 | Anthony Babington |  |
Scene II.
—The gates of Greenwich Park.—Citizens, children, peasants, &c., lingering near.[Later in the day.
1st Bystander.
The queen is coming. I can hear the music. I
have seen many things, but never the queen.
2nd Bystander.
Then it is not the queen, since we hear she will
have no music to-day. She is altogether as sorry
for the executing of these jail-birds as she was for the
death of that pretty French gentleman, her last
husband that was to be.
3rd Bystander.
Nay, they say had he been prettier the queen had
been sorrier. He was not pretty enough.
1st Bystander.
These young gentlemen are all well-favoured. As
they have gone to and fro the Hall at Westminster,
I have got so to know their features that I have almost
forgotten their heresies. I had as lief not know one
that is doomed—my heart goeth out somehow, to
one that I know.
Did you hear of the speech of Sir Christopher
Hatton, and what he said of the priests and the
seminaries? Sir Christopher hath a tongue in his
head.
1st Bystander.
Oh, you will not work on me to say that they
were in the right now. Let us rather hope they
were the blackest traitors! Aye, aye, let us damn
them in the next world, now that we cannot save
them in this!
2nd Bystander.
The Queen of Scots will never reign over us now.
1st Bystander.
Some say neither will her son.
2nd Bystander
(to 1st).
What manner of man is the King of Scots, you
that have seen him in his own land?
1st Bystander
(archly).
Hast ever heard of Signor Davie Rizzio?
2nd Bystander.
Oh ah! I see your drift! But 'tis his mother
gives him his claim.
I question not his claim. Know you that Davie
had a brother Joseph?
2nd Bystander.
Better had David borne him more like Joseph!
1st Bystander.
Nay, nay, no play on words! This Joseph Rizzio,
Sometime a servant of the Duke of Orkney,
Told me the King of Scots was like his brother.
3rd Bystander.
Well, well, the Queen of Scots was frighten'd for him,
And so her child turn'd like him.
1st Bystander.
May my wife
Be never frighten'd for a base Italian
With bandy legs!
[Hubbub and shouts in distance.
3rd Bystander.
Why, neighbour, thou wert right,
The queen is coming.
1st Bystander.
What! is that the queen? Her head is much less
I had thought her younger.
3rd Bystander.
She hath great dignity of carriage nevertheless.
2nd Bystander.
Her age telleth on her.
1st Bystander.
She is, peradventure, grieving for the traitors.
3rd Bystander.
But who is to rule us at her death?
1st Bystander.
Oh, the Great Turk for aught I know, with his
alcoran. Off with your hat!
[Enter Alice, accompanied by Babington's wife, and his child, which she leads by the hand, and Willoughby.]
Willoughby.
Make way, my good masters—these ladies wish
to get hearing of her majesty. This is the third
day we wait her coming, failing an audience, which
with the cry of “to-morrow.”
[They take up their position amongst the first row of people.
[Enter Elizabeth, accompanied by ladies, courtiers, Cecil, Walsingham, &c. &c.]
Elizabeth
(hearing distant shouts).
Why shout those blockheads, as in exultation?
Cecil.
They shout because we overcome a foe.
Because a many-jointed snake in the grass
Is crush'd beneath your majesty's firm heel,
As erst the dragon by our own St. George—
And hence they shout.
Elizabeth.
Nay, weep with poor St. George,
For living in a land so rife with dragons!
Where may another lurk, all crouched to spring?
Alice
(advancing suddenly).
My most dread sov'reign, deign to read this letter.
A Courtier
(starting).
Why, girl, you fling upon her majesty,
Not thus the fashion to approach a queen.
Give first your letter to some officer.
Hast heard of mediators? A high prince
Takes nothing thus raw-handed from the clutch
Of such a sudden apparition! [Aside.]
Zounds!
Why, had she been the Pope or Antichrist,
She had not scared me more! The girl is comely.
This comes of Cecil's foolish hurlyburlies
Of jointed snakes and dragons! [To Alice.]
Say your business?
Elizabeth.
What is it? Nay, I guess before I see!
Courtier.
Your majesty's keen sense dives down the well,
Unearthing squeamish truth, who hides her head,
Like your old ostrich that has eaten nails,
And deems the world too blind to make a note
Of her tail feathers!
Elizabeth.
Ha! Well said, well said!
Tho', like your ostrich, somewhat long of limb
And scant of feathers! Now your business, girl—
(The girl is pretty) is a supplication
For pardon of these Catholics?
Alice.
It is,
My most dread sov'reign! Foremost is my pray'r
For Mr. Babington. This is his child!
[Thrusting forward the child.
Elizabeth.
A pretty boy.
Courtier
(aside).
Why is it that the spawn
Of traitors, like the slimy eggs of serpents,
Ever accumulates and multiplies,
Whilst God's anointed—the high princes of earth,
Go virgin, or are barren, or give birth
To one poor addled egg? [Aloud.]
A pretty boy.
Alice
(continuing).
Ah, madam! let your merciful renown
Spread over sea, to far-off continents!
Let him be foremost of an embassage
To blow the clarions sounding forth your praise
But only let him live, tho' far away,
To bless your name!
[Kneels to the Queen.
Elizabeth
(compassionately).
You are his wife, poor girl.
See, Walsingham, this is a traitor's wife—
A traitor “art and part,” are those the words?
A traitor found red-handed in the fact,
Yet not so very terrible, what say you?
Walsingham
(coldly).
She hath the pity of the realm with mine—
Elizabeth.
Which serves her little. Add our own thereto,
How will it serve her?
Alice
(imploringly).
Madam, add to this
One little stroke of your anointed hand.
Give him at least his life, he is so young!
Elizabeth
(affected).
Thou art a right good pleader.
Walsingham
(sternly).
Hark you, madam,
This man must die.
Cecil.
To spare him is to spare
The other Papists that are doom'd to death.
He is the ringleader, the law demands
Her lord shall die! We spare not such as he.
Elizabeth.
Go to, my lord! we follow our own bent,
And spare or spare not, as it seems us good.
Preach you unto some other, not the Queen!
God's mercy, sirs!
Alice.
Ah, he is not my lord,
He is my cousin only and my friend.
This lady is his wife.
[Pointing to Mrs. Babington.
Elizabeth.
Alas, poor lady!
Cecil
(to Mrs. Babington).
You, madam, being wedded to a traitor,
One that was sworn to compass the queen's death,
Should bear such sorrow silently. Time was
And time may be again, it being known
They do consort with them and keep their company—
And those that keep the company of traitors
Cannot go unsuspected. Be content
To know you do not die with Mr. Babington.
Mrs. Babington.
Would I could die with him, my dear, dear husband!
[Covers her face and weeps. Recovering herself.
This, his good cousin, who hath hitherto
Spoken for my cause only, needs a word—
For her own flesh and blood, one Jerome Bellamy,
Is likewise of the number doom'd to die.
He is no ringleader, and only suffers
For having known the rest and harbour'd them.
Methinks I am as treasonable as he.
Walsingham.
Said I not so? To spare this Babington
Will be to spare a whole hot-bed of traitors!
Elizabeth.
'Tis over late to plead. We will consider.
Alice.
We strove to reach your grace's ear before,
Yet were denied.
(leading Alice away from the Queen).
Ah, cousin, we have done!
We can but vex by importunity.
Pray heaven we be not now too late to plead!
Yet if we be, and you left desolate,
Remember what I have of home is yours.
My mother will be mother too to you.
I say this come what may.
Alice
(weeping).
Say it not now—
It is too soon!
Willoughby.
Yet did I wait till after
I could not speak. Your heart, new-wrung with grief,
Would harden to me, so I say my say;
Nor hope for aught save that you have the grace
To grant my boon by taking what small good
I have to offer.
Alice.
You are passing kind
Good cousin. I deserve and hope for nothing.
Willoughby.
There is an inner mid-heart sanctuary,
Built danger-proof, love's holiest of holies,
And you have enter'd there. Remember this.
Alice.
I do remember, and I thank you for it.
God grant the queen will show her mercy to us!
[Sounds of artillery heard in the distance mingled with the ringing of bells.]
Elizabeth
(listening).
What means yon booming thunder?
Walsingham
(advancing).
It means that now, at this hour, the conspiracy
directed against the person of your most sacred
majesty is at an end, and that John Ballard, Anthony
Babington, John Savage, Robert Barnwell, Chidiock
Titchborne, Charles Tilney, and Edward Abington,
after having been drawn on hurdles from the Tower
to the place of their suffering in St. Giles's Fields,
have been hanged and quartered while they were yet
quick. So perish all the enemies of the queen!
[Mrs. Babington faints; Willoughby supports her.
(shuddering).
Oh, horrible! this shall not be again!
Cecil, Walsingham, and Courtiers.
So perish all the queen's enemies!
Voices of the People.
God save the queen!
[Men pass amongst the people carrying trays with flagons of ale, wine, &c.]
A Citizen
(to Willoughby).
Come, drink a glass with us, good citizen! Here's
to the oversetting of our foes.
Willoughby.
I cannot drink; methinks the drink would choke
me. Make way for these ladies.
[Endeavouring to pass out of crowd.
Citizen.
Oh, it is not a strong liquor—none of your Spanish
heresies. But, maybe, you are a Papist?
Willoughby.
Nay, give me a glass then.
[Drinks.]
Yea, so
if I drink not this toast with altogether a cheerful
countenance, it is that these ladies knew some of
these gentlemen. Some of them just done to death
had been known to them for many years, nay, I
knew them myself, also; therefore I will say—So
perish all the enemies of the queen's majesty! But
God grant that amongst them there be none of
our own true friends!
[Curtain falls.]
| Anthony Babington | |