University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE SECOND.

Henry, Ormond.
Hen.
To this new court, which has no parallel,
Thou'rt welcome, Ormond.

Or.
Thy vicissitudes
To us are too well known. Elizabeth,
A mere spectator, hither sends me not:
But, her heart full of grief for thee, she wills
That I should be 'twixt you the instrument
Of perfect peace.

Hen.
Peace? Where there is not found
Entire equality, peace? Oftentimes
Have I been flatter'd with so fond a hope,
But still have been deceived.

Or.
But yet, methinks,
This day to peace is sacred ...

Hen.
Thou'rt deceived.
To pass all bounds of sufferance with me
This is the day selected: and at once
This is the day on which I have resolved
No more to suffer.

Or.
What! dost thou believe
That the queen's heart is not towards thee sincere?

Hen.
Her heart? Who sees it? But not even words
Hear I from her, in which I may confide.

Or.
If she deceive thee, thy disdain is just.
Although I come the messenger of peace,
Yet I presume (instructed thus to act,
If it were needful, by Elizabeth)
To offer thee, whiche'er best suit thy wishes,
Advice, assistance, or to be thy guide.

Hen.
If in my heart ignoble passions dwelt,
Without assistance, I could means devise,
And certain means of vengeance. But alas!
Nor guide, nor guardian friend are there, who now
Were competent to clear the obstructed path
For the attainment of the peace I wish.
Oh, bitter is the state in which I live!
If towards violence I turn my thoughts,
If then indeed not criminal, forthwith,
I seem at least ungrateful: yet, again,
If I in part relent, the insolence,
And the presumption, of those courtly slaves,
Who are the origin of every ill,
Beyond all bounds I foster. Thence I fix,
Amid the many schemes I might pursue,
On nothing long: and to them all prefer
To go from hence in voluntary exile.

Or.
What would'st thou do, oh king? This remedy,
If I might be allowed to speak to thee,
Appears to me worse than the ill itself.

Hen.
So it seems not to me: and I expect
That hence more injury would fall on others,
Than shame upon myself.

Or.
But know'st thou not,
That an expatriated king excites
Rather contempt than pity? And should he
Even excite compassion, would he thence
Be ever satisfied?

Hen.
When power is gone,
What profits arrogance? I now am here,
Of all men least, a monarch not obeyed.

Or.
But thou in changing climes, would'st thou obtain
The privileges private men enjoy?
Or of a monarch's name divest thyself?
Ah! since thou givest me with thy discourse
Boldness to speak, let me convince thee of it.—
Whither direct thy steps? To France? Reflect
That there to Mary is the royal race
Allied by blood and friendship; that all there
Applaud her character, where she at first
Imbibed their soft insinuating customs.
There thou wilt find a messenger from Rome,
Furnished with pardons and indulgences,
Ready to invade, if thou givest place to him,
This miserable realm. Thus to thy foes
Thou wilt thyself surrender: instantly
They will contrive to prove thee criminal.

Hen.
And do I live surrounded here by friends?

Or.
Thou livest in thy kingdom.—I should add
To thee, in vain, how the perfidious Spaniard,
The effeminate Italian, an asylum,
The one precarious, the other infamous,
Would offer to thy person: I proceed:
(And thence thou may'st infer if I speak truth)
I, in the first place, counsel thee to fly
To Elizabeth for shelter.

Hen.
Shall a land
Be my asylum where I once was prisoner?
I never entertained so wild a thought:
There is my mother forcibly confined ...

Or.
Dost thou not see it clearly? Much less free,
And less secure, here would thy mother be
Than she is there. I controvert it not;
Elizabeth was adverse to thee once:
But royal counsels change with change of times.
Scarce did she see from you an heir arise,
Of her no less than his maternal realm,
Than she, entirely pacified, towards him,
As towards her offspring, turned her every thought;
And more reluctant from this time became
To yield herself to the connubial yoke.
Afterwards hearing that thou had'st incurred
The disesteem of Mary; and that those
Who had thrown off the servitude of Rome
Pined in oppression, that the royal child,
E'en with his milk, perniciously imbibed
Errors of superstition, much she grieved.
Hence she commanded me, if towards thyself
Mary changed not her conduct, to direct
To thee alone the instructions I received;
And means I offer thee, (not means of blood,
For as thyself I hold those means accursed)
By which thou wilt infallibly regain
All thy primeval splendour,—in one word,
By which thou may'st be free; propitiate
Elizabeth; to thy beloved son
Secure a loftier, and a safer station;
Snatch Mary from imposture; disconcert
Thy guilty foes; all this, if so thou wilt,
Quickly thou may'st perform.

Hen.
What dost thou mean?

Or.
That which is possible to do: which thou
Alone canst do, others not e'en attempt.—
The royal heir, thy son, will be the means
Of thy advancement, and at once of peace ...

Hen.
How? ...

Or.
In these thresholds maxims are instilled
That will confirm his servitude to Rome;
He that is destined one day to possess
The united sceptres of Britannia's isle.
Elizabeth, and with her, all her realm,
With vigilant and apprehensive looks,
Behold this threaten'd bias: recent yet
Are in my country the inflicted wounds,
With which another Mary tortured her,
At the instigation of the Spanish Philip.
Eternal, and immitigable hate,
And such devotion of heroic rage,
Hath Spain to us bequeath'd, that each of us
Had rather perish, than again obey
The abhorred and cruel ritual of blood.
Thy son will be compelled to disavow
The Roman worship, should the day arrive,
When he is called to fill the British throne;
Were it not better for himself, for us,
That he should ne'er imbibe a heresy,
Which, would he be our king, he must recant?

Hen.
Who denies this? And thou perhaps thinkest me
More in my heart attached to Rome than others?
But how can I, according to my judgment,
Bring up my son, whose very intercourse
To me is interdicted?

Or.
But would'st thou
Be master of his person, by that step
Thou would'st gain all.

Hen.
Hence is he taken from me.

Or.
And hence should'st thou recover him.

Hen.
But guards
Watch always.

Or.
These may be deceived, be bribed ...

Hen.
And grant that I obtain him; afterwards
How shall I keep him ...

Or.
I will keep him for thee.
Beneath Elizabeth's protecting eye
He shall grow up: and she will be to him
More than a mother. Fed with lofty thoughts,
There shall he learn to reign; let me avail
Only to rescue him from hence, and thou
Shalt quickly see thyself the master here.
Elizabeth shall make thee be proclaimed,
During his adolescence, for thy son,
The sovereign-regent of this realm; henceforth
Thou may'st assign thy spouse what part seems best
Of delegated power; precisely that, in short,
Which she appears to thee to merit.

Hen.
—This
Is a momentous scheme ...

Or.
Does it offend thee?

Hen.
No; but it seems of difficult performance.

Or.
Be but audacious; all will then be easy.—

Hen.
We have conferred too long. Leave me awhile:
I would reflect upon it at my leisure.—

Or.
Ere long then I return to thee: the time
Is urgent ...

Hen.
When the night is far advanced,
And unobserved, as much as possible,
Return to me.

Or.
I will at thy commands
Come here. Meanwhile, oh Henry, recollect,
That blows when least expected always fall
The most severe; that purposes of state
Require it; and that thou wilt hence derive
Both honour and advantage to thyself.