University of Virginia Library

Scene 1.

A room in the Palace, London. Enter, meeting, Count d'Aubespine, Kent, and Leicester.
D'AUBESPINE.
How fares her gracious majesty? My lords,
You see me fill'd with terror and dismay.
How fell this out? What! in the very midst
Of her loving subjects!

LEICESTER.
Ay, sir, but it fell out
Through a subject of your king's. The ruffian's French.

D'AUBESPINE.
Some wretched madman—

KENT.
No, my lord, no madman;
But a papist.

[Enter Burleigh, speaking to Davison.
BURLEIGH.
Let the sentence be forthwith
Produced; the seal appended. When 'tis ready,
Let it be brought for the queen's signature.
Go—lose no time.

DAVISON.
It shall be done, my lord.
[Exit Davison.

D'AUBESPINE
(going towards BURLEIGH).
My lord, with the truest heart of loyal friendship,
I share the joy of your whole land; and praise
The Heavens that have parried the foul blow
And saved that sacred head.

BURLEIGH.
We praise Heaven, sir,
That it has brought our treacherous foes to shame.

D'AUBESPINE.
God's curse alight upon the caitiff murderer!

BURLEIGH.
Yea, on the murderer and the deviser too.

D'AUBESPINE.
My Lord High Marshal, may I be bold to crave
That you'll conduct me to her majesty?
That at her royal feet I lay my duty,
And my lord and master's hearty gratulations.

BURLEIGH.
Oh, my good lord, you may spare yourself the pains.

D'AUBESPINE.
Sir, I do know the privilege of my duty.

BURLEIGH.
It shall be well, that, at your speediest,
You carry it out of England.

D'AUBESPINE.
How shall I
Understand you, sir?

BURLEIGH.
Briefly, my lord. Your office
Shields you to-day; to-day you are inviolate,
For your high office's sake, but not to-morrow.

D'AUBESPINE.
The right of a French ambassador, my lord—

BURLEIGH.
Will not excuse high treason, sir.

KENT AND LEICESTER.
How now!

D'AUBESPINE.
Lord Burleigh, have a care—

BURLEIGH.
Count d'Aubespine, a pass,
Sign'd by your hand, was found upon the murderer.

KENT.
Is't possible!

D'AUBESPINE.
That may be true—what then?
I do not know the hearts and thoughts of those
For whom I daily sign a hundred passes.

BURLEIGH.
The villain ate at your house.

D'AUBESPINE.
My house is open—

BURLEIGH.
To all the enemies of England.

D'AUBESPINE.
I demand
Enquiry into this matter.

BURLEIGH.
Sir, believe me
'Twere best you let it pass.

D'AUBESPINE.
Not so; in me
The faith of my royal master is attainted;
This scarce will solder our new ties of amity.

BURLEIGH.
The queen, sir, hath already cast them from her;
England will not ally herself with France.
My Lord of Kent, to you it now belongs
Safe convoy to afford Count d'Aubespine.
The furious mob have storm'd his house, and found
An arsenal of weapons stored therein.
Their threats are loud; and should he show himself
He'll scarce 'scape outrage. You must answer for him.

D'AUBESPINE.
I shall depart, lords, from your lawless land,
Where mobs tread under foot the rights of kings,
And the people make a jest of the prince's plight.
But be ye sure of this, my king will have
A bloody reckoning for this contumely.

BURLEIGH.
Let him come for it, sir,—it shall not fail him.

[Exeunt Kent and D'Aubespine.
LEICESTER.
Thus with one hand you violently tear
The bond, that with the other you 'd scarce knit up
So busily. Your pains, my lord, are hardly
Worth England's thanks.

BURLEIGH.
My purpose, sir, was good;
It fares not ill with those who dare say that.

LEICESTER.
Now must we look for the mysterious bearing
Of Cecil, hunting out conspiracies;
Now shall your lordship reap a good fat harvest
Of the kind you love. A desperate deed is done,
And darkness mantles up the doer. Now
Shall we have a bloodier than Spain's Inquisition;
And words, and looks, and thoughts be sternly dragg'd
To your tribunal; for indeed you are
A mighty man! an Atlas! on whose shoulders
All England sits.

BURLEIGH.
And yet, I freely own you
My master, my good lord; for such a victory
As that your cunning yesterday achieved
Ne'er graced my best endeavour.

LEICESTER.
What means that?

BURLEIGH.
Indeed 'twas politic, behind my back,
To coax and wheedle, till to Fotheringay
You lured the queen, our ever-honour'd mistress—

LEICESTER.
Or to your face had been the same to me.

BURLEIGH.
The gracious queen you led to Fotheringay—
Yet, no, indeed—she graciously led you.

LEICESTER.
Sir, I suppose your riddle has some meaning?

BURLEIGH.
A proper part, too, was she made to play.
A noble triumph had you there prepared for her.
Good queen! that ever such a shameless cheat
Should have been practised on her easiness!
Therefore were gentleness and pity commendable,
And policy fit but to wait on them.
Therefore was Mary Stuart so weak a foe;
Alack! she was but worthy of contempt,
Not the high honour of a mortal sentence.
'Twas a good plot, and wrought to a good point,
Only so fine and sharp that the point broke.
That was a pity!

LEICESTER.
Follow me to the queen!
Before her will I answer you, false lord.

BURLEIGH.
Nay, I will meet you there, and look to 't well,
Your charm of ready speech fail you not then;
You'll find some need for it, believe me.
[Exit Burleigh.

LEICESTER.
I'm betray'd—
Discover'd; he has hit upon my track.
Accursed spy! what if he 've proof against me?
If once the queen shall know the secret bond
'Twixt me and Mary Stuart!—hell, what a ruin
Yawns at my feet! how shall she then remember
The luckless counsel that to Fotheringay
Led her? Why, what a villain, what a slave
Of guilt and treachery, shall she then esteem me?
The mock, the scorn, the sport of her hated rival
Has she been made through me. Oh, never, never,
Can that be cancell'd; all will seem to have been
Prepared, made ready beforehand, for that scene.
The black and bitter course of their conference,
The poison'd taunts of her triumphant victim,
Yea, ev'n the murderous stroke that follow'd them,
All, all, shall I be held th'inventor of—
Nothing can save me from perdition—nothing.
How now! who comes?

[Enter Mortimer.
MORTIMER.
You are the man I seek—
Are we alone?

LEICESTER.
Hence, wretch! what seek'st thou here?

MORTIMER.
We are discover'd—they are on our track—
On yours too—therefore save yourself!

LEICESTER.
Avaunt!
Begone!

MORTIMER.
The secret meetings at Count d'Aubespine's
Are known of.

LEICESTER.
What is it to me? wilt leave me?

MORTIMER.
And he, the murderer, was one of the band.

LEICESTER.
Look to 't, and answer it—'tis none of mine.
Villain! what tell'st thou me of thy perilous case,
Keep thy accursed secrets to thyself!

MORTIMER.
This touches you, my lord—

LEICESTER.
Get thee to hell!
Nor hang like an unlaid ghost about my path.
Get hence! I know thee not—I hold no fellowship
With stabbers.

MORTIMER.
Listen—I warn you—listen yet;
Your secret steps are known and counted—

LEICESTER.
Ha!

MORTIMER.
To Fotheringay sped the Lord High Treasurer
Soon as the accursed blow had fail'd; the chamber
Of the queen was diligently search'd, and there
Was found—

LEICESTER.
What—what?

MORTIMER.
A yet unfinish'd letter
From her to you.

LEICESTER.
Oh, fatal woman!

MORTIMER.
Wherein
She doth beseech you to hold faith with her,
Renews the promise of her hand to you,
Reminds you of her picture that you have—

LEICESTER.
Death and damnation!

MORTIMER.
Burleigh has the letter.

LEICESTER.
Ruin has caught me!

MORTIMER.
Yet is this moment yours.
Be once beforehand with the fate that threatens you.
Save her, and save yourself; swear, swear all down;
Bethink you of all pleas, make dangers serve you.
I can no more—our weapons are all scatter'd,
Our band dispersed—to Scotland I, to raise
Another host of friends. Work you the while,
See what your favour and bold front can do.

LEICESTER.
Yea, you say well. I will—what ho, there, officer!
[Enter an Officer of the Queen's Guard.
Arrest that traitor! and in strict ward keep him—
A vile conspiracy have I lighted on,
The news of which I straight bear to the queen.
[Exit Leicester.

MORTIMER.
Dastardly traitor! yet am I rightly served
Who laid a noble trust on such a wretch;
He sets his foot upon my neck, to spring,
And my dead body bridges o'er his ruin.
So save thyself, most miserable man!
My lips shall not be open'd to betray thee;
Not ev'n in death would I have thee for fellow,
And life is the sole good of such as thou.
[To the Guards, who approach him.
What wouldst thou, thou poor slave of tyranny?
I am not thine, but free.

[He draws a dagger.
OFFICER.
Ha! seize him;
He's arm'd! he hath a dagger!

MORTIMER.
Free! and freely
In this my latest hour shall my soul speak.
My curse upon ye all! who your God and queen
Alike deny; who to the heavenly
And the earthly Mary traitors are alike;
Who to this bastard queen your souls have sold—

OFFICER.
Hence with the ribald railer! hence with him.

MORTIMER.
Beloved, ah, beloved! I may not save thee,
But love's last counsel in my death I leave thee;
Oh, holy Queen of Heaven receive me! pray for me!

[He stabs himself.