Mary Stuart: A Tragedy - novelonlinefull.com
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MORTIMER.
He is a madman who neglects to clasp His bliss in folds that never may be loosed, When Heaven has kindly given it to his arms.
I will deliver you, and though it cost A thousand lives, I do it; but I swear, As G.o.d's in Heaven I will possess you too!
MARY.
Oh! will no G.o.d, no angel shelter me?
Dread destiny! thou throwest me, in thy wrath, From one tremendous terror to the other!
Was I then born to waken naught but frenzy?
Do hate and love conspire alike to fright me!
MORTIMER.
Yes, glowing as their hatred is my love; They would behead thee, they would wound this neck, So dazzling white, with the disgraceful axe!
Oh! offer to the living G.o.d of joy What thou must sacrifice to b.l.o.o.d.y hate!
Inspire thy happy lover with those charms Which are no more thine own. Those golden locks Are forfeit to the dismal powers of death, Oh! use them to entwine thy slave forever!
MARY.
Alas! alas! what language must I hear!
My woe, my sufferings should be sacred to you, Although my royal brows are so no more.
MORTIMER.
The crown is fallen from thy brows, thou hast No more of earthly majesty. Make trial, Raise thy imperial voice, see if a friend, If a deliverer will rise to save you.
Thy moving form alone remains, the high, The G.o.dlike influence of thy heavenly beauty; This bids me venture all, this arms my hand With might, and drives me tow'rd the headsman's axe.
MARY.
Oh! who will save me from his raging madness?
MORTIMER.
Service that's bold demands a bold reward.
Why shed their blood the daring? Is not life Life's highest good? And he a madman who Casts life away? First will I take my rest, Upon the breast that glows with love's own fire!
[He presses her violently to his bosom.
MARY.
Oh, must I call for help against the man Who would deliver me!
MORTIMER.
Thou'rt not unfeeling, The world ne'er censured thee for frigid rigor; The fervent prayer of love can touch thy heart.
Thou mad'st the minstrel Rizzio blest, and gavest Thyself a willing prey to Bothwell's arms.
MARY.
Presumptuous man!
MORTIMER.
He was indeed thy tyrant, Thou trembled'st at his rudeness, whilst thou loved'st him; Well, then--if only terror can obtain thee-- By the infernal G.o.ds!
MARY.
Away--you're mad!
MORTIMER.
I'll teach thee then before me, too, to tremble.
KENNEDY (entering suddenly).
They're coming--they approach--the park is filled With men in arms.
MORTIMER (starting and catching at his sword).
I will defend you-I----
MARY.
O Hannah! save me, save me from his hands.
Where shall I find, poor sufferer, an asylum?
Oh! to what saint shall I address my prayers?
Here force a.s.sails me, and within is murder!
[She flies towards the house, KENNEDY follows her.
SCENE VII.
MORTIMER, PAULET, and DRURY rush in in the greatest consternation. Attendants hasten over the stage.
PAULET.
Shut all the portals--draw the bridges up.
MORTIMER.
What is the matter, uncle?
PAULET.
Where is the murderess?
Down with her, down into the darkest dungeon!
MORTIMER.
What is the matter? What has pa.s.sed?
PAULET.
The queen!
Accursed hand! Infernal machination!
MORTIMER.
The queen! What queen?
PAULET.
What queen! The Queen of England; She has been murdered on the road to London.
[Hastens into the house.
SCENE VIII.
