Mary Stuart | Page 5

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 is the nephew--In.

SCENE V.
The same. Enter MORTIMER, approaching cautiously.
MORTIMER (to KENNEDY). Step to the door, and keep a careful watch, I have important business with the queen.
MARY (with dignity). I charge thee, Hannah, go not hence--remain.
MORTIMER. Fear not, my gracious lady--learn to know me.
[He gives her a card.
MARY (She examines it, and starts back astonished). Heavens! What is this?
MORTIMER (to KENNEDY). Retire, good Kennedy; See that my uncle comes not unawares.
MARY (to KENNEDY, who hesitates, and looks at the QUEEN inquiringly). Go in; do as he bids you.
[KENNEDY retires with signs of wonder.

SCENE VI.
MARY, MORTIMER.
MARY. From my uncle In France--the worthy Cardinal of Lorrain?
[She reads.
"Confide in Mortimer, who brings you this; You have no truer, firmer friend in England."
[Looking at him with astonishment.
Can I believe it? Is there no delusion To cheat my senses? Do I find a friend So near, when I conceived myself abandoned By the whole world? And find that friend in you, The nephew of my gaoler, whom I thought My most inveterate enemy?
MORTIMER (kneeling). Oh, pardon, My gracious liege, for the detested mask, Which it has cost me pain enough to wear; Yet through such means alone have I the power To see you, and to bring you help and rescue.
MARY. Arise, sir; you astonish me; I cannot So suddenly emerge from the abyss Of wretchedness to hope: let me conceive This happiness, that I may credit it.
MORTIMER. Our time is brief: each moment I expect My uncle, whom a hated man attends; Hear, then, before his terrible commission Surprises you, how heaven prepares your rescue.
MARY. You come in token of its wondrous power.
MORTIMER. Allow me of myself to speak.
MARY. Say on.
MORTIMER. I scarce, my liege, had numbered twenty years, Trained in the path of strictest discipline And nursed in deadliest hate to papacy, When led by irresistible desire For foreign travel, I resolved to leave My country and its puritanic faith Far, far behind me: soon with rapid speed I flew through France, and bent my eager course On to the plains of far-famed Italy. 'Twas then the time of the great jubilee: And crowds of palmers filled the public roads; Each image was adorned with garlands; 'twas As if all human-kind were wandering forth In pilgrimage towards the heavenly kingdom. The tide of the believing multitude Bore me too onward, with resistless force, Into the streets of Rome. What was my wonder, As the magnificence of stately columns Rushed on my sight! the vast triumphal arches, The Colosseum's grandeur, with amazement Struck my admiring senses; the sublime Creative spirit held my soul a prisoner In the fair world of wonders it had framed. I ne'er had felt the power of art till now. The church that reared me hates the charms of sense; It tolerates no image, it adores But the unseen, the incorporeal word. What were my feelings, then,