University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

The Queen's Apartment.
Queen and Argyle.
Queen.
Peace to thy spirit! rest, lamented friend!
Ah! hapless Rizzio! dearer to my soul,
Now, while I weep thy loss, than in those hours
When like a guardian saint, thy keen-ey'd wisdom
Illum'd my path: far dearer to my soul,
Than when thy converse chas'd away my woe.
Or thy persuasive song like breath'd enchantment
Call'd fancy from her inmost cell, and fill'd
Her visions with sweet wonder.

C. of Ar.
Be consol'd.

Queen.
[Seeing Rizzio's Lute.]
That lute! ha! take it hence! that was my gift.
Conceal it from my sight. [Argyle takes it into the inner room.]
Ne'er may I hear
Again those chords which once had pow'r to sooth
The anguish of my spirit! each vibration,
Will ring of Rizzio's loss, of Rizzio's murder,
Of Rizzio's groan of death.

Argyle enters faltering.
C. of Ar.
Help—help. I faint—
'Tis fill'd with armed men, and the fresh blood
Yet streams upon the floor. 'Tis Rizzio's blood.

Queen.
Fear not. They shall not harm thee in my presence.

C. of Ar.
Not fear! they murder'd Rizzio in thy presence.

Queen.
Dost thou reproach me too, my sister?

C. of Ar.
Pardon:
I know not what I spake; my fear o'erpow'r'd me.

Queen.
Their queen, their prisoner! none to aid their sov'reign?
I had a husband once—but Rizzio's murder
Has from my soul eras'd him.
Bothwell heard behind the scenes.
Guards! depart.
Hence—I command you.

Queen.
Bothwell!—go, my sister,
Entreat him to my presence. [Argyle goes.]
Hapless Mary!
And must I rest on him? Ah—Murray! Murray!
My brother, where art thou? in arms, a rebel
Against thy queen and sister.

Both.
[behind the scenes.]
Gracious Countess,
Say, I will quickly come.

Argyle enters.
C. of Ar.
The Earl but waits
To see the body of thy servant, Rizzio,
Borne decently away, and that no stain
Of murder shock thy sight.

Queen.
Have they then borne
The body off? 'Twould soothing be, tho' painful,
To breathe o'er Rizzio's corse a farewell pray'r,
A requiem to his spirit.

C. of Ar.
Go not there:
Oh shun that scene of horror.

Bothwell enters.
Queen.
Welcome, Earl!
I did entreat your presence.

Both.
I beseech you
Now yield me secret audience.

Queen.
[Aside to Argyle.]
How refuse him?
A little while here leave us. Go not far:
Speed at my call. [Argyle goes.]


Both.
A melancholy office,
But one I deem'd not thankless to my sov'reign
Awhile detain'd me. Pardon my delay.
I wait my sov'reign's will.

Queen.
Say, my entreaty—
Such reverence now seems insult. You behold
The sov'reign of your kingdom in her palace,
A guarded prisoner!

Both.
Scotland's queen, a prisoner,
And Bothwell living!—All who bear with me
Name or affinity, the meanest hind
Of Bothwell's clan, to rescue thee, their sov'reign,
Would gladly die.

Queen.
I still have found you loyal.

Both.
Ere I beheld your heav'nly charms, I vow'd
Faith and obedience unto Scotland's queen:
But at my eye's first glance, I freely own
That faith, obedience, subject's loyalty
But ill exprest my ardour.

Queen.
Armed men
Now fill my cabinet; they watch me, hear me:
I am a prisoner.

Both.
No. At Bothwell's bidding—

Queen.
[interrupts him.]
At Bothwell's bidding—Your's!

Both.
They, all, retir'd.

Queen.
And—am I free?

Both.
Command.

Queen.
Here guard the king,
The victim of base traitors—Darnley! Darnley!
How could'st thou doubt my love? Deluded youth!
Not thirst of blood, not cruelty of nature,
Keen Jealousy's infuriate demon plung'd
Thy blade in Rizzio's breast.

Both.
Seek not to see him:
Dark Morton sways his soul. But now I left him
Slav'd by his fear, his fitful fury cool'd,
The more dejected, like his favourite bird,
That in the ardour of pursuit, too far
Out-soar'd its wonted flight, then, earthward flutter'd
With feebler wing dispirited. Forget him.
While here the majesty of Scotland wept
Unpitied, unaveng'd, that boy—

Queen.
[interrupting him.]
Earl Bothwell,
He is thy king.

Both.
Not, since that foul offence,
Treason to love and Scotland. Royal lady!
All must be known: while here you wept a prisoner,
That rash boy sped his missive letters forth,
Recalling Murray.

Queen.
Am I free?

Both.
The states
Are by his will dismiss'd.

Queen.
I, Scotland's sovereign!

Both.
No, thou art not: thou must bow down to Darnley,
And at his footstool kneel, and supplicate
His grace, and sue remission for thy crimes.
I have perus'd the deed; 'tis vow'd, 'tis sign'd
In Rizzio's blood—

Queen.
What deed?

Both.
Stern Ruthven, Morton,
Have sworn, on Darnley's head to fix and guard
The matrimonial crown.

Queen.
And wrest from me
The sceptre?

Both.
Yes: and—far more dear to thee
Than crown or sceptre, yea than life itself,
Thy honor. If thy foe's fell malice prosper,
Thy name to after ages shall become
A bye-word and contempt. The mother's guilt
On the fair front and sinless brow of childhood
Shall brand th'adultress' shame—

Queen.
Bothwell, begone:
Thy presence is offence—

Both.
Thou must attend—
The storm now bursts upon thee, and alone
One who has lov'd thee long, but ne'er till now,
Till that this hand had strength and power to shield thee,
Pour'd forth his soul—

Queen.
[interrupting him.]
Insulting traitor! hence—
Away—

Both.
What other arm than mine can save you?

Queen.
A people's—To the nation I appeal.
Their pow'r the column that supports the throne.
The sovereign, on her realm who shower'd her blessings,
Shall never in the season of distress
Be of that realm abandon'd. Hence!

Both.
Yet, hear me—
I speak the general wish, the will of all:
Divorce 'twixt thee and Darnley—

Queen.
Never, never—
Insulting traitor, hence! I'll hear no more.
Ho! Argyle!—Traitor, hence—

Argyle enters.
Both.
[going.]
Darnley shall perish—
When next we meet—'tis fated,—'tis decreed:
Scotland's proud queen kneels Bothwell's wedded slave.

[Bothwell goes.
Queen.
'Tis clear—The traitor has unmask'd his guilt—
Argyle, if e're thy sovereign was rever'd,
If e're thy sister in thy heart embosom'd,
Take this, my nuptial ring; speed, seek the king,
Heav'n, and the night's dark mantle thy protection!
I do mistrust their violence. Entreat him,
Charge him from me, if yet he value life,
To leave that lonely dwelling—Speed! I charge thee— [Argyle goes.

I would exchange a last forgiveness with him—
If he must perish, let him in these arms
Breathe his last sigh: with him his wife shall fall,
And Heav'n avenge our murder—Ruthless man!
My soul is filled with horror—Siward, Siward!
[He enters.
I will not here remain—Thy arm, good Siward—
Guide thou my step—Protect him, gracious heav'n!

Scene changes to a desolate spot, near the Kirk of Field.
Hay, Hepburn, with a dark lantern, cloaks, and vizors.
Hay.
This is the place.—Here, by the ruin'd wall,
Where the huge buttress props it up from falling—
Is it not past the time?

Hep.
The abbey chimes
Have plainly mark'd the hour, 'twixt one and two.

Hay.
I have watch'd here since midnight—Keen the air:
Most piercing cold: the sleet-storm drives apace;
And, but for this good mantle, I had lain
A frozen corse on earth—And, might I speak it—

Hep.
[interrupting him.]
Hist!—hist!

Hay.
I know you'll call me woman-hearted,
Yet, would that I had lain a frozen corse
Ere hazarded this deed—

Hep.
Five hundred crowns
Twice fairly reckon'd up—one thousand crowns,
And an Earl's favour. Thou art woman-hearted.
Methinks I heard a foot-fall. No.

Hay.
'Tis horrid—
From its foundation blow the house in air!
And must the king so perish?

Hep.
That I know not.
The Earl—hist! hist! his word will all disclose.

Hay.
It will be heavy on my soul for ever,
Yet his the guilt.

Bothwell softly enters.
Both.
Hist! Hepburn! Hay! make answer.

Hep.
We wait your will.

Both.
Where are the vizors?

Hep.
Here.

Both.
The mantles?

Hep.
Here?

[holds up the lamp.
Both.
We must alike be cloth'd.
Hepburn, is all as I commanded, done?

Hep.
Strict to your bidding.

Both.
And the train drawn out
Beyond the wall, close to the garden's edge?

Hep.
Up to the garden's edge. Touch but the train,
The house, walls, vaults, foundation stones, all, all,
Vanish in air.

Both.
'Tis well. Hay, hast thou done
Alike thy part? hast thou to feast and song
Entic'd his few attendants?

Hay.
Ere this hour
They stagger in their cups. The king, my lord,
Lies at your mercy. And—might I—unblam'd,
Whisper one pitying word. Think on his youth—
It is a dreadful deed.

Both.
Hay, look on this.
[Drawing a dagger.
Obey, nor speak, save when I give command.
Hear my last orders. When the abbey clock
Strikes two—'tis near the time—we, thus disguis'd,
Rush to the lonely room, and seize the man,
There bind him, and so leave him to his fate.
Now, strictly mark me: by your lives I warn you,
Utter no word: no sound, no whisper heard.
But—Hepburn, when the abbey clock strikes two,
When its last echo dies among the hills,
I charge you, Hepburn, five fleet minutes pause;
That we, fore-warn'd, may ere the mine is sprung,
Fly from the spot: then, fire the train—mean-while
At different parts, we round the garden watch
That none approach. 'Tis time. Hush, hush, be cautious,
The city's nightly guard now walk their round.

[Exeunt.
Scene changes to the King's-House, in the Kirk of Field.
King staggers in alarmed.
King.
I cannot rest. I will not to my couch.
Again it glides before me. Hence! avaunt!
Spare me, ye ministers of vengeance, spare me!
Was it not palpable? I heard his groan.
On me, on me, the spectre turn'd his gaze:
'Twas Rizzio: such I saw him, as he writh'd
And hung upon the queen, and gaz'd on me,
When Ruthven's quivering dagger gleam'd before him.
There, there—again it glides before me. Lo!
It beckons me to follow.
Countess of Argyle enters.
What art thou,
A spectre, or a being of this earth?
Speak to me.

C. of Ar.
Let my liege behold this ring—
From Scotland's queen I come, and bear her words.
Speed, if thou value life: quit this lone roof—
Fly to her arms for refuge.

King.
Can the queen
Forgive the past? Pour on her brow, ye saints,
Celestial blessings!

C. of Ar.
Speed, my lord, delay not.
I must not linger here.

[Argyle goes.
King.
Haste. Say I come—
I come—I will but fling this mantle round me.
Keen is the night-air. Hark—a heavier step
Ascends the stairs.
Three Persons enter disguised.
Who are you? ho—my train.
[After struggling, the King is overpowered.
Help—treason—murder—do you seek my life?
Will you not answer? Is my wealth your aim?—
You know me not, a kingdom's wealth my ransom.
Bind me not so, so close: I will not struggle,
I do not struggle. Sirs, have mercy on me!
If you are men, if not infernal spirits,
Let me but hear your voices.
Say you will murder me: so you but speak it,
I know you—Rizzio sent you: you are ris'n
Fiends from the under world before the time,
To torture here your victims. Gone—oh hear me!
[They leave him bound—door barred on the outside.
Murderers, or spirits of the dead, return!
Leave me not thus in lonely horror! hear me!
So did I turn from Rizzio's piercing cry.—
'Tis dreadful retribution. Blood claims blood.

Scene changes to another part of the Garden.
Queen and Siward enter with torches.
Queen.
[Rushing in.]
Siward, speed on. I am not wearied! Haste!
I care not for the gust and freezing night-air.
What was that sound?

[The Abbey clock strikes two.
Siw.
The abbey clock struck two.

Queen.
I am not wearied. Hold the lamp before me.
Speed on. Where art thou, Argyle? why delay?
Hark! hark—a footstep. Is it thine, my sister?
[One of the persons, disguised, rushes by her.
Was I deceiv'd? one in swift pace rush'd by me.
Speak, Argyle, speak!

Hay rushing in.
Hay.
Away—away—or perish.
If that thy life is dear, fly, fly this spot.

Queen.
Why fly? who art thou? speak. Thy queen commands.

Hay.
Oh heav'n's! the queen!—away. The king now dies.
Speed, if kind saints yet grant one fav'ring moment.
The mine is charg'd, the train is laid. Away—
A demon counts the moment, Fly—'tis fir'd.
[The mine explodes.
The wreck will crush us.

Queen.
Let me here expire.

[Falls on the earth, amid the bursting fragments.