University of Virginia Library

Scene III

—Holyrood; the Queen's bed-chamber, in dawn-light. She sits by a chill fire, with her women round her
Queen
(Shuddering)
The wind has dragged my wimple from the spot;
His bloodstains are uncovered.

Mary Seton
Turn away!
(Replacing the veil on the floor)
Now all is cloaked.

Queen
You need not fear, my girls,
That I shall moan again. Light makes the past
Grow strange. Your hand, my Seton.

Mary Seton
To the window?

Queen.
Yes. It is really dawn! Ah, I must pray,—
(Falling suddenly and passionately on her knees)
Poor soul, for he was faithful.

Mary Seton
(To Mary Fleming)
When last even
She suffered, sharp and rigid, I was sure
Her throes would come, or death.

Mary Fleming
King Henry's voice
Pierced her instead.

Mary Seton
She never stirred for it;
Her eyes grew sable, and I felt her frame
Like iron within my arms.

Mary Fleming
We stood by her
After for many hours.

Mary Seton
You fell asleep.

Mary Fleming
Nay, I remember . . .

Mary Seton
When you woke again
You found her sitting by the fire alone,
With a wild flicker on her open lips.

Mary Fleming
I fear she is not praying. (The Queen rises)
Madam, leave
The window. You have faithful friends below.
The secretary—

Queen
Your Lethington?

Mary Fleming
My queen's
True servant, who will hasten to relieve
Our fortunes, soon as known.

Queen
What does he count
Against my brutal enemies? A jar
Grates in my memory with every pulse
That gives me clearer consciousness: the shine
Of daybreak lies so broad upon the fact,
The outrage, the malevolence. Alas,
Entangled night could better be endured
Than this discernment. Mary Mother, vainly
The matin beauty chastened me.

Mary Seton
I hear
Steps, noisy through their earliness, but fast
And upward by the sound.

Mary Fleming
It is the king;
He knocks again.

Queen
Unbar, my Seton. Pass,
Chères amies, to my audience-room awhile.
[Apart]
My very blood flies from him.

Mary Seton
(Opening)
Sire, come in.
Enter Darnley
(Apart)
He looks as flagging as if hoary age
Had caught him in the dark.

Exeunt Mary Seton and Mary Fleming within
Queen
(Preventing Darnley)
You shall not kneel.

(A pause of silence)
Darnley
My Mary, 'tis confession, and I come
Acknowledging my fault, though late sincerely,
With prayers for your indulgence. I am stricken
To see you stand like this, an attitude
For which no line is fashioned. Turn to me
Only a little. I have been decoyed,
And dragged into conspiracies against
Myself as much as you.

Queen
Sire, you may ask
Forgiveness, but I never can forget
The wrong you did me; 'tis indelible
As what I saw in childhood, and will haunt
My deepest, far, old age. My memory is
Most jealous in its pain: you have forgotten
The kiss of tender Judas quality
You gave me—there is snake-bite on my cheek
When I recall its print; you have forgotten
The violence of your hands upon my frame
A moment after; yea, you have forgotten
The bloodshed at my feet, and at my breast
The pistol of a comrade; yet more cruel,
You had forgotten I was near such state
As has its kindly privilege wherever
Man is conceived of woman.

Darnley
(Apart)
Oh, her face!
I hate her shaming lip.—Is all affection
Lost for your husband?

Queen
'Tis impossible
To search my heart just yet; it is too ruined
For any answer. In the sleepless night
No stir save that of my endangered babe
Has touched me to a feeling or a hope
For any soul that lives. You shall not speak
Thus nearly of our tie, since you confess
That you have been both thankless and disloyal
To what in me is sovereign, and the source
From which derive your honours.

Darnley
Would you die
A butchered captive?

Queen
Did you purpose this?
Unbosom frankly.

Darnley
I have been distraught;
Ambition has beguiled me. My true princess,
I will be traitor to these miscreant lords,
Who terrify and threaten. Take these bonds.

(Giving her some papers)
Queen
Unfold them; let me read the articles.
Stand off! I will interpret. (After reading)
There is mention
Here of my ruin, of the overthrow
With your connivance of the Catholic,
True faith, of your sole kingship: trivial thoughts
And weighty matters here are strangely mingled;
An enterprise of most malignant folly
And mounting, blasphemous intent set down
With childish unconcern. Where is the plan
Of David's murder?

Darnley
Do not fix me so
With your dead eyes. I think you have no feeling;
You are all wan and dry. 'Twas the proposal
Of these confederate renegades to kill
Your servant, and they jeered at me the way
A husband cannot brook; but I repent—
You do not listen.

Queen
(Staring at the papers)
I have read enough.
Take back the papers.

Darnley
What a grievous sigh
Breaks from you! I am surely a lost man,
Except I tender pardon to these rebels.
Grant them forgiveness; do not let me perish
For my first, wanton error.

Queen
Henry Stuart,
Had I inflicted on you the foul'st wrong,
The most impenetrable, secret shame
That man can suffer, with less cruelty
You had devised, in justice, your revenge.
O God! to see you scared and garrulous,
Who should lie stunned before me. Do you know
What you have lost, what perpetrated, what
Irreparably injured, that you clamour
For life; and will life be of worth to you,
Your life, while mine keeps tenure of the past?
Hush; leave me! I must put away these fierce
And beating memories—for from Holyrood
I must devise escape. Remove the watch;
Give me some freedom. . . .
Stay, you are the father
Of Scotland's king, in that respect you claim
My tenderest vigilance. Put by your fears.
That you could so have used me! You will make
Amends for this, I hope. Discharge the watch.
Exit Darnley
So much to do, so thick a knot to break!
(Bending, she writes in her Book of Hours)
O Lord, avenge me of my enemies.
I set it down; make Thou a bond with me!
Have we not common cause? These hypocrites
Pull down all holy things. My sturdy mood
Bides not the click of rosaries: receive
This sentence writ across the martial psalms,
And levy for me from the ends of heaven
Thy laggard legions; make me, in thy stead,
Victor and sovereign.
There is stir without
I'the courtyard. (Looks out)
'Tis my brother; he has ventured
From England for my succour. Ho, my girls!
Re-enter Maries
Sweet Fleming, help! There is a spring of joy
Loosed at my heart.

Mary Fleming
What comfort?

Queen
(Pointing to Moray)
He forgets
That we were enemies; he comes unpardoned
To turn the keys on my captivity.
I tell you, girls, a few, short weeks ago
Had any made me present of his head
The proffered gift had pleased, such grievous hate
Ingratitude stirs in me. He repents,
He seeks me in calamity; no power
Henceforward shall estrange us. Am I weeping?
Oh, think, my Maries, I looked up to him
As my good, elder brother, when his face
Was the one, homely thing I saw in France;
And he through life has checked and counselled me,
So sober is he in his statesmanship;
He fought against my marriage—Ah! 'twas that
Drove him to England.
Enter Moray
James, had you been present,
You had not suffered them to handle me
So cruelly. This kindness on your part,
To visit me in prison, sets my tears
At once free from their confines.

Moray
For your sake
In sooth, my sister, duteously emboldened,
I came from Berwick.

Queen
You have heard the fate
Of David?

Moray
Such disorders must be quelled.
Rely on me, and I will promise you
They shall no more recur.

Queen
Recur—a murder,
The murder of my servant at my feet!
I have no terror of such repetition
Now you are here to help me to take vengeance
On David's slaughterers.

Moray
Speak more tranquilly.
It may be that your husband is not clear
Of this conspiracy; to shelter him,
Best summon these unmannered noblemen,
And, with due censure, pardon. Do not break,
So vehement!—from my embrace. Your safety
Necessitates a politic disguise.

Queen
(Apart)
Then I will feign to him, the palterer!
He shall not help me.—James, we will consent
To hear you plead for all of those who seek us
With reverence on their knees as guilty men.
Go, to confer with them.

Moray
I will remonstrate,
And bring them to avowal of their fault:
Meanwhile take rest. How haggard are your eyes!
You give me anxious thoughts.

Exit, after embracing her.
Queen
Erskine was present
When David fell, Traquair was at my side;
There are some fearless hearts within the walls.
Re-enter Darnley
(Apart)
Patience! A hail-storm rushes through my blood
At sight of him.—What knotted brows, as puzzled
By sole and unaccustomed sovereignty!
Confide to me, my lord, how you will part
Your honours 'mong these malcontents, to whom
You owe your exaltation. I bespeak
A place for Moray—let him have your love.

Darnley
I hate him.

Queen
You have reason; he is heir
Through his ambition to your foster-crown.
Shall you retain in trust my chancellor?
Will Ruthven be in favour?

Darnley
Do not mock me!
Mary, I am entreated as a slave,
Threatened with instant ruin, thwarted, bribed;
I will do anything to break away
From this besetting insolence. I suffer;
My life, I fear, is put in jeopardy.

Queen
Then for sweet life's sake—your's, my lord, I mean,
The life you value—trust yourself to me;
Go to your chamber, bid Traquair and Erskine
Thither to instant colloquy, on show
Of some official duty, then dispatch them
Hither in secret; I already weave
A plan of exit through the Abbey vaults.
You look bewildered. Almost I incline—
At least I am most covetous to hope
This handsome, boyish face has been a witness,
A mere vexed witness, of these infamies.

Darnley
Believe it, Mary; I am still so young . . .

Queen
In tutelage, remember, then to me.
Now we must separate. The open door!

(She motions to him to leave her by the main staircase, not the tower-stairs)
Darnley
Your hand!

Queen
They will discover us.
Exit Darnley
Alone,
At this slack hour when David used to play!
Giustizia, giustizia! I have learnt
That watch-word; some day I will give it back,
And still the hollow, merry-making sounds
That 'gin to whistle when I turn to rest.
It will be dark to-night within the vaults,
And cold: my babe is stretching forth young limbs,
Life's easy way. If I were struck stone-dead
For horror at the grim, distorted tombs;
If I should bring forth a strange, spectral child,
To catch the bats that flit from roof to roof,
And wink at daylight! God, it shall not be!
For I will nurse him royally with my soft,
Wild, wayward songs, and he shall lie and laugh
Across my knees, until the happy tune
Drop off into a drowse.
Enter Erskine and Traquair
Good Erskine, come!
Traquair! kneel both of you, and vail your brows,
For you are young to touch the mystery
Of which I bear the burthen . . . I commend
To you the guarding of my motherhood,
As simply as I trust my soul to God.
You have my blessing! Swear no loyalty,
My true-born gentlemen. To-night attend
With horses at the half-sunk Abbey-door.
There is great heart in me.

Erskine
We shall not fail.