University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Near the Kirk of Field.
Bothwell.
Both.
[Pointing to a lone house.]
There his lone roof—fit haunt for such a sovereign!

King.
[Behind the scenes.]
Begone, dull fool!

Both.
He speaks as one in rage.

King.
[Behind the scenes.]
Begone—fail not to find him.

Both.
Whence this fury?
His roan, perchance, is lame, or favourite falcon
'Scap'd from the mews. And must I calmly witness
This boy-king's humours? yes, I like this mood:
The easier shall my words pour in his soul
The venom that empoisons it.

The King enters, habited like a hunter, with attendant Falconers, &c.
King.
[Speaking to one of his Attendants.]
Away.

Atten.
I do entreat forgiveness.

King.
By my crown
I swear—

Atten.
Oh, pardon.

King.
If you fail to find him,
Expect no mercy. Seek me here ere sun-set,
Or never more the sun shall find you out,
In the dark dungeon where your days shall close.
Hence, all, and aid his search.

[His Attendants depart.
Both.
What moves your highness.

King.
Dull, senseless wretch! that noble animal,
With untir'd foot throughout the summer day
From sun-rise to the setting of the moon,
Searching drop after drop the tainted soil,
O'er marsh and moor, thro' the long forest glades,
And the dark windings of the under-woods,
Would trace the wounded deer, and singly hold
At bay the antler'd stag. [To Bothwell.]
You know my favourite,
The far-fam'd blood-hound, which the king of France,
My brother, when he deck'd me with this order,
Sent with Lord Rambouillet: his choicest breed,
The staunchest of his pack: that senseless churl
Loos'd him, but now, in very wantoness:
He's gone, and none know whither. By my faith,
I shrewdly do suspect some purse-proud abbot,
Far fonder of the chase than matin pray'r,
Has brib'd the villain.

Both.
Pray you, be compos'd,
The loss, I grant, is heavy: but there are
Objects of weightier moment that demand
Your deepest thoughts: and—if your majesty—

King.
[Interrupting him.]
Bothwell.

Both.
My liege.

King.
Was it your masks whose revels
Rung thro' our streets this morn?

Both.
I pray attend.
This day the council meets. The cause imports
The honour of your crown: and if the king
But grant my suit, here on my knee, I swear,
Your hand shall wield the sceptre. We will free you
From the harsh yoke of a capricious woman:
And—more degrading than that yoke—no longer
Shall the king's will be thwarted by a slave,
That sycophant—that minion.

King.
Ha!

Both.
Your pardon—
Her favourite, Rizzio—one—

King.
You seem confus'd,
You have close access to her, haunt her palace.
Know you why Scotland's queen no more, as once,
Yields to my will observance?

Both.
Who can trace
The mazes of a woman's varying fancy?
This mood, and that inclines it: and the sex,
From mutability itself, extract
Strange pleasure. Your fair consort can assume
All characters at will, and seem in each
As born for that alone. Have we not seen her
In the brief compass of a day, at council
Wise as Jove's sapient daughter: then, at court
In grace and gait a Juno: now, at banquet
Like Love's gay goddess crown the cup with joy:
Anon on her war-steed like arm'd Bellona,
Wielding no woman's weapon? But—there reigns
Thro' all this pliability of mood,
Fix'd in her heart—How shall I rightly name it?
Taste—instinct—sympathy?

King.
Nay, speak.

Both.
My liege,
It cannot have escap'd you. If the queen
Catch the sweet concord of harmonious sounds,
Or wild note of a natural melody,
A reed soft-breathed, or lightly-finger'd lute,
How will the sound draw forth her very soul,
Till every sense, as touch'd by strange enchantment,
Dissolves in sweet forgetfulness: the while
On her soft-heaving bosom tears will glide,
Shed in delicious agony. My liege,
I have forgot the time, tell me, I pray,
Since when, the man from Savoy, the musician,
Came to this court a stranger.

King.
[Aside.]
Means he that?
Sometimes—it came across me—I confess—
If it be so, not hell itself can hold
The fiend that rages here. Nay—give it vent.

Both.
Your wealthiest nobles envy that man's treasure.

King.
Give it at once the utterance. Is she false?

Both.
Who loves the lute or smoothly-breathed reed,
Or warble of a dulcet voice, no doubt
Cannot dislike the hand which tunes the chord,
Or scorn the lip that lends the flute and song
Their modulated melody,

King.
'Tis clear.

Both.
What?

King.
Thou hast said that Darnley's wife loves Rizzio.
Give me thy dagger.

Both.
Not in that hot mood.
First, be assured—the king hath friends. But, sire,
Were it not better, first by soothing flattery,
Once more to win your way into her heart?
You have of late neglected her. My liege,
Your looks—your smiles—a smile from one so grac'd,
May fire the coldest bosom—then demand,
As proof of love, this Rizzio's exile.

King.
[Interrupting him.]
Life.

Both.
And—if denied—there are bold fiery spirits,
Men, whom the minion's insolence and scorn
Have grievously offended. One I know,
A chief of daring valour.

King.
Who?

Both.
Bold Ruthven:
Nor hard the task, my liege, to gain his aid.
Vouchsafe a gracious look on these: [the Bonds.
these bonds,
Devis'd by cautious Morton. This secures
Your rightful claim, and on your brow encircles
The matrimonial crown: and, if th'offence
And the king's wounded honour urge the deed,
Here, in this bond, shall Ruthven pledge his faith,
At thy command, to free th'indignant realm
Of that base minion. This, my liege, when sanction'd
By your authority, to Murray grants
Free grace and pardon.

King.
Rizzio shall not live.

Both.
Sign this,—the minion dies. Be this but sign'd
The banish'd lords shall kneel before thy throne,
Guilt flings the woman on her husband's mercy,
And thou art—sov'reign.

King.
[Takes the bond.]
At the council's close,
At entrance of the queen's apartment meet me.
The slave shall die: my word shall give the warrant.

[Exit.
Both.
The hope that hung upon my gifted birth
In golden prospect, opens fair before me.
'Tis fated—'tis decreed—I wed the queen.
Let me but grasp the sceptre, fiend of darkness!
Nor fraud nor force shall hurl me from the throne.

[Exit.

Scene the Second.

Rizzio's Apartment.
Rizzio.
Riz.
Ere yet the council close—so Lindsay promis'd—
Their guilt shall be expos'd. The time now urges:
Ere this, the lords who favour Murray, all,
Now at unwonted hour in council meet,
By the king's urgent summons. Hapless youth!
How bright thy dawn of day, how clouded o'er
By pride and erring passion! ah, that Rizzio
Might, at life's sacrifice, confound the traitors
That urge thee on to ruin.
Lindsay enters.
Lindsay!

Lind.
[Presents papers.]
Here—
Here are the proofs: their guilt is manifest.
These are the transcripts of their bonds: observe them:
Thus interlin'd by Morton. No light treasure,
Nor trivial risque procur'd them.

Riz.
[Considering them.]
'Tis his hand—
I reck not how obtain'd, nor what the bribe
That counterpois'd the hazard. Here, at midnight
Seek me again. Ho!
Servant enters.
Let my train be summon'd.
If I but gain admittance to the queen,
At public council, in the royal presence,
These shall convict the traitors.

Lind.
Nay—beware—
Your life's at hazard.

Riz.
Be it sacrific'd.
Be Scotland's sov'reign sav'd—let Rizzio perish!

[Exeunt.

Scene the Third.

The Council Room.
The King on his throne, in state. Ruthven, Lords, &c.
King.
Well met, my lords. Are all assembled? No—
I ask not of Lord Bothwell: his high charge
Awhile delays him: but—Earl Morton absent,
No cause assign'd. What means it? well we know
His wisdom, his experience, his authority
O'er all bear powerful sway. Lord Ruthven, answer,
You share his bosom secrets.

Morton enters much agitated.
Mor.
My dread liege,
I pray your pardon—no light cause detain'd me.
Would that the traitor now in tortures writh'd
Before my sight!

King.
Why thus incens'd? Lord Morton,
We are not wont to see you slav'd by passion.

Mor.
Your majesty—Lord Ruthven—here, apart.
Firm as these are, and faithful to our cause,
[They come forward.
They must not catch my whisper'd words.

King.
Speak freely.

Mor.
The transcripts of those bonds which Bothwell's zeal
Gave to your highness, some domestic traitor
Has from my roof purloin'd. The public eye
Must not glance on them.

King.
Be compos'd: this bond
[Producing it.
Is yet unsign'd. But—if the imperious queen
Yield not—her minion—Ruthven— [Stops in doubt.


Ruth.
Say, my liege.

King.
Ere a new day, at midnight, in her chamber,
This night—you understand me! in her chamber,
That very chamber where with lute and song
They interchange their love-sighs.
[Flourish of trumpets.
Hark, those trumpets!
The queen, the queen draws nigh, my lords, be seated.

[The Queen enters in state, Bothwell bearing her sword. Heralds, Guards, &c. All, save the King, rise: the Queen, in passing to her throne, salutes the King.]
Queen.
I greet your highness. It was my intent
First to have met the council, and here waited
The king's arrival. Speak your grace's will,
Whether Earl Murray's banishment, or England
Shall first engage our care.

King.
Let England first
Be heard, thro' her embassador.

Queen.
Go, heralds:
And duly usher to the royal presence
The lord embassador, Sir Thomas Randolph,
Bearer of England's terms.

Randolph enters in state, and kneels to the throne.
Ran.
I humbly greet
Your majesties.

King.
My lord, arise, declare
Your queen's, our sister's pleasure.

Queen.
How! her pleasure!

King.
It needs no tedious preface.

Queen.
Why compel me
To seeming disrespect, or base desertion
Of heaven's high charge? My lord embassador,
The terms of England's queen must be addrest
To Scotland's sov'reign ruler.

King.
Who am I?

Queen.
My lord—my husband, whom I love and honour.
But there are public duties which compel
The soul to their subjection. I stand here
An ancient kingdom's representative,
Sole sov'reign of the realm. In me, my nation,
'Tis Scotland must be honour'd. Say, my lord,
The purport of your mission.

Ran.
England's sov'reign
Sends health, and love, and amity to Scotland.
Be all the past forgotten: peace, henceforth,
Perpetual. Other terms than these we seek not,
That our beloved sister, Scotland's queen,
The king, her nobles, and her states attesting,
With her own hand and signature, confirm
The peace once vow'd at Edinburgh.

Queen.
Never.

King.
It meets our approbation.

Queen.
Say not so:
Repeat not that the king to this consents.
'Tis to resign—my birthright.

Ran.
Sov'reign lady,
Be this renew'd, and firmly ratified,
Thro' me my royal mistress plights her oath,
That the free suffrage of her parliament
Shall by the laws and statutes of our realm,
Determine the succession.

Queen.
No, my lord:
Your parliament may in its balance weigh
The subject's petty claims: mine must be weigh'd
By him who in his balance pois'd the world,
And severing the nations, gave to each
Peculiar blessings: to the south, fair suns,
The maize, and jocund vine, and fruitful olive:
To Scotland, glens, and friths, and heath-clad mountains,
And 'mid bleak rocks, bold hands, and dauntless hearts,
Freedom and independence. Of that race
I sprang: and, first in blood to England's monarchs,
If England's queen go childless to the tomb,
I claim, what none can change, by right divine
The sov'reignty, my birthright.

King.
[Impatient.]
We will sign it;
Give me the treaty. A king's hand shall sign it.

Queen.
If not self-reverence, nor my dignity,
Nor Scotland's glory aught avail, yet—Henry!
Pause! When thy hand has sign'd that deed of shame,
It signs away the rights of one unborn,
The sacred rights of one whose lips' first utterance
Will call thee father. By that honoured name
I now address thee: by that hallow'd union
Which heav'n has sanction'd, by those tender ties
That twine the infant round the parent's heart:
By that which gives the dove and timid hind
The lion's spirit to defend their young,
Sign not that deed of shame. King! husband! hear me:
Father! protect thy child!

King.
[Aside.]
Fix on my brow
The matrimonial crown—

Queen.
The states confer it.
It rests not on my word—

King.
I am thy scorn—
Sign this—or never look to see me more.

Queen.
Farewell!—The sovereign may resign her sceptre,
The mother never will desert her child—

King.
I am resolv'd. A sov'reign thus confirms it.
[Signs it.
My lords, subscribe this treaty. Who refuse,
I hold alike foes to their king and country.

[All but Bothwell sign it.
Queen.
Let me behold their signatures. [Considers them.]
Oh! Scotland!
All, all but one, have sign'd it—

Both.
And that one
Had rather from his arm this right hand sever,
Than sign a deed dishonouring Scotland's queen—
I may not utter in the royal presence
All that my heart contains: but, I will say
That, save my lord the king, all else, whate'er
Their rank, birth, office, whose recorded names
Attest that deed, are to their queen and country
Recorded—Traitors—

Ruth.
[starting up.]
Traitors!—

Queen.
[rising.]
Peace, Earl Ruthven!
My lord embassador, return to England,
And bear my words:—that rather than degrade
The pride and majesty of Scotland's crown,
The crown of many ages:—ere consent
To sacrifice the rights of one unborn,
The child whose blessed lip first calls me mother,
I, at the imperious will of England's queen
Would gladly perish.—To this public insult,
[holding up the treaty.
This ignominious treaty, in whose record
No eye on earth shall e'er again behold
My husband's shame, bear back the sole reply
That honour warrants. [The Queen tears and scatters the treaty.]
This—Farewell! with England
We hold no further conference—

[Embassador departs.
Messenger enters.
Mes.
[to the Queen.]
Gracious sovereign!
Thy servant, Rizzio, earnestly implores
Immediate audience.—Subjects of high import
Urge his entreaty—

Queen.
Will your grace permit it?

King.
You favour him in private—Must he mix
In our state secrets?

Queen.
Favour him in private!
The man, tho' lowly born, is highly minded,
Wise, zealous, firm, in service strictly faithful:
Therefore with liberal and unsparing hand
His merits I have recompens'd. Yet, truly,
If it displease your highness to admit him,
I will in secret hear him.

Ruth.
[To the king.]
My dread liege,
The snake that we behold not surest strikes.
Let him appear before us.

Mor.
[Aside to the king.]
Grant him audience,
Rely on Morton. What this favourite utters
Shall turn to his confusion.

King.
Let him enter.—
Rizzio enters.
Advance not. Speak thy purpose, and depart.
And—I forewarn you, let the cause, bold stranger,
Warrant this rash intrusion.

Queen.
Faithful Rizzio,
Stand nigh my throne.

King.
Be brief.

Riz.
I pray your patience:
I will not long detain you; nor again
Shall Rizzio give the realm and king offence:
For—haply—ere yon sun has clos'd his course,
Nought, save an evanescent name, will mark
That Rizzio once had being. Let me then
Thus prostrate at your throne, my gracious mistress,
Here publicly proclaim, that to your kingdom
A low-born stranger came, that on his zeal
So shone the royal favour, that this wanderer,
This out-cast of the world, who here at last
Had found a home, a country, for that country
Felt what a patriot feels, and freely offer'd
His life a sacrifice to shield the sov'reign,
And Scotland's realm from ruin.
[Rizzio rises.
King! unseal
Your eyes: behold the throne encompass'd round
With treachery and treason.

Ruth.
[Starting up, draws his dagger.]
Silence—Slave!

Mor.
[Staying him, aside.]
Not now the time.

Riz.
[Delivers to the Queen the transcripts of the bonds.]
Receive, my gracious mistress,
The last, last tribute of thy grateful servant,
These bonds. 'Tis Rizzio's farewell legacy.
These, underneath Earl Morton's roof, were found.
Earl Morton fully can the rest unfold.

Mor.
How found?

Riz.
Suffice not these? you see the proofs.

Mor.
Who brought them?

Riz.
Never shall my voice reveal
His name who brought them. For his truth I answer.

Queen.
[attentively considering them.]
'Tis Morton's hand. Fix on the king my crown!
Recall Earl Murray! does my lord the king
Know of these dark designs?

Mor.
Let Morton answer.
These are forg'd instruments.

Queen.
[To Morton.]
I'll prove the truth.
Thy faith or guilt shall now be clearly shown.
Give him the deed [To the Secretary.]
that dooms to banishment
Or death, the rebels. As the act of all,
Sign it, Earl Morton, else—thou art a traitor.

Ruth.
[Aside.]
Ere that deed pass, blood, blood shall flow.

Mor.
[Signs it.]
'Tis sign'd.
See Morton's name. Who doubts his loyalty?

Queen.
[Aside.]
I yet suspect his guilt.

Riz.
This is your hand,
My lord—and—

Mor.
I'll not answer thee, base slanderer.

Ruth.
Must we then bear his insolence? arrest him.
Wait not the law's slow sentence. Vengeance!

Lords.
[Drawing their daggers.]
Vengeance!

Queen.
Traitors, desist.

Both.
Lord Ruthven! curb thy rage.

King.
Bothwell!

Both.
My liege!

Mor.
[Aside to the king.]
Let not the king be troubled.
Rizzio shall surely perish, but not here.

Ruth.
[Advancing to strike Rizzio.]
Vengeance!

Both.
[Draws his sword and interposes.]
Who strikes that man, encounters Bothwell.

Queen.
Brave Earl! lead thou the way. Break up the council.
[To the King.]
And wilt thou not return?

King.
The crown!

Queen.
Farewell.
Approach, my faithful servant—I will guard thee—
Fear not—who aims at Rizzio, wounds his sov'reign.

[Exeunt.