 | The Tragic Mary |  |
Scene III
—Holyrood; a room overlooking one of the entrances to the courtyardMoray, Lethington, Argyle: on the table before them a letter
Lethington
(Taking up the letter)
The Earl of Lennox to
his sovereign. He threatens that his son will leave the
realm.
Huntly
Threatens! Such departure were most
seasonable.
Lethington
If the boat be leaky, and the start at the
equinox, our best wishes were answered.
Huntly
Yet the queen could not speak to us when
she came hither to impart her trouble.
Lethington
There was such a fit of weeping in the
clouds, I entreated her to retire to her chamber. We
must prosecute this business.
Moray
It is natural she should affect to be anxious to
detain him.
Lethington
It is unnatural he should essay to depart—blessed
beyond dreams by her clemency, honoured by her
in his dishonour, reasoned with when he should be
arrested. . . . .
Moray
Yet if there were anything serious in her conduct
at which he blushed! The queen's indiscretion is
freedom. . . .
Huntly
But to leave her! and that splendid boy on
her knees.
Moray
Well, we must question the king on this
matter. These unconfirmed imaginations profit nothing.
Lethington
(To Moray)
My lord, pursue the young
monarch with your prayers; but by no means intercept
him with your remonstrances. If heaven make straight
for our goal, counter-action is impiety.
Huntly
We must deal gently with the queen.
Lethington
In her widowhood.
(Rubbing his hands)
I could drink to this crazy bark! May it be stuck round
with barnacles, invaded by the undying worm! The
solution, as ever, is to be looked for, as the pippin of an
apple, at the core. But listen! I am incautious in my
ecstasy. Gentlemen, there is noise in the courtyard—an
arrival.
Huntly
A thick, deep voice. Good Lethington, look out.
Lethington
(At the casement)
Into fairyland! For there
stands our sovereign-mistress, a white wonder of beauty
beneath the torches, and draws in her young prodigal
with golden arms—
Huntly
Why do you pause?
Lethington
Because he pushes her,
The brute—No, Huntly, put away your sword,
She is secure and militant, a creature
To hold the world in awe; he staggers back.
He must be drunk.
Lethington
Now he is on again!
Intolerable braggart, mow and mow,
Can you not answer?
Moray
Let us hasten down
To smooth this rebel humour.
Lethington
(Turning from the casement)
She is gone!
Huntly, one need not be a Catholic
To bless this Lady Mary.
Enter Queen
Queen
Dear my lords,
We have to-night a truant at our doors,
Who will by no means enter, till we yield
To his enforcèd terms. As in a tale
Of fairy, we must give impossible
Commands, and look for such obedience as
The elfin-wands enforce. I am ashamed
To copy his rough manners; he insists
My doughty councillors should leave the palace,
Ere he will condescend to mount our stair.
'Tis late; I may not ask you to break up
A loyal concourse summoned to mine aid;
Yet I will pray you softly to adjourn
Till morning when ourselves will make you judge
Betwixt our warring royalties.
Lethington
Betwixt
You and a thankless rebel.
Since my presence
Offends him. . . .
Queen
'Tis a mood one must not question;
A private humour that in lesser place
By wifely tenderness were cleared away.
Is there a man among you dare confess
He ne'er came home impatient to his wife?
My Lethington, sweet-tempered bachelor,
Prepares a bright-lipped negative. But you,
Huntly,—and you?
Moray
Those whom the Lord hath joined
We will not put asunder. May your meekness,
Coupled with fear, remove his jealousy!
Lethington
(In a low voice to the Queen)
O Dea certe! (Aloud)
May your heavenly grace
Confound his churlishness. We will retire.
Exeunt
(The Queen beckons from the window; in a few moments Darnley walks in sulkily: she throws herself at his feet)
Queen
Nay, do not speak to me; it is enough
That you are come. What, put away to sea,
My prince; what, wilfully embark for death,
Leaving your own bright realm? Have you no treasure
At home that you must seek the Golden Fleece,
My wayward Jason? If indeed you should
Desert me, faithless, if you should desert,
Why, I might turn Medea; for there is
Inherits, or makes rape of from the gods—
All good and evil herbs. I need to cull
No simples; closed in crystal prison-caves
I guard strange alchemy. If I were wronged
The fatal way—deserted—I would draw
My spells from Hecate: the poisoned robe,
The philtres that impoverish, the bright spectres
That dance before a victim to his doom,
Would all be mine; for I must be beloved,—
The goddess breathes in me; and if denied
My wedded lord, if he should once desert me,
I will ride boldly through the world, enchant
Its heroes, soften its great, reckless hearts,
Engage on ventures of high hardihood,
Visit strange lands and new—and at the last
Win of admiring Jove consent to marry
Achilles in Elysium.
Darnley
Do not mock me!
I care not for your fondling; you shall learn
Obedience to my government. You prate
Of that same Colchian dame—she cut in pieces
The brother who fled after her and threatened
To part her from her love; she minced him up
To collops: do you so with the Lord James,
Or I will do it for you. Let me have
The state you gave me when we first were married.
Queen
Oh never! You have forfeited your place
Of kingship you have shown yourself a traitor,
Dissolved my Parliament, imprisoned me,
And, not to quicken into light your prime,
Obliterated infamy, endeavoured
To set yourself usurping in our stead;
Touch not our royalties, or, if you touch,
Kneel and adore them: 'tis to them you owe
Your life, your pardon. Henry, think awhile
What I have overlooked. The tender ties
That knit us in our honeymoon, before
Your mad ambition, are fast-knotted still.
I made you knight, and by the accolade
Of knighthood you are sworn to my defence,
To loyalty, to truth. Ah, if your eyes
Had not been fixed on the investiture
You would have known there was no further honour
Left for my distribution. Earl of Ross
I think I belted you, and then you smiled;
Your vow was to remain my chevalier,
And at the word I gave my very soul
Away—I cannot revocate the gift.
If you should go to sea, I fear such pressure
Of recollection, mingling with desire,
Would work on me, I should put after you
One day in a lone vessel. Promise me
You will remain?
Darnley
With Moray, Lethington,
Queen
I am so tired,
I cannot reason with you. For to-night
Will you not tarry with us? There are many
Who hate you in the palace . . . .
Darnley
I can take
My rights, although you make yourself so coy
And condescending.
Queen
You are safe with me.
Come to my room; you will not?
Darnley
As I please.
Queen
Why then, good-night. To-morrow we shall meet
Before the lords; you shall recount to them
Your fault or mine; if you have planned this voyage
With just occasion, or set out to sea
As any wanton runaway. Good-night.
Exit
Darnley
St. Andrew, but I will not follow her,
Nor ever do her bidding any more;
At Jedburgh she shall hold her justice-courts
Alone; her solitude will grow acute,
And she will sue me to return to her.
And yet she has such carriage when she sweeps
Before me! and I cannot say what ails,
If she should bring me to the council-room.
(Listening)
She has not put the traitors out of doors;
They plot a storey off—I will retire,
And rate her for transgressing my commands.
Exit
| The Tragic Mary | |