PAULET. The Bible still is left to mend her heart.
KENNEDY. Even of her very lute she is deprived!
PAULET. Because she tuned it to her wanton airs.
KENNEDY. Is this a fate for her, the gentle born, Who in her very
cradle was a queen? Who, reared in Catherine's luxurious court,
Enjoyed the fulness of each earthly pleasure? Was't not enough to rob
her of her power, Must ye then envy her its paltry tinsel? 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 transgressed.
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 offered up upon it. Oh!
curses on the day when England took This Helen to its hospitable arms.
KENNEDY. Did England then receive her hospitably? Oh, 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 suffered 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 disgraced.
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 disdained she to subscribe the
treaty Of Edinborough--to resign her claim To England's crown--and
with one single word, Traced 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 gaoler's unrelenting brows; Till now, of late,
in your uncourteous cousin She sees a second keeper, and beholds
Fresh bolts and bars against her multiplied.
PAULET. No iron-grate is proof against her wiles. How do I know
these bars are not filed through? How that this floor, these walls, that
seem so strong Without, may not be hollow from within, And let in
felon treachery 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 devilish
host Of damned souls, than this deceitful queen.
KENNEDY. Here comes the queen.
PAULET. Christ's image in her hand. Pride, and all worldly lusts
within her heart.
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