLEIGH.
(Aside.)
Misfortune will not bend her; let us try
What pride can do.
[Aloud to Mary.
Permit me, ere you fix
Your rash resolve, to give my poor advice.
One powerful reason which a mind like yours,
Touch'd by the sense of honour, must approve.
You stand accused, but not condemn'd: the queen,
Who rather would forgive than punish, hopes,
Nay fondly wishes, if I know her well,
To find you blameless. Virtue's sterling gold
Will from the fiery trial rise refined,
And shine with added lustre; but, if now
You shun the contest, will not malice say,
Not conscious innocence, but fearful guilt,
Had urged you to decline a hopeless cause
You had not strength or courage to defend?

MARY.
That presses here;—it shakes my firmest purpose;
What's to be done? My lords, I shall attend you;
Though little will avail, against you all,
The sighs and tears of an abandon'd captive,
Without a guide, a counsellor, or friend
To plead my cause, or witness to my truth.
But I will rest on innocence alone;
My counsel—conscience, and my witness—heaven.

BURLEIGH.
And to that heaven which knows our every thought
Here we appeal: no fraud or artifice,
No private passions, shall divert the stream
Of equal justice; no impatient zeal
Or partial bias sway the law's decree.

MARY.
I trust it will not: but remember, sirs,
Mine is a cause that must be heard hereafter,
In distant realms, and on a wider stage:
The world is larger than this little kingdom;
They may acquit the guilty, may reverse
Your judgment; and the sentence that condemns
My character, may sacrifice your own.