University of Virginia Library

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.