Chastelard | Page 3

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Algernon Charles Swinburne, _Chastelard, a tragedy_ . Boston: E.P.
Dutton, 1866. (author's edition)

PERSONS.
MARY STUART. MARY BEATON. MARY SEYTON. MARY
CARMICHAEL. MARY HAMILTON. PIERRE DE BOSCOSEL DE
CHASTELARD. DARNLEY. MURRAY. RANDOLPH. MORTON.
LINDSAY. FATHER BLACK.

Guards, Burgesses, a Preacher, Citizens, &c.

Another Yle is there toward the Northe, in the See Occean, where that
ben fulle cruele and ful evele Wommen of Nature: and thei han
precious Stones in hire Eyen; and their ben of that kynde, that zif they
beholden ony man, thei slen him anon with the beholdynge, as dothe
the Basilisk.
MAUNDEVILE'S Voiage and Travaile, Ch. xxviii.

I DEDICATE THIS PLAY, AS A PARTIAL EXPRESSION OF
REVERENCE AND GRATITUDE, TO THE CHIEF OF LIVING
POETS; TO THE FIRST DRAMATIST OF HIS AGE; TO THE
GREATEST EXILE, AND THEREFORE TO THE GREATEST MAN
OF FRANCE; TO VICTOR HUGO.

ACT I.
MARY BEATON.

SCENE I.--The Upper Chamber in Holyrood.
The four MARIES.

MARY BEATON (sings):--
1. Le navire Est a l'eau; Entends rire Ce gros flot Que fait luire Et
bruire Le vieux sire Aquilo.
2. Dans l'espace Du grand air Le vent passe Comme un fer; Siffle et
sonne, Tombe et tonne, Prend et donne A la mer.
3. Vois, la brise Tourne au nord, Et la bise Souffle et mord Sur ta pure
Chevelure Qui murmure Et se tord.
MARY HAMILTON. You never sing now but it makes you sad; Why
do you sing?
MARY BEATON. I hardly know well why; It makes me sad to sing,
and very sad To hold my peace.
MARY CARMICHAEL. I know what saddens you.
MARY BEATON. Prithee, what? what?
MARY CARMICHAEL. Why, since we came from France, You have

no lover to make stuff for songs.
MARY BEATON. You are wise; for there my pain begins indeed,
Because I have no lovers out of France.
MARY SEYTON. I mind me of one Olivier de Pesme, (You knew him,
sweet,) a pale man with short hair, Wore tied at sleeve the Beaton
color.
MARY CARMICHAEL. Blue-- I know, blue scarfs. I never liked that
knight.
MARY HAMILTON. Me? I know him? I hardly knew his name. Black,
was his hair? no, brown.
MARY SEYTON. Light pleases you: I have seen the time brown
served you well enough.
MARY CARMICHAEL. Lord Darnley's is a mere maid's yellow.
MARY HAMILTON. No, A man's, good color.
MARY SEYTON. Ah, does that burn your blood? Why, what a bitter
color is this read That fills your face! if you be not in love, I am no
maiden.
MARY HAMILTON. Nay, God help true hearts! I must be stabbed
with love then, to the bone, Yea to the spirit, past cure.
MARY SEYTON. What were you saying? I see some jest run up and
down your lips.
MARY CARMICHAEL. Finish your song; I know you have more of it;
Good sweet, I pray you do.
MARY BEATON. I am too sad.
MARY CARMICHAEL. This will not sadden you to sing; your song
Tastes sharp of sea and the sea's