University of Virginia Library

Scene V.

The Queen's Cabinet in the Tower.
Queen Mary alone.
MARY.
I have no thirst for blood; nor yet would shrink
From shortening earthly life: for what is life
That we should court its stay? a pearl of price
In festal days—but mockery to mourners.
What's life to thee—thy loved one dead—poor Jane?
What's life to me, by him I loved betrayed?
I take from thee what is no loss to thee;
And much infects the realm. Gladly would I
My life on such conditions sacrifice.
The time for thy short widowhood is come:
But ye shall reunite above. For me
The heart's blank widowhood must be for ever.
Jane! on thy block the throned Queen envies thee!
—I am not well: my brain is hot: around me
Are flitting shapes unearthly. Sleep forgets me:
And waking visions mock me, worse than dreams.
—Who knocks?
Enter Gardiner and Fakenham.
What would you, Sirs? we would be private.
Speak, quickly, quickly—I am chafed and stung
With troublous thought!

GARDINER
[aside].
'Tis as I feared. Her eye
Is restless; and the red spot on her cheek
Looks angry. [Aloud]
Captain Brett is ta'en, my liege,
And Wyatt.

MARY.
Whom impeach they? are they questioned?
Do they confess?

GARDINER.
Not yet: they had not time.

MARY.
See they confess: else, stretch them on the rack!
This heart is racked—my guiltless heart—why not
The limbs that trample down all covenants
Of God and man? Ay—torture, till confession!
I who see visions—hark you!—know what you
Who wake are blind to. Treason lurks beneath
The blandest smile; the most obsequious bow.
Trust none! the comeliest and fair-spoken least.
Doubt most who most profess! O have a care
Of youths and maids that in their girdles hide
Dagger and poison!—what a man was Dudley!
To tremble at the axe! why, I should laugh—
I—a weak woman! but there's cause for that—
Hush! you shall hear anon. Then Exeter?
But, we'll not talk of him—poor fool!—I want
To see Jane Grey—after her widowhood.

FAKENHAM
[aside].
After?—she then shall live.

GARDINER
[aside].
Observe, she raves.

MARY.
We'll sit together in some forest nook,
Or sunless cavern by the moaning sea,
And talk of sorrow and vicissitudes
Of hapless love; and luckless constancy;
And hearts that death or treachery divides!
What's the hour? be quick—be quick—I've much to do.

GARDINER.
Just noon.

MARY.
There will be death soon on the air,
With outspread pinions making an eclipse.
Ha! ha! brave work we Queens do! destiny
Is in our hands: yea, in these very veins
The spirit of the fatal Sisterhood
Riots! the snakes of the Eumenides
Brandish their horrent tresses round my head!

FAKENHAM
[aside].
This must be met. It hath been said that music,
Some simple strain breathed forth by human voices,
Can counterwork the venom of sick minds.
If the choked fountain of her tears he cleansed,
All shall end well.

GARDINER.
Throw wide the gallery doors,
That open on the chapel. It is the hour
For service—hark, the prelude hath begun.
And now the Choir.

[Fakenham throws open the folding doors of a Gallery, through which issue solemn strains of Musick. As the Musick proceeds the Queen's stupor relaxes, and her sensibility gradually revives. The Musick ceases.
MARY.
Airs fresh from heaven breathe round me!
Sing on, bright angels! tears relieve my heart—
My brain is calmed. Sing on and let me weep!
[A pause.
Would they were saved! Alas poor widowed one!
Can it not still be done? no, no—too late!
[A death bell begins to toll.
It is the hour: there is no time for thought—
She will be widowed while I speak—
[She speaks hurriedly and with much agitation.
See—see—
The dark procession issues from the gate—
And now they tread the courts—now Guilford mounts
The scaffold—now the headsman kneels for pardon—
Now bares the comely throat—and now clasped hands
Rise from the block—while holy lips pronounce
Slow absolution—now he stoops his head—
And now—and now—
[After a short pause the signal gun is heard.
He is no more!—Great God!
Have mercy upon both!

GARDINER.
Her thoughts are changed:
Her brain relieved.

FAKENHAM.
Now plead for Jane.

GARDINER.
Too late!
Hear yonder bell.

MARY.
What's that? again the death bell!
Hark you! I would have speech with Jane. Fly, Fakenham!
My foot is weak and slow—Gardiner, attend me.
Fly, Fakenham, fly!

FAKENHAM.
Too late! too late! too late!

[Exeunt.