University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

The Queen's Apartment.
Queen and Siward.
Siw.
The king requests a conference with your highness.

Queen.
Speed, Siward: say, impatiently I wait
His welcome presence. [Siward goes.]
To this roof return!
Thus, unrequested! has the fatal truth
Flash'd on his soul conviction? grace, ye saints,
My lip with soft persuasion, that each word
May breathe of love and bliss, and in his heart
Re-animate the spark of heavenly flame
That lights the soul to glory.
The King enters.
Henry! welcome,
Thrice welcome to this roof! what blissful cause
Thus greets me with thy presence?

King.
Ask thy heart.
Will it not echo mine that oft has sigh'd
At our long separation?

Queen.
Do I hear thee?
Can this be mockery? if it be delusion,
Yes—I will cherish it.

King.
I am not blameless:
Youth, and rash spirits, and th'impatient mind,
Are evil counsellors—

Queen.
[Interrupts him.]
On all the past
Let dark Oblivion rest eternally,
While on Hope's brilliant star we fix our gaze,
And in the lustre of its light embellish
Futurity's fair vision.

King.
[Kneels and kisses her hand.]
Thus I clasp
Pardon and peace.

Queen.
Add—happiness. Oh, Darnley,
I am a very woman, and was cast
By nature in that mold, wherein—'tis said—
Love forms the female heart. It is thy Mary
Whose lip now presses on thy offer'd hand,
A kiss more warm than panitence ere sought,
Or ever seal'd cold pardon. Yes, my husband,
Let me gaze on thee. Art thou not the same
As in that blissful hour when first we met?
When the preventive voice of fame had rumour'd
That heav'n decreed our nuptials: that young Darnley,
Of royal blood, of rare accomplishments,
In air, in shape, majestic grace and beauty,
Sole equall'd Scotland's Mary. Thus we met:
And ere my tongue had pow'r to form the utterance,
My heart exclaim'd, “on that brave arm, the woman
“Shall rest her weakness, from that eye of fire,
“Draw the keen spirit that shall daunt the rebel,
“And light a realm to glory.”

King.
I am thine—
The sun, by looking on the world, creates
Fruits and fair flow'rs, and in their hues admires
The beauty it imparts. So look on me,
And gift me with thy graces.

Queen.
Henry! Henry!
Before thee bright the path of glory beams.
Love kindly sever'd us the more to heighten
The bliss of reconcilement.

King.
I am blest.
And yet there are cold-blooded men, who doubt
If Mary yet love Darnley. Now, confound them.
'Tis not to gratify an idle pride,
No vain distinction moves me: what I covet
Shall 'stablish by my strength your kingdom's glory.

Queen.
And can you doubt my prompt compliance? Speak.

King.
Why does a shadowy sceptre mock my grasp?
Why are my brows, as in derision, girt
By the crown's glittering bauble?

Queen.
How?

King.
Be mine
The grace, the dignity, the pow'r that guards
The matrimonial crown. Honour thyself
In honouring me, thy choice.

Queen.
[Aside.]
Was it for this
His lip dropt honey? let me not so deem it.
Beware—it is a dangerous gift: 'tis pregnant
With unknown evil.

King.
Grant, at my entreaty,
Grace and free pardon to the rebel lords.

Queen.
You know not what you ask. Bad men betray you.
Seek you the matrimonial crown, and with it
Grace and free pardon to the rebel lords,
Who from thy brow will rend it?

King.
I have weigh'd,
With cautious fore-sight, weigh'd each word I spoke.
If love be firmly rooted in thy heart,
If no feign'd passion, now comply. Yet—further—

Queen.
[Interrupting him.]
Is there aught else?

King.
A trifle—
Rizzio's exile.

Queen.
Be that request unsaid. He is a stranger;
My smile his sole protection.

King.
Ha! confess it.
I do enforce the word. Cast out the slave.
How—hesitate—I hate the man. That minion,
Like a malignant spirit hovers round you.
He pays no court to me: in secret thwarts me:
In public slights: and shall I tamely brook it?

Queen.
You know him not. Rizzio reveres his king:
And, had he e'er unweetingly offended,
Mercy, not vengeance, best becomes a monarch.
Yet—if again thou urge it, at thy pleasure
Rizzio shall quit the realm.

King.
Such as he came,
A roofless vagrant, stript of all his plunder.

Queen.
That must not be. It never shall be said,
That Scotland's queen to beggary and contempt
Cast off her faithful servant.

King.
Shall this minion
To the wide world triumphantly expose
The beauteous Mary's gifts, and Darnley's shame?
Your cheek has lost its colour. Why thus tremble?
By heav'n you love the man.

Queen.
What means the king?
I cannot but esteem him. I have found him
Wise, zealous, loyal: and, in time of trouble,
When others have abandon'd me, his firmness
Gave to my soul new confidence.

King.
Ha! own'st thou
To me thy love?

Queen.
I am not wont thro' fear or fraud, to veil
The feelings of my heart. So have I lov'd him,
That I to Darnley and to heav'n avow it.

King.
Will you not understand me?

Queen.
No—I would not.

King.
I say you love him with unlawful passion.

Queen.
Go, ill-starr'd youth.

King.
Why this affected calmness?

Queen.
Ratest thou a queen's, a wife's, a matron's honour,
By thine own base conceptions? hence.

King.
Adultress.

Queen.
Shame—shame.

King.
He shall not live.

Queen.
I will protect him.

King.
He dies.

Queen.
Wrong thou that lone defenceless stranger,
And I for ever from my soul cast off
Thee, Darnley, and thy memory.

King.
Thy minion
Dies.

Bothwell enters.
Queen.
Bothwell, here!

Both.
[To the queen.]
Methought I heard the queen—
Command me.

Queen.
Darnley, hence. We meet no more.

[Queen goes.
King.
The bond is sign'd. Swear thou, ere one fleet hour
Shall pass away: I know their secret haunt,
The private cabinet within her chamber:
This master key commands the palace—Bothwell,
Swear thou, ere one fleet hour shall pass away,
That Ruthven, and Earl Morton, with armed men,
In secret, on the threshold of her chamber,
Stand watchful of my step, when loud I stamp,
To rush before th'adultress, and there strike
Her insolent minion.

Both.
Ruthven shall not fail.

King.
[Gives the bond to Bothwell.]
The bond is sign'd.—Ere one fleet hour, all arm'd.

[Exeunt.
Scene changes to the Queen's Cabinet. Servants and Pages setting on the Supper.
1 Serv.
They will surprise us, yet, ere all is ready.
Dispatch, dispatch.

2 Serv.
'Tis all in order now.
Mind how you pass that way: be not too hasty:
Be wary of your steps. This scanty room
Doth not admit of carelessness. I warn you,
Thou luckless page—if you brush down that lute,
Or mar its music: will you not observe me?
'Tis Rizzio's favourite: if a wire but snap,
'Twill much displease the queen. I hear their steps:
Let us begone.

Queen, Lady Argyle, and Rizzio, enter.
Queen.
Nay—brood not in dull gloom.
Come—gentle sister! Rizzio—here—be seated—
I would awhile forget all care and sorrow,
And feast on my own fancies. [Aside.]
I must feign
The mirth I feel not, or my tears will gush.—
Sister, give me the lute.

Riz.
Your words are gay—
Your looks accord not with them—gracious lady!
Are you, in deed, in very truth, light-hearted?

Queen.
Nay—you yourself shall answer your own question.
A memory of my girlish days comes o'er me,
I know not why: 'twill help you to an answer.
When I was yet a little child, at Paris,
One eve, at court, for Henry ever lov'd
To list my childish prattle, near him stood
A brave old mariner, of slender frame,
Keen-ey'd, his cheek by winds and suns embrown'd:
His ample forehead in its furrows bore
Signs of deep thought, and brunt of many a tempest,
But—on his placid brow sat manifest
The spirit that bad storms and death defiance,
Calm resolution. Close I noted him:
For thoughtless as I seem'd, his tale at once
Found to my young heart entrance.

Riz.
What the tale?

Queen.
'Tis simple. In a tempest, nigh the rocks,
His native shore, he, sole of all the crew,
Dar'd trust his body to the surge that rav'd
Among the cliffs. Heav'n crown'd his trust with life.
There, as he rested on a rock, he saw
Beneath him, in the wide and windless depth
Of the huge sweep of the ocean roll, the ship,
A wreck, fast sinking: but ere yet the wave
Clos'd o'er it, in the momentary pause
And lulling of the tempest, on his ear
From that deep bosom of the ocean, rose
On sudden in one roar of many voices,
A wild, yea—wanton song: as if the men
Now certain of their fate, with one consent
Had vow'd, ere death, to drown all fear of dying
In Bacchanalian chorus. So they perish'd.
Say, are you answer'd?

Riz.
Yes—too well. Despair
Has forc'd this light mood on you.

Queen.
Take your lute.
Why do you strike those dismal chords?

Riz.
The hand
Betrays the soul.

Queen.
Come, come, a lighter prelude. How you mock me?
The wires are all untun'd, or your strange trembling
Mars all their music.

Riz.
No light air, I pray.

Queen.
A soothing air, then. Oft the lay of woe
Is medicine to deep anguish, as, 'tis said,
The honey of the bee will in its wound
Assuage the venom. Try my favourite air,
Thy modulation to the song that heard
The sorrow of my soul, as on the deck
Where I had wept all night, at dawn I sat,
And strain'd my longing eyes that bad farewell
To the gay land that made my young heart joy,
To France, fast fading from me.

Riz.
'Tis in vain.
My soul is out of tune.
[The king's step is heard ascending the stairs.
Heard you that sound?

Queen.
What sound?

Riz.
Again!

Queen.
Methinks I hear a footstep.

Riz.
Hark! hark, how heavily it labours up
The private stairs.

Queen.
None here can entrance find—
Yet—I distinctly hear it—how—a key
Grates, forcing back the wards—

C. of Ar.
I'll bar the door.

The King enters.
Queen.
Haste—'tis too late—

Riz.
It is the king.

King.
No—Darnley—
It is but Darnley—Be not discompos'd—
There was your seat, your custom'd place. Sit, Rizzio—

Riz.
Not in your presence—

King.
In the queen's you sat:
She is more king than I am. Slave! be seated.

[Forces him to sit.
Queen.
[aside.]
He dares not in my presence—

King.
[to the Queen.]
Be not vex'd,
That here you see an uninvited guest.
[Aside]
By this time they are come.

Riz.
I hear the tread
The heavy jarring tread of armed men.

King.
Heard you their jarring tread? Come, crown your glass,
To Mary, Scotland's sovereign, beauteous Mary;
And, when I stamp upon the pavement, thus,
[he stamps.
Drink, drink it down.

Ruthven in armour, and armed followers enter.
Riz.
[to the Queen.]
Protect me—save thy servant!

Queen.
Yes, at life's peril—Who art thou? Why arm'd?
Wherefore that unsheath'd sword? Who art thou?

Ruth.
[Lifting up his helmet.]
Ruthven—

Queen.
Why here, Earl Ruthven?

Ruth.
To obey the king—
Come forth, base minion—Thou, whose ill-gain'd wealth
Makes poor the plunder'd realm; whose insolence
Outswells thy base rapacity: whose faith,
Hostile to ours, each foreign pow'r prefers
To Scotland's weal, and Scotland sons—Come forth.
I, Ruthven, for an injur'd realm claim vengeance.

King.
Add too, that base-born peasant, that vile minion
Has Scotland's king dishonour'd—

Riz.
King, 'tis false—

Queen.
[to the King.]
Thou dost degrade thyself, dishonouring me—
Earl Ruthven! hence: or dread a traitor's doom.
I am thy sovereign—

Ruth.
I obey the king

King.
Strike, Ruthven!

Queen.
On my knees I beg his life—

King.
Adultress! no—Thy minion dies.

Riz.
Oh shield me.

Queen.
[to the King.]
Oh! by that life which soon will see the light,
Thy unborn babe that at my heart-strings pulls,
Save him.

[King gives Ruthven a dagger.
King.
Strike, Ruthven! with this dagger strike him—

Queen.
Traitor, desist—

[The Queen rushes before Rizzio. Ruthven and his followers struggle with him.
Riz.
There is no hope—no refuge—

King.
[seizing hold of the Queen.]
Now force him from her.

Riz.
[to Ruthven.]
Cease, barbarian, cease—
Grasp not her arms: on her no violence—
[Rizzio goes, followed by Ruthven.
Strike, but not here— [to the Queen.]
Farewell! farewell! for ever—

Queen.
Hear, for thy soul's sake, mercy!—Ruthven! spare him!

Ruth.
[Behind the scenes.]
Die—die—

Riz.
[Behind the scenes.]
Saints! guard her life.

Queen.
[to the King.]
Hence, ruthless murderer!