A noble heart in time resigns itself
To great calamities with fortitude;
But yet it cuts one to the soul, to part
At once with all life's little outward trappings!
PAULET.-These are the things that turn the human heart
To vanity, which should collect itself
In penitence;-for a lewd, vicious life,
Want and abasement are the only penance.
KENNEDY.-If youthful blood has led her into error,
With her own heart and God she must account:-
There is no judge in England over her.
PAULET.-She shall have judgment where she hath trans
KENNEDY.-Her narrow bonds restrain her from transgression. PAULET. And yet she found the means to stretch her arm Into the world, from out these narrow bonds,
And, with the torch of civil war, inflame
This realm against our Queen, (whom God preserve,)
And arm assassin bands. Did she not rouse
From out these walls the malefactor Parry,
And Babington, to the detested crime
Of regicide? And did this iron grate
Prevent her from decoying to her toils
The virtuous heart of Norfolk? Saw we not
The first, best head, in all this island fall
A sacrifice for her upon the block?
(The noble house of Howard fell with him.)
And did this sad example terrify
These mad adventurers, whose rival zeal
Plunges for her into this deep abyss?
The bloody scaffold bends beneath the weight
Of her new daily victims; and we ne'er
Shall see an end till she herself, of all
The guiltiest, be offer'd up upon it.
O! curses on the day when England took
This Helen to its hospitable arms.
KENNEDY.-Did England then receive her hospitably?
O hapless Queen! who, since that fatal day
When first she set her foot within this realm,
And, as a suppliant-a fugitive-
Came to implore protection from her sister,
Has been condemned, despite the law of nations,
And royal privilege, to weep away
The fairest years of youth in prison walls.
And now, when she hath suffer'd everything
Which in imprisonment is hard and bitter,
Is like a felon summoned to the bar,
Foully accused, and though herself a queen
Constrained to plead for honor and for life.
PAULET. She came amongst us as a murderess,
Chased by her very subjects from a throne
Which she had oft by vilest deeds disgrac'd.
Sworn against England's welfare came she hither
To call the times of bloody Mary back,
Betray our Church to Romish tyranny,
And sell our dear-bought liberties to France.
Say, why disdain'd she to subscribe the treaty
Of Edinborough-to resign her claim
To England's crown-and with one single word,
Trac'd by her pen, throw wide her prison gates?
No-she had rather live in vile confinement,
And see herself ill-treated, than renounce
The empty honors of her barren title.
Why acts she thus? Because she trusts to wiles,
And treacherous arts of base conspiracy;
And, hourly plotting schemes of mischief, hopes
To conquer, from her prison, all this isle.
KENNEDY.-You mock us, Sir, and edge your cruelty
With words of bitter scorn:-that she should form
Such projects; she, who's here immured alive,
To whom no sound of comfort, not a voice
Of friendship comes from her beloved home;
Who hath so long no human face beheld,
Save her stern jailer's unrelenting brows;
Till now, of late, in your uncourteous cousin
She sees a second keeper, and beholds
Fresh bolts and bars around her multiplied. PAULET. No iron-grate is proof against her wiles. How do I know these bars are not fil'd through? How that this floor, these walls, that seem so strong
Without, may not be hollow from within,
And let in felon treach'ry when I sleep?
Accursed office, that's intrusted to me,
To guard this cunning mother of all ill!
Fear scares me from my sleep; and in the night
I, like a troubled spirit, roam and try
The strength of every bolt, and put to proof
Each guard's fidelity:-I see, with fear,
The dawning of each morn, which may confirm
My apprehensions:—yet, thank God, there's hope
That all my fears will soon be at an end;
For rather would I at the gates of hell
Stand sentinel, and guard the dev'lish host
Of damned souls, than this deceitful Queen.
KENNEDY.-Here comes the Queen.
Christ's image in her hand, Pride, and all worldly lusts within her heart.
Enter Mary veiled, a crucifix in her hand.
KENNEDY [hastening towards her].-O gracious Queen! they
No end of tyranny and base oppression;
Each coming day heaps fresh indignities,
New sufferings on thy royal head.
See! thy cabinet
Is forc'd; thy papers-and thy only treasure,
Which with such pains we had secur'd, the last
Poor remnant of thy bridal ornaments
From France, is in his hands:-nought now remains
Of royal state-thou art indeed bereft!
MARY.-Compose yourself, my Hannah! and believe me,
'Tis not these baubles which can make a queen :-
Basely indeed they may behave to us,
But they cannot debase us. I have learnt
To use myself to many a change in England;
I can support this too. Sir, you have ta'en
By force, what I this very day designed
To have deliver'd to you. There's a letter
Amongst these papers, for my royal sister
Of England-Pledge me, Sir, your word of honor,
To give it to her majesty's own hands,
And not to the deceitful care of Burleigh.
PAULET. I shall consider what is best to do.
MARY.-Sir, you shall know its import. In this letter
I beg a favor, a great favor of her-
That she herself will give me audience-she!
Whom I have never seen. I have been summon'd
Before a court of men, whom I can ne'er
Acknowledge as my peers-of men to whom
My heart denies its confidence. The Queen
Is of my family, my rank, my sex;
To her alone-a sister, queen, and woman-
Can I unfold my heart.
Too oft, my Lady, Have you intrusted both your fate and honor To men less worthy your esteem than these. MARY.-I, in the letter, beg another favor,
And surely nought but inhumanity
Can here reject my prayer. These many years
Have I, in prison, miss'd the church's comfort,
The blessing of the sacraments:-and she
Who robs me of my freedom and my crown,
Who seeks my very life, can never wish
To shut the gates of heaven upon my soul.
PAULET. Whene'er you wish, the Dean shall wait upon
MARY [interrupting him sharply].-Talk to me not of Deans.
Of one of my own church-a Catholic priest.
PAULET. That is against the published laws of England.
MARY. The laws of England are no rule for me.
I am not England's subject; I have ne'er
Consented to its laws, and will not bow
Before their cruel and despotic sway.
If 'tis your will, to the unheard-of rigor
Which I have borne, to add this new oppression,
I must submit to what your power ordains;—
Yet will I raise my voice in loud complaints.
I also wish a public notary,
And secretaries, to prepare my will
My sorrows, and my prison's wretchedness
Prey on my life-my days, I fear, are number'd-
I feel that I am near the gates of death.
PAULET.-These serious contemplations well become you.
MARY.-And know I then, that some too ready hand
May not abridge this tedious work of sorrow?
I would indite my will, and make disposal
Of what belongs to me.
May be allow'd to you, for England's Queen
Will not enrich herself by plundering you.
MARY.-I have been parted from my faithful women,
And from my servants;-tell me, where are they?
What is their fate? I can indeed dispense
At present with their service, but my heart
Will feel rejoiced to know these faithful ones
Are not exposed to suff'ring and to want!
PAULET.-Your servants have been cared for; and again
You shall behold whate'er is taken from you:
And all shall be restored in proper season.
MARY. And will you leave my presence thus again,
And not relieve my fearful anxious heart
From the fell torments of uncertainty?
Thanks to the vigilance of your hateful spies,
I am divided from the world;-no voice
Can reach me through these prison-walls;-my fate
Lies in the hands of those who wish my ruin.
A month of dread suspense is pass'd already,
Since when the forty high commissioners
Surprised me in this castle, and erected,
With most unseemly haste, their dread tribunal;
They forced me, stunn'd, amaz'd, and unprepar❜á,
Without an advocate, from memory,
Before their unexampled court, to answer
Their weighty charges artfully arranged.
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