University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

An Apartment in the Palace.
Enter Queen, and Countess of Argyle.
QUEEN.
Lord Ruthven, to request an interview!
What can his purpose be?

ARGYLE.
Mayhap to speak
Of his bereavement.

QUEEN.
No; he's not a man
To care for sympathy: more like he comes
To bend my resolution to the King:
But he may spare his pains, if that's his mission—
Go, Countess—wait without—he's coming hither.
[Argyle exit, as Ruthven enters.
My Lord of Ruthven, I am sorry for
Your trouble, which is shared by many here.

RUTHVEN.
Thanks to your Majesty—'Twas hard upon me,
For I had nature's passport to precedence;
But death's no courtier. To the purpose, though—
Before my daughter died, she charged me with
A last request, that in its spirit led
To this our meeting—I would heal the breach
That severs, as it were, the throne in two;
'Tis like the cleaving of the head of empire,
Destructive in its certain consequence.

QUEEN.
Whate'er the consequence, the King's to blame.

RUTHVEN.
No, Madam, Rizzio is to blame—the King
Would banish him: your Majesty protects him;
And, for a slave—a wretch not worth a thought—
This mighty State is threatened with destruction,
If neither will give way.

QUEEN.
And if one should,
You think it ought to be the Queen?—My Lord,
In that our politics agree not.

RUTHVEN.
Yet,
There's no disgrace in drawing back a step
That rashly was put forward.

QUEEN.
Rashly, Sir!

RUTHVEN.
Your pardon, Madam; if I may not speak
Out plainly, I had better hold my tongue.
Was it not rash to take the part of any man
Against the King, your husband?

QUEEN.
Darest thou then,
Presume, as he presumed, to talk of guilt?

RUTHVEN.
No, Madam; not of guilt in its full meaning:
But there's a sort of guilt in innocence,
And weakness is its name. You are bewitched
By this curst sorcerer. What is this Rizzio,
That you should throw before him as a shield,
Your reputation? Or, is reputation
So light a thing? If 'tis not virtue's self,
It is the outward form we know it by,
And we should love it dearer than our own,
For virtue's sake—Madam, the world condemns you.

QUEEN.
You and your friends?

RUTHVEN.
I and the rest of men.
We say that Rizzio is an evil spirit
Haunting your matron bosom. Scotland hates him:
Your husband hates him: you, if you had eyes
To see what deep affliction springs from weakness,
Would shun him, banish him, be rid of him;
And if you could not hate himself, would hate
His sight, like infamy: there's ruin in't,
And scandal, and remorse, and scorn, and shame.
Upon my knees I pray your Majesty,
Spurn not my words, because the words are mine;
But lay them to your heart; and let them speak
To the inward monitor.

QUEEN.
Am I thus fallen
To be rebuked and lectured like a criminal?
But I'll not weep—no—are you not ashamed,
Old man, to take the part of cruelty
Against the unoffending and the weak?
Rizzio has done no wrong, and therefore he
Shall suffer none.

RUTHVEN.
Then I've no more to say. My business was
But to acquit my conscience and my heart
To her who is no more.—Madam, you've sealed
The fate of Rizzio.

QUEEN.
Ha! What say'st thou? Dare
To raise a finger in the way of harm
'Gainst him or any whom the Queen protects,
And you shall find that vengeance does not sleep,
But for refreshment. Tell the King of this,
And try your strength combined to alter it.

[Exit.
RUTHVEN.
We'll take you at your word, imperious woman,
And sooner than you dream of.
Enter Darnley and Conspirators.
Welcome, Sir!
And you, my friends—welcome to each. You're come
In time to find me all your own. The Queen
Is bent on Rizzio's stay.

DARNLEY.
I told you so—
You've done with scruples now, I hope?

RUTHVEN.
For ever.

DARNLEY.
Then let us settle on the final plan.
Morton has just relieved the guard, whose charge
Is filled by others in our confidence.

MORTON.
But is it certain Rizzio sups to-night
In the Queen's closet with the Queen?

DOUGLAS.
For certain
He does intend it.

CHALMERS.
Shall we seize him as
He passes through the court-yard, and dispatch him?

DARNLEY.
Not so; the Queen, who shared his crime, should share
His punishment. Let's watch him to her closet,
And there, before her face, inflict the blow.

DOUGLAS.
And let there be no shrinking when we come to't.
If he should 'scape, my mother in her grave
Would give a sullen groan. The villain dared—

RUTHVEN.
Hush! the man's dead.

DOUGLAS.
Dead!

RUTHVEN.
Ay, in destiny
Already dead, if we're all men, or any of us.

MORTON.
Is every thing prepared?

DOUGLAS.
Ripe for the blow.

MORTON.
George Douglas, be't your task to keep an eye
Upon his movements, till he's safely lodged,
And then to bring us word.

DOUGLAS.
Depend upon't
I'll not lose sight of him.

DARNLEY.
Ruthven, you droop—
Nay, rouse yourself!—Remember, you're our leader.

RUTHVEN.
I do.

DARNLEY.
But are you sure that your late loss
Hath left no drop of weakness after it,
Which, at the moment, may unnerve your hand?

RUTHVEN.
You've heard the story of a lioness
That saw her young whelp by the hunter speared
One glorious day of chase. Furious she sprang
From the thick jungle at the multitude,
And made more havoc in their ranks than wildfire
In brambles, till she fell. Nor quailed she then;
For when she fell, 'twas at the bleeding side
Of her own offspring stretched in death. Close, close
As mothers lie, she lay to 't; stroked the skin
By hunters rudely torn, and with a lick,
Which was her kiss, pierced by a hundred wounds,
Amidst a thousand shouts, she died lamenting
The baby brute that from her fearful breast
Drew milk and tenderness. Such as that mother,
Am I a father. Such the grief I feel.
Come, follow me, and you shall own its greatness.

[Exeunt all but Douglas and Chalmers.
DOUGLAS.
Stay, Chalmers;—a man likes to have a comrade
Upon the watch.

CHALMERS.
We've watched together, George,
Before to-night, but not in such a camp.
Well; Scotland must be saved.

DOUGLAS.
Look! is that he?

CHALMERS.
'Tis he and his friend Garcia.

DOUGLAS.
This way!—this way!
They must not find us here at such an hour.

[They conceal themselves.
Enter Rizzio, and Garcia.
GARCIA.
I knew how 't would be when you met the Queen;—
But is't not rash to venture now again.
The ship is ready, and your friends are waiting—
All are embarked: they look impatient for
Your coming, to set sail.

RIZZIO.
What—should I break
My promise?

GARCIA.
Should you risk your life, and those
Of others, who depend on you?

RIZZIO.
Nay, nay;
We're not in Turkey, amongst infidels,
“That we should dread the bow-string.”

GARCIA.
But we're in
A land of enemies; and when a Christian
Turns Devil, “he's a match for any Mussulman.”

RIZZIO.
Out, out! you let your terrors chill your manhood.
I have engaged to play a requiem
For the departed soul of that sweet maid,
Whose love you charge me with. My harp is in
The closet now, and only waits my hand.

GARCIA.
Well, if you must, I wish you well—that's all;
For, more than wish it is impossible.

[Exit.
RIZZIO.
How awful is this midnight sleep and silence!
The lamps burn dimly in the corridor;
The wind sighs mournful through the empty rooms
Of state, like wisdom whispering vanity,
And all the flaunting plumes that waved aloft,
Like sea foam, on the billows of the main,
Are, with the wearers, vanished. So it is
With life; yet, let me while I may, enjoy—
Yonder's the door that in its keeping holds
The richest treasure of the bounteous earth;—
I'll bless my senses with the sight of it.

[Exit.
Re-enter Douglas.
DOUGLAS
(speaking to CHALMERS).
Go, Chalmers; follow Garcia; seize him, lest
He cause some interruption to our course.
Ha, the door opens! Rizzio enters, and
[Chalmers exit.
It closes after him! He's safe within!
I've tracked him into covert—now for the hunters!

[Exit.

SCENE II.

The Queen's Closet.
The Queen and Countess of Argyle seated at table. Rizzio at the harp.
RIZZIO
sings.
When the dead sleep
'Tis weakness to weep;
Their sorrows are past,
And the hope that will last,
Is that which looks over the Earth's narrow sphere,
For the summer is there, but the winter is here.
“When the dead rise
“From earth to the skies,
“Subdued is the night
“By the angel of light,
“And banished for ever's mortality's tear,
“For the summer is there, but the winter is here.”

QUEEN.
Thanks, Rizzio, for this sweetly plaintive strain.
Which haply we shall never hear beyond
The echoes of this night. Why do you rise?

RIZZIO.
O! Madam, I am sick with melancholy,
Dark thoughts of death, and parting, worse than death,
Fall on my heart, like shadows on a tomb.
“I'll gaze upon this outward scene awhile,
“And think myself a spirit in yon sky,
[Going to the window.
“And so forget the grief that troubles me.
“Look up, sweet Queen, and see with what a smile
“The current of the night runs on to morn.
“What is this wondrous universe, in midst
“Of which we seem to stand?—What are those orbs,
“And this surrounding sky, so richly wrought
“With gold, and painted with Heaven's light?—is this
“A frame to set so poor a picture in,
“As man? If so, there are, there must be, in him
“Great seeds, that shoot above the size of time;
“Immortal faculties, that grow for ever:
“Yes, even the breaking of the day-light sheds
“A revelation on his destiny.”

ARGYLE.
The wine cup, Signor, has a charm, they say,
To lift up sinking hearts; taste, taste, and try;
And if you'd have a name to grace the act,
Drink to the Queen.

[Gives a cup.
RIZZIO.
The Queen! (drinks.)
I feel refreshed.
No wonder wretchedness should fly to thee,
Thou bold artificer of unmade fortunes,
That spurn'st the dull routine events are chained in,
Laugh'st in the face of half-relenting truth,
And mak'st the slave a king. I feel thy power,
And thus I use the strength it girds me with,
To kneel where every heart should pay devotion,
And worship virtue's self in beauty's form.

[Kneels to the Queen.
QUEEN.
Nay, rise, and mock me not with praise: thy speech
Would better suit an angel's excellence.

RIZZIO.
Then what art thou, bright vision of my soul,
That look'st as heaven were here? Ah! must I go
From hence, for ever into banishment?
O Queen! I'm punished, and I well deserve it;
For let me now confess I have deceived
Myself and thee:—I was the willing dupe
Of mine own artifice. 'Twas love alone
That, covered with the name of gratitude,
Lurk'd in my treacherous heart.

QUEEN.
Why have you told
A secret that should never see the light?

RIZZIO.
Because I have not e'en the virtue to
Conceal it. Seeing how you pitied me,
And, in your gracious favour, took my part,
I saw my crime, but saw not to correct it.
E'en now, I cannot, must not, will not leave thee,
Though death and ruin be my portion here.

QUEEN.
O Rizzio! when too late, I see my own
Rash conduct too; I've been to blame for much
Of this distress and error: I have acted
Lightly, not guiltily; but guilt and shame
Have small beginnings both: 'tis hell's device
To plunge it's victim into hopeless crime.
[A noise outside—they all start.
What sound was that?

ARGYLE.
It was an awful sound:
I'll seek to find the cause.

[Exit.
QUEEN.
Rizzio, if aught
Of ill should fall on thee, for my sake, how
Could I support it?

RIZZIO.
Be not downcast, Madam.
We're in your palace, and your palace is
The seat of your security, where all
Your crowned ancestors have kept their state:
Their memories are like ethereal guards,
And, with a charge from Heaven, they banish insult.

QUEEN.
Still, still, a sad foreboding shakes my soul—
The hour, the previous silence, and that sound!
The shudder of an earthquake seemed to follow it.
[Countess of Argyle rushes in, and throws herself at the Queen's feet.
How now, Argyle! What means that look of fright?
Speak out at once—say something, or do something
To snatch us from our fear.

ARGYLE.
O Madam! madam!
When I have breath, I'll tell you—There's some evil
On foot within the palace.

QUEEN.
What? from whom?
Have you seen aught that showed this horror to you?

ARGYLE.
I have;—in th' outward porch, I saw a group
Of men, all armed:—the King, the King, was with 'em.

RIZZIO.
Then, 'tis my life they seek!

QUEEN.
But hear her! hear her!

ARGYLE.
Amongst the rest, was Ruthven, clad in steel.
Hark! 'twas the crash of armour.

[A crash is heard.
QUEEN.
No; 'twas but
The wind; secure the door—bolt it.

ARGYLE.
'Tis fast.

[They secure the door.
RIZZIO.
I hear the sound of footsteps.

QUEEN.
Heavenly powers!
O Rizzio, fear not: still the Queen protects thee.

RIZZIO.
The sound comes still!

QUEEN.
What's to be done? Yon window—
O no; the height's too great. Oh, powers of Heaven!
Ye, ye alone, can shield us—save us!

[The tapestry which covers a secret door is raised, and Ruthven appears in armour at the head of the Conspirators—except Morton.
QUEEN.
(shrieks.)
Ah!
[rushing down with Rizzio and Argyle.
Pale warrior, com'st thou from the realm unknown,
A semblance only of the man thou wast;
But art no longer? or is't life we see,
So like to death that we are horrified?
Speak to me;—wilt not speak?—then, Darnley, tell me
What are these men; why are they here in arms?
Are these companions for a lady's chamber,
Or suit they with a Queen's?

DARNLEY.
They better suit it
Than one I here behold, standing behind thee.

RUTHVEN.
Rizzio, come forth!

QUEEN.
'Tis Ruthven speaks at last,
And murder sounds in every frightful tone.
Ho! there!—Call in the guard!

DARNLEY.
The guard is here.

QUEEN.
What! are my faithful sentinels exchanged
For such as these, whose watch is like the wolf's,
Not for defence, but for aggression?

RUTHVEN.
Madam,
I did not mean to speak: I came to act;
But as your Majesty will have it otherwise,
I must obey the call. You see before you
A living man, but dying as he lives;
A dying man, but living to perform
An act of cold and calm severity,
By justice self imposed. Nay, madam, frown not,
Nor think to look me down. I have no fear;
Or if I had, I've nothing now to fear for.
Old, desolate, and childless, here I stand—
I am not of your kind, nor of your clan,
Nor of your world; but dead alike to all;—
Yet I've a sense of what I owe my country,
And that hath brought me, lock'd in martial mail,
Against whose iron ribs your words are dash'd,
In striking at my heart. (Thunder.)
Hark! 'tis Heaven's voice
Which says this hour must end the guilty joys
Of Holyrood for ever.

QUEEN.
Darnley, are you
A husband or a King?—a peasant's wife
Would not have need to ask for vengeance, if
She suffered such an insult in his presence!

RIZZIO.
The Queen is innocent, and I'm defenceless.
Look! I'm unarmed, and you are cased in steel:
I'm one, and you are many: spare me, therefore.

RUTHVEN.
Rizzio, come forth!—too long have you disgraced
That place, poisoning the ear of Majesty.
Rizzio, come forth! Let go the Queen's robe, caitiff.
Thus then, with the last effort of a hand
That once might pluck the giant from his bed,
Or heap, like Jove, th' eternal mountains on him,
I drag thee to thy fate.

[As he rushes towards Rizzio the Queen interposes.
QUEEN.
Hold off! hold off
Thy hand from the thrice blessed life of man!
Strike not the great Creator in his image!

RUTHVEN.
There is a freezing horror in your words—
But justice must be done—away with him!

[Flings Rizzio amongst the Conspirators, who drag him off the stage—Ruthven following.
QUEEN.
Murder!—they'll shed his blood! his guiltless blood!
Will no one save him from these savages?
Oh Heaven! 'tis on thy mercy that I call
For vengeance! O, be merciful, and kill
These killers!
[Enter Melville from folding doors.
Now, good Melville, is there hope?

MELVILLE.
Madam—

QUEEN.
Speak! speak! is he alive or dead?

MELVILLE.
He's past the reach of help or injury—
Ha! look to the Queen! she faints!

[He rushes towards her.
QUEEN.
No; no more fainting—
Ruthven again! How's this?—He glares more like
A wounded tiger than a dying man.

[Ruthven totters in, and sinks on a couch.
RUTHVEN.
Fetch me a cup of wine.

QUEEN.
Out, blood-stained monster!
Nor dare to ask for aught. Fetch him a cup
Of fire, that he may drink as demons drink,
For he is one.

[The Queen faints.
RUTHVEN.
I feel as if I lack'd
The strength to die. Will no one help me to't?

MELVILLE.
Here's wine.

[Gives him a cup.
RUTHVEN.
Thanks! thanks! there's vigour in the draught.
Where am I?—Wine!—more wine! How dark it is!
Midnight is not so dark. The stars have dropped
Into the Nadyr, and the Zenyth thunders
Like an uplifted hell-storm o'er my head.
Hush! there's a voice upon the wind.—Who spoke?
Who said the heavens are wrathful at the deed?
Who dared to breathe that Ruthven is a murderer?
For Scotland—'Twas for Scotland—for our country.
Attest it, powers above, we struck for right—
For right.—'Tis doomsday with mankind,—
The pillars of the sky are tumbling—
And all created nature feels the shock
Of the main works above. Rage on, rage on—
Ye dreadful sweepings of the thunder store;
Scatter me, bones and all, to the wind's fury.
Still I repeat, it was a rightful blow.
'Twas for our Country! 'Twas—'twas for our Country!

[dies.