Mary Stuart | Page 4

face
Such
language! Oh, 'tis hard--'tis past endurance.
MARY (lost in reflection).
In the fair moments of our former
splendor
We lent to flatterers a too willing ear;--
It is but just, good
Hannah, we should now
Be forced to hear the bitter voice of censure.
KENNEDY.
So downcast, so depressed, my dearest lady!
You,
who before so gay, so full of hope,
Were used to comfort me in my
distress;
More gracious were the task to check your mirth
Than
chide your heavy sadness.

MARY.
Well I know him--
It is the bleeding Darnley's royal shade,
Rising
in anger from his darksome grave
And never will he make his peace
with me
Until the measures of my woes be full.
KENNEDY.
What thoughts are these--
MARY.
Thou may'st forget it, Hannah;
But I've a faithful memory--'tis this
day
Another wretched anniversary
Of that regretted, that unhappy
deed--
Which I must celebrate with fast and penance.
KENNEDY.
Dismiss at length in peace this evil spirit.
The
penitence of many a heavy year,
Of many a suffering, has atoned the
deed;
The church, which holds the key of absolution,
Pardons the
crime, and heaven itself's appeased.
MARY.
This long-atoned crime arises fresh
And bleeding from its
lightly-covered grave;
My husband's restless spirit seeks revenge;

No sacred bell can exorcise, no host
In priestly hands dismiss it to his
tomb.
KENNEDY.
You did not murder him; 'twas done by others.
MARY.
But it was known to me; I suffered it,
And lured him with
my smiles to death's embrace.
KENNEDY.
Your youth extenuates your guilt. You were
Of tender
years.
MARY.
So tender, yet I drew
This heavy guilt upon my youthful head.

KENNEDY.
You were provoked by direst injuries,
And by the
rude presumption of the man,
Whom out of darkness, like the hand of
heaven,
Your love drew forth, and raised above all others.
Whom
through your bridal chamber you conducted
Up to your throne, and
with your lovely self,
And your hereditary crown, distinguished

[Your work was his existence, and your grace
Bedewed him like the
gentle rains of heaven.]
Could he forget that his so splendid lot
Was
the creation of your generous love?
Yet did he, worthless as he was,
forget it.
With base suspicions, and with brutal manners,
He
wearied your affections, and became
An object to you of deserved
disgust:
The illusion, which till now had overcast
Your judgment,
vanished; angrily you fled
His foul embrace, and gave him up to
scorn.
And did he seek again to win your love?
Your favor? Did he
e'er implore your pardon?
Or fall in deep repentance at your feet?

No; the base wretch defied you; he, who was
Your bounty's creature,
wished to play your king,
[And strove, through fear, to force your
inclination.]
Before your eyes he had your favorite singer,
Poor
Rizzio, murdered; you did but avenge
With blood the bloody deed----
MARY.
And bloodily,
I fear, too soon 'twill be avenged on me:
You seek to
comfort me, and you condemn me.
KENNEDY.
You were, when you consented to this deed,
No more
yourself; belonged not to yourself;
The madness of a frantic love
possessed you,
And bound you to a terrible seducer,
The wretched
Bothwell. That despotic man
Ruled you with shameful, overbearing
will,
And with his philters and his hellish arts
Inflamed your
passions.
MARY.

All the arts he used
Were man's superior strength and woman's

weakness.
KENNEDY.
No, no, I say. The most pernicious spirits
Of hell he
must have summoned to his aid,
To cast this mist before your waking
senses.
Your ear no more was open to the voice
Of friendly warning,
and your eyes were shut
To decency; soft female bashfulness

Deserted you; those cheeks, which were before
The seat of virtuous,
blushing modesty,
Glowed with the flames of unrestrained desire.

You cast away the veil of secrecy,
And the flagitious daring of the
man
O'ercame your natural coyness: you exposed
Your shame,
unblushingly, to public gaze:
You let the murderer, whom the people
followed
With curses, through the streets of Edinburgh,
Before you
bear the royal sword of Scotland
In triumph. You begirt your
parliament
With armed bands; and by this shameless farce,
There,
in the very temple of great justice,
You forced the judges of the land
to clear
The murderer of his guilt. You went still further--
O God!
MARY.
Conclude--nay, pause not--say for this
I gave my hand in marriage at
the altar.
KENNEDY.
O let an everlasting silence veil
That dreadful deed:
the heart revolts at it.
A crime to stain the darkest criminal!
Yet you
are no such lost one, that I know.
I nursed your youth myself--your
heart is framed
For tender softness: 'tis alive to shame,
And all your
fault is thoughtless levity.
Yes, I repeat it, there are evil spirits,

Who sudden fix in man's unguarded breast
Their fatal residence, and
there delight
To act their dev'lish deeds; then hurry back
Unto their
native hell, and leave behind
Remorse and horror in the poisoned
bosom.
Since this misdeed, which blackens thus your life,
You
have done nothing ill; your conduct has
Been pure; myself can
witness your amendment.
Take courage, then; with your own heart
make peace.
Whatever cause you have for penitence,
You are not

guilty here. Nor England's queen,
Nor England's parliament can be
your judge.
Here might oppresses you: you may present
Yourself
before this self-created court
With all the fortitude of innocence.
MARY.
I hear a step.
KENNEDY.
It