emwenm&fo 
 
ALVMNVS BOOK FYND 
 
 r H 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 avflsj ' 
 
 Agamemnon 
 
 She sees what seed long sown, ripened of late, 
 Bears this fierce crop j and she discerns her fate 
 From origin to agony, and on 
 As far as the wave washes long and wan 
 Off one disastrous impulse : for of waves 
 Our life is, and our deeds are pregnant graves 
 Blown rolling to the sunset from the dawn. 
 
 GEORGE MEREDITH : Ballads of Tragic Life 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 BY 
 
 MICHAEL FIELD 
 
 
 LONDON 
 
 GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET 
 
 ADVENT GARDEN 
 
 1890 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
U 
 
 CHtSWICK VRESS : C. WHJTTINGHAM AND CO., TOOKS COURT, 
 CHANCERY LANE. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 BEAUTIFUL for situation, happy in the way the light visits 
 her, noble in natural outline, and favoured even in the rise 
 and declivity of her streets, it is nevertheless as the reposi- 
 tory of her Queen's tragedy that Edinburgh fascinates 
 us to herself. She is to us what Troy would be could we 
 move now among her streets and palaces, could we learn 
 where Helen stood forth upon the walls, or pace the rooms 
 that Helen made beautiful by habitation. In the apart- 
 ments of Holyrood we can touch the very silks that 
 Queen Mary handled ; the mirror of scolloped edge, 
 graved with alternate doves and quatrefoils, that without 
 contradiction reflected her features, still hangs in her 
 chamber : the flushed tatters of her curtains are before us. 
 And beholding these things we are seized with a passionate 
 desire of access, an eagerness of approach : we cannot 
 pause to wonder, or debate, or condemn ; an impulse 
 transports us : we are started on an inevitable quest. 
 
 The woman who appeared to certain of her contempo- 
 raries to be a princess lacking in no virtue save discretion, 
 and to others a creature full of guile, inconstancy, and 
 
 479280 
 
Preface 
 
 malevolence, can but expose the mysteries of her nature, 
 leaving us to resolve them. Of absolute knowledge we 
 have nothing ; her tragedy, clear-cut in detail, is vague in 
 determination. We know, indeed, that within the com- 
 pass of her destiny great passions held their course, and 
 great crimes reached their consummation ; but we are 
 ignorant to whom to assign the temptation or the guilt. 
 A few hard facts are before us, a murder, an abduction, a 
 marriage ; with regard to none of these events can Mary 
 Stuart's will be known. Her portraits cannot aid us even 
 to firm conjecture : the most genuine are the least open 
 in evidence. The face is softly pale ; the lower lip is 
 sucked in as one may see a running water caught under 
 by its own little waves ; the eyes are oval, languid, full of 
 sensitive reticence ; the ample brows disinterested rather 
 than frank, touched with an universal clearness and per- 
 fection. We could wish that the crayon of Holbein might 
 have given expression, the self-betrayal of personality, to 
 this woman's rare, unemphatic beauty, and have brought 
 out in each subtle crease of the flesh, by its shadows and 
 smiles, such experience as could not travel to the lips or 
 eyes, and was doomed to remain unrecorded when the 
 artist was Janet, Achesoun, Oudry, or Primavera. 
 
 The extremes of antithetical judgment passed on the 
 character of Mary Stuart are presented in the writings of 
 one man, George Buchanan, who celebrated her virtues 
 with his Latin muse, and afterwards transformed them 
 into notorious vices in the reckless pages of his prose 
 
 vi 
 
Preface. 
 
 Detectio. He acted the part toward his queen of Stesichorus 
 toward Helen of Troy, save that the Doric poet, under 
 Heaven's threat, exchanged abuse for praise, the foul accu- 
 sations for the palinode. Between such devious versions 
 of the same author a latitude pliant and shadowy is left for 
 the psychologist and historian. The wife of Darnley and 
 of Bothwell will be various to various natures throughout 
 the ages : for like Helen she never grows old ; her allure 
 consists only with an immortal being, her peerless value 
 is that of a daughter of the gods. It is therefore possible 
 for a dramatist to transcribe his sense of the facts of her 
 life, to justify the vision of her as it has come to himself, 
 and yet be reverently conscious of the splendid and 
 passionate qualities of a former presentment. To a great 
 poet of our time she has appeared in majesty of intellect, 
 conscious of the burthen of her own beauty, and devoting 
 every power of spirit and sense to the reception or excite- 
 ment of desire. The Mary Stuart who is now in process 
 of canonisation has not yet been delineated ; it is possible 
 to dream of her, a creature perfect in action and forbear- 
 ance from the day of her first communion to her bowing 
 down upon the block. Neither of these ideals (one an 
 incomparable achievement) can be deformed by my render- 
 ing of the great Marian legend. My impressions from 
 contact with a personality the facets of which present per- 
 petual change have not been embarrassed or irrelevant, for 
 they have grown from a vision almost to a conviction as 
 I have explored and wrought. 
 
 vii b 
 
Preface. 
 
 The Queen herself lies sculptured in Westminster 
 Abbey, waiting with the serenity of patience a judgment 
 other than that of men. Yet we are not permitted to 
 withhold our human verdicts, if she is to live as a presence 
 in our midst. We may believe that Clytaemnestra-like 
 she was a woman of haughty counsels and blood-stained 
 career, or that her fame and nobleness were dragged down 
 under a ring-net of conspiracies and detraction, or again 
 that laxity of protest was the basis of her whole tragedy. 
 These beliefs are but conjectures, and the real woman of 
 magical nature must remain undiscovered and triumphant: 
 
 kind be time or cruel, 
 Jew el, from each facet fash your laugh at time. 
 
 M. F. 
 
 May, 1890. 
 
 Vlll 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 MARY STUART, Queen of Scots 
 
 HENRY, LORD DARNLEY, King Consort 
 
 JAMES HEPBURN, Earl of Botbwell 
 
 JAMES STUART, Earl of Moray 
 
 JAMES DOUGLAS, Earl of Morton 
 
 WILLIAM MAITLAND OF LETHINGTON, Secretary of State 
 
 THE EARL OF LENNOX, ^ 
 
 THE EARL OF HUNTLY, \ Scottish Noblemen 
 
 PATRICK, LORD RUTHVEN,; 
 
 ARTHUR ERSKINE, Captain of the Guard 
 
 STUART OF TRAQUAIR, An Equerry 
 
 KILLIGREW, English Ambassador 
 
 KIRCALDY, Laird of Grange 
 
 LADY BOTHWELL, Sister to the Earlof Huntly 
 
 MARY SEATON, 
 
 MARY FLEMING, 
 
 MARY LIVINGSTONE, 
 
 MARGARET CARWOOD, 
 
 ELSPETH MENTEITH, Sister-in-Law to Lethington 
 
 JOHN HEPBURN, ) . 
 
 T T r r Bothwelfs Retainers 
 
 HAY OF TALLA, J 
 
 ^ ARIS ' 1 Bothweir* Servants 
 
 BLACKADDER, J 
 
 Lords, Soldiers, Attendants, Pages 
 
 TIME The Evening of March 9, 1566, to the Evening 
 of June ifth, 1567 
 
THE TRAGIC MARY 
 ACT I 
 
 SCENE I Holy rood ,- a distant apartment 
 BOTH WELL paces to and fro 
 
 Bothwell 
 
 SHE banished me, she did not like my manners ; 
 She banished me, and yet a time shall come 
 When the dire fetters of a marriage-bond 
 Shall keep us ever locked. How coldly March 
 Whistles through every chink ! I hear the tread 
 Of stealthy feet which seem to move along, 
 As surely and as soothingly as wind, 
 Upward to Darnley's room : while far away 
 I catch the twanging of an instrument 
 'Tis Riccio's lute and, as a door swings back, 
 Her laughter. I shall win her ! Yesterday 
 I rode my horse straight down a steep decline 
 With a clear rush : when I came round again 
 There was a look within her eyes that never 
 Had graced the sleek Italian, nor the boy 
 
 I B 
 
; V r v ', s su 
 
 .** 11'!**', r*V"5 J - **'' 
 
 '-',; .**$/?'.' ": ; .,?.',%' 
 
 TX* Tragic Mary 
 
 She calls her husband ; yea, her lips were void 
 Of life's least sigh. A second, and she smiled 
 A glinting smile, and turned away, and talked 
 Half gaily of light things. My manhood feels 
 The terror it encloses. All is silent, 
 The noise is shut away that seemed to mount 
 Up yonder. (Opening a door at back and calling) 
 Boy! 
 
 Enter PARIS 
 
 Paris My lord ! 
 
 Bothwell Go to the foot 
 
 Of the great stair and listen, for I heard 
 Some unfamiliar movements, yet as slight 
 As if a bird had thumped against the walls. Exit PARIS 
 That fiddler Riccio, that smooth vagabond, 
 With ribboned lute, and fat, complacent cheeks, 
 Has ceased, methinks, his strumming. 
 
 Re-enter PARIS 
 
 Well, what caused 
 The flutter ? 
 
 Paris I stood hearkening, sir : all seemed 
 
 As homely as most nights, until I heard 
 A shivering cry, and then a dull, hoarse roar, 
 With far-ofF cries repeated. I am certain 
 It is not in the court ; it seemed to fall, 
 And fall from upper storeys on the ear. 
 
 2 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 What can it be ? 
 
 Bothwell Stand quietly ! How it grows : 
 
 The doors are opened, and the turmoil leaps 
 On like a rush offheart-blood, deluging 
 The air. I will not meddle in the brawl, 
 For we but hear Lord Darnley in his cups ; 
 This is a drunken bout ; we will keep close 
 Till all is tranquil. 
 
 Paris I have never heard 
 
 The king so loud. 
 
 Bothwell Truly, to-night he seems 
 
 More quarrelsome than merry. 
 
 Paris Now there rings 
 
 Great laughter through the darkness. 
 
 Bothwell And I hear 
 
 Arms clanging like its echo : soon as steel 
 Is on the move a man may show his face, 
 Who hides it from mere riot. Quick, unbolt ' 
 
 (He throws open the door at the back and discovers within 
 the hall, DARNLEY, MORTON, and the Conspira- 
 tors dragging along RICCIO'S body) 
 
 Darnley She loved him hump and all. The foreign 
 
 dog! 
 
 He had no manners when he came to die ; 
 He whined and pulled her skirts. She does not know 
 A gentleman's true mark, has no perception 
 Of exquisite deportment. Why, this churl 
 Would chatter like an ape when I stood by, 
 
 3 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Stretch his gay leg out thus ! and set his lute 
 To balance on his toe. It made me sick 
 Through all my body, and she only laughed, 
 And said the merry South was in his veins ; 
 We have not left him much Italian blood 
 With which to smirk and wriggle. 
 
 Morton As I set 
 
 My heel upon his clay, I feel my acres 
 Are sacred from spoliation. 
 
 Ruthven Snuff and candles ! 
 
 I feel my hatred eased, my lustful fire 
 Of vengeance on the flicker. 
 
 Darnley All of you 
 
 Rejoice that your own injuries are ended, 
 Your fears assuaged, but no one thinks of me 
 How they would talk together, till he made 
 Her lips shine with the ripple of her words, 
 She grew so fluent. When I dressed and came 
 To stand beside her, she would briefly give 
 Her eyes to admiration, and then seek 
 His place among the singers. He has curdled 
 My blood with spite, and, see ! my hanger sticks 
 Midmost of all the weapons in his body. 
 
 Bothwell (Apart to PARIS) Ker, Morton, yonder 
 
 Ruthven, who is gaunt 
 As if the hollow night had yielded up 
 A ghost to do live crime all are my foes ; 
 And by the storm of feet about the courtyard 
 
 4 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 I fear they hold the palace. Their success 
 Might turn to my annoyance. And the queen ! 
 Is she in safety ? Call my Borderers ho ! 
 
 (PARIS steals to the door and is stopped. BOTHWELL 
 advances] 
 
 Darnley These men are mine, and they protect my 
 
 person, 
 
 While I do tardy justice for my wrongs. 
 This fellow kept from me my crown. 
 
 Morton From us 
 
 He well-nigh took our lands. We could no more 
 Endure his watchful envy. 
 
 Ruthven I have flung 
 
 A deadly sickness off, and from my bed 
 Risen to exact my vengeance. Detestation 
 Coursed through my frame like health, and I am here. 
 
 Bothwell Is the queen safe ? 
 
 Ruthven Unwilling to be rid 
 
 Of one who had bewitched her, she called out 
 And sprang before him. I have never seen 
 Such sight except in hunting, when a creature 
 Stands up against the hounds. 
 
 Morton But no rebellion 
 
 Is dreamt of toward our sovereign, for her husband 
 Is leader of our enterprise and sanctions 
 With bond and promise everything we do. 
 
 Ruthven They feasted how unconscious of their 
 fate, 
 
 5 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Caught in the web of that small supper-room . . . 
 
 Morton You stumble, man ; go up and have a draught 
 Of wine; the bottles in the cabinet 
 Are not all broken, and with you the king 
 Shall reascend to give his wife some comfort. 
 
 Darnley Now I have served him out, I shall possess 
 The matrimonial crown, which she withheld 
 To please the fellow's malice. Oh, revenge 
 Can satisfy more utterly than love ; 
 It kills its object, and the thing is dead, 
 And cannot reassert itself, nor once 
 Dispute our triumph. J Tis a cleanly issue, 
 That wipes away all foulness and prevents 
 A lingering stink from the putridity 
 Of vain abhorrence. 
 
 Morton Ay, we kill the vermin 
 That injures or betrays: you realise 
 The sweetness of destruction. By and bye 
 Return and tell us how the queen is faring ; 
 We would not wish her troubled. 
 
 Exeunt DARNLEY and RUTHVEN upstairs 
 (To BOTH WELL) You, my lord, 
 
 Can have no reason for disquiet. Grown weary 
 Of this man's greed and influence, we ended 
 His life and our great danger. You shall please 
 The king if you retire ; it is his quarrel 
 Fully as much as ours. 
 
 Bothwell I will. 
 
 6 
 
'The Tragic Mary 
 
 Porter (Coming from the central door} Strip off 
 These furs, these silks and velvets from the clay. 
 He was but dirt when he was shovelled here 
 From over seas. He lay upon this coffer 
 The night of his arrival. Heave him up ! 
 And let the old oak be a bed for him 
 The night he goes away. How shabbily 
 He slept in rusty cloth ! Off with the trappings ! 
 He looks the stranger now. 
 
 (BoTH WELL and PARIS return and shut the door 
 behind them] 
 
 Bothweh Paris, I never 
 
 Have felt before just what a body is : 
 We need be full of schemes, resolves, pursuits, 
 Reckless adventure, master-strokes of passion, 
 While yet we live ; since death annuls all zest 
 In slavish unconcern. That Riccio, boy, 
 Was of a teeming mettle and contrived 
 To grow in honours now he couches yonder, 
 And cares for nothing. Paris, what a face ! 
 It makes me greedy to exhaust desire, 
 And pack the years with enterprise. 
 
 Paris My lord, 
 
 I never saw such dagger-work in France 
 As that which pierced him. Six and fifty wounds ! 
 
 Bothwell I have so much to hope, so much to do ! 
 O happiness ! I only look on death 
 To feel life's manifold inducements grow 
 
 7 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 More glorious and hazardous than ever 
 
 They were before ; my every appetite, 
 
 Each mighty muscle in me seems to shout 
 
 As through a lifted trumpet: I will live ^ 
 
 I will posses s y and let the universe 
 
 Endure my depredations ! Paris, we 
 
 Have carried slaughter over tawny moors. 
 
 The bog-indented borderlands, and snatched 
 
 Their prey from felons : thus from destiny, 
 
 The robber-goddess of the world, brave spirits 
 
 Must capture what she rifles as she runs. 
 
 I will at once to work, to opposition, 
 
 To covert enmity, to sudden flight. 
 
 Those men are false ; they make their queen their captive, 
 
 And I alone can save her from her doom, 
 
 By saving first myself. 
 
 Paris God shield us, sir ! 
 
 That is the city-bell. 
 
 Bothwell A demon-crash 
 
 Of terror up above us ; the black air 
 Reverberates with action cries and peals. 
 We must not lose the moment. Let us thrust 
 The window open. Can yon jump the height? 
 Your supple age will help you. 
 
 Paris Give the word ! 
 
 Bothwell Leap ! I will follow. (PARIS springs down) 
 
 Darnley's thanklessness 
 Pushes in my direction : she will scorn him 
 
 8 
 
"The Tragic Mary 
 
 With that sick scorn that only women know 
 
 Which wastes away all pity. I have felt 
 
 No being worth the trouble to my nature 
 
 That patience is, save her, for whom I cherish 
 
 A fierce fidelity that means to cleave, 
 
 Until it grow to ownership. The winds 
 
 Rock about Arthur's Seat, and I could fancy 
 
 That in their sound my ancestors bewail 
 
 The unfulfilled ambition of their love 
 
 For queens the high Jane Beaufort, and that Margaret 
 
 Whom Flodden made a widow. I will aim 
 
 Above their boldest mark, and will succeed 
 
 Because more mad. My race was amorous ever 
 
 Of sovereign figures. (Springs down) From the little 
 
 garden 
 
 Below, the lions are roaring through the wind, 
 Free-throated captives : on this further side 
 The tumult in the court is pigmy-toned, 
 And murder is unnoticed. To Dunbar ! 
 
 SCENE II Hofyrood ; the King's audience-chamber 
 Enter DARNLEY, MORTON, RUTHVEN and others 
 
 Darnley She braves me to my face ; oh, worse ! she 
 
 lets 
 Her breath come like a poniard through her lips 
 
 9 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 In steely sighs ; her glance is roused and dark, 
 
 Full of the levin and the thunder-rain. 
 
 She said she would not lie with me, nor come 
 
 And prattle in my chamber any more ; 
 
 She broke from all obedience ay, and promised 
 
 'Twould be dear blood for some of us : her face 
 
 Flushed briefly as she said it. Let her threaten 
 
 And do her worst. 
 
 Morton You do not care ? 
 
 Darnley Not I. 
 
 Care for a woman's anger ! 
 
 Morton Did she rage ? 
 
 Darnley Yes, silently ; indeed, I never heard 
 Her voice so still : folk at a funeral 
 Have scarce a lower cadence. W hen she poured 
 The wine for Ruthven I could see she thought 
 Of blood, she moved so sudden to his side, 
 And held it 'gainst the flame. 
 
 Morton You do not care ? 
 
 Darnley Why should you pester with your repe- 
 tition ? 
 
 Care, do you ask ? And yet she looked away, 
 Tears in the van of sight, and such a smile 
 Upon her lips, I tingled : while I stood 
 Fronting her heedless face, years came and went, 
 Before the moments forced me to retreat, 
 As she was turning toward me once again 
 With new-illumined wrath. 
 
 10 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Morton You do not care, 
 
 And that is well, for we must make clean breast 
 Of all our thoughts touching the queen, yourself, 
 And us, your sworn confederates. To the door 
 You shall not go. We executed murder 
 With you, and you must give us from henceforth 
 Protection and fidelity. 
 
 Darnley My lords, 
 
 As I began . . . 
 
 Morton Nay, that is not enough ; 
 
 As you began you must continue. Now 
 There can be no retracing of the way ; 
 You cannot climb again to the far verge 
 Of your attempt, and if you once look back 
 You are as good as dead. 
 
 Darnley God's sake ! You gather 
 
 Most rudely all about me. Of a truth 
 You are not courteous and you are not faithful ; 
 You call me an assassin, when your swords 
 Slew Riccio. Sirs, I will not thus be baited. 
 Stand further off ! Now what is your complaint 
 That you should stifle me with shoulders thus 
 Set round me, and intolerable speech ? 
 Where have I failed to please you ? 
 
 Morton Nay, not failed 
 
 We would instruct you, bid you recognise 
 Your destiny is welded into ours 
 By doom, by justice, by this written bond. 
 
 ii 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Do not shrink back, and do not misconceive 
 Our warning and entreaties. We exact 
 From you but courage ; you must make yourself 
 Our leader, and our captain in affairs 
 From which you will not budge. 
 
 Darnley I am your king. 
 
 What further do you want ? 
 
 Ruthven Good Lord ! You wanted 
 
 The matrimonial crown. 
 
 Darnley And have it now. 
 
 Morton What is a crown derived, a crown that clips 
 The short curls of a man because he weds, 
 That owns the woman's rule ! 
 
 Darnley It irks my heart 
 
 To be her paltry follower, her mere shadow. 
 
 Morton Then from our hands receive the crown 
 
 itself; 
 
 Be more than leader, sovereign : then we march 
 Wherever you shall list, as you command 
 Will do ... But play the coward ! 
 
 Darnley My senses whirl : 
 
 You seem to threaten and you seem to offer 
 Kingship and service. Do not press around 
 With good and evil meanings. To your wishes 
 I give a strained attention. 
 
 Morton I will use 
 
 The plainest words : if once you waver, once 
 Forsake our company, you will not find 
 
 12 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 That we are jesters who make light of speech ; 
 You will be met by earnest, silent men, 
 Who handle an irrefragable bond, 
 And care not how they punish the offence 
 Of breaking its least claim. 
 
 Darnley You do me wrong, 
 
 And your distrust is harsh and insolent. 
 Admit my father to this colloquy ; 
 I am alone 'mong many counsellors, 
 And need more judgment than my youth possesses. 
 You dazzle me and trouble, for you talk 
 With fervid, strange unkindness. 
 
 Morton We admit 
 
 Lennox j he joined in our conspiracy. 
 Summon the earl. Exit one of the Conspirators 
 
 Ruthven My head, my head ! 
 
 Morton You suffer ! 
 
 Ruthven. Regard me not, as yet my wits are mine 
 To listen to your motions. 
 
 Morton Look at him ! 
 
 Ruthven Check-mated. 
 
 Morton Ay. 
 
 Darnley (Jpart] My heart is in my mouth ; 
 They are obscure and deathly in their manner, 
 And in their speech constraining. Oh, alone ! 
 My mind is diverse as a sapling-tree 
 To and fro i' the wind. I have no help ; 
 She is upstairs. I know not what to do. 
 
 13 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 She would not lift her hand to succour me, 
 Although she is so prompt and politic. 
 How came I looped about by all those coils ? 
 I breathe in giddy ignorance. O God, 
 My deed of vengeance was direct and simple, 
 What treasonous net is this they make of it ? 
 
 Enter LENNOX 
 Father ! 
 
 Morton My lord, our triumph you have heard ; 
 The villain is despatched, the queen is weeping 
 Within her room, our prisoner, and the palace 
 Is by our men invested. This your son 
 In modesty is fearful to receive 
 From us the title which his wife has lost, 
 Ruler of Scotland. 
 
 Lennox He were best contented 
 
 With what his marriage gave him. 
 
 Morton Folly, man ! 
 
 He must secure our lives and liberties 
 By the indemnity of that great name 
 That makes ill-doing loyal. 
 
 Ruthven For he is king, 
 
 Crowned by our voices, sceptred by the dagger 
 He left in Riccio's flesh ! And if our king 
 What of the queen ? 
 
 Morton She has but one defence : 
 
 The fate of giving birth is on her now j 
 
 H 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 That is her nearer destiny. Methinks 
 No blossom that has fruited brags of life, 
 Or tarries for the winter. Well-a-day, 
 Destruction has a future. 
 
 Darnley (dpart) They are cruel, 
 
 My blood is warm with fear. 
 
 Ruthven In high-set Stirling 
 
 The woman shall be happy ; she can rock 
 Her bairnie's cradle, sing the lullaby, 
 Or strain her bow-string on the garden plot : 
 While with their sovereign-king her faithful nobles 
 Do the man's work and govern. 
 
 Morton Will her chicken 
 
 Prove boy or lass ? 
 
 Ruthven A tetchy, female thing ; 
 
 Its dam is weak in colour. Of myself 
 I wager it is feminine. 
 
 Morton Perchance 
 
 Some will denounce us. 
 
 Ruthven At their least attempt 
 
 To wrest the queen away, we mince her up, 
 And toss her from the terrace. 
 
 Morton All is even 
 
 And straight for our advantage. Let us part ; 
 Long counsel hinders consequence. (To DARNLEY) 
 Heigh there ! 
 
 Darnley What is it. ... What ? 
 
 Morton A warning ! Cleave to us, 
 
 15 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Or fear the quake of ruin. Exeunt the Lords 
 
 Darnley Are they gone ? 
 
 All is upturned and fiery in my head ; 
 I might be dying, for the arras-trees 
 Tumble together toward me, and the walls 
 On yonder strip lean o'er me rockily 
 As if to crush. 
 
 Lennox My boy, you must remember 
 
 We share a common peril. 
 
 Darnley Hold your peace ! 
 
 A murder is not cruel when the stab 
 Is brisk and of the moment. Riccio fancied 
 No coming wounds, while threat of violent chance 
 Heaves through my brain. I am a minor still, 
 And downy on the cheek ; they are old men 
 Whom death confronts if they but look at time, 
 For me it is unnatural and shocking 
 An end should haunt my morrow. 
 
 Lennox We were cozened, 
 
 And are undone. 
 
 Darnley A pack of murderous wolves ! 
 
 My desolation stuns me ; if I lay 
 Within the lonesome chapel down below 
 I could not be more single. How I fume 
 With projects of escape ! but I must ponder 
 Less hurriedly. That stairway is my access 
 To her, to extrication. 
 
 Lennox Up ! she is 
 
 16 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Your wife, and yonder passage you command. 
 
 Darnley True, and there is a pliant afterthought 
 In her excessive rage, a lull to catch. 
 She loved me once, and in her disposition 
 Once to have loved holds fast against all strain : 
 I have a bosom-link if I can reach it, 
 That will not let me drop. 
 
 Lennox God's sake, ascend. 
 
 Darnley What noises sough and scurry through the air, 
 And beg for victims \ the whole darkness seeks 
 A prey. My auguries are horrible, 
 And I am deadly faint. These little steps 
 Now seem such weary stones. Exit 
 
 Lennox He will not triumph 
 
 Without humiliation that the goal 
 A woman's anger drives at. He is knocking. 
 
 Darnley (Within) My Mary ! 
 
 Lennox Now he pauses. 
 
 Darnley (Within) Let me in ! 
 
 Lennox Silence and wind ! . . . I cannot hear him, yet 
 He speaks 
 
 Re-enter DARNLEY 
 
 Darnley She will not open. Go away. 
 If we are found together they will deem 
 We hatch some private business. It is fearful 
 To be alone, but better than with you, 
 
 17 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 For that is dangerous. 
 
 Lennox Why so it is. 
 
 Bid me good-night for courtesy, my son. 
 What will you do ? 
 
 Darnley Go up again at dawn. 
 
 Lennox Plead for your father. Exit 
 
 Darnley I but called to quiet 
 
 Beyond that door no answer and no breath ; 
 Only one secret movement as one might 
 Hear a live body stir within the coffin . . . 
 A lunge, then noiseless time. 
 
 SCENE III Holyrood; the QUEEN'S bed-chamber, in dawn- 
 light. She sits by a chill fire , with her women round 
 her 
 
 Queen (Shuddering) The wind has dragged my 
 
 wimple from the spot ; 
 His bloodstains are uncovered. 
 
 Mary Seton Turn away ! 
 
 (Replacing the veil on the floor] 
 Now all is cloaked. 
 
 Queen You need not fear, my girls, 
 
 That I shall moan again. Light makes the past 
 Grow strange. Your hand, my Seton. 
 
 Mary Seton To the window ? 
 
 II 
 
T/ie Tragic Mary 
 
 Queen. Yes. It is really dawn ! Ah, I must pray, 
 (Fa /ling suddenly and passionately on her knees] 
 Poor soul, for he was faithful. 
 
 Mary Seton (To MARY FLEMING) When last even 
 She suffered, sharp and rigid, I was sure 
 Her throes would come, or death. 
 
 Mary Fleming King Henry's voice 
 
 Pierced her instead. 
 
 Mary Seton She never stirred for it ; 
 
 Her eyes grew sable, and I felt her frame 
 Like iron within my arms. 
 
 Mary Fleming We stood by her 
 
 After for many hours. 
 
 Mary Seton You fell asleep. 
 
 Mary Fleming Nay, I remember . . . 
 
 Mary Seton When you woke again 
 
 You found her sitting by the fire alone., 
 With a wild flicker on her open lips. 
 
 Mary Fleming I fear she is not praying. (The QUEEN 
 
 rises) Madam, leave 
 
 The window. You have faithful friends below. 
 The secretary 
 
 Queen Your Lethington ? 
 
 Mary Fleming My queen's 
 
 True servant, who will hasten to relieve 
 Our fortunes, soon as known. 
 
 Queen What does he count 
 
 Against my brutal enemies? A jar 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Grates in my memory with every pulse 
 That gives me clearer consciousness : the shine 
 Of daybreak lies so broad upon the fact, 
 The outrage, the malevolence. Alas, 
 Entangled night could better be endured 
 Than this discernment. Mary Mother, vainly 
 The matin beauty chastened me. 
 
 Mary Set on I hear 
 
 Steps, noisy through their earliness, but fast 
 And upward by the sound. 
 
 Mary Fleming It is the king ; 
 
 He knocks again. 
 
 )ueen Unbar, my Seton. Pass, 
 
 Cheres amies, to my audience-room awhile. 
 \Apart\ My very blood flies from him. 
 
 Mary Seton (Opening] Sire, come in. 
 
 Enter DARNLEY 
 
 (Apart] He looks as flagging as if hoary age 
 Had caught him in the dark. 
 
 Exeunt MARY SETON and MARY FLEMING within 
 ^ueen (Preventing DARNLEY) You shall not kneel. 
 
 (A pause of silence] 
 
 Darnley My Mary, 'tis confession, and I come 
 Acknowledging my fault, though late sincerely, 
 With prayers for your indulgence. I am stricken 
 To see you stand like this, an attitude 
 For which no line is fashioned. Turn to me 
 
 20 
 
"The Tragic Mary 
 
 Only a little. I have been decoyed, 
 And dragged into conspiracies against 
 Myself as much as you. 
 
 )ueen Sire, you may ask 
 
 Forgiveness, but I never can forget 
 The wrong you did me ; 'tis indelible 
 As what I saw in childhood, and will haunt 
 My deepest, far, old age. My memory is 
 Most jealous in its pain : you have forgotten 
 The kiss of tender Judas quality 
 You gave me there is snake-bite on my cheek 
 When I recall its print ; you have forgotten 
 The violence of your hands upon my frame 
 A moment after ; yea, you have forgotten 
 The bloodshed at my feet, and at my breast 
 The pistol of a comrade ; yet more cruel, 
 You had forgotten I was near such state 
 As has its kindly privilege wherever 
 Man is conceived of woman. 
 
 Darn ley (Apart) Oh, her face ! 
 
 I hate her shaming lip. Is all affection 
 Lost for your husband ? 
 
 ghieen 'Tis impossible 
 
 To search my heart just yet; it is too ruined 
 For any answer. In the sleepless night 
 No stir save that of my endangered babe 
 Has touched me to a feeling or a hope 
 For any soul that lives. You shall not speak 
 
 21 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Thus nearly of our tie, since you confess 
 That you have been both thankless and disloyal 
 To what in me is sovereign, and the source 
 From which derive your honours. 
 
 Darnley Would you die 
 
 A butchered captive ? 
 
 Queen Did you purpose this ? 
 
 Unbosom frankly. 
 
 Darnley I have been distraught ; 
 
 Ambition has beguiled me. My true princess, 
 I will be traitor to these miscreant lords, 
 Who terrify and threaten. Take these bonds. 
 
 (Giving her some papers) 
 
 Queen Unfold them ; let me read the articles. 
 Stand off! I will interpret. {After reading) There is 
 
 mention 
 
 Here of my ruin, of the overthrow 
 With your connivance of the Catholic, 
 True faith, of your sole kingship : trivial thoughts 
 And weighty matters here are strangely mingled ; 
 An enterprise of most malignant folly 
 And mounting, blasphemous intent set down 
 With childish unconcern. Where is the plan 
 Of David's murder ? 
 
 Darnley Do not fix me so 
 
 With your dead eyes. I think you have no feeling ; 
 You are all wan and dry. 'Twas the proposal 
 Of these confederate renegades to kill 
 
 22 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Your servant, and they jeered at me the way 
 A husband cannot brook ; but I repent 
 You do not listen. 
 
 Queen (Staring at the papers} I have read enough. 
 Take back the papers. 
 
 Darnley What a grievous sigh 
 
 Breaks from you ! I am surely a lost man, 
 Except I tender pardon to these rebels. 
 Grant them forgiveness ; do not let me perish 
 For my first, wanton error. 
 
 Queen Henry Stuart, 
 
 Had I inflicted on you the foul'st wrong, 
 The most impenetrable, secret shame 
 That man can suffer, with less cruelty 
 You had devised, in justice, your revenge. 
 
 God ! to see you scared and garrulous, 
 
 Who should lie stunned before me. Do you know 
 What you have lost, what perpetrated, what 
 Irreparably injured, that you clamour 
 For life ; and will life be of worth to you, 
 Your life, while mine keeps tenure of the past ? 
 Hush ; leave me ! I must put away these fierce 
 And beating memories for from Holyrood 
 
 1 must devise escape. Remove the watch ; 
 Give me some freedom. . . . 
 
 Stay, you are the father 
 
 Of Scotland's king, in that respect you claim 
 My tenderest vigilance. Put by your fears. 
 
 23 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 That you could so have used me ! You will make 
 Amends for this, I hope. Discharge the watch, 
 
 Exit DARNLEY 
 So much to do, so thick a knot to break ! 
 
 (Bending, she writes in her Book of Hours) 
 
 Lord) avenge me of my enemies. 
 
 1 set it down ; make Thou a bond with me ! 
 Have we not common cause ? These hypocrites" 
 Pull down all holy things. My sturdy mood 
 Bides not the click of rosaries : receive 
 
 This sentence writ across the martial psalms, 
 And levy for me from the ends of heaven 
 Thy laggard legions ; make me, in thy stead, 
 Victor and sovereign. 
 
 There is stir without 
 I'the courtyard. (Looks out) 'Tis my brother ; he has 
 
 ventured 
 From England for my succour. Ho, my girls ! 
 
 Re-enter MARIES 
 
 Sweet Fleming, help ! There is a spring of joy 
 Loosed at my heart. 
 
 Mary Fleming What comfort ? 
 
 ghieen (Pointing to MORAY) He forgets 
 
 That we were enemies j he comes unpardoned 
 To turn the keys on my captivity. 
 I tell you, girls, a few, short weeks ago 
 Had any made me present of his head 
 
 24 
 
"The Tragic Mary 
 
 The proffered gift had pleased, such grievous hate 
 
 Ingratitude stirs in me. He repents, 
 
 He seeks me in calamity; no power 
 
 Henceforward shall estrange us. Am I weeping ? 
 
 Oh, think, my Maries, I looked up to him 
 
 As my good, elder brother, when his face 
 
 Was the one, homely thing I saw in France ; 
 
 And he through life has checked and counselled me, 
 
 So sober is he in his statesmanship ; 
 
 He fought against my marriage Ah ! 'twas that 
 
 Drove him to England. 
 
 Enter MORAY 
 
 James, had you been present, 
 You had not suffered them to handle me 
 So cruelly. This kindness on your part, 
 To visit me in prison, sets my tears 
 At once free from their confines. 
 
 Moray For your sake 
 
 In sooth, my sister, duteously emboldened, 
 I came from Berwick. 
 
 tjhieen You have heard the fate 
 
 Of David ? 
 
 Moray Such disorders must be quelled. 
 Rely on me, and I will promise you 
 They shall no more recur. 
 
 jjjueen Recur a murder, 
 
 The murder of my servant at my feet ! 
 
 25 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 I have no terror of such repetition 
 
 Now you are here to help me to take vengeance 
 
 On David's slaughterers. 
 
 Moray Speak more tranquilly. 
 
 It may be that your husband is not clear 
 Of this conspiracy; to shelter him, 
 Best summon these unmannered noblemen, 
 And, with due censure, pardon. Do not break, 
 So vehement! from my embrace. Your safety 
 Necessitates a politic disguise. 
 
 Queen (Apart) Then I will feign to him, the 
 
 palterer ! 
 
 He shall not help me. James, we will consent 
 To hear you plead for all of those who seek us 
 With reverence on their knees as guilty men. 
 Go, to confer with them. 
 
 Moray I will remonstrate, 
 
 And bring them to avowal of their fault : 
 Meanwhile take rest. How haggard are your eyes ! 
 You give me anxious thoughts. Exit, after embracing her. 
 
 Queen Erskine was present 
 
 When David fell, Traquair was at my side ; 
 There are some fearless hearts within the walls. 
 
 Re-enter DARNLEY 
 
 (Apart) Patience ! A hail-storm rushes through my blood 
 At sight of him. What knotted brows, as puzzled 
 By sole and unaccustomed sovereignty ! 
 
 26 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Confide to me, my lord, how you will part 
 Your honours 'mong these malcontents, to whom 
 You owe your exaltation. I bespeak 
 A place for Moray let him have your love. 
 
 Darnley I hate him. 
 
 )ueen You have reason ; he is heir 
 
 Through his ambition to your foster-crown. 
 Shall you retain in trust my chancellor? 
 Will Ruthven be in favour ? 
 
 Darnley Do not mock me ! 
 
 Mary, I am entreated as a slave, 
 Threatened with instant ruin, thwarted, bribed ; 
 I will do anything to break away 
 From this besetting insolence. I suffer j 
 My life, I fear, is put in jeopardy. 
 
 ueen Then for sweet life's sake your's, my lord, 
 
 I mean, 
 
 The life you value trust yourself to me ; 
 Go to your chamber, bid Traquair and Erskine 
 Thither to instant colloquy, on show 
 Of some official duty, then dispatch them 
 Hither in secret ; I already weave 
 A plan of exit through the Abbey vaults. 
 You look bewildered. Almost I incline 
 At least I am most covetous to hope 
 This handsome, boyish face has been a witness, 
 A mere vexed witness, of these infamies. 
 
 Darnley Believe it, Mary ; I am still so young . . . 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 6)ueen In tutelage, remember, then to me. 
 Now we must separate. The open door ! 
 
 (She motions to him to leave her by the main staircase^ 
 not the tower-stairs) 
 
 Darnley Your hand ! 
 
 ^ueen They will discover us. 
 
 Exit DARNLEY 
 Alone, 
 
 At this slack hour when David used to play ! 
 Giustizia, giustizia ! I have learnt 
 That watch-word ; some day I will give it back, 
 And still the hollow, merry-making sounds 
 That 'gin to whistle when I turn to rest. 
 It will be dark to-night within the vaults, 
 And cold : my babe is stretching forth young limbs, 
 Life's easy way. If I were struck stone-dead 
 For horror at the grim, distorted tombs ; 
 If I should bring forth a strange, spectral child, 
 To catch the bats that flit from roof to roof, 
 And wink at daylight ! God, it shall not be ! 
 For I will nurse him royally with my soft, 
 Wild, wayward songs, and he shall lie and laugh 
 Across my knees, until the happy tune 
 Drop off into a drowse. 
 
 Enter ERSKINE and TRAQUAIR 
 
 Good Erskine, come ! 
 
 Traquair ! kneel both of you, and vail your brows, 
 
 28 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 For you are young to touch the mystery 
 Of which I bear the burthen ... I commend 
 To you the guarding of my motherhood, 
 As simply as I trust my soul to God. 
 You have my blessing ! Swear no loyalty, 
 My true-born gentlemen. To-night attend 
 With horses at the half-sunk Abbey-door. 
 There is great heart in me. 
 
 Ersklne We shall not fail. 
 
 SCENE IV Holyrood ; the vaults under the ruined Abbey 
 Enter the QUEEN and DARNLEY 
 
 Darnley What whiffs of air ! The place is like a 
 
 skull, 
 
 A stony cap for draughts. Some ancient king 
 Plays tick-and-touch with me. Zounds, it is jolly 
 To feel the creeps o' Time. 
 
 Queen There is an echo ; 
 
 Move quietly . . . wherefore do you gasp and sigh ? 
 
 Darnley I cannot get along ; this broken pavement 
 Keeps tripping me. So ! We have passed the place 
 Of the raw grave. 
 
 Queen It swelled across my heart 
 
 That he was yonder David ! 
 
 Darnley My true servant, 
 
 I shall regret him every day I live. 
 
 29 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Queen And with good cause. Speak low ! Here is 
 
 the issue, 
 The moonlight, faithful Erskine. (To ERSKINE) To 
 
 your croup, 
 
 My squire ! What heat there is about your face ! 
 Traquair, you give me courage. I am safe. 
 
 SCENE V Dunbar- y the great hall of the castle at dawn. 
 Servants stirring about ; some lighting a fire 
 
 Enter DARNLEY 
 
 Darnley Why how now, fellows, do you know your 
 place ? 
 
 1 Servant Have you some tidings of the queen? 
 
 Despatch ! 
 
 2 Servant Who is arrived ? 
 
 Darnley Arrived ! The king 
 
 thank God ! 
 
 I Servant Is he below ? 
 Darnley He'll kick you down the 
 
 stairs 
 Unless you mend your manners. Get a fire. 
 
 3 Servant Who may this be, a muffled, slinking man ? 
 j Servant We doubt his purpose. (Mockingly) 
 
 Save your majesty! 
 How fares the queen ? 
 
 Darnley Out of my sight, you knaves ! 
 
 30 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 2 Servant 'Tis growing light enough to track the course 
 Of horsemen. Quench the torches. 
 
 Darnley Let them be ; 
 
 It was the wild and streaky dawn that set 
 My wits a-shaking. Will you bring me food ? 
 What, am I unsubstantial ? They shall pay 
 Who give me insult. 
 
 2 Servant Have good patience, sir,- 
 
 We wait the queen's arrival. 
 
 Darnley Let her dawdle 
 
 Till Ruthven overtake her : I am safe. 
 To see her laugh and gossip on the croup 
 Of Erskine's gelding ! My good Naples courser 
 Would not be kept her paces. Look you, varlets 
 I hate their sneering eyes about my face 
 Get to the stable, groom my horse, for then 
 You'll serve me humbly. That last bit of travel, 
 After the queen grew sluggish and I tore 
 Alone across the stony country-side, 
 What was it that encountered me, that shape 
 Of straggling insolence that caught my reins, 
 While the wind burst in laughter at my back, 
 Coarse-lunged as these attendants ? J Tis not meet 
 For royal persons to endure the air, 
 Exposed to such temptations. How these creatures 
 Peer at the doorways ! Pile the faggots up ! 
 I say I will have warmth ! You, Blackadder, 
 I know your hang-dog face. Where is Earl Bothwell ? 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Cannot you speak ? 
 
 x Blackadder He rode with certain lords, 
 
 Huntly and Seton, Fleming, Livingstone, 
 
 In the late starlight to receive the queen. 
 
 Hark ! There is bustle in the court below ; 
 
 You may espy their troop. Exeunt Servants 
 
 Darnley (Looking out) No languor now ! 
 A lusty woman blushing like a bride 
 Soon as that thick-limbed earl bends over her. 
 I will crouch sulky by the fire and note 
 What care she shows me. 
 
 Enter BOTHWELL, leading in the QUEEN, accompanied 
 by ERSKINE and other nobles 
 
 Bothwell Safe, my sovereign, safe 
 
 Since in my custody. 
 
 6)ueen Earl, at Dunbar 
 
 I put all troubles from me ; though a queen 
 Without a country, I am gay at heart 
 For sight of your true faces. Erskine, see 
 How bright a blaze ! 
 
 Erskine Beseech, you, madam, rest. 
 
 ^ueen Ay, after breakfast. Had you met us, warden, 
 Ere the last watch, our roistering company 
 Had put you to your guard. The midnight faintness 
 Wore off, and my young squire encouraged me 
 So loyally, I could put all fear away, 
 And prop my drooping head against his shoulder 
 
 32 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 To watch the moon 'winning the adverse clouds 
 To wear her colours. Sooth, we moralized .... 
 
 Bothwell Well, rest you. 
 
 Huntly And be bounteous of your smiles 
 
 To faithful subjects. 
 
 Bothwell We are soldiers all. 
 
 hieen O Huntly, would I were myself a man 
 To carry my own vengeance in my hand ! 
 I envy you your swords. Within a day 
 This treason shall be flying fast to England, 
 To France, to Spain . . . and if Elizabeth 
 But listen to these calumnies 
 
 Ersktne No need 
 
 Of foreign princes. 
 
 ueen Nay, my bonny captain, 
 
 While there are hearts like yours. (To BOTHWELL) 
 
 Beseech you, host, 
 To give us breakfast. 
 
 Bothwell If you be not dainty. 
 
 We have no dishes. Oaten bread, and milk, 
 Eggs raw. 
 
 )ueen Then, Erskine, in your next campaign 
 Boast that your queen herself set forth your meats. 
 Good gentlemen, I have an appetite 
 That will not bide delay : let me be cook, 
 And I will quickly put you in such stomach 
 To fight as shall regain my ravished kingdom. 
 Do not be so amazed, or watch my face 
 
 33 D 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 As I were not in earnest ; spread the board. 
 Still lost ! And is it verily such art 
 To pass from shell to broken shell the yolk, 
 Nor mar the spheral yellow in the change ? 
 
 Erskine The marvel, madam, is the ministry 
 Of those translucent hands. 
 
 g)ueen The admiration 
 
 That hinders you from service we disdain. 
 You shall play courtier when we have a court, 
 Meanwhile you rein our horse, and, at command, 
 
 (Giving him a dish of eggs] 
 
 Fry these upon the fire. Such sputtering dread 
 Make havoc with our foes ! I cannot rest 
 With traitors in my palace. 
 
 Bothwell In two days 
 
 You shall wipe clean the rooms, if with their blood 
 The surer cleansing. I will furnish you 
 A body-guard, fierce men of Liddesdale, 
 Full of the border virtue ; while you rest 
 From that mad, midnight gallop and its pains, 
 An army will engird you silently. 
 
 (The QUEEN approaches DARKLE Y as she breaks an egg] 
 
 )ueen My husband, surely you will credit now 
 I can afford protection ? (To Lords) You would deem 
 That I belied our consort if I told you 
 That he forsook us in the mid-distress 
 Of our too laboured journey. 1, you see, 
 Have something of the cares of motherhoojd> 
 
 34 
 
 i 
 
"The Tragic Mary 
 
 Which he who has occasioned them forgets. 
 How do you, Henry ? An uneasy brow- 
 Even in the ingle-nook ? 
 
 Darnley (Rising) I would be private. I am disesteemed, 
 My Mary. Do you wish that we should lodge 
 Together ? None will credit I am king. 
 Speak to them. 
 
 ^ueen Nay, our host assigns our rank 
 
 And disposition. 
 
 Eothwell (To Servants] Give this gentleman 
 A lodging in the north, beside my chamber. 
 (To DARNLEY) I will convey you to your solitude, 
 And then attend the queen. 
 
 Exeunt BOTHWELL and DARNLEY 
 
 ghieen Now we will feast. 
 
 (To ERSKINE, who offers to help her in cooking the eggs) 
 Captain, I'd trust you with a thousand lives 
 Had I a thousand not these housewife's toys. 
 Were I but let alone 
 I could do all things perfectly, the least, 
 The greatest. Erskine, was not the young air 
 Of ravishing, strong freshness? Oh, I feel 
 This is the daybreak of my fortunes. Sit ! 
 
 Re-enter BOTHWELL 
 
 So our good host will give us leave, I claim you 
 Each as my guest. Ah, this is happy queenship ! 
 Eat, my strong soldiers ! With a glorious rush 
 
 35 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 We will retake our royalties. 
 
 Bothwell (Rising) We pledge 
 
 Triumphal entry into Holyrood ; 
 Health to the queen God's grace that she is safe ! 
 
 (They drink) 
 
 Queen My lords, 'tis very life to me to breathe 
 Where no suspicion is. With openness 
 I ever give my favours, fellowship 
 To those of mating wisdom. . . . My dear servant, 
 Whose office none can fill, shall be avenged : 
 In 'midst of this hot grief 'twere hazardous 
 To mingle retribution punishment 
 Shall be allotted presently : meanwhile 
 We crave your patience with our erring husband, 
 As with a man entangled in the toils 
 Of evil counsellors ; we condescend 
 Ourself to pity him ; and for our sake, 
 Beseech you, eye his faults with lenience. 
 
 Erskine (Starting up) Madam, 
 
 Before my face .... 
 
 Bothwell You are too young a witness. 
 
 How say these noblemen ? 
 
 Huntly 'Tis not his murder 
 
 Of Riccio that we stick at the assault 
 And hurt he did your majesty provoke us. 
 A sneaking, vile poltroon ! 
 
 Bothwell My prisoner. 
 
 Queen True, 
 
 36 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 We both lie at your mercy. 
 
 Bothwell Renegade ! 
 
 Huntly A royal pensioner no king of ours. 
 
 Bothwell He shall have justice at our hands. 
 
 $>ueen If I 
 
 Can hope to pardon, an imperilled mother, . 
 An injured wife, a broken-hearted friend, 
 You can be dumb, till with my utmost patience 
 I seek to make him sorry for the past. 
 He is much spent. Myself will bear him food. 
 
 Bothwell You shall not visit him. (To ERSKINE) 
 
 Captain, your service ; 
 Diet Lord Darnley as his state requires. 
 Huntly and Seton, Fleming, Livingstone, 
 A hasty council must be held at noon ; 
 Our troops keep pouring in : until that hour, 
 Madam, you must repose. There is a chamber 
 Full, to the east, of sunshine and of sea, 
 There will I lead you : not an anxious thought 
 Should cloud your brows. 
 
 ^ueen My lord, when you are near 
 
 I feel my throne impregnable. Alas, 
 My weariness comes over me, but simply 
 As a tired child I shall just turn to rest, 
 And think of sweet to-morrow. We have yet 
 Our throne to climb, our unborn king to save : 
 All, all is in your keeping. 
 
 Bothwell Be content. 
 
 37 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 SCENE VI Holyrood ; the library. LETHINGTON is 
 discovered, leaning back on a couch ^ a small dog across 
 bis lap) in his hands " The First Buik of Rolland 
 Amoreuse" 
 
 Lethington By the special providence of the love-god 
 mine eyes have been turned aside from beholding ought 
 but vanity. While the wicked devised mischief on their 
 beds, my deepest solicitude hath been to remove the 
 mockage from my auburn eyes, to extrude from them 
 the keenness of the politician, the coolness of the cynic, 
 the dancing valour of the wit, and to fill them with that 
 lonesomeness of fasting desire that is mortal to women. 
 [Reading] This incomparable princess of Albracca ! I 
 will dote on her perfections, till the Lord James look in 
 on me ; then but The Manuel of Moral! Vertewis is at 
 hand (Turning over the books) Romance and theology 
 it is all one. The head, as the heart, hath its ferment, 
 its aspirations, its disease. Tales of the nursery ! yet I 
 mock not at man's childishness. His imaginations 
 affright him ; the heavenly ministrants protect. Bairns 
 must have bogles, though they dwell in their father's 
 house. (Reading) 
 
 Enter MARY FLEMING 
 
 Mary Fleming Mr. Secretary. 
 Lethington Yes, Angelica. 
 
 38 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Mary Fleming You are so distraught, you do not even 
 recollect my name. 
 
 Lethington Divine one, I called you by your proper 
 name, my angel. 
 
 Alary Fleming I care not for your flatteries. Let me 
 look into the history. Is it thus written ? (Trying to 
 snatch the book} 
 
 Lethington I am reading, Angelica, of one in love, 
 one who encountered a marvellous disdain. (Reading) 
 Le bon Renaud 
 
 Mary Fleming Is that the name of your hero ? 
 
 Lethington You mistake ; 'tis a lady who suffers this 
 extremity of love ebbed from roses to lilies in a day : 
 you yourself, my sweet Fleming, look not paler on the 
 instant. 
 
 Mary Fleming You have been playing tricks with the 
 story ; you are like the good Renaud himself. 
 
 Lethington Heaven forbid ! yet he was a comely 
 youth ; auburn eyes, and, I doubt not, auburn hair that 
 crept into the laces of his collar. Finding this delicate 
 Adonis asleep one day by a fountain, it is written the lady 
 was so ravished with his beauty she fell to sprinkling him 
 with flowers. Imagine the dismay of the pauurette^ 
 when, despite her courteous salutation, he shook himself 
 free of her dainty prickles, mounted his horse, and fled. 
 
 Mary Fleming Le bon Renaud ! Had she a visage so 
 prodigious as to make him afraid ? 
 
 Lethington The freshness of a rose of the orchard. 
 39 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Mary Fleming Then you belie her. 
 
 Lethington It is written, she kissed the very flowers 
 'gainst which he had slumbered, thus accosting them : 
 (Reading) o herbes verdoyantes ! que vous eftes heureitses 
 d*auoir touche vn vifage si aggreable I hie je porte d'enuie 
 a voftre fell cite. 'Twas, sweet Fleming, her weakness to 
 desire un beau gar^on in marriage. The lad had yellowish 
 hair and she worshipped him. 
 
 Mary Fleming She was a fool. 
 
 Lethington Nay, the fool saith in his heart there is no 
 God. She would have fallen under the censure of good 
 Mr. Knox ; call her rather an idolator. 
 
 Mary Fleming If it so please our " great god the 
 Secretaire " an idolator. (Curtseying low to him) 
 
 Lethington Yet I would never have suffered the 
 beautiful creature to pass away unsaluted. For it is 
 written, on his awakening she made him a deep re- 
 verence. 
 
 Mary Fleming Then you find not Angelica in fault ; 
 though like lady Venus she raved over her mortal, it was 
 in his sleep, or at worst, after his departure. It is 
 rumoured, Mr. Secretary, you are about to retire from 
 the palace. 
 
 Lethington If I presently ride away ? 
 
 Mary Fleming ^hie je porte enuie a vojire felicite ! For 
 who would linger in Holyrood under the nose of the 
 Lord James? Though he perch demure as a hooded 
 falcon his dreams are of bloodied feathers. I fear me 
 
 40 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 even now he is devising some ill to my mistress. But 
 you can you not rescue her ? Did you know of this ? 
 I mean poor David's murder ? 
 
 Letbington Pretty one, 
 
 None told me of it ; knowledge, recollect, 
 Must enter by the ear. 
 
 Alary Fleming If I believed 
 
 Lethington You loved me, I would let these sovereigns 
 
 run 
 Amuck at their own ruin. 
 
 Mary Fleming Do not think 
 
 Of me ; in sooth, it scarcely is a time 
 For private thoughts. 
 
 Lethington Yet the whole universe 
 
 They say is swayed by love. Shall politicians 
 Treat Cupid as an interloping god ? 
 He is my bosom-counsellor, and teaches 
 My pen to rally Cecil on his rheum ; 
 For never, as I tell the minister, 
 Do state-affairs so trouble me, but one, 
 One of the four and twenty hours I give 
 To merriment ; for those that are in love 
 Are ever set upon a merry pin. 
 
 Mary Fleming Not if their lady scorn them. 
 
 Lethington Pardon, sweet ! 
 
 For my romance instructs me that fair ladies 
 Faint for our noble beauty while at will 
 We take them or we leave. 
 
 41 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Mary Fleming But does your heart 
 
 Instruct you it is wise and chivalrous 
 To leave the queen uncomforted ? You love her ? 
 
 Lethlngton Ay, some day I shall haply die for her. 
 
 Alary Fleming You are so dreamy. I will go away. 
 
 Lethlngton Report me of the queen ! 
 
 Mary Fleming Ami your spy ? 
 
 Lethington Never, my girl ; my own wits shall piece 
 the evidence of my senses. How shall a man deal with 
 rumour ? 'Tis the question of the hour. 
 
 Alary Fleming It were best you should not anger 
 me we are parting. 
 
 Letbington Nay, if I leave you angry, I leave you to 
 a long remorse. You will have no peace till the wronged 
 exile's return. Mary, there is but one thing I trust in a 
 woman, and that is the certainty of her unreason. She 
 will give herself a month's penance for a moment's un- 
 kindness. So adieu, sweet Fleming, unsaluted. 
 
 Exit MARY FLEMING 
 If I could give my sovereign liberty ! 
 She sent for me, and, lifting up her eyes, 
 Put in them such a world of trust, I promised 
 We promise children the impossible 
 All should be well. A noise upon the stairs ! 
 Tumult, affright ! 
 
 Enter the QUEEN'S Ladies distractedly 
 Mary Sea ton O, Mr. Secretary ! 
 42 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 We are in great amazement. 
 
 Letbington What is this ? 
 
 Good gentlewomen your discomfiture ? 
 
 Mary Seaton The queen is fled ; 'tis rumoured to 
 
 Dunbar ; 
 
 And the king's rooms are empty. There is noise 
 The palace will be sacked. 
 
 Letbington Fled to Dunbar ! 
 
 Take comfort, ladies ; she is in the care 
 Of loyal subjects. 
 
 Mary Seaton But the earl is frenzied, 
 And full of oaths. 
 
 Letbington I will assuage his fears. 
 
 Let me not see the Maries falling fast 
 As apple-flowers in a late gale of May. 
 Cheerly, sweet damsels ! Ere the week be ended 
 Your mistress will return. 
 
 LENNOX enters as the Ladies retire 
 
 (To LENNOX) My lord the earl ! 
 Lennox He saved his life and left me in the lurch ; 
 Curse the deserter, the unnatural, 
 Ill-hearted son ! He casts me to his foes 
 As easily as an abandoned mistress 
 Is thrown to raging kindred. Succour me, 
 A father stripped of filial affection, 
 An old, unrooted man, whose enemies 
 
 43 
 
T/ie Tragic Mary 
 
 Are closer than his child. 
 
 Lethtngton Be calm, my lord, 
 
 And all things cease to dance most chiefly fear, 
 Pale whirligig of our intelligence ; 
 Go you to Glasgow, wait until your springal 
 Return to nature ; he will fly his parent 
 In vain ; the stars wink, and my prophecy 
 Is on the road betimes. 
 
 Lennox The boy I cherished 
 
 In every whim and appetite. 
 
 Lethtngton Be certain, 
 
 Good father, you will catch him at your side, 
 If you go pray the weather-cock, an idol 
 Set up in God's high places. 
 
 Lennox Curse him ! 
 
 Enter MORTON, RUTHVEN, and MORAY 
 
 Morton Ay, 
 
 We curse him with mailed fingers. Exit LENNOX 
 
 That old traitor 
 Is withered by a threat. 
 
 Lethington Our chancellor 
 
 Can make his glistening eyes as terrible 
 As terrier's teeth. I marvel not, my lord, 
 That Lennox is affrighted. Why, your anger 
 Starts from you as a sweat. 
 
 Morton No parrying now, 
 
 44 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 No playing fast and loose. You own this flight 
 Is of your provocation. 
 
 Lethington Did you trust me 
 
 With carriage of your business ? For my part 
 I had been well content that destiny 
 Should muster slowly as Elijah's rain 
 From hand-breadth cloud to blackened firmament. 
 
 Morton You have no zeal, you never would have 
 
 thrust 
 Your hanger in that damned idolator. 
 
 Letblngton Well, for religion, I confess the trickle 
 Of precious ointment adown Aaron's beard 
 Attracts me ; I discern a fascination, 
 A charm about its unctuous descent. 
 Man's worship as it furthers the accord 
 And unity of nations touches me. 
 
 (To MORAY) Lord James, your honest brows are mal- 
 content y 
 
 When good men cloud I feel solicitude. 
 The queen, 'tis said, is safe. 
 
 Morton And we undone. 
 
 She will disburthen Darnley of our treasons, 
 As cunning as a whore. Our instrument! 
 You keep a polished smile do you not hate him ? 
 The young deserter ! 
 
 Lethington Hate ! With circumspection. 
 
 Morton I hate him, but with all the pains of heaven 
 And hell, with God's great rancour against sin, 
 
 45 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 And with the petty fiends' malevolence. 
 *7'is the slipped victim rounds the lion's breast 
 To his great, wailful bay. Maitland, I suffer, 
 If I have cast desire upon a deed, 
 Immeasurable pangs. 
 
 Letbington No action yet 
 
 Is possible. Take horse 
 
 Morton To banishment ! 
 
 Letbington To brood at Newcastle 
 How best to undermine this arrogant 
 And towering house of folly. 
 
 Morton In my brain 
 
 The bloodhounds are already on his trail. 
 To think a female should unhug my grip 
 Of heritage and spoil ! That great Tantallon, 
 Those stretching churchlands ! 
 
 Letbington Grudge not God his own 
 
 Fair acreage ! 
 
 Morton But I wanton with the lands 
 
 Of these fat priests; they are my buxom dames, 
 Put to rank purpose by idolatry : 
 No scruple of the conscience in their use ; 
 With them I ease my lust. 
 
 Rutbven Shall we not fly ? 
 
 There is a draught. Can you not shut the door ? 
 It blows up that dark passage. Blood can freeze 
 I tell you. Quick ! To England. 
 
 Morton (Shaking RUTHVEN of) You are fevered. 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 (To MORAY) Let's hold one thought in common in the 
 
 dark. 
 Moray, your policy ? 
 
 Moray I shall not budge. 
 
 Lethington Faith, we must keep him stainless; he 
 
 must proffer 
 
 Our humble loves to the fair Amazon 
 Now girding for the battle. 
 
 Morton (To MORAY) Since I go 
 South to your empty lodgings by the Tweed, 
 A bond betwixt us twain ! I thought on you 
 Mewed up in England, and the forfeitures 
 Of your estates if Riccio's parliament 
 Had looked upon your treason. J Tis your time 
 To prove your mettle. (To LETHINGTON and MORAY) 
 
 Who first summons me 
 Home to my honour shall not lack support 
 In any private end. 
 
 Moray I shall not fail 
 
 Exeunt MORTON and RUTHVEN 
 (To Lethington) Your further counsel. I who treated 
 
 her 
 
 As something of a prisoner am exposed, 
 Or shall be, for already there is bruit 
 Of a swift-mustering army at Dunbar, 
 To shattering reprisals ; yet to flee 
 Would argue guilt. 
 
 Lethington Flight were insane in you, 
 
 47 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Since you are clear of fault. Let us despatch 
 
 Straightway her faithful Melvil to the queen, 
 
 Bearing a letter that professes you 
 
 A dunce at these devices and offended 
 
 At that which must offend her to the quick. 
 
 Show yourself hurt, yet patient to endure 
 
 Unjust suspicion ; then abide her coming 
 
 As confident and lowly as the just 
 
 Await the day of judgment. Morals, Moray, 
 
 Are your peculiar portion. See, my desk 
 
 Is at your service. 
 
 (MORAY sits at the desk and writes. LETHINGTON 
 surveys him, pacing up and down) 
 
 She will pardon him, 
 
 And I, who with long-sighted constancy, 
 And pliant diligence aspire to win 
 A neighbouring crown for her, must be removed 
 From her misliking eye. I shall retire 
 Awhile with Athol. 
 
 Moray (Rising with letter) This will tutor her. 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 ACT II 
 
 SCENE I Holyrood ; a room in the palace^ on a brilliant 
 August morning 
 
 Enter DARNLEY 
 
 Darnley 
 
 I FALL into disuse ; behind me lies 
 A ghost, a din of music ; and before 
 An army of afflictions with no aim 
 But to descend on me. All fellowship 
 Drops from my haunt and from the August days, 
 That are grown old, immomentous, and dull. 
 Good God, what will become of me ! 
 
 Enter the QUEEN 
 
 From her 
 
 I can command submission : if she gave 
 As soft compliance in affairs of state 
 As in my whims and pleasure it were well. 
 Sweet madam. 
 
 )ueen Henry, to this document 
 
 Affix your signature. You truant boy, 
 I have been asking vainly for the king 
 
 49 E 
 
Tragic Mary 
 
 From room to room. 
 
 Darnley And I must sign this paper 
 
 Whatever it breed ? Doubtless your Lethington, 
 Though he seem banished, set it into shape. 
 
 Queen He is forgiven, and now must be restored ; 
 But this is no state-measure a request 
 To Selkirk's sheriff and the Earl of Bothwell 
 To make all ready for a noble hunt 
 In Meggotsland. Dear, this conspiracy 
 Is mine ; its single purpose to unite 
 Our severed lives, and give us sylvan days 
 Of reckless happiness: we two together 
 In the clear light will chase the stags, and then 
 Rest, and make love, and rest beneath the trees. 
 Will you not sign this letter ? 
 
 Darnley It is strange 
 
 You find no office for me in concerns 
 Of state necessity. I apprehend 
 As well as you ; in business show despatch : 
 Yea, like the Spaniards, make one gallant charge, 
 That would be fatal in its energy 
 If long continued. To my cost I know 
 That Moray is a traitor, but you smile 
 And kiss me ; I am certain Lethington 
 Is full of guile, my serpent enemy ; 
 You lift your brows and kiss me. How I hate 
 Your kisses ! You forget all ancient wrongs, 
 And each man has your ear except your husband. 
 
 50 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 )ueen My prince's father ! since our boy is born 
 I think of you across such innocence, 
 So sweet a favouring road, when I arrive 
 My soul is full of grace. I recognise 
 Your smiles, your dimples, the vexed way you veil 
 Your eyelids in so dear a delegate 
 Of your dread sovereignty that all offence 
 Is washed from recollection. 
 
 Darnley 'Tis in private 
 
 You fawn on me. James is your minister, 
 The Earl of Moray has your confidence. 
 But I will have his life and rid myself 
 Of your contempt. Faith, I can turn you pale 
 And red, although you think I am a puppet, 
 A king of rats and mice. 
 
 Queen You do not threaten 
 
 The Earl of Moray ? 
 
 Darnley For I will not live 
 
 To see you wrecked by traitors. David knew 
 The way to cozen you. 
 
 Queen Unspeak that word 
 
 You shall not charge the dead. 
 
 Darnley I will begone. 
 
 Queen Return on your obedience to my feet. 
 Now Henry Stuart, give yourself the lie, 
 Confess your slander. 
 
 Darnley You mistake my meaning ; 
 
 For David Riccio was a better man 
 
 51 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Than this vile, royal slip. Your testy humours 
 Will drive me mad. 
 
 Enter MORAY 
 
 Queen Now press your accusation. 
 
 Darn ley (With confusion] My lord, I have been moved 
 
 to say and threaten, 
 
 Through common rumour, things that otherwise 
 I had not thought of. 
 
 Moray (To the QUEEN) Mary, if my life 
 Be taken from you, you will be deprived 
 Of your one prop. 
 
 Queen It is too true, and therefore 
 
 1 warn you of the malice in men's hearts. 
 Had any given me warning there was plot 
 'Gainst David's life, he had not fallen a victim 
 You shall not. Leave us, Henry, if your shame 
 Crave not an ampler pardon. 
 
 Darnley I will keep 
 
 Away from you ; it is not a light matter 
 To chide, and give dismissal to a king. Exit DARNLEY 
 
 Queen My brother ! 
 
 Moray (Caressing her] J Tis not fit that you should 
 
 weep. 
 The kingdom prospers. Recollect, my sister, 
 
 I have the Stuart courage Mr. Craig 
 
 Presents a fresh petition from the kirk, 
 If you can listen to it. 
 
 52 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Queen But your life 
 
 I cannot think of business, when my heart 
 Is full of anxious care. 
 
 Moray I cannot think 
 
 Of any private danger, when religion 
 May be advantaged by my constancy. 
 You wax in all men's favour through your kindness 
 To the true faith. Ah, were you in its pale ! 
 I have two jarring cares a Romish sister, 
 And God's elect. Come to the ante-room. 
 
 Exeunt together 
 
 SCENE II A house In the neighbourhood of Edinburgh 
 LETHINGTON and ELSPETH MENTEITH 
 
 Lethlngton Yes, Elspeth, 'tis the pleasure of my 
 sovereign to visit me in private. To-day she will stream 
 down to me in a vision. I am full of devoutness and 
 elation ; a king's favour is as dew upon the grass. 
 
 Elspeth Is that scripture ? 
 
 Lethlngton A proverb truth's worldly discretion 
 tripping on the tongue ; but, for your better content- 
 ment, know that it is written within the covers of the 
 Holy Book. 
 
 53 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Elspeth I am too simple for controversy; I cannot 
 answer you back, as the Lord when Satan tempted Him. 
 
 Lethington Elspeth ! 
 
 Elspeth But I am glad the Earl of Moray is your 
 friend. 
 
 Lethington For he is of good understanding in the 
 fear of the Lord nay, sweet Elspeth, cloud not it is 
 the beginning of wisdom. 
 
 Elspeth Do you think I may tarry till our sovereign 
 appear ? She is a royal lady. 
 
 Lethington She is a distracting woman. What is to 
 be done with that intolerable puppet, her husband ? He 
 moves about the glass-house of diplomacy with the 
 violence of a bull. It must needs be that offences come, 
 as the Highest foretold, but woe very naturally falls on 
 that man who brings his swart wares to the light. 
 
 Elspeth O brother, is this true religion ? Dear Janet 
 ever found you talked too smartly of God. 
 
 Lethington I speak of Him familiarly as my Friend 
 with kindly criticism. 
 
 Elspeth He will not suffer such irreverence. Mr. 
 Knox .... 
 
 Lethington He apprehends the Highest with the organs 
 of hatred. He hath handled Divinity wellnigh as roughly 
 as Dunfermline. What is left makes good stabling for the 
 herd ; the creature of delicate nurture cannot lodge 
 there. 
 
 Elspeth Yet you joined the Lords of the Congregation. 
 54 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 It was Janet's comfort on her death-bed you would not 
 serve idolatry. 
 
 Lethington Serve ! I am the servant of no man, save 
 Time ; I wait on his shiftiness with the patience of a 
 lover. I flatter him, I defer to him : but, Elspeth, you 
 have nursed your grandmother's dotage ; is not childish- 
 ness ever in the grasp of its attendant ? 
 
 Elspetb I am convinced you are an atheist. You 
 make me most unhappy. 
 
 Enter the QUEEN 
 
 Lethington (Stooping and caressing ELSPETH) Poor, 
 pretty lass of the darkened conscience. (Looking up} 
 What, yonder ! It is my royal mistress who enters, as 
 noiseless as the light and as welcome. 
 
 (He kneels ; ELSPETH, with a low reverence, goes out] 
 
 ueen A silver voice! Alack, good Lethington, 
 Mine ears have been so dinned with ill-report 
 Of those who spend their labour to defame 
 And bring you to discredit, that I scarce 
 Know how to reckon you. 
 
 Lethington A rigorous judge 
 
 To whatsoever mutinies against 
 Your grace's honour. Servant to your rashness, 
 The waywardness that mars your delicate 
 And swift discernment ? Slaves must minister 
 In such unworthy offices ; but when 
 My queen is most herself, at her right hand, 
 
 55 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Breathing her pleasure, zealous in despatch, 
 Painstaking in expedience, she will find 
 Her sometime secretary, now her friend, 
 And true, untitled servant. 
 
 Queen Lethington, 
 
 I live now but to pardon and make peace j 
 I am a mother. 
 
 Lethington May your favouring gift 
 
 Breed amity a woman's silent way, 
 And set us in the sun. 
 
 Queen Could I accord 
 
 The enmities betwixt my warring nobles, 
 I were most happy. In my child-bed sickness 
 I made it the sole pastime of my thoughts, 
 By gifts, by reconciling offices, 
 And frank partition of my gold and jewels 
 To lull contending hearts. 'Mong my bequests, 
 Your name, my Laird of Lethington, stands coupled 
 With the Earl Bothweirs, since I reckon you 
 He for his valiance and rough honesty, 
 You for your subtle, extricating sense 
 My two most weighty subjects .... and at war ? 
 Nay, for my sake, to pleasure me, the breach 
 Must be closed up betwixt you. 
 
 Lethington Haddington's 
 
 Fairy nunnery severs us. 
 
 Queen You must divide 
 
 The apple of your discord. 
 
 56 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Lethington Madam, to divide the sweet cloister were 
 to sever Christ's seamless robe. Let us not rend it ; let 
 it fall rather to my lot. But it is not, my sovereign 
 lady, by grants of land, nor even by the twinned bounty 
 of your gracious bequest that we can be accorded. 
 Those on the right hand and the left in the parable are 
 of opposed nature ; and the office of the sovereign, so it 
 please you, is to set a great gulf betwixt them. James 
 Hepburn will make for your undoing and the enmity of 
 England wherever he meddle ; my lesson, in the lenient 
 hours when you permit me to tutor you, hath been ever 
 deference to Elizabeth. 
 
 ghteen 'Tis too palpable you woo England's queen. 
 
 Lethington Not for her beauty. If for her posses- 
 sions, we covet one object, her crown, and for one head. 
 Boast of it in your dreams ; but by day propitiate in 
 patience. Were I not your true servant, I should 
 scarcely dare to raise tempest on your brows by my 
 monition. 
 
 >ueen The English crown ! It is my dearest hope : 
 I tell you, Lethington, one little hour 
 I felt the sense of glory and expanse, 
 The opening of my nature's very leaves. 
 'Twas on the day of the great tournament, 
 After the peace of Cambray, when the king 
 Trusted by aid of Spain to stablish me 
 Sovereign and Catholic on English soil. 
 I was but scarce sixteen. Oh, I remember 
 
 57 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 I shook all sickness from me in the bliss 
 
 Of my true dignity ; the royal arms 
 
 Of England and of Scotland, with the crown 
 
 Of France above them, blazoned on my car. 
 
 Place for the ^hieen, and when the populace 
 
 Added of England, something changed in me, 
 
 As when the sky first kindled into stars. 
 
 Dreams should be sluggish, this encloses me, 
 
 And eddies me away. I cannot rest 
 
 Till I have crossed the Border ; Halidon 
 
 Must feel the pressure of my feet, the guns 
 
 Of Berwick must salute me. Ah, the dream, 
 
 To wrap you in its current ! I confide 
 
 To you the secrets that I dare not drop 
 
 In my soul's ear if you could understand ! 
 
 A cry for empire pierces up my heart 
 
 As sharp as murdered blood, spilled on the ground, 
 
 Presses for retribution. I receive 
 
 The sighs I breathe ; if I am left alone 
 
 I catch across the vaults of ancestry 
 
 Reverberating sounds. I do not urge 
 
 My claims, a racial importunity 
 
 Leaves me no peace until its suit be stayed. 
 
 Does there not grow in kings a royal gift, 
 
 Tradition of the conscience ? 
 
 Letblngton Better use 
 
 They make of time who let the travelled future 
 Determine their day's destiny, than those 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Who give to ageing instinct and tradition, 
 That ever stays at home, a dominance 
 And derogating lure. My dearest queen, 
 Seek not the crown of England as a toy. 
 Be patient ; set yourself to govern now 
 Sole as Semiramis, and be remembered 
 Hereafter, 'rnong adoring men, a goddess 
 And heavenly Aphrodite. 
 
 ueen Still the dream ! 
 
 My Lethington, you are restored to all 
 Your ancient honours, and are free to pluck 
 Of any my possessions so you cease 
 Contention with Lord Bothwell for these lands. 
 Let me accord you ; I will bring him down 
 With the Lord James to-morrow ; for I pine 
 At the council-table for your lambent lips : 
 Our politics have no celerity, 
 Our embassies no state, our correspondence 
 No grace and candour while our flower of wits 
 Is absent from the court. 
 
 Lethington There must be peace, 
 
 Peace and goodwill when angels condescend 
 To be the peacemakers. 
 
 )ueen I always was 
 
 Too credent, and must marvel at myself 
 Who love to listen to your eloquence 
 And fell persuasion, till I half-forget 
 This friend of Mary Stuart's is her foe's 
 
 59 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Beloved ambassador, is Cecil's hope, 
 With Randolph has too frequent colloquy, 
 And soothes Elizabeth Oh, I forgive ; 
 It is my common office. 
 
 Lethington Doubting queen ! 
 
 But rank me very traitor to my brows 
 With those presageful eyes that look beyond 
 The sin to the appeasement, and remit 
 Still unconceived offences : such foredoomed, 
 Inevitable grace must draw transgressors 
 Repentant to itself. 
 
 ^ueen There is a bond 
 
 Betwixt us twain. 
 
 Lethington A bond no tragedies 
 
 Can snap. 
 
 )ueen Farewell. 
 
 Letbington {Apart) To think there was a time 
 I cared not if I never saw her face. 
 
 it) conducting the QUEEN 
 
 60 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 SCENE III Holyrood ; a room overlooking one of the 
 entrances to the courtyard 
 
 MORAY, LETHINGTON, ARGYLE : on the table before 
 them a letter 
 
 Lethlngton (Taking up the letter) The Earl of Lennox to 
 his sovereign. He threatens that his son will leave the 
 realm. 
 
 Huntly Threatens ! Such departure were most 
 seasonable. 
 
 Lethlngton If the boat be leaky, and the start at the 
 equinox, our best wishes were answered. 
 
 Huntly Yet the queen could not speak to us when 
 she came hither to impart her trouble. 
 
 Lethlngton There was such a fit of weeping in the 
 clouds, I entreated her to retire to her chamber. We 
 must prosecute this business. 
 
 Moray It is natural she should affect to be anxious to 
 detain him. 
 
 Letlnngton It is unnatural he should essay to depart 
 blessed beyond dreams by her clemency, honoured by her 
 in his dishonour, reasoned with when he should be 
 arrested 
 
 Moray Yet if there were anything serious in her con- 
 duct at which he blushed ! The queen's indiscretion is 
 
 61 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 not of a character to bear report. Her gestures and 
 freedom. ... 
 
 Huntly But to leave her ! and that splendid boy on 
 her knees. 
 
 Moray Well, we must question the king on this 
 matter. These unconfirmed imaginations profit nothing. 
 
 Lethington (To MORAY) My lord, pursue the young 
 monarch with your prayers ; but by no means intercept 
 him with your remonstrances. If heaven make straight 
 for our goal, counter-action is impiety. 
 
 Huntly We must deal gently with the queen. 
 
 Lethington In her widowhood. (Rubbing his hands) 
 I could drink to this crazy bark ! May it be stuck round 
 with barnacles, invaded by the undying worm ! The 
 solution, as ever, is to be looked for, as the pippin of an 
 apple, at the core. But listen ! I am incautious in my 
 ecstasy. Gentlemen, there is noise in the courtyard an 
 arrival. 
 
 Huntly A thick, deep voice. Good Lethington , look out. 
 
 Lethington (At the casement) Into fairyland ! For there 
 stands our sovereign-mistress, a white wonder of beauty 
 beneath the torches, and draws in her young prodigal 
 with golden arms 
 
 Huntly Why do you pause ? 
 
 Lethington Because he pushes her, 
 
 The brute No, Huntly, put away your sword, 
 She is secure and militant, a creature 
 To hold the world in awe ; he staggers back. 
 
 62 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Huntly He must be drunk. 
 
 Lethington Now he is on again ! 
 
 Intolerable braggart, mow and mow, 
 Can you not answer ? 
 
 Moray Let us hasten down 
 
 To smooth this rebel humour. 
 
 Letbtngton (Turning from the casement] She is gone ! 
 Huntly, one need not be a Catholic 
 To bless this Lady Mary. 
 
 Enter QUEEN 
 
 ^ueen Dear my lords, 
 
 We have to-night a truant at our doors, 
 Who will by no means enter, till we yield 
 To his enforced terms. As in a tale 
 Of fairy, we must give impossible 
 Commands, and look for such obedience as 
 The elfin-wands enforce. I am ashamed 
 To copy his rough manners ; he insists 
 My doughty councillors should leave the palace, 
 Ere he will condescend to mount our stair. 
 } Tis late ; I may not ask you to break up 
 A loyal concourse summoned to mine aid ; 
 Yet I will pray you softly to adjourn 
 Till morning when ourselves will make you judge 
 Betwixt our warring royalties. 
 
 Letbington Betwixt 
 
 You and a thankless rebel. 
 
 63 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Moray Since my presence 
 
 Offends him. . . . 
 
 ghieen 'Tis a mood one must not question ; 
 
 A private humour that in lesser place 
 By wifely tenderness were cleared away. 
 Is there a man among you dare confess 
 He ne'er came home impatient to his wife ? 
 My Lethington, sweet-tempered bachelor, 
 Prepares a bright-lipped negative. But you, 
 Huntly, and you? 
 
 Moray Those whom the Lord hath joined 
 
 We will not put asunder. May your meekness, 
 Coupled with fear, remove his jealousy ! 
 
 Letbington (In a low voice to the QUEEN) O Dea 
 
 certe ! (Aloud} May your heavenly grace 
 Confound his churlishness. We will retire. Exeunt 
 
 (The QUEEN beckons from the window; in a few 
 
 moments DARNLEY walks in sulkily : she throws 
 
 herself at his feet) 
 
 Nay, do not speak to me ; it is enough 
 That you are come. What, put away to sea, 
 My prince ; what, wilfully embark for death, 
 Leaving your own bright realm ? Have you no treasure 
 At home that you must seek the Golden Fleece, 
 My wayward Jason ? If indeed you should 
 Desert me, faithless, if you should desert, 
 Why, I might turn Medea ; for there is 
 
 64 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 All magic bound in me that womanhood 
 Inherits, or makes rape of from the gods 
 All good and evil herbs. I need to cull 
 No simples ; closed in crystal prison-caves 
 I guard. strange alchemy. If I were wronged 
 The fatal way deserted I would draw 
 My spells from Hecate : the poisoned robe, 
 The philtres that impoverish, the bright spectres 
 That dance before a victim to his doom, 
 Would all be mine ; for I must be beloved, 
 The goddess breathes in me ; and if denied 
 My wedded lord, if he should once desert me, 
 I will ride boldly through the world, enchant 
 Its heroes, soften its great, reckless hearts, 
 Engage on ventures of high hardihood, 
 Visit strange lands and new and at the last 
 Win of admiring Jove consent to marry 
 Achilles in Elysium. 
 
 Darnley Do not mock me ! 
 
 I care not for your fondling ; you shall learn 
 Obedience to my government. You prate 
 Of that same Colchian dame she cut in pieces 
 The brother who fled after her and threatened 
 To part her from her love ; she minced him up 
 To collops : do you so with the Lord James, 
 Or I will do it for you. Let me have 
 The state you gave me when we first were married. 
 
 >ueen Oh never ! You have forfeited your place 
 
 6 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Beside me on my throne ; in every act 
 Of kingship you have shown yourself a traitor, 
 Dissolved my Parliament, imprisoned me, 
 And, not to quicken into light your prime, 
 Obliterated infamy, endeavoured 
 To set yourself usurping in our stead ; 
 Touch not our royalties, or, if you touch, 
 Kneel and adore them : 'tis to them you owe 
 Your life, your pardon. Henry, think awhile 
 What I have overlooked. The tender ties 
 That knit us in our honeymoon, before 
 Your mad ambition, are fast-knotted still. 
 I made you knight, and by the accolade 
 Of knighthood you are sworn to my defence, 
 To loyalty, to truth. Ah, if your eyes 
 Had not been fixed on the investiture 
 You would have known there was no further honour 
 Left for my distribution. Earl of Ross 
 I think I belted you, and then you smiled ; 
 Your vow was to remain my chevalier, 
 And at the word I gave my very soul 
 Away I cannot revocate the gift. 
 If you should go to sea, I fear such pressure 
 Of recollection, mingling with desire, 
 Would work on me, I should put after you 
 One day in a lone vessel. Promise me 
 You will remain ? 
 
 Darnley With Moray, Lethington, 
 
 66 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Your circling Protestants ? 
 
 Queen I am so tired, 
 
 I cannot reason with you. For to-night 
 Will you not tarry with us ? There are many 
 Who hate you in the palace .... 
 
 Darnley I can take 
 
 My rights, although you make yourself so coy 
 And condescending. 
 
 Queen You are safe with me. 
 
 Come to my room ; you will not ? 
 
 Darnley As I please. 
 
 Queen Why then, good-night. To-morrow we shall 
 
 meet 
 
 Before the lords ; you shall recount to them 
 Your fault or mine ; if you have planned this voyage 
 With just occasion, or set out to sea 
 As any wanton runaway. Good-night. Exit 
 
 Darnley St. Andrew, but I will not follow her, 
 Nor ever do her bidding any more ; 
 At Jedburgh she shall hold her justice-courts 
 Alone ; her solitude will grow acute, 
 And she will sue me to return to her. 
 And yet she has such carriage when she sweeps 
 Before me ! and I cannot say what ails, 
 If she should bring me to the council-room. (Listening} 
 She has not put the traitors out of doors ; 
 They plot a storey off I will retire, 
 And rate her for transgressing my commands. Exit 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 SCENE IV Jedburgh ; a room in the QUEEN'S lodging: 
 MARY SETON, MARY LIVINGSTONE, and MARY 
 FLEMING at work. 
 
 Mary Seton Is it not happy that our queen is 
 restored to us ? Since the Lord Darnley hath denied 
 her his company, she is as fond and familiar as in her 
 teens. 
 
 Mary Fleming Or when, a widow of twenty, she took 
 us in turn to be bed-fellows. And we watched her 
 waking in the early light; it was more regal than a sun- 
 rise. 
 
 Mary Livingstone As you repeated to the Lord 
 Chatelar in your foolishness. But they were merry days, 
 and our queen the queen of frolic. Then came the 
 pretty stripling of Lennox her Maries were clean out 
 of credit; she required no service, but remained shut up 
 in her chamber with her winsome cousin for warden. 
 
 Mary Fleming She is terrible in love : no compromise 
 betwixt ecstasy and death. She lay rigid on her bed for a 
 day after the king, in presence of her nobles, first cleared 
 her of fault, and then bade her contemptuously adieu. 
 
 Mary Seton She has rallied quickly, though a fit of 
 passion broke over her when she heard she must hold the 
 justice-courts alone. Oh, that we could hear of the 
 embarkation of this Sit-in-the-Sulks at Glasgow ! No one 
 regards him further than he is agreeable to the queen. 
 
 68 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Alary Livingstone But she, poor lady, still loves him. 
 She will look out from the window at the birds, wheeling 
 about the heavens, and fear they will have stormy 
 passage. Exit MARY SETON 
 
 Mary Fleming Why will you torment poor Seton with 
 your tattling ? When a woman sets her heart upon a 
 woman she is inexorable in jealousy. 
 
 Mary Livingstone Too true ! Shall I suffer and be 
 silent ? 
 
 Mary Fleming I am glad I have a lover of my own. 
 
 Mary Livingstone You forget, I have a husband ; but 
 that mars not my constancy a man needs so little of 
 one's nature. It suffices him if one's complexion be fair. 
 But there is not a balmy nook in one's soul undiscovered 
 of her; she desists not from divining till she hath ac- 
 cess to the honey-cells. I have had brave thoughts since 
 she questioned me, and I will love her to my life's end. 
 
 Re-enter MARY SETON ; she resumes her embroidery 
 
 Mary Fleming Well, I grant her incomparable in her 
 blue Highland mantle. 
 
 Mary Seton You mistake ; in her red camlat, rayed 
 with the broken pearl broidery. 
 
 Enter the QUEEN 
 
 Mary Fleming Fie, fie ! and her crown somewhat 
 rusted ! But hither she comes in her passamented 
 cramoisie. 
 
 6 9 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Mary Livingstone With her silks and chenille. 
 
 (They rise to greet the QUEEN, and lead her 
 to a canopied chair.') 
 
 Alary Seton Dear Madam, you are wondrous patient 
 in your stitchery. 
 
 ghteen I can take my sewing, Marie, into the council 
 chamber, scarcely into the assize court. To-day there 
 is a brief respite from official cares. ... I must close 
 the bud of this tulip with my silks. The work, you 
 remember, is for the king. 
 
 Mary Seton I marvel you have even this leisure. 
 
 ^ueen A languor has crept over our courts. The 
 aggrieved make no charges, and it is rumoured we must 
 to-morrow to Hermitage, to my Lord Bothwell, for 
 further material on which to execute justice. 
 
 Mary Seton Methinks, Madam, you take your Lord 
 Justicier's grievous sickness too light-heartedly. 
 
 ^ueen My good warden ! But it vexes me to think 
 how he has blundered. I ordered him to Liddesdale to 
 make a strong jail of his fortress, and lodge in its dun- 
 geons the offenders for whom my justice-course had 
 been prepared. He left the castle slenderly attended, 
 was cruelly assailed by strapping Elliot, and, when Robert 
 of the Shaw brought him home senseless on a Jitter, was 
 not permitted to pass the gates till he had promised life 
 and liberty to the masterful garrison of miscreants. 
 
 Mary Seton Think ! He was wounded. 
 
 Yes, but was it not 
 70 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 A reckless sortie that has set at large 
 
 The lairds of Whitehaugh and of Mangerton, 
 
 With sundry of the Armstrongs ? I am here 
 
 To break the strength of such, and find my powers 
 
 And office ineffectual through his fault. 
 
 Mary Fleming My sweet queen, you are growing 
 
 rigorous 
 
 As the Lord James. 'Tis these six busy days 
 That have so hardened you. 
 
 )ueen Ay, every morning 
 
 I have ta'en counsel with my tapestry 
 This brave, blue arras ! Have you noted it ? 
 The judgment of King Solomon. How finely 
 He extricated truth, beneath the clamour 
 Of clinging, wild affections : sentence these, 
 And guilt will blab you out the truth as free 
 As fluent honesty. 
 
 Mary Fleming The Border courts 
 Had been a fair state-progress if the king 
 Had not so waywardly forsaken you. 
 At the mere hint of this my Lethington 
 Comments with bitter tongue ; the people marvel 
 To see so wondrous, solitary, white 
 A justice. Why, at Stirling you would sit, 
 Peruse, and sort your jewels by the hour, 
 Making such pretty presents and bequests 
 As set us weeping. 'Tis the deep affront 
 
 Of being thus abandoned .... 
 
 7* 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Queen Marie, Marie, 
 
 Your tongue runs to disorder, and must suffer 
 A moment's durance. Rim this slip with gold, 
 And work in silence. (Rises and walks apart) I am 
 
 strangely sick 
 
 To-night, and with that wanton loneliness 
 And dizzy solitude that lengthen out 
 The vacancy at bottom of my heart. 
 It may be even now that boy of mine, 
 Cruel as Cupid's self, and capable 
 As he of smiting inward, has ta'en flight 
 For ever from my shores. He said to me 
 It should be long, so long before I saw 
 His face again ; and all my humbleness 
 But strengthened his resolve. My love, my love ! 
 
 (Returning to MARY FLEMING) 
 Ah, you have done your task, and gentle eyes 
 Pardon my admonition. 
 
 Mary Fleming Dearest queen, 
 
 You tremble. 
 
 Queen Haply I have caught disease 
 
 From the close air and crowding of the courts ; 
 Or it may be the rancour that one leaves 
 In human hearts, howe'er one govern them, 
 Sets me in this despondency. 
 
 Mary Fleming The ride 
 
 To Hermitage will freshen you. I trust 
 You will set forth to-morrow. 
 
 72 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 0$ueen That must be 
 
 As the Lord James determines ; he directs 
 Our every step. 
 
 Mary Seton (Looking at the QUEEN'S work} It is a pretty 
 sleeve. 
 
 Queen If it might give contentment ! Every stitch 
 Is a caress. Well, we must drop no tears 
 Across the burnished broidery. Take your lute ! 
 Nay, give it me ! If music is played soft 
 At amorous, dusky hour, why, poets say, 
 It draws reluctant lovers to its course, 
 As a lone, female dove with luring note, 
 Draws her mate homeward on firm, open wings. 
 
 (Sings) She was a royal lady born, 
 
 Who loved a shepherd lad, 
 
 To bring the smile into his face 
 
 Was all the care she had. 
 
 His murderers brought a bloody crook 
 
 To shew her of their deed; 
 She eyed it with a queenly eye, 
 
 And leapt into the mead. 
 
 And there she settled with the lambs, 
 
 And felt their woolly fleece ; 
 It was their cry among the hills 
 
 That brought her to her peace. 
 
 73 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 And when at night she folded them, 
 
 Outside the wattle-fold, 
 She took her lute and sang to them 
 
 To keep them from the cold. 
 
 She was a happy innocent 
 
 Whom men had sought to spite. 
 
 Alack, no sovereign lady lives 
 A life of such delight. 
 
 For no one crossed her any more, 
 Or sought to bend her will-, 
 
 She watched the ewes at lambing-time, 
 And in the winter chill. 
 
 And when her flock was scattered far 
 One day beside the brook^ 
 
 They came and found that she had died, 
 Her arms about her crook. 
 
 She had no memories to forget , 
 
 Nor any sins to weep ; 
 O Gody that I might be like her, 
 
 And live among the sheep ! 
 
 Enter LETHINGTON 
 
 Is Lethington a listener ? 
 
 Lethington Almost wearied 
 
 74 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 With your good brother's anxious colloquy, 
 
 Who would in my executive be mate, 
 
 I came, my gentle princess, to your door 
 
 For such refreshing as your happy wit, 
 
 Clouded with mildness, ofttimes doth bestow 
 
 On your taxed servant ! But, alack ! the matter 
 
 Of this rare song, the tears that break it off, 
 
 Forbid me to find comfort in the voice, 
 
 Or in the picture (Bending low to the QUEEN) though 'tis 
 
 ravishing 
 
 As museful Clio should forget her scrolls 
 With Euterpe to passion on the flute. 
 Why do you sicken thus of sovereignty, 
 Who, capable and sole, can bind in one 
 The jarred and restless factions of your realm ? 
 
 Queen Du Croc has been with me. 
 
 Letkington And he reports 
 
 The king still obdurate. To sulk at Glasgow 
 Believe me, he will find it sorry sport. 
 Have but a little patience, like the man 
 Your swerveless equity confesses you, 
 And all will be amended. 
 
 Queen You are gay, 
 
 You soon will be a bridegroom. 
 
 Lethington From a rose 
 
 Though one may pluck a cluster-bud, one bows 
 Before the air-impregning majesty 
 Of the mid-fragrance with a lingering joy. 
 
 75 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 My buoyancy is for no private hope, 
 "Tis simple exultation in your clear 
 Supremacy, and excellent discretion. 
 Be mirthful, dearest princess. 
 
 Queen If amendment .... 
 
 Lethlngton Verily, madam, if we look closely, the 
 policy of God is ever directed toward amendment; one 
 can discover in it nothing of a destructive cast. The 
 eating of the apple was in all likelihood but partial, as 
 Proserpina, for devouring a few seeds of the pomegranate, 
 abode in hell, yet in consideration of the undevoured 
 mesh of vermilion had leave to open half her nature to 
 the light. All is not lost, though Lord Darnley devote 
 himself to folly. Consider, fair governor, what is the 
 office of justice with regard to folly. Does she water it 
 with her tears ? 
 
 Queen I will not write to him ; I will keep silence. 
 
 Lethington For a love-ditty would but swell his pre- 
 sumption. 
 Have confidence ! 
 
 Queen I will immediately to rest. Yes girls, you may 
 carry me bed ward. Do we travel to-morrow ? 
 
 Lethlngton Almost with the first sunbeam. (She gives 
 
 htm her hand.) Sheltering sleep 
 Soothe these storm-swollen eyelids ! 
 
 Exeunt QUEEN and MARY SETON 
 
 It becomes 
 A simple, pious action to remove 
 
'The Tragic Mary 
 
 The worm at festering havoc 'mid the leaves 
 Of this incomparable flower. My hand 
 Is delicate in surgery. (To MARY FLEMING as she 
 passes out) Dear, good night. 
 
 SCENE V Hermitage Castle ; an upper room : BOTH- 
 WELL stretched on a couch. He turns, with closed 
 eyes, to PARIS. 
 
 Bothwell The water seems to rustle round my head. 
 Why should our stream move as in fresh attire 
 The silk hiss of a woman ? 
 
 Paris. It is not 
 
 Hermitage Water rippling by your tower, 
 But . . . wake, my lord ! . . . the queen. 
 
 Bothwell I cannot move, 
 
 With all these hurts that kneel upon my frame, 
 Nor rise to bid her welcome to my haunt. 
 
 red-cap Soulis, my predecessor once 
 Within this fort old witch, endow my bed, 
 My sickness, with a strength of conjuration 
 Satanic and delicious to her sex 
 
 Who visits me thus prostrate. 
 
 Enter the QUEEN, MORAY, #W*/LETHINGTON 
 
 Gracious form, 
 
 1 cannot show allegiance ; fates forbid 
 
 77 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 That I should kneel to you, or bow beneath 
 The proffer of your hand. You do me grace, 
 And I receive it merely. 
 
 Queen We forgive. 
 
 How does our Lord Lieutenant ? Moray, see, 
 These bandages are wounds that in our service 
 Were taken deep . . . But will the leech reprove, 
 Boy, if your master talk with us ? 
 
 Paris No, madam, 
 
 My lord is mending well. 
 
 Queen Untoward Justicier, 
 
 Your courage has deprived us of your counsel, 
 Which in our need we seek. I pray you, Laird 
 Of Lethington, prepare the questions weighty 
 That hinder law, unanswered. (To BOTH WELL) For a 
 
 while 
 
 We must discourse of various things your gashes, 
 The exploit that entrenched them where they are, 
 And of my savage ride. The unwarmed breeze 
 Took influence from the earth, and smelt of moss 
 Till it was sweet as keen ; the moorland region 
 Shone grey and swelling, stud on hilly stud, 
 Like a gigantic shield ; nor were there any 
 Among us who could find a certain track 
 To this sequestered castle. 
 
 Bothwell Our strong winds, 
 
 And unyoked, grassy uplands never served 
 Such office as to-day enamelling 
 
 78 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Your silver beauty thus. It is a sight 
 Would sting death to revival. 
 
 <j$ueen My warm colour 
 
 Is new-lit by our speed, so dangerous 
 Your countryside is held, so dedicate 
 To felon outrage. 
 
 Lethington 'Tis a sorry tract 
 
 On which to venture forth j one almost might 
 As well put out to sea in ignorance 
 Of compass, shoals, and weather-signs. My lord, 
 Among these moors, these billows marked in turf, 
 The queen was well-nigh lost. 
 
 ^ueen You see this stain 
 
 Along my habit .... 
 
 Bothwell Ha, the bogs are deep 
 
 My neighbourhood has sullied you with mud ; 
 Shame on the black disloyalty ! 
 
 O^ueen We christened 
 
 The stumbling-place Queens Myre. 
 
 Moray I understand 
 
 That grave discourse will not afflict the earl ; 
 Is it not time for business ? 
 
 ^ueen Nay, the claims 
 
 Of courteous gratitude are sparely paid 
 Until we hear the tale of that brave day, 
 Which wellnigh cost us our lieutenant. Moray, 
 Fetch me a seat. (To BOTHWELL) Ah, look not self- 
 aggrieved ; 
 
 79 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 You, who have slain our traitors, Tnust not chafe 
 
 Forbidden slighter service to ourself. 
 
 {Aside) The weakness of his voice and hue, for all 
 
 The muscle-corded arms, is piteous matter 
 
 For any woman's heart. {Aloud'} Your story first ; 
 
 Let deeds approve good counsel. 
 
 Bothwell (Apart) Magic help me ! 
 
 Wild, local wizardry be on my speech ! 
 (Aloud) This fortalice was crowded as a prison 
 With foresters and dalesmen, violent thieves 
 Reserved for justice, when, eight days ago, 
 Leaving my loutish servants far behind, 
 I crossed yon wood of alders. 
 
 Letkington Folly, folly ! 
 
 The subtle value of that everything 
 Called life escapes attention. I had held 
 My safety dearer. 
 
 ^ueen Spendthrift gallantry, 
 
 Adorable misdeed ! 
 
 Botbwell Among the stems 
 
 And tangle of dusk branches, face to face, 
 I met the outlaw Elliot hereabouts 
 Called John o' the Park a shaggy man, who paused, 
 And asked his life as if it were a coin 
 I carried in my pocket. Merrily, 
 For scorn will make us merry when we hate, 
 I told him of my heart-felt satisfaction, 
 If justice set him free. The snaky villain 
 
 80 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Slipped from his saddle down, and stole away 
 Behind the brushwood : with a pistol shot 
 I brought escape to earth, and from my horse 
 Sprang to secure the prey. Another moment, 
 And I had pinned him ! but an unseen stump 
 Must stretch me o'er its lumber in a fall 
 That shattered sense. The miscreant from his brake 
 Crawled forth and struck me, body, head, and hand, 
 With three, vindictive blows that bit so fiercely 
 They woke my spirit ; and with such a vengeance 
 As that we deal in dreams I plunged my dagger 
 Twice through the craven breast : swoon overcame 
 My rage, I lay in quietness blind as night's, 
 When lifted by my vassals. 
 
 Queen Oftentimes 
 
 A page of Plutarch has more swept my heart 
 Than has the valorous air which I have breathed 
 This morning, like a bird : your story, earl, 
 Eclipses both in prevalence. Continue ! 
 The man was straightway slain ? 
 
 Both-well His body lay 
 
 A mile off on a little, open hill. 
 
 Queen Is there no more to hear ? It was a fight 
 Like those upon the famous sands of Troy, 
 And ended scarcely otherwise a cloud 
 Came on the wounded hero as a god 
 Saved him from death. Is there no more to hear ? 
 
 Bothwell Of combat nothing, of disaster still 
 
 8l G 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 A trifle : when my bearers to the door 
 
 Brought me, no soul would open, for the keep 
 
 Was under capture of the bandits lately 
 
 My prisoners, who refused with brutish mouths 
 
 To let me have a resting-place until 
 
 My servants, in my name, would swear that nothing 
 
 Should hinder their departure or imperil 
 
 Their forfeit lives. 
 
 Moray So justice for this year 
 
 Was mangled in these parts, vile Liddesdale 
 Re-fortified with villains. 
 
 Lethington True, I smelt 
 
 Impolicy in hardihood. 
 
 Queen (Rising) One act 
 
 Of daring feeds a scantness in the land 
 Ten penal judgments cannot. {Apart) How is this ? 
 He has my hand j his lips are free with it, 
 As was October's climate on these steeps 
 Awhile gone by. I do not recollect 
 Intending such a favour. (Aloud) Is there not 
 Legend of hidden terrors in a place 
 So stern as this and desolate ? 
 
 Moray Time flies ; 
 
 One third part of the first hour of the two 
 That we can spare for consultation passes. 
 Shall we not put our questions ? 
 
 H^ueen Brother, wait ! 
 
 Mine is not answered. 
 
 82 
 
The Tragic Mary. 
 
 Bothwell From remotest years 
 
 Has this great, silent country known of things 
 That talismanic, dire, implacable, 
 Have been conceived and done within these walls. 
 
 ghieen Ah, the streams sang so eerily, as if 
 They knew but time-worn ballads. To my shame, 
 I feel a strangeness here. The exercise 
 Has stunned me with delight ; my limbs are tired, 
 My head asleep only my heart is strong 
 With effort in my side. 
 
 Bothwell They say at noon 
 
 The midnight elves are vigilant, as deeming 
 The zenith sun broad Luna ; in the light 
 They weave unearthly bondages with chaunt 
 That rings in destined ears. 
 
 hieen Beseech you, lay 
 
 Some food and wine within the ante-room. 
 I cannot cope with law until refreshed, 
 And trembling less from haste. 
 
 Botkwell Go, Paris, set 
 
 Our oldest bottles forth. 
 
 ^ueen I will return. 
 
 You must advise me quickly, for we ride 
 To Jedburgh in full afternoon, so rough 
 And pathless is our journey. We are glad 
 To find you better, for believe the truth 
 That we are sorry for your hurts. 
 
 Botkwell Ah, Madam, 
 
 83 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Fate struck me for this bliss. I am content 
 To bleed, if you will come to me. 
 
 Shieen {Apart} O God, 
 
 His glances pierce defence. I must not stay. 
 (To MORAY) Lead me to entertainment. (Apart} 
 am ill. 
 
 SCENE VI Jedburgh -, the QUEEN'S Chamber. She lies 
 straight on her bed in a trance. MORAY and 
 LETHINGTON 
 
 Lethtngton A crisis ! You are rarely in at crises : 
 Lord Moray finds they tax the stoutest nerves, 
 Their mere approach dictates a change of air, 
 A distance from their neighbourhood. 
 
 Moray My friend, 
 
 Face my position : the invidious chance 
 That gave me access to all state and grandeur 
 Propinquity, no right attaches blame 
 And ill-surmise to every word or movement 
 With which I wait on fortune. Oftentimes 
 To be away is the sole cleanness I 
 Can show to gaping libellers. 
 
 Lethington You miss 
 
 The fine attractions of uncertainty, 
 Unless you wait upon her fluctuant face, 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 A-wooing her in person. 
 
 Moray 'Tis a service 
 
 Too warm for me till now. (Going up to the bed) Is 
 
 this a corpse ? 
 
 The lids are stony ; in the opened mouth 
 The air stays idle. 
 
 Lethington Ah, poor sovereignty ! 
 
 A husband's little cruelties have brought her 
 Thus subject unto death. It startled me 
 When, like a snowdrift loosening from a wall, 
 She slipped adown her horse into my arms. 
 A heavy faint such whiteness ! 
 
 Moray I had noticed 
 
 But slight indisposition as she rode j 
 It came on at the journey's end. 
 
 Lethington The air 
 
 Was dark and bitter when we reached the town ; 
 I caught a cold, a swimming rheum. For that 
 I have to thank his Lordship of the Marshes, 
 Whose wounds are quickly better, for they say 
 He rides here from his den. 
 
 Moray To find her gone. 
 
 Lethington A mirror, hasten ! From her cap take out 
 That grouse's feather, which she blew upon, 
 And tucked into the velvet rim to please 
 Page Bastian who had found it. Bring it here. 
 Quick ! A fair image, and some breath would soften 
 Its climate. Just a tremble on the plume, 
 
 85 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 The edge where down is lightest. 
 
 Moray Did you find 
 
 A strange behaviour in her at the castle ? 
 
 Lethington He played to make her woman's sentiment 
 Dance soft attendance on him. 
 
 Moray And the lead 
 
 Was taken ; she was gracious and reserved, 
 Stung and yet frightened. All this comes about 
 Through hardness to God's word. I scarce may speak 
 What I believe of her. Adultery. ... 
 
 Lethington Preposterous conclusion ! They have been 
 Indifferent and dissevered all the year ; 
 What you have lately seen within her manner 
 Is but such stuff as turns all women poets 
 When sons of Adam bleed. The root of this 
 Her sickness is her sore fidelity 
 To that young fool who daily injures her 
 With taunts, neglect, and scandals. I have had 
 A sobbing confidence that so it is. 
 
 Moray And you believe her word ? Then must you 
 
 swallow 
 
 That she and David, closeted for hours, 
 Talked only correspondence, and the turns 
 Of language in her letters. 
 
 Lethington She had been 
 
 An idiot to have circumscribed discourse 
 To business, for her wit is fanciful, 
 And of familiar charm. We watch for hours, 
 
 86 
 
T/ie Tragic Mary. 
 
 And yet no stir. The noble creature shows 
 A fine persistency in life ; she seems 
 Like one assaulted traitorously, and struck 
 With evil from without. 
 
 Moray It will be safe 
 
 At last to make announcement of her death ; 
 Let the attendants come to lay her out, 
 And I meanwhile will straighten her. 
 
 Letblngton Beware ! 
 
 Still the firm knot of life secures her features, 
 In her expression there is unity ; 
 Have patience and observe. 
 
 Moray It is important 
 
 That you, her secretary, acquaint at once 
 The foreign courts with her decease, and further 
 With her entreaty that I take the rein 
 Of government. 
 
 Lethington That was a private prayer ; 
 I caught it not, a politic suggestion. 
 Her son ? She made a sisterly request 
 You would befriend the lad. ... I take your cue ; 
 But should this be a catalepsy ? 
 
 Moray No, 
 
 Her sad physician prayed us not to hope 
 She could revive. The Lord has smitten her ! 
 I am the queen's most near of kin, and stay 
 To render her my cold, fraternal duty. 
 Her face is rigid. 
 
 87 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Letbington Death has signed no bond 
 
 About it ; for more certainty, before 
 I spread your tidings, I will fetch her leech 
 To touch her and give verdict. Exit 
 
 Moray The man-child 
 
 Of James the Fifth ! Through all these stubborn years 
 What waiting and what triviality, 
 Waiting with perfect faculties and power ! 
 A male and without blemish. Margaret, dear 
 My mother, soon thy contract shall be published, 
 And the Guise offspring illegitimate. 
 Stewards and lawful stewards ! I was born 
 A king of as deep royalty as Christ : 
 Now, Scotland, will I cast in thee such seeds 
 As in their crescence will transform the land ! 
 The godly shall find refuge in the branches 
 Which now are tender slips. From the beginning 
 I knew that she must perish, as a lie 
 Betwixt God's thumb and finger must be crushed ; 
 Therefore abode His pleasure. Though there 
 
 seemed 
 
 A moment when by gentle intervention . . . 
 Heaven would not suffer the least spot to fall 
 Across my conscience. (Going up to cupboard) There 
 
 is goodly plate 
 
 Within this cupboard, comfort that may swell 
 My English gold, and rings . . her stones will tempt 
 Elizabeth. If I can bribe her women ! 
 
 88 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Where are her pearls ? This cloth can be applied 
 In gifts by which my precedence will shine. 
 
 (The QUEEN wakes) 
 
 Hieen How far at ebb I feel, how deep withdrawn ! 
 Some one is moving slowly on a stage ; 
 Methinks if he should come and handle me, 
 And stretch me for my burial, I should watch 
 As a mere witness ; yet there is a pain 
 Beneath this solstice, for I long to speak. 
 Come hither ! Wherefore do you leave my side ? 
 How long ago I made request to you 
 When I Jay dying to hold fast my hand. 
 Rub me a little. 
 
 Moray Doth God give you speech ? 
 
 Be not deceived, good sister, you are far 
 Beyond my ministry. Below they give 
 The order for your funeral. 
 
 hieen Is it so ? 
 
 'Tis well ! For, dearly as I love my life, 
 I am content to die, so excellent 
 Seems now God's every motion with my soul. 
 Poor watcher, do I trouble you ? 
 
 Moray Prepare 
 
 To look upon your Judge. You must not lie 
 And smile as you were dying but in sport. 
 
 >ueen. I am so weak ; God gives me leave to 
 
 enter 
 His kingdom softly as a little child. 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 There are no thrones, no sceptres. But my breath 
 
 Returns, not like a flicker, pressing deep 
 
 Up from my heart. If you would give me wine. 
 
 Moray I dare not. 
 
 ghieen Would it overcloud my brain ? 
 
 The dizziness returns ; you are too fearful. 
 Go, summon Huntly, Bothwell, Lethington ; 
 And fetch my women : death has granted me 
 A little grace to bid a last farewell. Exit MORAY 
 
 What love is in my heart ! God finds the sole, 
 The royal use of love is clemency, 
 Remittance, pardon : it should be enough. 
 
 Re-enter MORAY with HUNTLY and LETHINGTON 
 
 There is a golden light before my eyes 
 That hinders me from seeing ; pray for me, 
 I have short time to live. 
 
 Moray Then will we pray 
 
 You be delivered from idolatry. 
 Abjure your Popish errors. 
 
 <$ueen I will die 
 
 In my religion ; 'tis the tempered way 
 To heaven one cannot change one's habitude. 
 Let all men have free access to their God ; 
 'Tis my desire for Protestants and those 
 Of my own faith, so sweet is liberty. 
 Put no enforcement on them. 
 
 Moray You forget 
 
 90 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Straight is the narrow way. 
 
 Queen From east and west 
 
 They come who traverse it. 
 
 Moray I shall not fail 
 
 To rear the prince, your son, in sanctitude. 
 
 Queen Who keeps the child ? Your number is not 
 
 full. 
 Where is the lord of Bothwell ? 
 
 Lethington He is riding 
 
 Across the hills to see you. 
 
 Queen So I rode, 
 
 Through such a country as is that wherein 
 Our vague dreams are enacted : I grew dizzy ; 
 And he has wounds. 
 
 Moray You do appoint me regent, 
 
 And guardian of your son ? 
 
 Queen Plague me no more 
 
 To put my honours from me ; you were ever 
 For abdication I shall die a queen. 
 Huntly, the king has knowledge of my illness, 
 And yet forbears ? Have you no kindly words 
 Of parting, James, my brother ? 
 
 Moray I await 
 
 Your trust and testament. 
 
 Queen To live in peace 
 
 Is all the charge I lay on you. I heard 
 A footstep. Is it Henry come at last 
 To take my free forgiveness ? 
 
 9* 
 
The tragic Mary 
 
 Enter BOTH WELL 
 
 Lethlngton He refuses 
 
 Stoutly to come j you must not look for him. 
 g)ueen I have a dying kiss I must deliver, 
 A message to him. 
 
 Moray Sister, give it me ! 
 
 Queen Nay, you would poison it. When we were 
 
 lovers 
 
 Ah me, I hung on him as he lay sick 
 You strove to part us. 
 
 Bothwell (dside) Shall death ruin me 
 
 Before my very eyes, and turn my kingdom 
 To dust upon a bed ? Prodigious loss ! 
 Whom could I serve but her ? How could I breathe, 
 My life's occasion gone, my forecast shrivelled, 
 My dower of fortune ! 
 
 Queen Who will mind my babe ? 
 
 None answer me then let them fetch my servants. 
 
 (BoTHWELL kneels^ and takes her hand] 
 What, Hepburn ? Will you lift my pillow up ? 
 So ! let me lean on you. 
 
 Botbwell You are not wrapt 
 
 Warmly; your cheek is cold. (To the Lords) Bid 
 
 Arnauld come. 
 (To the QUEEN) I swear you will recover. (In a low voice] 
 
 Dare you die ? 
 
 (To the Lords) The queen lacks tendance ; I will be her 
 leech, 
 
 92 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Till she have finer aid ; fetch me her women 
 
 No moment to be lost. (To the QUEEN) Give me your 
 
 lips 
 
 To damp with wine, and swear that you will live ; 
 My queen, a token ! 
 
 Enter the MARIES 
 
 ^ueen Girls, take care of me, 
 
 For if you keep me with you through this day 
 I shall not die. Be comforted, my earl. 
 
 93 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 ACT III 
 
 SCENE I Craigmillar ; the QUEEN, MARY SETON, and 
 MARGARET CARWOOD, walking together through the 
 garden from the chapel 
 
 Ijhieen How sweet it is to breathe the air again, 
 Though blue November mists it. Winter roses 
 Blooming and fading ! Mary, have you loved, 
 My silent girl ? 
 
 Alary Seton I have but looked on love 
 As the moon looks on day-spring those rare nights 
 She sees a world her silver would make wan, 
 And creeps, recluse*, into the western haze, 
 Full of unbosomed memories. 
 
 <$ueen And I ... (She sings} 
 
 Ah, /, if I grew sweet to man, 
 
 It was but as a rose that can 
 
 No longer keep the sweet that heaves 
 
 And swells among its fluttering leaves. 
 
 The pressing fragrance would unclose 
 The flower, and I became a rose, 
 That, unimpeachable and fair, 
 Planted an odour in the air. 
 
 94 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 No art I used men's love to draw ; 
 I lived but by my being's law, 
 As roses are by heaven designed 
 To bring the honey to the wind. 
 
 I found there Is scant sun in spring ; 
 I found the blast a riving thing ; 
 And yet even ruined roses can 
 No other than be sweet to man. 
 
 Mary Seton Still faster tears ! Why will you linger 
 
 here, 
 So tall 'mid the low bushes ? 
 
 ^ueen (Stooping over the rose-bushes) How I Stood 
 On tip-toe, and with prickled hands drew down 
 The roses in the bower at Inchmahome ! 
 We were so happy 'neath the filbert-trees 
 In the old, monkish garden. 
 
 Mary Seton I remember 
 
 The rows of boxwood hid us from each other ; 
 You struggled to get out into the sun, 
 Transgressing the due limits. 
 
 )ueen I was free 
 
 Those last few weeks before we went to France ; 
 I could be naughty at my pleasure then, 
 The wrinkled faces smoothed to see my pranks, 
 And I had no correction. Let me wander 
 In reverie awhile. 
 
 95 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Margaret Carwood Alas, dear madam, 
 
 We find you sad if you are solitary, 
 And weeping oft, as now. 
 
 g)ueen A common thing ! 
 
 What is there for a woman who takes thought, 
 If once she look down on her lot, save tears, 
 Strong floods of silent weeping. Leave me, girls, 
 Leave me awhile. 
 
 Exeunt MARGARET CARWOOD ^W^MARY SETON 
 
 It was for courtesy 
 
 I stooped and let Lord Bothwell kiss my hands, 
 For sweet to me is love in human eyes, 
 As daylight to the world. Through all my sickness 
 My husband did not come ; I was recovered 
 When he at last made speed. He comes again 
 To-day ; I should be happy, for my babe 
 Waits Holy Church's blessing. Yester eve 
 I held him in my arms, and heard my voice 
 Humming a cradle-song. Ah me, the tune- 
 Guilty again ! It was the very same 
 My sweet French poet sang to bring the flush 
 He called it flush o' France to my white cheek 
 When we sailed north together. Memories 
 All, all of love ! I am grown weak again, 
 And weep at the least thought. A robin trills 
 Each morning at my casement, on the yew, 
 And sets me sobbing ; yet if now, even now, 
 My lord would lean a little 'gainst my knee, 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Brushing his curls in the old, boyish way 
 
 Against my fondling heart, it were enough 
 
 To bring me back to kindness and desire. 
 
 When first I saw him, he was messenger 
 
 From Lady Lennox to my early dule : 
 
 That night at Orleans, as I sat alone 
 
 By lamplight, in the chill of widowhood, 
 
 That pierced as penetrative flakes of snow, 
 
 That bruise and then make stiff the pain, there bent 
 
 Before me my boy-cousin, lovely-faced, 
 
 Modest, and rose, with radiant, crested hair 
 
 One would have said that Cupid's arching wings 
 
 Were met above his head ; he was too young 
 
 For other speech than what his glistening eyes 
 
 Might give : with bashful worship he withdrew, 
 
 And I, the unsealed packet in my hand, 
 
 Took courage of the envoy. High of stature 
 
 Even then, and such full prince in him ! his portrait 
 
 Keeps its warm lodging in my breast ; I doubt 
 
 If e'er I can displace it. 
 
 Enter DARNLEY surrounded by a leash of sporting dogs 
 
 Margaret back ? 
 Henry ! 
 
 Darnley (Pointing at her with a drunken laugh} How 
 
 wan a face, as thin and sallow 
 As if you you were a good wife in the wynds, 
 
 97 H 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Suckling her puling bairn. I have left girls 
 With fresher cheeks than these. 
 
 Queen What brings you hither ? 
 
 If to confess, the list of your offences 
 You may rehearse unchecked ; though majesty, 
 When the offence is vile, deals chastisement 
 Without assize. 
 
 Darnley Ho, ho, my dame, and would 
 
 You care for my confession ? You are proud, 
 And might not laugh to hear the songs we sing 
 At Ainslie's tavern : I could pipe you one 
 Would put you to the blush. But come, wife, come 
 We wink at one another's slips. Be merry ! 
 You must not show high stomach to a king. 
 
 Queen A king of what? O'er whom ? Is it to seek 
 An unknown empire you put out to sea ; 
 To wave your hand o'er despicable tribes, 
 Where tyrants bluster and are terrible ? 
 A royal purpose ! Sir, we are apprised 
 That you continue every day from evil 
 To worse : we therefore must combine to put 
 Your honours from you, that in lower place 
 You may but mingle with your mates, not carry 
 High names and dignities along with you. 
 
 Darnley You ask me as a private gentleman 
 To my cub's christening? You deceive yourself; 
 My spirit swells, and all magnificoes 
 Are chary of their smiles. Strange horrors haunt 
 
"The Tragic Mary 
 
 Outside the wine-cup Morton . . . someone's bones ! 
 I drink for very life, and have no mind 
 To diddle at your shows. 
 
 gjueen You cannot mean 
 
 You will be absent when at Feast of Kings 
 We offer and present our true-born heir. 
 So glorious a day ! The noblest princes 
 Of Christendom, through their ambassadors, 
 Compass the font, the Pope himself desires 
 A nuncio should be sped ; I have half-drained 
 My coffers in my joy : solemnities, 
 Full of such quick succession and surprise 
 As we shall now prepare, will keep their rank 
 And lustre uneclipsed in sovereign minds 
 When James shall be a man. 
 
 Darnley James ! 
 
 Hieen There have been 
 
 Great Scottish monarchs of the name. My father .... 
 
 Darnley There have been Scottish kings named 
 
 David too ; 
 
 If David be your infant's father's name, 
 Let it be his. 
 
 ^ueen It grieves me to the heart 
 
 The child should bear your likeness. We must rear him 
 Wholly apart from you. Now quit my presence ; 
 I came here for the fresher air. 
 
 Darnley Dum derra ! 
 
 Mistress, you go your way, and I go mine ; 
 
 99 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 The spinning world is big enough for two 
 To ding their crowns and make a holiday .... 
 Flowers at your bosom ! Let me have a rose 
 To wag at jesters. 'Pon my word, your lips 
 Are set up coy, and I must have a kiss 
 For bravery and fellowship. Come, woman, 
 Are you a wife or maid to lift your shoulder 
 Between our mouths ? 
 
 Queen Leave me. 
 
 Darnley Gug, gug! and wherefore, 
 
 Until I have advantage ? By St. Bride, 
 I'll play the truant. Bessie laughs to hear 
 How you fly out and spit. 'Tis tavern-talk 
 That you are mortal jealous. Sweet-heart, come ; 
 We will not mope. Exit, caressing one of his dogs. 
 
 Queen He must be put away, 
 
 Fool, traitor, noxious reptile. What are these 
 Sharp swords about my heart ? No issue thence 
 Of sighs and dolorous weeping; war and winter, 
 Numb wretchedness, and fierce, constricting hate 
 Huddle together. If I suddenly 
 Could die ! Ah, would to God that I were dead ! 
 
 I could wish to be dead ! 
 Too quick with life were the tears I shed. 
 Too sweet for tears is the life I led ; 
 ) ah^ too lonesome my marriage-bed! 
 I could wish to be dead. 
 100 
 
'The Tragic Mary 
 
 I could wish to be dead, 
 For just a word that rings in my head ; 
 Too dear, too dear are the words he said, 
 They must never be remembered. 
 
 I could wish to be dead. 
 
 I could wish to be dead : 
 The wish to be loved is all mis-read. 
 And to love, one learns when one Is wed, 
 Is to suffer bitter shame ; Instead 
 
 I could wish to be dead. 
 
 And yet death were too narrow ! 
 
 Enter LETHINGTON, BOTHWELL, and MORAY 
 
 Lethington, 
 I must return to France. 
 
 Lethington Slip from your sphere ! 
 
 Not so, my lady Venus; we will chase 
 The noisome meteor from the firmament, 
 And, spell-bound, guard our passion for the stars. 
 While you, matutinal in piety, 
 Shunned not the perils of the autumn air, 
 Your servants not less zealous in your service 
 Than you in that of heaven, combined in close, 
 Determined counsel. Will you let us speak 
 Touching your husband ? 
 
 >ueen 'Tis a heart-break to me 
 
 To think he is my husband. 
 
 101 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Lethington Cast not forth 
 
 Such strong, deep sighs. They sigh who wail the dead ; 
 Not those who have sharp matter of reproach 
 Against the living. Justice, madam, whets 
 Her sword. 
 
 Queen Could I indeed be rid of him, 
 
 It were a dearer cleansing than from sin, 
 More liberating than to cast away 
 Mortality, more blessed than to rise 
 From misconception of disordered dream. 
 But if it cannot be .... 
 
 Bothwell What easier aim ! 
 
 Queen Without dishonour to my son ? 
 
 Bothwell Ay, surely ; 
 
 My father was divorced, yet I enjoy, 
 Unblamed, his heritage. 
 
 Queen (To MORAY) James, you are silent ; 
 Your mind misgives ? 
 
 Lethington But if his godliness, 
 
 Being a little staggered by our zeal, 
 Appear unready, 'tis the wont of such : 
 The man accustomed to the leisure ways 
 Of Providence is apt to take offence 
 At the trim worldling's nimble diligence. 
 
 Bothwell (Standing close behind the QUEEN) Cannot 
 
 you banish him ? You know the means 
 Of making the slow hours pass wearily 
 To those that have offended you. 
 
 102 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 O earl, 
 I banish to recall. 
 
 Bothwell The chancellor 
 
 Should now be back in favour. (Apart) God, I stumble, 
 And blurt I know not what. 
 
 Moray An apt appeal ; 
 
 With Morton here, we may, by the approval 
 Of Parliament, draw judgment on the head 
 Of the offender who hath twice detained 
 Your grace in ward unlawfully. 
 
 Lethington True, true ! 
 
 (Aside to MORAY) "We must be patient. Take a turn 
 
 with me 
 
 Across the tilt-yard, ere her mood be ripe 
 To pledge us Morton's pardon. They pace together. 
 
 ^ueen (To BOTHWELL) Hepburn, still 
 
 My cry is for a convent, where one feels 
 The pleasantness of death, and every day 
 Lives with him as a gentle monitor. 
 I long to be alone, for there is sorrow 
 One cannot put into one's prayers, nor drop 
 In any human breast half recollection, 
 And half despair. My injuries are not 
 For state-reform. It is a sulphur-wind 
 About my modesty to hear of men 
 Counting my wrongs, of arid Protestants 
 Meting the measure of the chastisement 
 That cannot be poured out. When love is wronged 
 
 103 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Hell opens at his feet ; he must have space 
 Uncircumscribed, another infinite, 
 To map out his remorse. 
 
 Bothwell (Aside) What would she do ? 
 
 She shakes me and incites. How should it profit 
 You should retire to France ? 
 
 Queen To mitigate 
 
 The shame of ruling with a vacant seat 
 Beside me, single, an unwidowed queen ; 
 To yield to Fate, and, lying in her breath 
 Under her pressing bosom, to receive 
 Strange aliments and help. You do not speak .... 
 
 Bothwell I dare not. 
 
 Queen Does it look so ill in me 
 
 To crave for respite ? 
 
 (Turning^ she catches the expression on his 
 
 face and rises quickly) 
 Hush, I will not urge 
 Too vehement a prayer for liberty ; 
 There may be other means. 
 
 (LETHINGTON and MORAY approach) Is Morton lodged 
 With so scant comfort you would have him back 
 At once to his fat lands and revenues ? 
 
 Lethington Nay, madam, persons of your noble 
 
 nature 
 
 Should think him amply punished ; he has scarce 
 A hole to put his head into, a penny 
 To buy a dinner. 
 
 104 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Queen (Wearily and half apart} There is none of them 
 Guilty of venial error. 
 
 Letbington He will give 
 
 Wise counsel in this question of divorce ; 
 He is an able lawyer, and hath much 
 Old rancour to repay. 
 
 Queen Beseech you speak 
 
 No more to me of this. Can you not see 
 That we are sundered ? 'Tis enough ; henceforth 
 No mention of my husband j he is dead, 
 Cast from our royal mind and purposes, 
 Forgotten, insignificant. 
 
 Moray To-morrow 
 
 We will remove to Holyrood. 
 
 Queen Oh, why ? 
 
 Moray It is your birthday. 
 
 Queen If these feasts were kept, 
 
 And not wide, hollow gaps within the year, 
 We should to-day be merry ; for the king 
 Ye put it in my mind is twenty-one. 
 I gave him no good wishes ; but my tears 
 Are all for his amendment ; he is young. 
 I will within, and write to him. God heals 
 Though he is slow in healing. Moray, come. 
 
 Exeunt QUEEN and M.OKW, followed by LETHINGTON 
 
 Botbwell She stings me now to demon-jealousy 
 With shifts and cunning yet she dropt a word .... 
 I hear the muster for some vast success 
 
 105 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Rise through my nature, arming as a tract 
 
 Arms when the bale-fires hang upon the peels 
 
 By Tarras and by Tweed. My energies 
 
 Are wild and undirected, but aglow 
 
 With concourse and with hope. This husband, this 
 
 Mere cog upon the golden wheel of Fate 
 
 That would fly round to seat me on a throne, 
 
 And give me lips the loveliest that the world 
 
 Has decked for kisses and co-equal joys 
 
 This Darnley shall be put away. 
 
 Re-enter LETHINGTON, a bond In his hand y meeting MARY 
 FLEMING 
 
 How, when, 
 
 I cannot bring to thought ; but the great moment 
 That shatters him will feed my pulse with richness, 
 An impetus of blood. Exit 
 
 Lethington Well, Mary, well ! 
 
 (Looking after BOTHWELL) He must be cooler when I 
 
 bid him sign; 
 
 Among us we will guide the matter through, 
 And keep the queen in languid innocence 
 Since she will hear no question of divorce. 
 
 Mary Fleming Your brows are clouded. 
 
 Lethington Scruples, dear, scruples ! There can be no 
 clear-cut action in the world with this hesitancy at 
 wrist. 
 
 1 06 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Mary Fleming One cannot know surely by divination 
 whether an action be right or wrong. 
 
 Lethington One may know by intuition whether a 
 deed will profit. Do you not grieve for your mistress ? 
 
 Mary Fleming Why, she is most marvellously beloved ! 
 
 Lethington Well parried, young stateswoman, and of 
 whom ? 
 
 Mary Fleming Of all but her enemies and these are 
 the religious. 
 
 Lethington Who have scruples, so we return to our 
 controversy ; and scruples but cause men to do ill what 
 they do ; they cannot hinder ill-doing. Mary, why did 
 you scruple to let me kiss you in the passage ? 
 
 Mary Fleming Why, the queen was looking. 
 
 Lethington Looked she ever ill on lovers ? I would 
 have bussed you bonnily under her very eyes : they are 
 russet now as a November twilight. I would fain en- 
 lighten them. Our great queen must be concerned 
 with love 'tis her empire. Like the daughter of Jove 
 she can forget her own grief in the joys of an amorous 
 couple. We have need to divert her. Come, come ; 
 'tis my hour of recreation. I have been plotting the 
 deaths of princes ; but I have caught wind of the abomi- 
 nable machinations of Dan Cupid for my wedding, and 
 I must look into this conspiracy. Have you harboured 
 any of these infamous malefactors ? 
 
 Mary Fleming My lord, most Sorely against my 
 will . . . 
 
 107 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Lethington Ah, you had scruples, but yet a maiden's 
 delicate prompting to give protection to fugitives. 
 
 Alary Fleming A troop indeed of vagabond wishes so 
 tender . . . 
 
 Lethington Of age, you thought no-one would have 
 the heart to arrest them. They shall not be arrested. 
 Confide this innocent troop to my keeping. They con- 
 fess under torture to devising a plot for the possession of 
 my person. 
 
 Mary Fleming I swear that they meant you no ill. 
 
 Lethington No ill but a remedy for all ills my 
 death, which is rapidly approaching on the strides of 
 frenzy. I am lunatic every instant of my leisure, and 
 stark mad in my despatches. I must needs prate to Cecil 
 of your kindness. You have put a wonderful elation 
 into my nature. But as secretary, I am undone. Now 
 (Drawing her to him) swear to me, a woman's sweet, 
 silent way, swear that you will recover me. What 
 refuse the sweet lip-promise? 'tis the only oath I take of 
 a woman. 
 
 Mary Fleming Yet I will not make it on compulsion. 
 
 Lethington Lest you might break it without remorse. 
 O subtle casuistry ! Kiss me once free-heartedly, and 
 take these winter-roses in your cheeks to the queen. 
 
 Mary Fleming Carnation is the Stuart flower. 
 
 Lethington (Taking her cheeks between his hands and 
 kissing them) Then your own by inheritance and fortune. 
 
 1 08 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 SCENE II Stirling; BOTHWELL'S private lodging. LADY 
 BOTH WELL is seated reading. In a corner of the room 
 PARIS is folding up rich suits of clothing 
 
 Lady Bothwell Ay, Paris, clear 
 Away the litter. 
 
 Paris Madam, but my lord 
 
 Looked brave in his blue doublet. 'Twas the queen 
 Made choice of it. 
 
 Lady Bothwell The show is over now, 
 The prince baptised a Catholic. Be careful, 
 Nor let the moths consume that Spanish fur 
 Lay spices with it. 
 
 Paris {Holding up a rich garment) This is gaudier 
 
 stuff: 
 
 If the dim, violet stitches were not blurred 
 On this gold ground, my lord, I warrant me, 
 Would not disdain to wear it at the court. 
 They say 'tis Flemish work. 
 
 Lady Bothwell Peace, peace, I wander 
 
 From my good book Legenda Aurea^ this 
 My warning comfort through these vanities. 
 The sight of such fair clothing will recall 
 The day of my own marriage, when the queen 
 Herself attired me, sprinkling me with jewels 
 Of her own gift. 'Tis scarce a year ago. 
 
 109 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Enter BOTHWELL 
 
 Botkwell Jane, have you heard the latest stir at 
 
 court ? 
 
 The good archbishop of St. Andrews, he 
 Who gave us dispensation from the Pope 
 Is now restored to power. . . . You have not kept 
 Too carefully that paper? If 'tis lost 
 The archbishop could divorce us on the ground 
 We are too near of blood. 
 
 Lady Bothwell There is grave reason, 
 
 Ay, graver cause than consanguinity, 
 Why we should separate. Your lewd behaviour .... 
 
 Bothwell True, Jane, my conduct does deserve re- 
 proach, 
 
 And from a wife so saint-like. Sue me, sue me ; 
 Give me no mercy. I confess my guilt. 
 
 Lady Bothwell But wherefore do you seek this 
 
 separation ? 
 
 I know your passion for the queen alack ! 
 I would not be the bar to your ambition ; 
 But she has still a husband of her own, 
 Jealous, intractable, imperious. 
 Add not unto her griefs j her enemies 
 Have well-nigh overwhelmed her. 
 
 Bothwell Darnley lies 
 
 Sick of small-pox at Glasgow, and the queen 
 Ere March may be a widow. 
 
 no 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Lady Eothwell Then heaven looks 
 
 With pity on my sovereign. 
 
 Eothwell It is shame 
 
 To wrong a wife so gentle. 
 
 Lady Bothwell I will lay 
 
 The dispensation where by no man's hand 
 It ever can be found. Thus honourably 
 We can be parted ; and, in honour, you, 
 After such time as heaven has loosed her bond, 
 Can take the queen. 
 
 Botbwell It is a desperate scheme ! 
 
 How cold and yet how kindly are your eyes. 
 I never hate you her I often hate. 
 
 Lady Botbwell Poor lady, for you love her ! I have 
 
 been 
 
 More fortunate in winning your respect. 
 You are a gallant fellow, but too wild 
 For the great, fireside virtues. It is true, 
 Despite the dispensation, we have never 
 Been man and wife. 
 
 Bothwell You have befriended me 
 
 Unfailingly. Jane, you are deep within 
 The counsels of the queen. Does she incline : 
 May I not hope to win her ? 
 
 Lady Bothwell For her sake 
 
 I am unknitting, James, our marriage-bond ; 
 I shall not then report her. At your feet 
 The gown of Spanish fur I recognise 
 
 in 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 As her own mother's wear. She loved her mother 
 She would not part with that except to one 
 She trusted with a child's simplicity. 
 Prove worthy of her faith. 
 
 Bothwell She is capricious, 
 
 Lenient, remorseful, in a breath. To-night 
 With sudden pity for her ailing lord 
 She starts for Callander. 
 
 Lady Bothwell A faithful heart. 
 
 James, of your loyalty they make great boast ; 
 It is not of my fibre who for her 
 Resign my rank and office as a wife. 
 
 Bothwell When I am king .... 
 
 Lady Bothwell I shall be still her subject, 
 
 My blessed lady. Men would die for her 
 They say so. I, simply to smooth a crease 
 Of her wide brows, would suffer any shame 
 The good archbishop, or indeed yourself 
 Could put me to. Let Huntly settle this 
 Without my further meddling. I shall stay 
 Awhile from town. You have a heavy stare 
 And discontented : all is as you wish ? 
 
 Bothwell Have you no pain in leaving me ? 
 
 Lady Bothwell No pain 
 
 In serving my dear mistress. Fare you well. 
 I cannot yet divorce you from my prayers 
 You have few friends. I will depart this even, 
 The writing on my person : 'twill be easy 
 
 112 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Hereafter to approve our marriage null. 
 
 Farewell ! God's blessing on you. Exit 
 
 Bothwell Fie, this woman 
 
 Leaves me with branded cheeks. To bid her pack ; 
 To break up house, to get myself divorced 
 From one so noble and so tolerant 
 Just for a giddy hope ! (Summoning PARIS) Ho, 
 
 Paris, put 
 This trumpery away (Kicking the Spanish fur). I must 
 
 to-morrow 
 
 Betimes conduct the queen to Callander. Exit PARIS 
 The infamous, soft creature with her sighs, 
 Her innocence and wonder ! she shall be 
 A glorious fellow-sinner at my side, 
 Shall give me love for love. I am no fool ; 
 I know we stand together on the brink 
 Of uttermost perdition ; but some joy 
 She owes me. Why, a fiend to whom one sells 
 One's soul gives earthly pleasure to excess 
 In recompense, and I have simply signed 
 A bond to be a denizen of hell 
 For ever, for her sake. We will be platted 
 Together, as the rose is with the briar 
 O'er some fond lovers' tombs. How low the fire 
 Has sunk ! I am left stranded, with no comfort, 
 Divorced and homeless, till a palace-door 
 Open, until I have that other wife 
 Spotted with furs and gems ; it turns my brain. 
 
 113 i 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 SCENE III Whlttlngham ; beneath the aged yew-tree ; 
 LETHINGTON is discovered, leaning on one of the scaly y 
 red boughs 
 
 Lethmgton Ay, you big snow-clouds, pile your virulence 
 Over the swarthy yew-tree. Let the white 
 Be blackened, and the sooty swathed in snow ; 
 J Tis the world's process of transfiguration, 
 And thwarted issues. I am dolorous, sick, 
 And savage, a pined bridegroom married but 
 On Twelfth Night, Feast of the Epiphany, 
 And thrust from my sweet bride ere she had learnt 
 Half the infinitude of that affection 
 Reserved for conjugal unbosoming. 
 I told my pretty lass I would create 
 And then receive her happiness ; 'tis plain 
 Of all the parts of man I am most fitted 
 To play the bridegroom : the slow dalliance suits 
 The quietness of my nature ; and to win 
 My ends by love and sheer persistency 
 Is to give favouring exit to the grace, 
 The living fount within, that I attempt 
 Vainly to dam. There is no brute in me ; 
 This Bothwell must contrive the bloody work 
 Of which the apprehension turns me sick. 
 I must acquaint my love of my bruised rest, 
 My terrors and imaginings. (J ott ^ n g down a note] 
 
 114 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Sweet Mary, 
 
 The omens are not auspicious. I fear thy bridegroom 
 will come to an ill end. For last night in a dream I en- 
 countered^ as it were, a mangled funeral. I saw the tressels 
 and the staves, the peacock and the dog. The peacock would 
 not look at me } but the dog paused as before some decayed 
 matter. Dear, in my anguish at his snuffling, I struggled 
 so violently that the vision broke. 'Tis the cradle of your 
 warm breast that I lack. You alone can rescue me from 
 these ill dreams. Yours, to deliver from the dogs, 
 
 LETHINGTON. 
 
 To my breast, and to mingle there with much foul 
 matter. How now ! Yonder is Morton, parting with the 
 castellan, a sunny bluster on his brow. 
 
 Enter MORTON 
 
 My lord, you have a rosy face. 
 
 Morton I have slept well in this air ; it is my own. 
 
 Lethington You mean your native air ? 
 
 Morton Mine, man, as the fish are in yonder stream. 
 It fans my harvests : shall I own the wheatfields and 
 not the breeze that bows them ? It carries my feeding 
 rains into the valley ; it sweeps my hills. 
 
 Lethington 'Twas the queen's bounty gave you 
 Whittingham. 
 
 Morton The queen gave it ; she shall by no means 
 "5 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 take it back again with her other bounties when 
 she reaches her twenty-fifth year. I enjoy a goodly 
 heritage. When my paths drop fatness, I take it as a 
 sign I am one of God's elect ; a man with a lean patri- 
 mony is but a browsing goat. I feed among the green 
 pastures : that reminds me whose I am. I have been 
 lying fallow in the south ; but, Maitland, my blank 
 ground is not unsown; it bosoms a young crop. Ah, 
 ah, my vengeance is lusty in me. 
 
 Lethtngton But you must not blink 
 With such an eager eye. This death-chill morning, 
 And the grim velvets of the yew forebode : 
 Cheerless for conference ; yet a colloquy 
 P the open air is safer than within. 
 I have myself made search beneath the shadow 
 Of the dark flats and found all tenantless. 
 
 Morton But hold ! where's Moray ; he is one of us ? 
 
 Letbington Escaped from troubles, as the dove that 
 
 fled 
 
 The ark when beasts grew quarrelsome within ; 
 He will return anon, the twig of peace 
 And innocency in his mouth : meanwhile 
 I am enforced to break my honeymoon. 
 My marriage-morning when our sovereign bowered 
 My lady in the veil, a messenger 
 Brought word of the king's sickness ; of a sudden 
 She softened, breaking as a wintry cloud 
 To prophecy of April. 
 
 116 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Morton There was rumour 
 
 Moray had tried with fireworks at the feast 
 Of the ambassadors . . . 
 
 Lethington To take him off 
 
 By powder, and it failed. You see yon track 
 Of frosty breath ? (Pointing to BOTH WELL riding swiftly) 
 
 It is our task to order, 
 Being circumspect, the footsteps of a fool, 
 To steer leviathan, 
 
 And regulate the plunges of the whale. 
 Moray is cautious ; yonder is a man 
 Who will confound a murder with a brawl. 
 I leave you to give ear to his proposals ; 
 I can but nurture, others must conceive. 
 
 (Peering at BOTHWELL through the boughs as 
 
 he approaches) 
 
 I could pray pray in my detestation of him, and I am at 
 my very worst when I conceive a mind for prayer. 'Tis 
 a summoning of the legions of angels the Holiest abjured. 
 Yet to find incontinent a wish full in one's heart, a firm 
 desire ! I will give it shape : Heaven blast him ! So, it 
 is articulate, whizzed out into the air. 
 
 Exit 
 
 Enter BOTHWELL 
 
 Morton This is mad riding in the frost you steam. 
 Bothwell The man is sick ; it baffles me. God's 
 blood, 
 
 "7 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 She left me on her way to him I travel 
 I know not whither ; there is nought to do. 
 
 Morton But for our present purpose, if the lad 
 Be like to die ... 
 
 Bothwell She will recover him ; 
 
 I tell you she can lift up from the grave, 
 Just stooping o'er one. 
 
 Morton Well, if he recruit . . . 
 
 Botbwell One cannot stick one's hanger in a man 
 That's sick and dribbling. Were there but a field 
 To win, a universe to harry not 
 This puling voice to stop ! 
 
 Morton Come, come ! The deed, 
 
 Though it seem paltry, may have fine effect. 
 You would be king, and shall be, as reward 
 For my good pardon purchased by your love. 
 Compress yourself to rationality ! 
 You have the queen's own hand-writ ? 
 
 Botbwell God, her great, 
 
 Committing glances. She pours forth the truth 
 Fast as the sun his arrows. Bless the lass ! 
 For I would trail a pike to the world's end 
 For love of her. 
 
 Re-enter LETHINGTON 
 
 Lethington (To BOTHWELL) Good morrow, earl. 
 Morton (To LETHINGTON) You come 
 
 118 
 
'The Tragic Mary 
 
 With business on your face, and in your hand . . . 
 
 Lethington A doubting, anxious letter from the 
 
 queen ; 
 
 Her lord is mending and needs change of air, 
 How say you, shall he lie at Kirk o' Fields, 
 Since he mislikes Craigmillar ? J Tis a site 
 Not much frequented, pleasant for the sick. 
 
 Morton Has Balfour offered it ? 
 
 Lethington With free access 
 
 To all our company. 
 
 Bothwell This Kirk o' Fields, 
 
 You say ... I care not, so she carry him, 
 Stretched on a litter, to the wilderness. 
 
 Lethington But for the manner of the action ? 
 
 Morton Pick 
 
 A quarrel with him, end him in a brawl. 
 
 Bothwell I will not touch the leper. 
 
 Lethington Tempt him out 
 
 Into the country on a sunny day, 
 And let the maskers wait upon his steps. 
 
 Bothwell Let the earth swallow him ! I do not need 
 That you should lean your brows upon your arm 
 To pencil me my plan. Some accident, 
 Some loosening of the walls for we can dig 
 And burrow if the tenement be ours 
 Shall raise him up a mound : we will provide 
 His burial ; ask no question of his death ! 
 I will not face a tremulous, sick man. 
 
 119 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 I am too superstitious. 
 
 Morton Lethington, 
 
 This lusty loyalist will be found a bridegroom 
 After our princess* heart. 
 
 Bothwell (Fiercely, to LETHINGTON) Discredit me, 
 Speak low to Cecil of my impudence, 
 Hint to Elizabeth of my ambition 
 To give her unblessed, sterile throne an heir. . . . 
 
 Morton (Quickly drawing BOTHWELL away] What 
 
 matter ! Woo the woman afterward 
 Will they or nill they, in the end 'tis one. 
 But look you, Bothwell, I am now at ease 
 On my estates, and a hoarse gratitude 
 To her who has re-seated me prevents 
 My open share in your conspiracy, 
 Unsanctioned by her warrant. Tell me now, 
 You who are high in favour, how the cause 
 Hath been advanced. 
 
 Bothwell The true Evangel ! Why, 
 
 The prince, you know, was christened Catholic, 
 And the queen wasted tears entreating me 
 To hold the grease, the candle, and the salt. 
 I will protest till she be Protestant ; 
 She shows faint opposition when 1 rave, 
 A melting coldness. 
 
 Morton The ambassadors 
 
 Marked how she put you in the foremost rank. 
 
 Bothwell Until she went to Glasgow. Now, I swear 
 120 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 She dotes on his infectious malady. 
 
 ( They pass out, tatting) 
 
 Lethington To widow her ! Does my policy involve 
 a marriage ? There is a certain dunness about my heart 
 that disarms : I was witness of that hand-fasting at Her- 
 mitage and there is a kind that goeth not out save by 
 marriage ; in peculiar, female cases espousal is a process 
 of exorcism. Whew, whew ! What a vast desire I 
 have to whistle, to confide my shrewdness to the wind. 
 
 Re-enter MORTON 
 
 Morton Heigh-ho ! Where have your wits been ? 
 Kill a husband, and not be hot upon his wife ! Do you 
 think I have listened to English gossip for nothing? 'Tis 
 in all people's mouths that Bothwell was king-consort at 
 the christening. He will get this hand-writ. 
 
 Lethington He will not. Unfold further. 
 
 Morton He shall rise to his ruin step by step ; we 
 exalt him to a scaffold. Ere a twelve-month, I tell you, 
 we shall have the government in the hands of men, foes 
 of Papistry and friends of England. Come, Mr. Secre- 
 tary, is not this the mark you shot at from the first ? 
 What has blanched you, man ? 'Tis this damned, still 
 air. Into the house! Let us eat and drink. (Standing 
 by LETHINGTON, and watching BOTHWELL riding across 
 the plain.} Does his ambition vex you ? He fares forth 
 under the scowl of heaven, though he canter to his 
 
 121 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 bridal. {Walking away, and looking back at LETHING- 
 TON) So, he will see him into the wood. Exit 
 
 Lethington How I dislike the supernatural ! How 
 my appeal to it shames me ! For to clamour there must 
 be instant largesse. Fate accomplishes because she is 
 deaf. Exit 
 
 SCENE IV The Garden of Kirk o' Fields; night, with 
 moon and stars. The QUEEN and MARGARET CAR- 
 WOOD. 
 
 Out to the stars, to the keen, midnight air, 
 To cold, to purity ! Margaret, my girl, 
 These are gay, tuneful worlds above our head ; 
 One cannot hear their voices, 'tis too far, 
 But they are singing blithe. This pretty group 
 Of sisters in a knot, just seven and Mars, 
 That burns so at the heart ! Ye festal heavens, 
 I would be with you in your revelry. 
 
 Margaret Lady, to me the stars are fixed and silent ; 
 I do not judge your way. 
 
 hieen They reel and spin, 
 
 Attract and spread repulsion. 
 
 Margaret Recollect 
 
 To-morrow night you spend at Holyrood, 
 Howe'er the king constrain you. 
 
 >ueen Ay, to dance, 
 
 122 
 
'The Tragic Mary 
 
 To eddy through the air ! I have been watching 
 Two hours with restless limbs beside his bed : 
 He slept, but held, importunate, my hand 
 In his hot grasp. ... I lay awhile unstirred, 
 And must have dreamed, for it grew wonderful, 
 Untramelled, soft ; and Ronsard sang to me 
 You know the chanson ? 
 
 La Lune eft cpuftumiere 
 De nalftre tous les mois^ 
 Mais quand noflre lumiere 
 Eft ejieinte vnefois, 
 Longuement fans vet Her 
 II nous fautfomme i Her. 
 
 Tandis que viuons ores, 
 Vn baifer donnez-moy. . . . 
 
 Enter to the back, unseen, BOTHWELL and PARIS 
 
 Margaret Hush, lady, it is shame to face the heaven, 
 Singing of love. 
 
 Ghteen It breaks the loneliness. 
 
 Donnez-rrfen mille encores, 
 Amour n'a point de loy : 
 Enchanting music ! Suddenly it jarred. 
 I was beside my husband. 
 
 Margaret Such a sigh ! 
 
 Can it be good to marry ? 
 
 123 
 
T'he Tragic Mary 
 
 Excellent, 
 You backward girl ! 
 
 A fa Diuinite 
 Conuient F infinite. 
 
 (Perceiving PARIS) Jesu, how black a sight ! 
 Comes Paris as a masquer from my lord ? 
 Sooty as hell ! How now, Sir Demon ? we 
 Would hold discourse with you. Exit PARIS 
 
 He is ashamed, 
 
 And slinks into the shade. What is it, dear ? 
 Some triumph for your wedding, some device, 
 And mocking entertainment ? There has been 
 Much whispering of late about the stairs. 
 Margaret Fie, fie, it frightens. 
 
 Bothwell (Apart] Does she rouse me up 
 
 To batten on her beauty ? The response 
 To that frank singing toward the clouds is here. 
 She shall caress me. I will trouble her, 
 Until she fade and famish in desire. 
 ^ueen Tdndis que viuons ores^ 
 
 Vn baifer donnez-moy^ 
 
 I must instruct thee 
 
 With what cold spells and sudden condescensions 
 To keep Sebastian doting. Let us walk. 
 
 (Passing with MARGARET) 
 Bothwell (Apart) It is all art and demonology ; 
 While fresh from out hell's smithy, for her sake 
 I bid the devils colour my design, 
 
 124 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 She wraps heaven's cloak about her, and becomes 
 The firmer in her blameless sovereignty 
 As she more guiltily incites. I hate her, 
 And curse this slovenly and raw intent, 
 This floundering pause, when free audacity 
 Would bring our lips to meeting in a trice. 
 Pass by, my lady Lucifer ! Again, 
 The amorous, icy voice ! 
 
 ghieen {Re-passing) La langue chanterejfe 
 
 De vojlre nom aime . . . 
 
 Margaret Madam, you draw 
 
 Too near the windows. 
 
 ^ueen With a wifely chaunt, 
 
 A soft, assailing ode ? Give me my freedom, 
 My fancies for an hour. Who looks on us ? 
 Earl, you are closely wrapped. 
 
 Bothwell (To MARGARET) Your bridegroom, lass, 
 Were jealous did he find you thus entwined. 
 Give place ; I would be private with the queen. 
 
 Exit MARGARET CARWOOD 
 
 <%ueen (Faintly) It is the stars .... 
 
 Bothwell Rig nt > right ; 'Tis destiny, 
 
 Plotting above our heads. You note that sign ? 
 
 O^ueen A flaming comet ? 
 
 Bothwell The round crystal yonder 
 
 Dropt from her sphere. 
 
 >ueen Astronomy and science 
 
 Upon your tongue, my lord ? 
 
 125 
 
'The Tragic Mary 
 
 Bothwell If you have learning, 
 
 Your liegeman boasts some magic. 
 
 Queen (Apart] Is he drunk? 
 
 Nay, or he would not move me to this tremor, 
 And sense of the chill dew. A lamp above 
 Is being shifted ; I must hasten in. 
 Conduct me. . . . Is this rudeness that you stand? 
 Some memory folds you ? Perhaps at Hermitage 
 You have seen all these stars in a great sky, 
 Like a dark moorland heaving overhead, 
 That not a roof or tower has civilised. 
 
 Botbwell Amour na point de loy : 
 
 That polished Ronsard ! 'Tis incredible 
 He never dwelt 'mid screeching heather-wilds. 
 
 Queen Ah, the gray grasses and the sudden bogs, 
 The wind that is a lonely trumpeter, 
 Blowing in triumph over loneliness ! 
 Believe me that 1 envy your abode 
 Among the dales and breezes. 
 
 Botbwell When you came 
 
 To Hermitage .... 
 
 Queen I could not stay my horse ; 
 
 We felt the pressure of our liberty 
 In maddening speed. 
 
 Bothwell For swifter entertainment 
 
 Take ship on northern seas. By God, my life 
 Has had its share of rough distress and danger 
 Since first I went an exile from your realm : 
 
 126 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 Prison, and storm, and enemies. 
 
 At last 
 Your sovereign's love and trust. 
 
 Bothwell Your hand as pledge. 
 
 (Apart] Her flesh is beryl in the moonshine. 
 
 ^ueen Yonder 
 
 There is a plot beneath the ash-tree, both 
 The ground and tree are whitened : there I'll tarry, 
 And hear of some adventure on the moor 
 Or sea-wave that befell you. I am caught 
 With longing for romance and vagrancy, 
 My nurse's cares have been so close and long. 
 I would I were a gipsy-queen to-night, 
 And from the brushwood looked upon the stars, 
 A rover such as they. I love to breathe 
 The ominous delight of these late hours ; 
 With you they are familiar. . . . To my mind 
 You ever seemed the hero of some book 
 Of long-lost chivalry. Perchance I vex you ; 
 My mood is wild, but careful of offence. 
 Pardon my dream. 
 
 Bothwell Speak on, speak on ! 
 
 >ueen Well, listen ! 
 
 I thought I was to listen, but it seems 
 My frowardness is wordy. As to dwellings : 
 Crichton and Bothwell, Hermitage, Dunbar ! 
 The very names might well seduce to deeds 
 Of formidable import ; then, for change, 
 
 127 
 
The 'Tragic Mary 
 
 Your journeys through the foam, your loyal service 
 Against outlandish brigands. ... Is your wrist, 
 Fierce Elliot broke, recovered ? 
 
 Both-well Merely tender 
 
 When I most need its sinews. 
 
 Queen Still to babble 
 
 Now of yourself: you have a gait and face 
 On which your occupations and your courage 
 Are faithfully imprinted ; I have seen 
 A rock, thus obstinate, respond to weather, 
 Its force and circumstance identified, 
 Tho' opposites. 
 
 Both-well Say more. 
 
 Queen When I have proved you 
 
 A knight, an old-world champion by my praises, 
 A man, while courts lack manhood ? 
 
 Bothwell This free evening 
 
 Is worth all years of my unfriended course. 
 My queen. 
 
 Queen You crush my hand. . . . This starry sky 
 Becomes almost unreal in the intense 
 Stillness as I look up the liquid spaces 
 Between the stars, the liquid, twinkling stars ! 
 Let us go in. Those heights are tremulous, 
 Faint to my eyes. It must be weariness, 
 Or over-draughts of the full tide of air 
 That flows up with the shadows. 
 
 Bothwell As I live 
 
 128 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 You shall not leave me yet, you cannot leave, 
 Enchanted by dark things. 
 
 ^ueen (Apart) He speaks the truth. 
 
 An irritation dances in my frame 
 That not a single woman of my troop 
 Should rescue me, and yet these long-drawn moments, 
 So quenchless and impossible, are sweet 
 As wonders when they happen. (Aloud) You must talk 
 It is your turn, sir knight, some rash adventure, 
 Swift peril ! 
 
 Bothwell When I fled your anger last, 
 My ship drove in on Lindisfarne. . . . To-night 
 I have no memory ; a fire of joy 
 Casts smoke across old doings. Look at me, 
 Not with those anxious, distant, queenly glances, 
 Coming and going like the shooting stars ; 
 Give me the common, chestnut-coloured eyes 
 You bend on Melvil, full of confidence, 
 Serene and fearless. If you are beset 
 By hypocrites and traitors, so am I ; 
 Misjudged, ill-favoured. Speak in this clear air ; 
 Speak to me you were better. 
 
 tjhteen More than once 
 
 I have been forced to banish you. Ah, then 
 It seems to me you had more happiness 
 Than now I set you midmost of these false, 
 Insurgent subjects. If I could escape, 
 If I might leave my kingdom ! 
 
 129 K 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Bothwett That great fortress 
 
 You gave me, that impregnable Dunbar, 
 Shall yield before I suffer you again 
 To put the sea betwixt us. 
 
 >ueen 'Twas my mother .... 
 
 Bothwell Made me the guardian of your unworn 
 
 crown ; 
 
 Shall I not shield it now this golden hair 
 Twines up and down the gems ? It is this head, 
 This living head I love. 
 
 Re-enter MARGARET CARWOOD 
 
 Margaret Madam, your husband 
 
 Complains he is deserted, and with bitter 
 Persistence craves your company. 
 
 Bothwell The queen 
 
 Is worn with watching and has need of air ; 
 I will replace her. Exit MARGARET CARWOOD 
 
 Though I am no poet, 
 I joy to leave you compassed by the stars, 
 Lone on the grass that shines. Breathe freely, setting 
 The reckless chansons to some border-tune. 
 I will be faithful in my vigilance, 
 Till the night-watch. 
 
 )ueen When I return. My lord, 
 
 I were content upon an ocean-vessel 
 To be adrift wherever fate might carry, 
 
 130 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Or whither Pleiads guided. Fare you well ! 
 (They part] A mad farewell ! 
 
 Botbwell (Singing at a distance) 
 
 Amour na point de toy. Exit 
 
 )ueen My stateliness falls off; so natural 
 It seems to hear the man's love in his voice, 
 No more than the inevitable youth 
 In the least movement of his lip and eye. 
 I think that he was born to be my servant, 
 And could I treat him with more confidence, 
 He would not be forgetful of his place. 
 The fault is mine ; I tremble at his coming, 
 I who have been his merry mate in war, 
 And borne his soldier's praise without a blush 
 In full sight of my army. 'Tis my weakness 1 
 I never shall grow holy among men, 
 And yet I wish them ever good, not evil, 
 And long to give them pleasure of such portion 
 Of wit or beauty as were made my dower. 
 My father sighed to hear I was a lass, 
 And felt the land was doomed. There is a kingdom 
 Meet for a woman's rule : Ave Maria, 
 At thy Son's feet, on heaven's gold-burnished floor, 
 How placidly thou kneelest for thy crown 
 Of stars. Olove! 
 
 A sa diuinite 
 Conulent F infinite. 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 SCENE V Kirk o* Fields; the next night; the KING'S 
 room. The QUEEN and DARNLEY; nobles playing cards 
 at a distance 
 
 Darnley Why should you leave me ? 
 
 Queen I have told you, dear ; 
 
 To trip a dance for Hymen's sake, and carry 
 Bride Margaret to the bride-bed. 
 
 Darnley I remember . . . 
 
 Queen Ah, so do I such pretty, blessed hours, 
 When you were Cupid's lofty bachelor, 
 And I the captive queen he led in triumph. 
 Now do not darken, for the shorn-off curls 
 Will soon be up again, and soon your cheeks 
 Will catch the tint that fled them. 
 
 Darnley I am clear, 
 
 I almost think, of blemish ; in the glass 
 There showed but few ill-marks. You must not watch me. 
 I am so livid yet. 
 
 Queen Come, come, this shame 
 
 And coyness are of health ; for ever springtide 
 Is set on brave appearance. 
 
 Darnley I have reason 
 
 To covet in your face the lovely wholeness 
 Of your complexion ; we were once a pair 
 Of world-unequalled persons. 
 
 132 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Queen Foolish boy, 
 
 A few more patient days will mate our looks, 
 Since hearts are come together. 
 
 Darnley Let me hold 
 
 Your sloping fingers still ; I feel secure 
 Only when you are close. 
 
 Queen So apprehensive 
 
 At Robert Stuart's tale ! Alas, you know 
 How meddlesome he is, and though he told you 
 Of danger, when I questioned him, he looked 
 Hot with his lying, and denied expressly 
 All he had spoken. 
 
 Darnley Bastard ! With low mouth 
 
 He dared to give the lie to me ; my sword 
 Will be a restless weapon at my side 
 Till it drink satisfaction. 
 
 Queen (Apart) O the future ! 
 
 My soul aches when I span his convalescence, 
 And see him in the violent world again ; 
 Intolerable change ! I have your promise 
 You will be gentle in your government, 
 Since God has shown you mercy. 
 
 Darnley Do you doubt me ? 
 
 My princess, I have almost died j disease 
 Has made my old life ashes, and implanted 
 A new life that's a yearning when you bend 
 Above me, then I know it is for you, 
 To please you, win your smiles that like the sun 
 
 133 
 
'The Tragic Mary 
 
 Take lonesomeness away. O Marie, Marie, 
 I have been such an outcast, I who have 
 Youth's social sting in every pulse, whose actions 
 Must need have eyes upon them to commend 
 The doing . . . 
 
 Queen Hush, we will not look afar 
 
 From this kind present, or if memory struggle 
 To bear her part in loving, let her bring, 
 As in a rosy basket, all the flowers 
 She swept up from our nuptials. 
 
 Darnley Do not laugh, 
 
 My Mary but the poet you awaken 
 In every man who sights you, made me turn 
 Some stanzas in your praise . . about the turtle, 
 And how she cannot weary for her mate 
 More than I do for you who keep my heart, 
 
 " My heart which shall be sure 
 With service to the deed 
 Unto that lady pure, 
 The weal of womanhood" 
 
 Your tears ! 
 
 Queen It is such piteous exultation 
 
 If I can please you, Henry, that it brims 
 A little at my eyes. 
 
 Darnley You must not weep, 
 
 Lest they should say we quarrel. Let me fling 
 
 134 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 A rainbow-laugh amid these showers. By Venus, 
 I'll tell you how I closed my monody. 
 
 <c Yet no mirth till we meet y 
 Shall cause me be content, 
 But still my heart I ardent 
 In sorrowful sighing sore t 
 Till that time she's present 
 Farewell^ I say no more y 
 
 <$uoth King Henry Stuart." 
 
 When, pat ! I signed my name, they brought my meal, 
 And I was doggish-weary, half-asleep. 
 Is it not comic ? I am bound to laugh, 
 As you are, at the wantonness ha, ha ! 
 
 Queen You have not been so merry a long while j 
 'Tis true that youth is joy, or is not youth ! 
 I see my handsome bridegroom once again, 
 Now that the round lips chuckle. 
 
 Enter BOTHWELL 
 
 Ah, my lord, 
 
 You find me a transgressor of my promise, 
 Sworn out of love to lovers. Shall I slip 
 Sebastian's revel ? I would rather break 
 Engagement with an envoy. 
 
 Bothwell Lighted torches 
 
 Await you on the steps ; there yet is time 
 To entertain an hour at Holyrood. 
 
 135 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Darnley But do not go ! 
 
 Bothwell (Apart) My God, what din they make 
 Below us fools ! I must suppress their noise. 
 (To the QUEEN) Not go ! The couple would forswear 
 
 your service 
 After such sharp rebuff! 
 
 Queen Your honest blame 
 
 Stirs me to blush and hasten. (Kissing DARNLEY) 
 
 Botkwell (Apart) Curse her favours ! 
 
 She yields him those surpassing lips that have 
 Envasseled me, at distance from their breath 5 
 But yet she does not tremble : it is I 
 Who give her body laws. Exit 
 
 Queen What cruel fate 
 
 That kisses, though they lock a treasured hour, 
 Must afterwards unlock it ! Loose my hand, 
 Dear boy. 
 
 Darnley O Mary, it is very strong, 
 This beautiful, close hand, at which my life 
 Drags for its safety. I must shut my eyes, 
 And dash into my ruin if I loose . . . 
 My heart bounds in affrightment. 
 
 Queen I will come 
 
 With early morrow ; but for surer help 
 And comfort take this ring of bright-eyed stones, 
 Which I have warmed with use, and happily 
 Turn you to slumber, while this Argus tarries 
 To keep my watch about you. One last kiss ! 
 
 136 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 Darnley Your mouth revives me ! 
 
 Enter BOTHWELL 
 
 >ueen (To BOTHWELL) To the marriage ! Come. 
 Exeunt the QUEEN and BOTHWELL : the nobles 
 rise up and follow them as a train 
 
 Darnley 'Tis very lonely ; the year-long alarm 
 That has been madness to my forward youth, 
 Driving its sap and fervour into violence 
 Of desperation, seizes me to-night. 
 I fly from my own body like a wild 
 And shivering horse that leaves the vehicle, 
 From which it broke, behind it on a road, 
 While it careers through distance. She alone, 
 My wife and queen, can hold this passion's head, 
 And keep me still. 
 
 Enter DARNLEY'S page, TAYLOR 
 
 In mounting have you heard 
 A small and careful noise ? 
 
 Page 'Tis strange there is 
 
 No wind, and yet a windiness of sounds. 
 I feel as when my mother told me tales 
 Of murderers or of goblins o' the mine : 
 Our house and all the pantries, as she sang, 
 Grew restless to my listening ears, until 
 I went to bed and slept. 
 
 Darnley Then let us go ; 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Shake up the pillows, Taylor. Why, the queen 
 Is moving through the glitter of a dance 
 Scarcely a half-mile off us. I believe 
 We both are childish, thinking of the fields 
 That lie beyond the garden. Let us sleep. 
 
 (They lie down) 
 {He repeats aloud) Cor meum conturbatum est in me: 
 
 etformldo mortis cecidit super me. 
 Why did I choose that psalm and study it, 
 To get it thus by rote ? I have escaped 
 The defamating grave by such an inch 
 That now I tremble. What has moved my heart 
 To measure life against the weights of death ? 
 A woman's priceless, pale magnificence, 
 Docile to each least claim, and sweet as weather 
 That gems the boughs with florets. Die, go down 
 'Neath bloody stroke, or feel my breathing stolen 
 By those I have betrayed impossible, 
 While she is counter to my punishment ! 
 Ha ! There is subtle noise upon the floor ; 
 It terrifies attention, and its creak 
 Tolls through my very bowels. Taylor, listen ! 
 
 Page What is it, sire ? 
 
 Darnley A little, dangerous sound. 
 
 There ! Do you hear it ? 
 
 Page Ay, it is a mouse ; 
 
 I see him sliding hitherward. Mew, mew ! 
 I'll out of bed, and chase it to its hole. 
 
 '38 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 SCENE VI Outside the Kirk e? Fields; BOTHWELL, PARIS, 
 HAY, and HEPBURN 
 
 Bothwell Hell ! Must I wait on time to do my 
 
 work, 
 
 The unconcerned and common moments, mere 
 Serfs of occasion? stand with senses ready, 
 Yet wait upon a match that will not burn 
 As quick as hedge-snake moves her rings of skin, 
 Though fire itself is circling up the splint ? 
 Curse my reliance on a tricksy force 
 Not bound in this right arm ! O weariness, 
 That mounts to terror ! Lads, I shall roar out 
 Unless the noise begin. The very night 
 Is but an ear, expecting what it knows 
 Will burst from silence. Hepburn, the nine months 
 I lay enwombed were shorter than these seconds 
 That travail with explosion. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 The glow-worm has a firm shine in the tail ; 
 Have we a Jack-a-lanthorn in our service, 
 Will-o'-the-Wisp, a lighted impotence, 
 Lustless and unconducive ? On my soul, 
 The spark is out. Is there no window-pane 
 Through which I could be spy on my tormentor, 
 This slack, starved faggot ? 
 
 Paris Monsieur, round the house 
 
 139 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 There's such a casement. 
 
 Hepburn But the de'il himself, 
 
 For all the frying that he gets below, 
 Would scarcely put his head in through the place 
 At this sweet time. 
 
 Bothwell The air has grown congealed 5 
 
 'Twill be incapable of prodigy 
 If kept like this. Til go. 
 
 Hepburn You shall not. 
 
 Hay Madness ! 
 
 My lord, be patient, or the king and you 
 Will both fly up like witches. 
 
 Bothwell Are you certain 
 
 The flame caught ? There is booming at my heart, 
 As if the blood touched powder. I am mad, 
 As all are who await results, and do not 
 Whip their own actions to the goal. My project 
 Is gone to sleep, like yon unbusied town 
 With all the ashen hearths. I cannot choose 
 But look to it Halloo ! The darkness cracks ! 
 The die is cast. (Kirk o* Fields is blown into the air) 
 
 Paris (Falling flat on the ground) Alas, a thunder- 
 storm 
 In one affrighting clap. Monsieur, what is't ? 
 
 Botbwell Oft have I wrought great enterprises, never 
 They struck me with a fear like this. The pit 
 Of dun destruction gapes and all the noise 
 Of torment makes acclaim about my ears. 
 
 140 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Hay, Hepburn, is it over ? How the air 
 
 Was tranquil it invades ! I give my deed 
 
 A voice, I hear it cry. Up, fellows, run ! 
 
 Quaking, you fools ? It is accomplishment 
 
 That shouts and triumphs. Hepburn, lend a torch ! 
 
 I see the stones, no bodies. 
 
 Hay Crushed like rats, 
 
 I warrant them. 
 
 Hepburn Off, off! 
 
 Bothwell The rocks have heard. 
 
 Hepburn The people will not sleep. 
 
 Bothwell Away, away ! 
 
 Exeunt inflight 
 
 SCENE VII Holyrood; a misty, dismal morn: the QUEEN 
 paces her bed-chamber distractedly 
 
 >ueen How the great theme has shattered me ! 
 
 The bride 
 
 I put to bed is coy, reluctant, dull ; 
 I could not give her counsel as a wife 
 One who is disenchanted, tolerant, 
 Gentle to imperception who am still 
 Aggressive and audacious in desire 
 As any unsunned girl, and, since my marriage, 
 
 141 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 I know not why, more full of reverie. 
 
 She wearied so and vexed me that there was 
 
 No mood in me to sleep ; but, lying down 
 
 In my loosed ruffles for a little rest, 
 
 I dropped so sheer off into fantasy 
 
 That I began i' the middle of a dream, 
 
 Where I was dancing fast to give the tune 
 
 To one who touched a deaf, worm-eaten lute, 
 
 Until there came a booming through the air j 
 
 And then it seemed that we were thrown together, 
 
 Stepping most blithely, and I turned to greet 
 
 My sunny David but the face was Bothwell's, 
 
 And with a bitter shrieking I awoke. 
 
 They said my baby had been laid to rest 
 
 F the dressing-room ; it will remove my thoughts 
 
 From all that happened at that bloody stair 
 
 If I no longer face the tapestry 
 
 Of Venus' bleeding Love. (Going to the cradle) How 
 
 soft he sleeps, 
 
 Scotland's small king a lovely, lusty lad ! 
 And now he opes his eyes and smiles, a sweet, 
 Young, morning welcome. (Taking him up) As the 
 
 blessed Queen, 
 
 Although the sword has pierced her very heart, 
 Can take her babe to sport upon her lap, 
 And see him catch at cherries, we will laugh 
 And love together till the angels come 
 On tiptoe to espy us. 
 
 142 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Enter MARY SETON 
 
 Mary, Mary ! 
 
 What terror strikes you ? I have nearly dropped 
 The child ; there is a mortal agony 
 About your lips and eyes. Deliver us 
 Your message, and remember we are royal, 
 We can give audience to calamities, 
 And keep our state. 
 
 Mary Seton Lady, the king, the king ! 
 
 Lord Bothwell comes. 
 
 Enter BOTHWELL 
 
 Bothwell With sudden, fearful news. 
 
 (To MARY SETON) Take the young cub away. 
 
 Exit MARY SETON with the child 
 My queen, the heavens 
 
 Have thought upon, your wrongs, and by the shock 
 Of earthquake, or by sulphurous thunderbolt 
 Blasted the Kirk o* Fields. You are a widow. 
 
 g)ueen The king is dead ? Let me take thought 
 
 awhile 
 My husband . . . 
 
 Bothwell David Riccio's murderer 
 
 Is lying in his night-shift on the ground. 
 {jhieen How slain ? 
 
 Bothwell (Apart) The marble creature ! But she 
 caught 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Her breath; 'tis not all horror. I was roused 
 
 From my new rest by a great, breaking cry, 
 
 Not of men's voices as it seemed, a nightmare 
 
 Of heavy earth that cried out in her sleep, 
 
 Convulsed with struggle : then the roaring crowd 
 
 Pressed up to me ; I ran out in the streets, 
 
 And found men swarming round what seemed the mouth 
 
 Of an abyss, for 'mid the tumbled walls 
 
 Few dared to pass : but I broke through the ring, 
 
 And, groping wildly with my torch, half-stumbled 
 
 Against a body, which the slanted light 
 
 Showed lying scarless. 
 
 >ueen I had supped with him, 
 
 But for remembrance of the bridal hour. 
 Oh, horrible ! he lies there as one murdered, 
 
 (Pacing away and throwing open the door of the 
 
 supper-room] 
 Flung from his bed dishonoured. (Apart) Heaven has 
 
 crept 
 
 Into my ancient thoughts, and done the deed, 
 I, David I half-prompted in my prayers 
 When I besought God's pity on your soul. 
 I am a guilty woman. At the hour 
 I learned the truth, that the king's missing sword 
 Was found stuck deep in Riccio's breast, I nurtured 
 A hope that waxed, almost as waxed the bones 
 Of my young child, that he might be exposed 
 To some vast ignominy and distress. 
 
 144 
 
T'he ^Tragic Mary 
 
 Bothwell (Coming nearer) He lies, a heap, 'mid dislo- 
 cated beams, 
 And nether stones cast sunward. 
 
 Queen (Apart) I forgave him ; 
 
 Yet at my heart there was a reticence, 
 A strange dissatisfaction. 
 
 Botbwell You rejoice 
 
 The elements have granted this divorce 
 Without your stir ? 
 
 Queen I am more pitiful 
 
 Than aught beside. I feel his jewelled hand 
 That held mine at the altar. 
 
 Bothwell (In a low mutter) Fire of hell ! 
 Talk not of trifles ! I can see him lie, 
 Just his white back, beyond the muddled heap 
 Of stones, and mould, and rafters. 
 
 Queen We are dazed. 
 
 Hepburn, a death makes terrible, new knowledge 
 For brains to hold. This stroke has overthrown 
 All constancy of reason : I am blind. 
 Yet, earl, there is no storm-cloud in the sky ; 
 A mist that drizzles, seeming innocent 
 Of flame as old men's tears, mere wretchedness, 
 Inept and with no rage. 
 
 Bothwell True, true ! Perchance 
 
 It was some accident. 
 
 Queen How ? With what means ? 
 
 Bothwell Some stores of gunpowder are thereabouts ; 
 H5 L 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 The clap was rather earth-born in its voice, 
 Methought, than of the air. 
 
 Queen It burst on slumber, 
 
 As judgment on the dead. I seemed to hear 
 It leap upon the hill-tops, gather breath, 
 Then shout a zigzag 'larum while a sickness 
 Came o'er me as of earthquake, though the posts 
 O' the bed stood rigid round me as I woke. 
 My ears yet rumble. But I could not know 
 The kernel of that uproar was a corpse, 
 Which called me wife and dearest yester eve, 
 A sick, close-clinging boy : this makes me shudder 
 More than the hideous ground-swell. I have loved 
 Its victim : God, who registered our troth, 
 Can make good my affection ; it was tried 
 By wild devices on my husband's part, 
 Repulse of the outgoings of my love, 
 If I but leant his way. Oh, I am shaken 
 To think of my late rancour and impatience, 
 That found relief in a futurity 
 Which was without him, brighter, unimpeded, 
 And blank from his affronts. 
 
 (She throws herself in a chair and covers her 
 
 eyes^ tearless) 
 
 Bothwell She feels some guilt, 
 
 Soon shall we be incorporate in the crime, 
 This woman and myself. At Kirk o' Fields 
 Our banns have just been published. Ha, the thump 
 
 146 
 
tragic Mary 
 
 And mettle of my blood ! (Aloud) He, who is stark 
 Amid the shrubs, was by all sorts contemned, 
 Contemned by the indifferent 'mong your subjects 
 A despicable husband. 
 
 ^ueen In his eyes 
 
 Last night a ruined youthfulness asked pity, 
 His kiss had soft demands. For many weeks 
 In disposition he has altered ; humble 
 And penitent he has been tossed from sleep 
 To death. (Rjsing) My lord of Bothwell, I had 
 
 rather 
 
 Lose life and throne than that this cruel deed 
 Should stay unpunished. Vengeance rigorous 
 For God's grace and my comfort shall be dealt : 
 By witnesses the fact shall be confronted, 
 And have clear trial. 
 
 Bothwell 'Tis impossible 
 
 That anything but accident or bolt 
 From out the sky is guilty. 
 
 Queen Could I think so ! 
 
 My thoughts misgive me. 
 
 Botkwell Fie, there is no treason 
 
 Has ever wrought a pomp of such destruction 
 As only comes by thunder. 
 
 Enter HUNTLY 
 
 Huntly Madam, madam, 
 
 Words have been scared away. 
 
 H7 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 >ueen And tears as well ; 
 
 Something is rolled against the gates of weeping. 
 
 Huntly You press the bed-post. I shall send your 
 
 Maries 
 To nurse this sorrow. 
 
 Bothwell (To HUNTLY) You and I will hasten 
 To guard the spot, and see the body laid 
 Within some private house. 
 
 Huntly (To BOTHWELL) It was a mine 
 That did the business. 
 
 >ueen Traitors among men, 
 
 Not the mysterious sky ! Their punishment 
 Pertains then to my birthright as a queen. 
 Make strict examination. (To BOTHWELL) You, my 
 
 lord, 
 
 Our flawless subject, think our crown dishonoured 
 Until the authors of this factious mischief 
 Be brought to law and judgment. 
 
 Bothwell (Apart) She has looked 
 
 Her old way at me, not a broken glance, 
 But full and straight, a jasper seal of favour, 
 With no complicity. (Aloud ) Your will is law. 
 Come, Huntly, I will join you in a moment, 
 When I have had some drink. Exit HUNTLY 
 
 (As he moves to the door} I never felt 
 My courage cold like this, nor firmer too : 
 I see no future but the shaken ground 
 On which I march to kingship. Exit 
 
 148 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Enter the MARIES 
 
 Queen How I change ! 
 
 Tears soak my calm a river with the ice 
 Turning to river also. It is early. 
 Light the fire : do not speak. I must lie down, 
 And think of a great nothing. Is this grief? 
 I shiver and am conscious of the light, 
 As if 'twere yesterday begun again, 
 And yet forgotten. Beg them in the house 
 To make no noise ; that is lord Bothwell's step, 
 A sounding tread. Death sets such bitterness 
 In conscience ; 'tis his sting ! My Maries, kiss me ; 
 Ye put my black dress on when I was married. 
 We said his hair curled gallantly. Your mouths 
 Make the past warm that haunts me as a ghost. 
 Unwrap my sables. 
 
 Mary Fleming Now the fire springs bright ! 
 
 149 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I The Dule-Ch amber in Edinburgh Castle; the 
 QUEEN and MARY LIVINGSTONE 
 
 ghteen Put out the candles, let the sunshine in j 
 Mine eyes ache in this painful, petty light. 
 O Mary, there is spring-tide out of doors, 
 The hawthorn-buds are breaking. I have glanced 
 Down from my chamber casement on the moat 
 Deep, deep below, and there was shining green, 
 And turfy glimmer on the cold, grey rocks. 
 It must be blithe without. 
 
 Alary Livingstone Round Holyrood 
 
 An angry people gathers. Dear my mistress, 
 Let the black hangings canopy your bed 
 As lowering thunder-clouds . . . 
 
 ghteen You cruel girl, 
 
 Through the long, sombre record of the night 
 Did we not kneel ? Altho' I fear the touch 
 Of the stone-tombs, did I make shortened prayer 
 For his unhouselled soul ? Was I not broken 
 By the great dirge that rose for him ? 
 
 Alary Livingstone Ay, madam, 
 
 The dawn was white about us when we left 
 
 150 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 The Royal Chapel. You may put religion 
 Aside, and study vengeance. 
 
 Queen For the dead 
 
 We will not cease to pray, and they shall never 
 Be absent from our thoughts. Give me the air; 
 I swoon again. It is captivity 
 To breathe in this close darkness. (She faints) 
 
 Mary Livingstone Let the light 
 
 Flood in on her ! 
 
 Enter LADY LETHINGTON and MARY SETON 
 
 Mary Seton Alack, what little health 
 
 My lady has ! 
 
 Lady Letkington She must have heard the cries. 
 
 Mary Livingstone Unpack your gossip. 
 
 Lady Lethlngton Girls, there is a cartel 
 
 Set up, a wicked writing. Peace, she stirs. 
 
 Mary Livingstone Stoop nearer. 
 
 Mary Seton They have dared to name her name 
 
 With Bothwell's and the lady of Buccleuch's. 
 
 Queen (Opening her eyes) It is a dream. Yet tell 
 
 me everything. 
 You all look reticent. 
 
 Mary Seton But you will fall 
 
 Back into swoon for comfort. 
 
 Queen Let me hear ! 
 
 I shall not build on faintness for my help ; 
 
'The Tragic Mary 
 
 Rather on God, my Truth. 
 
 Mary Seton In slanderous night 
 
 You were writ up ... 
 
 Queen A murderess. Make my pillow, 
 
 Now she has loosed the shutters. We shall need 
 Time to prepare our nerve. How firm the city 
 Holds to the land in sunlight ! I am firm ; 
 I shall not slip back into faint or drowse, 
 For anything they say within the street. 
 Fetch me his miniature. 
 
 Mary Livingstone The king's ? 
 
 Queen I laid it 
 
 Beneath my psalter. 
 
 Mary Livingstone Madam, here it is. 
 
 {They gather round the QUEEN as she gazes at It) 
 
 Queen His eyes are touchstones : I have thrown 
 
 mine wide; 
 
 They blench not from his portrait any more 
 Than from his white, blind body. As I stood 
 Below the feet, my grief was turned by death 
 To stone of wonder : it was marvellous 
 I saw what once embraced me, spoke my name, 
 Wronged me, and wept me back. That awful hand 
 Impossible to think of! wedded me ; 
 On that small piece of sculpture, once his mouth, 
 I had expended kisses. . . . Then the past 
 Grew void ; I could not weep : 
 Yet be my witnesses I meet his eyes. 
 
 152 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 How dead you lie about me I Take the picture. 
 You say the Earl of Bothwell is accused 
 Of helping in this deed ? 
 
 Lady Lethington 'Tis said he wrought 
 
 The very murder. 
 
 >ueen (Rising). Girls, there have been days 
 On which the king, my husband, spoke such insult 
 I could have plucked the sky down on his head : 
 Lord Bothwell never hated him, no cause 
 Of quarrel lay between them, no distrust, 
 No memories, and no shame. A throstle, hark ! 
 Sing, sing, keen bird ! Oh, I forget myself; 
 My anger is an impulse at my throat 
 As piercing as your love ! Can punishment 
 Take aim, when the Lord Admiral and I 
 Are found in fault ? I recollect the eve 
 Of David Riccio's murder as a point 
 From which my new suspicions dart on those 
 Who hide behind detraction. What strange spell 
 Is fixing me to gaze on Kirk o* Fields, 
 On that black, hollow spot ? The noon has altered ; 
 Close up the shutters. I have never seen 
 A world so sullen . . . and you say my name 
 Is on the Tolbooth ? If I bend my ear 
 I catch hoarse cries ; I could not suffer hate ; 
 That buzzing frenzies me. Of all this evil 
 There is no fraction in my soul. It seems 
 As if I stood amid a roaring crowd, 
 
 '53 
 
*fhe tragic Mary 
 
 Till to my deafened senses the vile tumult 
 
 Seems to arise within. Am I a ghost 
 
 To pace yon uninhabitable rooms, 
 
 Where I put on my silver-broidered gown 
 
 Hardly a week ago, and trimmed my hair 
 
 The newest fashion, softly brushing it 
 
 Clear from the temples ? I must leave this haunt 
 
 For Seton. 
 
 Lady Letkington With Lord Bothwell ? 
 
 O^ueen He shall mind 
 
 My boy 5 all people shall have knowledge how 
 I rate their libel the one, honest man, 
 Who in his eagerness to do me service 
 Almost waylays my thoughts. Argyle and Huntly, 
 With Lethington, shall give me private escort 
 To my deep country home, where I can live 
 Retired, and watch the willows' glinting buds. 
 I have a captive's instincts, and already 
 Anticipate small pleasures with a passion 
 Intemperately ardent. (Looking out) Who is that 
 Rides hither from the High Street ? Shame ! The earl, 
 Guarded by fifty men ; his hand is moving 
 Above his hilt. Close up the shutters darkness ! 
 
 '54 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 SCENE II Edinburgh ; MORAY'S lodging : a meal laid on 
 the table MORAY solemnly pacing up and down ; be 
 stops and looks toward Si. Giles 
 
 Moray A godly city ! Up and down the bruit 
 Of murder spreads ; they name her by her name, 
 She is at last proclaimed. How I have watched 
 The will of heaven, as a blank sentinel, 
 Set on a tower before the lurid sky, 
 Who keeps his station howsoe'er the clouds 
 May burthen or discharge. I am exempt 
 From any portion in this infamy ; 
 As David's son, restrained by Providence 
 From bloody acts, that he with stainless hand 
 Might rear the temple-walls, I am withdrawn 
 From sight and warrant of unholy deeds, 
 Which being done advance me and the cause 
 Of Christ's religion. How I lean on Him, 
 Feeling within a kingship sure as His, 
 Founded on righteousness. 
 
 Enter LETHINGTON 
 
 The time is near. 
 Letbington What, wrapt in doubt, my lord ! I little 
 
 thought 
 
 When we got rid of that untoward, young fool, 
 There would be such excitement on his death. 
 
 '55 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 A fool is not so rare that one must miss him, 
 And mourn his loss, and give him wild farewells, 
 As 'twere impossible to find his like. 
 
 Moray So royal a victim : but what gives me cause 
 For gravest apprehension is the fact 
 That the queen's name is touched with obloquy. 
 The hand that flared along the palace-wall 
 Hath penned the Tolbooth cartel : they are doomed 
 Adulterer and adulteress. 
 
 Letblngton Devilish lies ! 
 
 The queen acts in a noble childishness 
 Of unsuspicion, ready to espouse 
 Whoever is accused, since she herself, 
 So rankly charged, is wholly without fault. 
 At Seton now she wears her olden smile ; 
 It makes me happy that we widowed her 
 To see her beauty peep again as gay 
 As the young gorse when fire hath harried it ; 
 But while she freshens in the country wind 
 The Canongate grows ribald. 
 
 Moray It affirms 
 
 The simple truth : my sister, Lethington, 
 I knew it at the hour of Riccio's death, 
 And therefore stayed not my avenging hand 
 Is full of amorous charms and subtlety ; 
 And will not rest till she has brought her crown 
 To shame with her idolatry and lust. 
 
 Letbmgton Well, 'tis an aspect and a possible 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Solution of occurrents, though I own 
 That I mislike it. The ambassador 
 Will dine with us to-night ? 
 
 Moray Yes, Killigrew. 
 
 Lethington Then we must play our parts. 
 
 Moray I have desired 
 
 Lord Bothwell's company ; in entertainment 
 He may declare his wickedness : we find 
 In Scripture that the feast will oft expose 
 Unguarded bosoms. The Lord Chancellor 
 Makes up our number. 
 
 Lethington As a merry five, 
 
 Who know the merit in their purposes, 
 Let's drink and talk as 'twere before the fall. 
 You move uneasily. 
 
 Moray I would be private 
 
 'Till the appointed hour. 
 
 Lethington Yet look not black 
 
 To very guiltiness ! Exit MORAY 
 
 Truly, murder is like the small-pox; those infected, if 
 they be of sound habit, may recover, and no blemish on 
 their skin ; others there are it will be up hill down dale 
 with their complexions to their lives' end. . . . My good 
 compeer suffers religion to play duenna to his soul; her 
 presence gives warrant to the offences 'tis her office to 
 ignore. He spied Morton from the window. These twoare 
 confederate ; there is the make of a ruler in either, and 
 for my part John Knox's Monstrous Regiment of Women 
 
 157 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 has my sanction. Women cannot govern, being under 
 the dominion of a god. Melvil told her roundly it would 
 be in her a gross oversight to marry a man full of all 
 vices : she said she had no such thing in her mind, and 
 came to me for illumination. I told Melvil to retire 
 diligently before dinner, since we should all shortly be 
 killed if Lord Bothwell had bruit of the business ; and 
 for her I looked dreamily at the damask in her cheeks. 
 She is devoted to destruction and she knows it not. 
 
 Re-enter MORAY with MORTON 
 
 Yet to be put to sea by Dan Cupid in a cockboat 
 is no mean fate. The merchant-ship lades and unlades 
 her cargo with care. Traffic and weariness ! Perchance 
 it were wiser to rock on the waves and sink. (Aloud) 
 Well, gentlemen, the latest rumours ? 
 
 Morton We must stand by him, bear the matter 
 
 through. 
 
 The queen is branded fiercelier every hour, 
 And every hour with fiercer lavishness 
 Pours honours on the earl. 
 
 Moray Hush, hush ! His step. 
 
 Lethington Not stealthy as a murderer's. Do not 
 
 keep 
 
 A visage so discordant. We must greet 
 Our willing instruments. 
 
 Enter BOTHWELL 
 
 Good even, earl, 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 An hour ago I crossed you unperceived, 
 Mounting the Castle Hill. How well your looks 
 Sustain your innocence ! Calumniation 
 Slinks in the rear at menace of your loud 
 And angry voice ; the blithe temerity 
 Of your undaunted brow and liberal stride 
 Themselves are witness to you. 
 
 Bothwell We shall see 
 
 At the assize, the queen shall promise me, 
 Who will look blithe and who will hang the face. 
 Old Lennox pesters her. 
 
 Moray If you are cleared 
 
 Of the aspersion . . . 
 
 Bothwell If what ? Stand by me 
 
 Or I will blab ; I have the queen's own ear ; 
 The streets are filling with my retinue, 
 And every hour my conscience drops a load. 
 That marriage with Jane Gordon she petitions 
 For a divorce, and she shall have it too. 
 
 Moray Peace ! The ambassador ! 
 
 Enter KILLEGREW 
 
 Most noble guest, 
 
 You were more welcome were we not persuaded 
 Your mistress' anger at a crime so strange 
 And horrible that it confounds belief 
 Speeds you to Scotland. 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Kills grew An incredible 
 
 Calamity. 
 
 Lethington It has transfixed us all. 
 Two days and nights we doubted, charged the skies 
 With brewing thunderbolts, uptore the earth, 
 Found in its entrails no betraying store, 
 And finally as men, baulked at all points, 
 Betook ourselves to slander. Such invention 
 There hath not been, such malice of hot minds, 
 Since Adam first was tempted to assign 
 His trespass to a lady. The result . . . 
 
 Botbwell Humph ! I will put to silence this abuse, 
 This setting up of placards, tickets, bills 
 Of defamation. I have found a cartel 
 Reeking in red that names me murderer : 
 By heaven, I'll give them taste of their own blood 
 Who thus confront my eyes with effigies, 
 And keep my ears a-simmer with the cry 
 Of devil, witch . . . 
 
 Moray Remember, gentlemen, 
 
 My sister's honour. 
 
 Killegrew There the point that touches 
 
 My noble mistress ; not for the world's wealth 
 Would her pure breast conceive impiety 
 Of any prince that breathes : hence she implores 
 That were the man found guilty of this crime 
 Her nearest friend . . . 
 
 Bothwell We would convict him straight. 
 
 1 60 
 
'The Tragic Mary 
 
 I have myself o'erturned the blackened stones 
 Of Kirk o* Field, and to the unsmirched corse 
 Paid honourable rites. 
 
 Moray Around our princess 
 
 Were clustered her most faithful counsellors ; 
 No traitor in the camp. I left her thus, 
 A month ago, being summoned to St. Andrews 
 By my sore-travailling wife : while by her side, 
 Assiduous to assuage, a messenger 
 Burst in and turned my conjugal distress 
 To fear and passion for the commonwealth. 
 No clue, no clue, though I have passed my time 
 Among the preachers, praying openly 
 Of God both to reveal and to revenge. 
 
 Morton 'Tis all conjecture ; lacking evidence 
 We must refrain from judgment. 
 
 Bothwell I will clear 
 
 My name, and quickly 
 
 Lethington (Apart to MORAY) Would indeed we all 
 Had bosoms as transparent. Good our host, 
 Methinks your dinner cools. 
 
 Moray True, I have guests. 
 
 Be seated friends. (To KILLEGREW) We are your mis- 
 tress' servants 
 
 In all, and to her health and to the blest 
 Conjunction of these realms we drink. A pledge ! 
 
 (They drink^ except BOTHWELL) 
 
 Morton (Apart to him) Drink to your blest conjunction. 
 161 M 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Lethington England holds 
 
 Our choicest hopes, and our young church in her 
 Must find a nursing-mother. (To BOTH WELL) Earl, we find 
 Such comfort in your confidence to wipe 
 Stain from your honour and that dearer name 
 That is the treasure of our loyalty, 
 We drink to your acquittal. 
 
 Bothwell Ay, the queen ! 
 
 Couple my name with hers and I am blest. 
 God love her ! Gentlemen, he is a traitor 
 Who harbours of the queen an evil thought. 
 
 (They drink) 
 
 SCENE III Seton; the great hall 
 MARY SETON and LADY LETHINGTON 
 
 Mary Seton Methinks she grows each day more 
 
 beautiful ; 
 
 There's change, and when I go to waken her, 
 She is not lying dormant in her grace, 
 But ready for me, leaning toward the window 
 With her great, buoyant eyes ; she has such talk 
 Of stars above the city seen at dawn, 
 Like flowers in blow, so round and luminous 
 They are a joy to look on ; and the birds 
 Keep her alert from daybreak. Like a child, 
 With a soft wildness in serenity, 
 
 162 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 She lies, and I must love her. 
 
 Lady Let king ton Recollect, 
 
 Among the daffodils of Inchmahome 
 You found her perfect ; she forgot too soon 
 When the young robins died. I thought her hard. 
 
 Mary Seton She was not hard to the rough city-cries j 
 As often as they reached her she bent down, 
 And sobbed through heaving shoulders. 
 
 Lady Lethington She neglects 
 
 Her broidery-frame for shooting at the butts ; 
 'Tis ill advised. 
 
 Mary Seton To take physicians' counsel ? 
 
 Lady Lethington But her dule ! 
 At Seton she discards her heavy veil, 
 And glides, a shepherdess, among the trees, 
 Her head so lightly covered that the wind 
 Raises and drops her hair. It vexes me 
 More than aught else to see her noblemen 
 Gather together in a knot, while she 
 Carelessly paces up and down the sward, 
 With the Lord Bothwell as ambassador. 
 
 Mary Seton He brings her tidings of the prince. 
 
 Lady Lethington Ah, so 
 
 If you believe it. 
 
 Enter the QUEEN and BOTHWELL 
 
 They will cross the room. 
 Seton, she lets him lead her by the hand. 
 
 163 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 ghieen This slander that is just hypocrisy 
 At gossip with dame malice in the sun ! 
 Since you will have it so, an open trial ! 
 Let your accusers look upon your brow ; 
 They shall be summoned to the Tolbooth there 
 To meet you, happy that you are a man 
 With sword to finger. When you are acquitted, 
 The traitor who still doubts you in his heart 
 Shall answer to your challenge, and myself 
 By regal proclamation stamp you pure : 
 For I have strangely felt about my heart 
 The blight of sudden, outward blackness cast 
 By winds, from who knows whence, upon my name. 
 I must be merry, or the withering threads 
 Would show among my hairs ! This world of grass, 
 The sappy buds, and of the luting birds . . . 
 I run into the springtide for my trial ; 
 The dews and lights acquit me. Yet, my lord, 
 The knowledge that another has been covered 
 With like suspicion, one who will be strong 
 To make men cry Not Guilty, is a pleasure 
 Beyond the voice of earth which sanctions all 
 That I can prove of innocence. Remember, 
 We are companions, and you fight for me 
 Slaying our accusation. 
 
 Bothwell Gracious queen, 
 
 I am unworthy ... I can only stablish 
 A point of law, an alibi. 
 
'The Tragic Mary 
 
 Queen Enough ! 
 
 What twisted minds will after that dispute 
 Our foreignness to guilt. (To MARY SETON) Here, sweet, 
 
 unpin 
 My little hat of taffety. 
 
 Botbwell (Apart) Amulets 
 
 Are always small, yet work on fate and hell : 
 That charm, that bit of black and feathered stuff, 
 Amid the glints of hair, is masterful 
 O'er sense and and reason I could kiss the thing, 
 And half possess the owner : such distraction 
 Shoots from a trifle in a woman's dress, 
 If she conjure it to be beautiful 
 By what she is herself. That little hat ! 
 
 Queen I long to see you triumph ! You must ride 
 Straight down the High Street back to Holy rood, 
 With flying banners. Is there anything 
 Can give you warrant of my favour ? See, 
 This sleeve of my own stitching. 
 
 Mary Seton Pardon, madam, 
 
 You wrought it for the king : it was not worn. 
 
 Queen. But he shall wear it who alone of all 
 My subjects never quarrelled with my lord, 
 But served him with a loyal constancy 
 No variable humour could remit. 
 (To BOTH WELL) Take this and cherish it as you have 
 
 heard 
 Its history. 
 
'The tragic Mary 
 
 Botbwell It would not fit my wrist. 
 Will you not broider me another sleeve. 
 With Kilp Trest^ my own motto, for device, 
 So I be found by judgment of my peers, 
 Worthy such wondrous, condescending love ? 
 
 ^ueen I will not wait their verdict. To my silks 
 The first o'erclouded day ! Farewell, my lord. 
 
 Exit BOTH WELL 
 
 Girls, you have stubborn brows, and, I must think, 
 Sweethearts among the Tolbooth renegades ; 
 You stand as very elders of the kirk, 
 So rigid and admonishing. Go, play 
 Out in the sunshine ; I will rest awhile : 
 Give me the amber cushions. Exeunt MARIES 
 
 J Tis for wrath 
 
 I weep, for very wrath ; such hardihood, 
 And none conceive his stature ! Ah, in all 
 A man, how he evokes my womanhood ! 
 I have not dreamed so since I saw him first 
 As captain of the Scottish Guard in France. 
 How I remember ! for his hair and beard 
 Were brown, of colour like a squirrel, brighter 
 A little than his skin's deep-shadowed brown ; 
 And it was magic to me how his eyes 
 Were grey with purple rims : my Maries then 
 Could see no beauty in his resolute, 
 Gashed brow, and hasty lips. I trusted him, 
 And turned me over many a night to dream 
 
 1 66 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 How he had dragged me from my enemies. 
 
 Ah, then, what golden rills 
 
 Of youth coursed through me, sudden bounties, gifts 
 
 Of goodness, incommensurable joys 
 
 That never had an issue. And to think 
 
 The name I honoured in my childish thoughts, 
 
 And wove my visions of ... O monstrous world ! 
 
 Re-enter LADY LETHINGTON 
 
 Lady Lethlngton Madam, the earl your brother is 
 
 arrived, 
 And craves to speak with you he stays without. 
 
 (She ushers in MORAY and retires] 
 
 Moray My dearest sister. 
 
 ghteen You return at last ! 
 
 James, you have tarried cruelly in Fife, 
 And left me helpless in a ring of foes 
 Invisible. I know not who they are, 
 Who thus entoil me in mysterious, 
 Fresh hate : the principalities of hell 
 It seems are loosed against me. You are come, 
 I trust, to lay the storm of evil tongues, 
 And speed the trial. 
 
 Moray If there were a way . . . 
 
 >ueen Be bold. 
 
 Moray I cannot. Yet if you were truly 
 
 A Protestant within the Bible leaves 
 There is an awful word . . . 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Queen Such tenderness 
 
 Is no wise to my mind. Since slander now 
 Shrieks on the housetops, let the truth be spread 
 From vantage as surpassing. 
 
 Moray God Himself 
 
 Averts his eyes from such iniquity 
 As were exposed, if, with too pitiless 
 A zeal to punish, we laid bare the facts. 
 
 Queen Whom can they injure ? Noble names are hurt 
 In this unchecked suspicion : let me hear 
 The worst you can disclose. You have a gaunt 
 And hollow paleness, almost of the tint 
 Of very guilt itself. 
 
 Moray I suffer, Mary. 
 
 It is incredible ! Now God forgive 
 My weakness that I cannot bear the truth. 
 
 Queen Dismiss this speech of broken sentences, 
 These peddling prayers that turn asquint to hell. 
 Arraign yourself! If through your ancient hate 
 To that poor, murdered boy, you could not brook 
 To see in place of kingship, you so far 
 Stooped as to mix in the conspiracy 
 For his undoing, speak ! 
 
 Moray (Apart) A subtle Guise ! 
 
 Mary, I am not come here to condemn 
 
 Queen That is my office, when the criminal 
 Hath made confession. Then you knew of this 
 From the beginning ? Do not lower your eyes ; 
 
 168 
 
T'he tragic Mary 
 
 It was your way of vengeance for his fits 
 Of pouting insolence, to get him strangled, 
 My Henry, in his bed at Kirk o' Field ? 
 You had no pity such a very boy ! 
 
 vile as your own origin ! To think 
 That I have called you brother, set you up 
 As tutor to my youth . . . 
 
 Moray I hold the keys 
 
 Of life and death to you take note of that ! 
 There is a ruin as of yawning hell 
 In which I can engulf your paramour. 
 Be patient ! Cease from railing. You might hoot 
 From your own palace windows the reply 
 Would be an execration. Mary Stuart, 
 Look in your heart, or, if you will not, turn 
 Your face and in that mirror recognize 
 Your husband's murderer. The accomplices 
 
 1 will not question ; to my heart it sticks 
 That you are tottering underneath a load 
 Of murderous guilt and lust so infinite . . . 
 
 Quern Lust ! Have you lost your senses ? 
 
 Moray So extreme 
 
 I cannot extricate you, cannot hope 
 To save you from the executioner, 
 If you confide not your whole sin to me, 
 And suffer me to arbitrate. 
 
 Queen What sin ? 
 
 I know not any sin. I am distraught. 
 
 169 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Who are in league against me ? 
 
 Moray Do not fear 
 
 That death by stoning that the church declares 
 Your portion. If you heartily repent 
 Your former life, desist from your affection 
 For the Lord Bothwell (The Queen makes an Indignant 
 
 movement] Stay, you will not do't, 
 I know : therefore I must abandon you, 
 I must retire, and learn in Italy 
 That you have lost your kingdom. Do not move ! 
 I know your madness and persistency. 
 The time is come that I must give you up 
 To Satan for a season ; while in peace 
 I spend my exile. 
 
 Queen James, you frighten me. 
 
 Has Knox been dinning this into your brain ? 
 Stay with me, let me understand. Protect 
 The earl he is most innocent. 
 
 Moray Alas, 
 
 You dare not plead I should extend protection 
 To your fair, ruined head. 
 
 Queen You must not go. 
 
 Moray Will you not suffer it ? Must I remain 
 To have my blood shed in the open streets ? 
 Lord Bothwell sets a price upon my life. 
 
 Queen He has a violent temper. You must go ; 
 But then what is to follow ? 
 
 Moray Kiss me, Mary j 
 
 170 
 
The Tragic Mary. 
 
 For all my life I would not have you guess 
 The wild work of the morrow. Fare you well. 
 
 SCENE IV Holyrood; by a window of the palace. The 
 QUEEN and LADY LETHINGTON 
 
 Lady Lethlngton The space is over-packed with life 
 
 heads, heads, 
 
 And further heads : while everywhere, like stalks 
 Lifting proud flowers, the horses raise their men 
 Gaily above the citizens. These vassals 
 Of Hepburn have fine seat. The Douglas banner 
 Is coming forward j there is Morton's hat 
 A-peek above his eyes. The fussy sunshine 
 Makes Bothwell's trial seem a great event. 
 
 Queen To clear one's name is signal and of gist 
 More grave than other actions. Think of it ! 
 Lord Lennox, the accuser, is ashamed 
 To show his face, and speak his proofless charges, 
 Yet would delay his victim's just acquittal 
 From world-estranging slander. This live noon 
 Is almost welcome as if I myself 
 Were coming out of cloud. 
 
 Lady Lethlngton There is a sway 
 
 Of faces toward the courtyard. 
 
 Queen Ah, to shine 
 
 171 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Clear as the light before those Argus-eyes, 
 That zealous crowd ! 
 
 Lady Lethington Earl Bothwell ! 
 
 Queen He is laughing, 
 
 And yet he is not 'tis so quickly gone : 
 His carriage is defiant, though he bends 
 As if to justice that's invisible. 
 Who rides alongside ? Morton ! 
 
 Lady Letblngton With the grin 
 
 Of some heraldic lion ; a golden man, 
 Complexioned like his hoards. 
 
 Queen And on the left 
 
 Who rides behind ? 
 
 Lady Letblngton It is my husband, madam. 
 How cross his lips ! He had a weary night, 
 And took no breakfast. He shall throw me favours : 
 To-day he kissed me inattentively 
 The first time since our marriage. (She waves) He is 
 
 riding 
 As if asleep. But, see, Lord Bothwell looks. 
 
 Queen His sovereign's hand shall greet him (She waves) 
 
 {Apart} How his joy 
 Shot up like a first flame when it ignites. 
 (To LADY LETHINGTON) The earl is strangely altered 
 
 pale, across 
 His brow a sullen mark. 
 
 Lady Lethington It is the scar 
 
 He got in youth when recklessly he stole 
 
 172 
 
The T'ragic Mary 
 
 The English gold ; and sometimes agitation 
 Will make such hurts flare red. 
 
 ^ueen Within an hour 
 
 A page shall seek the Tolbooth and bring news 
 How justice prospers. What triumphant noon ! 
 
 SCENE VTke Hall of Seton Castle 
 Enter MORTON and BOTHWELL 
 
 Morton Where have you been, my lord ? 
 
 Bothwell A walk. The air 
 
 In country places helps me to make plain 
 My meshed and beating project to myself. 
 
 Morton Last night I hardly slept at all, so joyous 
 Was Ainslie's wine within me. We are pledged, 
 By our rare tavern-fellowship, the greeting 
 We gave to your acquittal, the attention 
 With which your high proposals met our ear, 
 Across the cups and bounty of your feast, 
 To back you as the husband, for the queen, 
 Of our best, native choice : but you must play 
 The forthright wooer. 
 
 Bothwell Ho ! I need no lesson 
 
 In woman-winning. 
 
 Morton Have you yet come near 
 
 173 
 
'The Tragic Mary 
 
 Your proposition to her ? 
 
 Bothwell She has been 
 
 At mass this Sunday or in company ; 
 Our elemental question to the sex 
 Forms not except in private. 
 
 Morton (Glancing down a passage) Man, she comes. 
 I meet her not too frequently ; her eyes 
 Grow crystal points in scrutiny of one 
 Long absent from the court. Exit 
 
 Botbwell I have a fear 
 
 Before her, a firm seizure of my speech, 
 That dams up fate and passion. She is won 
 Not as was Anna Throndsson, nor my dame, 
 Jane Gordon, nor the buxom waiting-girl, 
 Delighted Bessie Crawford : these were thrown 
 By my mere, single energy j it takes 
 Ancestral forces, bone-bred vehemence, 
 To compass what my fathers lusted for 
 In fiery years ago. 
 
 Enter the QUEEN 
 
 >ueen Help me, my lord ; 
 
 I am in doubt and pain : all day my guards 
 Have had ill-brows about me. Yonder sky 
 Of wind and darkness cannot match the looks 
 These arquebusiers venture. On my word, 
 I am defenceless if they mutiny, 
 Save for your valour, Hepburn. 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Bothwell Hark ! Their growls ! 
 
 Madam, the varlets come. Rest tremorless, 
 I will obstruct this insolence. 
 
 Enter Arquebusiers 
 
 I st Arquebusier We need ; 
 
 Give us our pay. 
 
 ind Arquebusier Or we will use our weapons 
 To do offence. 
 
 yd Arquebusier Money ! Our silver pay ! 
 
 Bothwell {Seizing the ring-leader) Choke down your 
 
 greed, you villain ! Pay and hire ! 
 You dun a lovely majesty as if 
 She held the common purse. A beggar, dipt 
 By fortune of all gear, would have a sense 
 Less ribald than you show. Advance one step 
 All shall be hanged as traitors, and the boughs 
 Swing heavier favours than their leaves above 
 The daylit ground to-morrow. 
 
 Queen Do they lack, 
 
 And feel the nip of that which is to us 
 A winter empty pockets ? They shall have 
 Two florins each, the utmost a crowned lady 
 Can find within her coffers. 
 
 Bothwell Do you hear ? 
 
 No jolting me, no rescue of this rogue, 
 Your frothy leader, till I let him free, 
 
 175 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 His wind-pipe swollen. Your queen is merciful, 
 And honours you with silver, who deserve 
 Cord for your noise. 
 
 2nd Arquebusier Down with the payment then. 
 No promises ! 
 
 Queen It is with grievous sorrow 
 
 We take in such distrust. 
 
 Botbwell Hence, quit the room. 
 
 The chancellor will give you audience duly 
 At eight o'clock. Why, why ! I say begone ! 
 And when I say it, go ! 
 
 ind Arquebusier The bully ! 
 
 Batkwell (Loosening the leader's throat with a shake) 
 
 March, 
 
 With inclination to the graciousness 
 That spares to trounce your swerving. Out, I say, 
 And to your places ! Exeunt Arquebusiers 
 
 They have vanished. Oh, 
 You flutter like a star through widow' d black, 
 That night-hood round the pallor of your face ! 
 You had been undefended in this strait, 
 Except for my bluff service. 
 
 Queen Which we thank. 
 
 Such rancour in my household was disclosed 
 So suddenly it shook me. 
 
 Botbwell My loved queen, 
 
 The men you rule are heady as the blasts 
 That veer about our hills, and weariness 
 
 176 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Of colour in your beauty testifies 
 
 The hard pitch of your toil. Take thought how far 
 
 A close devotion manly at your side 
 
 Would comfort and disburthen you, a love 
 
 Obedient and executive, as always 
 
 Your general is the actor of your wrath 
 
 When deeds to do must be unwomanlike. 
 
 (Apart) She doth not flush ; the crystals in her cheek 
 
 Are growing sharp and brilliant. All the land 
 
 Sighs at your lonesome task ; your nobles join 
 
 To urge you to more livelihood of health 
 
 Than moping labour brings you. . . . There is none 
 
 To whom you have more lent in condescension, 
 
 More trusted with those offices that irk 
 
 The English foe than 
 
 (Suddenly throwing binutlf before her) I confess the fact ; 
 
 I love you with a man's love, deep as hell, 
 
 Wild as the sea's for earth. My life has been 
 
 Spent under hatred, solitude, misfortune, 
 
 But ever with a singleness of hope 
 
 To serve you in the highest. 
 
 g>ueen (Distractedly) I am struck, 
 
 As if the roof had fallen. 
 
 Bothwtll What, you can wonder 
 
 That men should throw whole years of loyalty 
 Beneath your feet as trash, you masterpiece 
 Of world's enchantment ; who in gait and speech 
 Are lovelier than the beauties of old praise ; 
 
 177 K 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Your steps surpass their kisses, and your voice 
 Makes their best glance unwished for. 
 
 <!$ueen Are you mad ? 
 
 Well may you kneel : my other noblemen 
 Have trespassed out of hatred, or at least 
 Indifference to my reign. I have not found 
 The insult of base love in any one, 
 Save you alone. I am a widow, scarce 
 Of two month's dule, a murder's remnant you, 
 A man but nine months married to a lady 
 I first bespoke as friend. How dare you rouse 
 The Bruce within me, the untempered fire 
 Of king on king I carry to the grave 
 In pledge of my descent ? Henceforth, be sure, 
 You are an exile from my confidence. 
 Banished again ! What reason do I find 
 In Arran's frenzy, which accused your faith 
 As liegeman to your princess ! Self-condemned, 
 You may not hope for mercy from my doubt. 
 (Apart] How still he is, how still ! We do not need 
 Your convoy or attendance as we journey 
 Through Lothian on the morrow. To remain 
 Even where you are displeases us. Goodnight. 
 
 Exit by inside door 
 
 (BoTHWELL rises and stands straight up without 
 the least motion] 
 
 Bothwell This woman ! Somewhere she has pledged 
 my soul 5 
 
T*he T'ragic Mary 
 
 We have drunk wine together on some bare, 
 Brown hill of chaos, while the wanton lights, 
 Young meteors flaming lawless through the heaven, 
 Peered at our rampant revel. We were one 
 Before the stars were broken to their spheres ; 
 Part of the huge, unsevered element 
 When day and darkness hugged. I know that far 
 Below the rise of rivers, underneath 
 The sowing of the mine's unfathomed seed, 
 There was this sunken bond. She flings me now 
 Contempt, my lass, my lass ! What should we find 
 In woman but the lavish side of God, 
 Before the thought of judgment crippled Him, 
 When He was soft, creative, fostering, free ? 
 Contempt, contempt ! Night's stinging moments spin, 
 And stir me to an act: the regicides 
 With their dismaying weapons shall have done 
 By far less intimate irreverence 
 On majesty than I in person dare. 
 Hell will be puzzled what to do with such 
 As I shall show myself, it has no code 
 That can entangle me, no quarter builded 
 That might immure my unimagined courage, 
 No flames to equal mine. The royal witch, 
 She sought to disenchant me in the guise 
 Of formal coldness, she the beauty, she 
 The madding, unfoiled beauty. How the air 
 Dreads me, I breathe on lion-like ! She has said 
 
 179 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 She needs no convoy ! I will furnish one : 
 
 She must with me the merry, downward way, 
 
 Where demons cackle. I will meet my bride 
 
 At Foulsbrigg with an army. This contempt 
 
 Is an infectious plague ! Exit by outside door 
 
 SCENE VI Dunbar ; a room opening on the courtyard. 
 LETHINGTON is discovered guarded by BLACKADDER 
 
 Lethington So we are captives ! 
 
 Blackadder With the queen's consent : 'tis her doing. 
 
 Lethington It was her grace's command that she should 
 be met at Foulsbrigg, that her bridle-rein should be turned 
 by Lord Bothwell, her people disarmed and led captive to 
 Dunbar ! All this is of her connivance ! 
 
 Blackadder Well, she provoked it. A lack of gunners 
 on the walls gives permission to enter the keep. I pray 
 you let not my lord find you in this temper, or, I advertise 
 you, you will get but slaughter at his hands. 
 
 Lethington You give honest counsel. I have already 
 had contest for my life j if my sovereign lady had not 
 laid her white hands upon my breast, I had perished like 
 Riccio at her feet. 
 
 Blackadder I must now release my lord Melvil. 
 
 Lethington And detain an honest penman, a poor 
 secretary, worth no man's malice ? I shall scratch the 
 stones with my sonnets if you do not deliver me. 
 
 180 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Blackadder I doubt not, when you have slept on this 
 business, you will devise a method of escape. Mr. Secre- 
 tary, I shall not too narrowly observe you. 'Tis the lady 
 must be guarded for my master with all vigilance. Exit 
 
 Letbington Will that villain mishandle her ? Morton 
 blurted out the miscreant had hope to be her bridegroom, 
 and I let it pass. By heaven, I am persuaded responsi- 
 bility lies about the purlieus of inaction. The stripping 
 thieves may be corrigible ; the core of evil is in the eye of 
 the Levite. (Pacing.) A pretty adventure for St. Mark's 
 Even, the April sunshine tracing my prison-bars against 
 the wall. I have been an unfaithful witness ; but my 
 sovereign lady shall never know of my infamy : for I had 
 as lief speak of the base things of my nature to God as to 
 a woman. There are vaults for the lodging of vileness : 
 bats are but birds of a sick conscience. Yet I know not 
 why I should take on me the whole enormity of her per- 
 dition, seeing she is wrecked of her own nature, as our 
 first Mother, though the snake lay in the grass. Would 
 that Eve had been longer in the tutelage of the serpent, 
 and refrained from blabbing to her husband of matter that, 
 delicately handled, had secured her supremacy ! But a 
 woman can by no means keep a good thing to herself. 
 My mistress stuffs every smile with incomparable favours. 
 Then to repulse him ! That repulse has been her ruin. 
 Let a woman set the man who loves her at her left hand, 
 if she crave a fiend for her torment. Alack, she has 
 lost God's favour, her own reputation, and the hearts of 
 
 181 
 
T'he tragic Mary 
 
 all England, Ireland, and Scotland. All hearts ? Yes, she 
 has lost them all ; but she has covered me, the chameleon, 
 with the very hue of her misfortune. I am hers till death. 
 She shall undo me slowly. 
 
 SCENE VII Dunbar ; a chilling, gusty April afternoon : 
 the QUEEN is seated in a window-seat^ overlooking the 
 sea 
 
 Queen (Glancing toward the door] But this is surely 
 
 how they turn the key 
 
 Upon a captive ! What strange dealings now 
 Would fortune have with me ? Ah, the blithe morn 
 We journeyed here escaped from Holyrood ! 
 This is the very room, where I, a* hungered, 
 Ate the fresh eggs, and sang for simple joy 
 Of liberty, while our good host looked on, 
 A great God love her ! in his glowing eyes. 
 To-day he had another look - y he pulled 
 My bridle-rein, and I forbore to strive ; 
 As in a fortress, when they hear the step 
 Of foemen climbing up the secret stair, 
 They make no more contention on the walls. 
 I listen at the heart . . . Oh, foolishness ! 
 In all that ragged country of wild sea 
 There is no comfort for the eye until 
 
 182 
 
T'he Tragic Mary 
 
 It rests upon the solemn light-house rock, 
 
 Whence light will issue, as the darkness spreads, 
 
 And found a safety for the mariner : 
 
 My good Lord Admiral has been to me, 
 
 In my perplexed and tempest-beaten life, 
 
 So sure a lode-star. (The door is unlocked] 
 
 Enter BOTHWELL 
 
 Had you entered softly, 
 
 My earl, you would have heard me praising you ; 
 But what new danger is a-foot that thus 
 Pardon, my lord ! as a rough borderer 
 You intercepted us as we rode back 
 To Holyrood, and, darkly hinting peril, 
 Made us your sudden guest ? 
 
 Bothwell (In a low mutter'] And prisoner. Why, 
 There are some dangers that you must not know ; 
 We keep the details from a princess' ear 
 Of meditated treason. You are safe 
 Within these walls . . . most safe from all pursuit, 
 And rid of evil counsellors. 
 
 Queen How safe ? 
 
 Safe ! That was Ruthven's cry ; I was secure 
 When my robe bore a streak of Riccio's blood, 
 When my child leapt in terror ! Safe . . . from whom ? 
 
 Bothwell From meddling intervention, from the need 
 Of playing widow, and, in policy's 
 Dull phrase, refusing me your hand. My love, 
 
 183 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Now are you safe from the confederate eyes 
 
 Of blinking, envious gossips. The blank sea 
 
 Before us look at it ! a pure, white sheet ; 
 
 No cipher possible : yet in its sight, 
 
 Its unrecording sight, there shall be action 
 
 Would bring great kings to key-hole of that door 
 
 Were there but bruit of it : an enterprise 
 
 More hazardous and unappalled than aught 
 
 On earth attempted. Can you not conjecture. 
 
 My beauty ? 'Tis more telling in effect 
 
 Than in rehearsal. How your colour rises, 
 
 Blood-red as your carnations ! Ah, more wonders ! 
 
 I knew you would be wonderful the moment 
 
 I had you thus discrowned and unattended : 
 
 Like some great sight of nature you must be 
 
 Explored in solitude. How magical 
 
 The alteration in your lips and brow 
 
 A fearful, fluttering woman ! Oh, you needed 
 
 This sequestration, this harsh discipline 
 
 To bring you to your senses mark the phrase ! 
 
 Your womanly, warm senses. Seated there, 
 
 By the chink casement high above the sea, 
 
 It is a throne that has but one descent, 
 
 One deep humiliation. You refused 
 
 So simply, absolutely all my proffered 
 
 And honourable homage ... A fair princess ! 
 
 The falcon to the prey ; and what a quarry ! 
 
 A queen ? Aye, queen all over to the small, 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Protesting foot that beats against my words. 
 Will you not deign a parley ? 
 
 >ueen James of Hepburn, 
 
 Out of your mouth there shall not rise such words 
 As burn my cheek ; for I have found no treason 
 In any of your actions. 
 
 Bothwell None in this ? 
 
 It has a fair complexion . . . What a sudden, 
 Sharp storm is rushing in ! It covers you 
 With flecks of foam. I love the lashing wind. 
 
 (Putting up a shutter ; then bending over her) 
 You thought I was the Lord High Admiral, 
 Sleek and submissive, fitting you a pinnace 
 To sail to Alloa, proud to steer your craft 
 Though the Lord Darnley were a passenger : 
 I am a pirate, and I take my pleasure 
 Thus, thus ! (Passionately seizing her hand and kissing her) 
 
 Oh, you are proud, you do not wince ! 
 I pray you cry me mercy, for I have 
 No grace for those dark, alienated eyes : 
 I know they glittered thus on Chatelar, 
 Ordering the headsman. He insulted you, 
 You say ; I urge he found you heavenly fair, 
 High, unattainable except by force: 
 He crept to you the lad's vile, sneaking way ; 
 I take possession of you as a man. 
 Make free surrender, would you have my triumph 
 Unmixed with your despair. To gain my prize 
 
 185 
 
'The tragic Mary 
 
 I have made desperate havoc with events ; 
 'Twixt me and my ambition you have set 
 Such obstacles ! But I have hewn them down ; 
 Now you alone stand between me and all 
 I covet. 
 
 Queen The crown matrimonial ? 
 
 Bothwell I dare you mock me in the lisping tones 
 Of your young, craven dotard. I shall take 
 All matrimonial rights, all dignities, 
 And never harry you with petulance. 
 Do not fold down those lovely marble hands 
 As they would never tremble any more. 
 Breathe on me, touch me ! 
 
 Queen You would be a king, 
 
 Loaded with honour. 'Twas my husband's first 
 Entreaty the ambassadors should give him 
 Full royal title hand-plight on the bond. 
 
 Botbwell These dead, chill fingers ! 
 
 Queen (Rising) Let us ride to town. 
 
 Botbwell To-night ? 
 
 Queen This instant. There will be suspicion 
 I am detained against my pleasure, which 
 My subjects scarce will brook. 
 
 Botbwell We will ride forth 
 
 Together when the briny air has given 
 My bride another cheek ; two triumphing, 
 Young lovers. Curse this arid pensiveness ; 
 Will nothing break you in ? Why, I have seen you 
 
 186 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Let your soft, ruddy hair blow in my face 
 As a flapped banner, you who banish me 
 Your smiles, your lips. Deep, dominating clouds 
 Are on your brow. I tell you, Marie Stuart, 
 If you bend on me those remorseless eyes 
 You will arouse the dull pangs of such hate 
 As kept the devil patient in the glades 
 Of Eden. I esteem you now a thing 
 To cow and trample. 
 
 ^ueen One who doubted you 
 
 Less than all other creatures in the world, 
 My once-beloved servant. 
 
 Bothwell Ah, your tones 
 
 Have broken from their ice 5 the great, slow tears 
 Are come at last. Dearest, you have been wed, 
 Twice-wedded, never loved. 
 
 g>ueen Yea, on this wise, 
 
 How often by the king ! 
 
 Botbwell You shed no tears 
 
 On him, no great, unspeakable reproach ; 
 He could not hurt you. O my soft-browed queen, 
 Have we not shared a secret, you and I, 
 On through your plighted bondage to the hour 
 Of your deliverance, and 'tis broken now 
 With terror, as the shaking up of tombs 
 Upon the day of judgment. Were you roused 
 After a dusty, unsuspicious sleep 
 A thousand years in Holyrood, and bidden 
 
 187 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Go fetch your husband would you dare unlock 
 The neighbour tomb ? 
 
 Queen Nay, but I do not doubt 
 
 With half-affrighted wits I should look out, 
 And bribe an angel to bring thitherward 
 My trusty earl . . . 
 
 Eothwell O excellent caprice ! 
 
 And with his arm around you . . . 
 
 Queen I would say 
 
 In simple hardihood I loved the man, 
 I held him worthy, and to him would cling 
 Silent, the while my clamorous lords rehearsed 
 Their memories of me. Now indeed you laugh. 
 Ay, let us laugh together ; yet I fear 
 These good men are conspirators : I could 
 Unfold my reasons, but to-night I tire, 
 As once before after too long a ride. 
 Send Melvil to me, it is growing dusk. 
 
 Botkwett Melvil is gone. 
 
 Queen I am right weary, cold, 
 
 And sick at heart. The flame is almost ash 
 Upon the stone. Go, fetch my women to me. 
 I would have rest and warmth. 
 
 Eothwell Your maids are back 
 
 At Holyrood. 
 
 Queen Then do you light the fire, 
 
 And bring me supper. O believe me, earl, 
 I know a prisoner's shifts ; in my own palace 
 
 188 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 I and Argyle have broken bread together 
 
 For very hunger. Give me entertainment ; 
 
 Retain the borderer's virtues : to a guest 
 
 Shelter and safe repose. 
 
 Bothwell I will return. Exit 
 
 )ueen To keep him human ! 'Tis my single safety 
 
 To show him all my love ; I ne'er have wanted 
 
 Resource. I will make speed to victory 
 
 Under the lowering heavens. 
 
 Re-enter BOTHWELL with firewood, food^ and wine 
 
 Why, we are back 
 
 To simple manners, yet I keep my state. 
 You bring a light, and, see ! my dripping cloak 
 Is a wet shroud about me. Can you find 
 The clasp ? Unbuckle it, and set to dry : 
 Now make a ruddy blaze. Here at Dunbar 
 I must be merry, for I feel at home 
 In this great room with access to the air, 
 Free winds, and hurricane. 
 
 Bothwell ( Unclasping and shaking her cloak) A stormy 
 
 petrel 
 With spray upon her wings ! 
 
 >ueen Now let us eat ; 
 
 But, as a grace, if I have used you hardly 
 Think it my rash, quick temper, and forgive. 
 So now you have your will ; at supper-time 
 I never can be formal : 'tis the hour 
 
 189 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 For much unburthening of the heart. My lord, 
 Would you but give safe-conduct to my speech .... 
 
 Bothwell I will lie down low at your feet, and gaze 
 At your great beauty kindling in the flame, 
 With all the vaporous glooms about your head. 
 Ah, I grow humble in this happiness, 
 Your slave ! But first, my despot, knot the smile, 
 The rare smile of your lips, into a kiss. 
 
 )ueen At my lips' leisure. I shall dream to-night 
 O' my babe asleep at Stirling. I would fain 
 Lay the boy in your keeping : we will plot 
 To-morrow how to make the claim on Mar. 
 
 Bothwell Still ice these hands. 
 
 Queen I have been much distempered 
 Of late Will you not chafe them ? With no loyal, 
 True-hearted friend to be my counsellor. 
 
 Hepburn, ill-suspicion drives me mad ; 
 
 1 could not toss an apple to my child 
 
 But they must snatch it from him. Lethington 
 Does not support me ; I can find no way 
 Of pleasing my vexed subjects. 
 
 Bothwell (Rising] I could name you 
 
 A score of Scotland's weightiest, bonded men 
 To force you into marriage. 
 
 Queen They are traitors. 
 
 Is it to save me from them you pursued 
 This morn your rough, unwarrantable course ? 
 
 Bothwell 'Tis to enact their policy. At supper 
 190 
 
'The Tragic Mary 
 
 One night at Ainslie's tavern I was host 
 
 To the good houses that acquitted me, 
 
 Moray, Argyle, Huntly and Cassilis 
 
 You know the faction Eglinton slipped off: 
 
 We fell to loyal drinking of your health, 
 
 Praise of your beauty, and Lord Huntly swore 
 
 I was your darling ; ay, my mermaid, so 
 
 They painted you, with the eyes' furious flash, 
 
 Across the banner where with double thong 
 
 You beat the hounds off from your hunted love. 
 
 Your face confirms conjecture. To be brief, 
 
 My merry mates signed this. (Presenting the Bond] 
 
 Queen (Overlooking the page) Not Eglinton . . . 
 Morton and Moray. Where is Maitland's name ? 
 We will consider these ill-worded clauses, 
 Conceived in wantonness, and, as our judgment 
 Directs, yield them response. Release my hand ! 
 It was the earl's j I give no drunken suitor 
 Such privilege. (She rises and goes to a window} 
 
 Eothwell Affix your signature, 
 And then, the business of the day at end, 
 I will retire. 
 
 Queen (Looking out) There are no stars to-night ; 
 I simply catch the roaring of the sea 
 When I look out. I used to call my mother 
 On nights like these I was a timid child 
 Till she refused to come, and bid me lie 
 And trust in God. I have learnt confidence ; 
 
 191 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 No fear is in my soul. 
 
 Botbwell Sign me the bond. 
 
 Queen No, no ; 'tis for my bosom, 
 A casket letter, a most precious scroll ; 
 Let me peruse it fully. One by one 
 I shall learn all my enemies by name ; 
 Never will I be parted from this bond, 
 This drunken, crazy prayer, this publican 
 And rank solicitation. Give me leisure . . . 
 My husband haunted taverns. 
 
 Bothwell You were best 
 
 Call me your husband also You look calm, 
 And smooth your ruffled laces while I speak 
 Let us forget him ! Come, let's clink the cups ! 
 What is it scares you ? There shall be a parson 
 To put us in the noose. I mean to rule : 
 Jane Gordon knows my tactics a divorce 
 Grounded on our affinity ; meanwhile . . . 
 
 Queen (Descending from the window, where she has 
 stood, reading the bond] Will you bring candles ; 
 there is this to read ; 
 'Tis a state-paper and of much concern. 
 No, put the wine away ; my head is giddy ; 
 I must be vigilant : set me a taper. 
 I shall be busy till the morning break ; 
 Then come to me ; you will find all prepared. 
 {Apart} Oh, trust me, I will tell a score of lies 
 To save him from this infamy. I feel 
 
 192 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 A promptness and despatch. What, faint again ! 
 You should have kept my women, for I fear 
 This sickness may be fatal. 
 
 Bothwell (Supporting her) Give me leave. 
 Marie, these tears upon me ! 
 
 Queen Nay, good-night. 
 
 I have no malice being nigh to death. 
 How strange it is ! Are all the hangings black ? 
 You used to love gay tapestry. 
 
 Bothwell My queen, 
 
 Your mind is wandering ; you need food and rest. 
 I swear I will not pester you ; be calm, 
 Sleep safe till daybreak. 
 
 Queen Then the warders come 
 
 And open. Ay, you asked me for a kiss. 
 Goodnight, good earl. (She kisses him) 
 
 Bothwell My pardon ! 
 
 Queen . If I die, 
 
 All's fresh with morning. I must presently 
 Con this untoward paper. Leave me, earl ; 
 You have no head for crises. 
 
 Bothwell (Slowly retiring and glancing back doubtfully) 
 
 A great figure ! 
 
 How all her youth is gone I scarce desire her, 
 Sick and enfeebled ; and the touch of scorn. 
 If she should circumvent me ! We are both 
 In hell, which is but unfulfilment, power 
 Looking across a waste. Exit 
 
 193 o 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 ghieen Throughout the night 
 
 No change of posture I must weary him 
 With court formalities and Europe's front : 
 So dies the girl in me. Ah, God, I would 
 I were in Holyrood to close this breach 
 F my honour by the headsman. Violence, threats ! 
 What is there more to suffer ? The young sea-mews 
 Wheel free about their nests, and, if they fall, 
 Dash bloody in the spray. I fear no ruin 
 That's sudden and precipitous The bond ! 
 
 (She lays it out before her; then falls into a fit of 
 
 abstraction ; her head bows over her hands^ and 
 
 she sleeps) 
 
 SCENE VIII Dunbar : ante-chamber to the room in which 
 the QUEEN is captive 
 
 Enter BOTHWELL 
 
 Bothwell She leans her ear for ever toward the bridge 
 Across which press the armaments of wind, 
 But no leal rescue. I importuned her 
 Seven blank and awful days, until I breathed 
 Within a vacuum j the estrangement grew 
 So heavy, insupportable, I fain 
 Had murdered her to crush the anguish out, 
 but then I knew her smile would welcome death, 
 
 194 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 And leave me stunned and jealous. Once indeed 
 
 She flooded me with a wide gaze of love 
 
 Dazzling, forlorn : and I beholding it 
 
 Could make no sign, it was as if a damned, 
 
 A new-damned soul had caught God's agony 
 
 At sight of the impenetrable fosse. 
 
 Since then I have not plagued her. Horrible 
 
 This lonesomeness, abandon ! I have wandered 
 
 Two days among the gullies on the coast, 
 
 And watched the embattled breakers bursting through 
 
 Their narrow, counter archways in the rocks, 
 
 To heave together in a central mound 
 
 Of foam, then fall back in a refluent peace. 
 
 A stormy clash of marriage ! Why this harass, 
 
 Withdrawal and exclusion ? In her heart 
 
 She keeps the bounties of her nature guarded 
 
 For my attainment, yet suppresses them, 
 
 Wronging herself, polluting me. I never 
 
 Will take what is a rapture in the gift ; 
 
 But force the tardy welcome in her blood 
 
 To speak truth to me, for there is a truth 
 
 Between us : I have lived on it from day 
 
 To stormy daybreak. 
 
 (To PARIS who has entered with food and wine] 
 
 Paris, go within ; 
 
 Say I have fallen from the cliff, and lie 
 Below stark in the courtyard. Do my will, 
 And leave the door flung open. 
 
 195 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 (PARIS passes within] 
 
 (Listening and repeating the QUEEN'S words] He is dead! 
 How shall I wait the issue ? There is pause, 
 And then a fond, low sobbing, and a cry 
 (Springing to the open doorway) My love, my love ! 
 
 196 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I Holyrood ; a distant apartment : MARY SETOV 
 and MARY LIVINGSTONE 
 
 Mary Seton She is changed 
 As the dead change the morning and the eve 
 Of the first day. I bent to take her hood, 
 When we received her at the Castle-gate 
 After her guarded journey from Dunbar, 
 Then dropped my hands and left her. 
 
 Mary Livingstone Noisily 
 
 The earl dismissed us, with his truculent 
 And frowning carriage. Fast he drove his business, 
 And, being new-divorced from Lady Jane, 
 Announced himself the bridegroom of our queen, 
 With threats compelled the kirk to read their banns ; 
 Then spent two straining hours of trouble lost 
 To win the English queen's ambassador 
 To look upon their union ; at the council 
 He sat as king 
 
 Mary Seton Our mistress puts her hand 
 
 To any paper, will remit and pardon 
 The worst offences with a face as dull 
 And unconcerned as if men's good and evil 
 
 197 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Were one to her. 
 
 Mary Livingstone My rebel eloquence 
 Has kept the palace ringing with her wrong ; 
 Traquair and Erskine listen with a blush 
 Across their brows, and Lady Lethington 
 Hints there will be deliverance. Could I fan you 
 Into my flame ! 
 
 Mary Seton I saw her first again 
 When late in afternoon she made him Duke 
 Of Orkney and the Shetlands, on the vigil 
 Of her reputed marriage-day. She gave 
 Her head a sportive and capricious arch, 
 As she were playing queenship and no queen ; 
 Yet, when he entered, with a heaving bosom 
 She kept her ground so regnantly he bent 
 Irresolute, subjected. 
 
 Mary Livingstone He is careful 
 To show the deference of bonnet oft*: 
 She laughs, I verily believe she laughs 
 When he uncovers. 
 
 Mary Seton But the marriage-day ! 
 
 There is no midnight in these summer nights j 
 It was not one o'clock when I awoke 
 To dress her for the dismal rites of dawn ; 
 And, thridding the white darkness to her door, 
 Swung open 'gainst the bed, I found her wrapt 
 In her black widow's weeds from head to foot, 
 But yet apparelled in a sort of joy 
 
 198 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 That frightened me. To-day there will be feast 
 I broke out, prompted to the erring word : 
 Then she, the strangeness in her eyes and lips 
 Of one who is admonished to his death, 
 Answered, To-day there is no festival. 
 Where the tree falleth^ Marie, it must lie; 
 It falls to northern dolour, stricken north 
 Inclining south, to life and blessedness. 
 Thus in no jewels but her shining tears 
 She passed to her mock marriage. 
 
 Mary Livingstone Worst of all 
 
 Was her consent to marry Protestant, 
 With preaching, not the mass. 
 
 Mary Seton She took no heed 
 
 Of anything they said, and when the sermon 
 Was ended, as'a creature from its sleep 
 Rises to wander through the night, with eyes 
 Vacant, unflickering, fearful, she stood up, 
 And paced of her own motion through the door. 
 No games nor any pastime ! Not a flower 
 Was gathered to breathe forth its parable 
 Of Hymen's hours o'maying. Nature seemed 
 To turn aside, man to recoil, and time 
 To slight the circumstance. The very stars 
 Shone round the sky like candles at a wake. 
 Could you have borne it ? 
 
 Mary Livingstone Not as she has done ; 
 
 But then she is a queen, and by surrender 
 
 199 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 She saves her title's honour so was lofty 
 
 Through all the farce, and, withering at its rites, 
 
 She yet adorned them. How these Protestants 
 
 Have wrecked her like an abbey, and enslaved 
 
 Her altar to their schism, and yet she draws 
 
 Around such blasphemies compulsive grace 
 
 Lent by the true religion. Policy, 
 
 Great pride, and custom not her conscience vouched 
 
 This marriage ; it will be annulled, and then, 
 
 Sweet name-fellow, we two shall find a place 
 
 Beside her first approachable distress, 
 
 So much we love her still. 
 
 Mary Seton So much ? Ah, more, 
 
 With sorer love. If I might take her soul 
 And shroud it tight forever from her God ! 
 He must not see her tarnish. And these things 
 Are prattle of the court. 
 
 Mary Livingstone Our earls and nobles 
 
 Troop northward to the cradle of the prince, 
 And arm themselves at Stirling. 
 
 Mary Seton There is wrath 
 
 That does not move abroad as vengeance doth, 
 But perfects wickedness until it drop : 
 'Tis so she must be loosened of her curse. 
 
 200 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 SCENE II Holyrood; the QUEEN'S bed-chamber : the door 
 is ajar^ she overhears talk In the audience-chamber 
 
 Bothwell ( Within) Fellows, have any passed to her ? 
 
 Erskine (Within) The queen 
 
 Has been retired all day, and white beyond 
 Her girlhood's famous white. Her eyes look ill. 
 
 Bothwell The devil ! what ado about her health ; 
 She is a very plague. I'll visit her, 
 When I have spoken further with the guard. (Silence) 
 
 Queen Can love be terror ? I am almost sure 
 That hate can love ... I feel it in myself. 
 God, keep my hatred single, let me be 
 A desolated woman, and my life 
 Like a burnt city salted by the foe ; 
 Let not one leaf or blade be visible 
 This Maytime in my calendar ! The man, 
 I loathe and wed, is growing dear as sin, 
 Precious as was my wrath the vengeful night 
 Of Riccio's murder, and beloved as are 
 Mere passions in their transit. He has handled 
 My soul unlawfully in forcing me, 
 His victim, to turn wife; yet very death 
 Withdrawing from my neighbourhood swift means 
 For its extreme of safety, joined with him 
 To work a second outrage, and to plant 
 His stain across my will. But more than this . . . 
 
 201 
 
"The Tragic Mary 
 
 I have a fear j a monstrous hopelessness 
 Makes vision red before me. It was born 
 Of his embrace : I cannot now believe 
 That in his nature there is innocence, 
 Not any . . . Oh, I must not bide alone, 
 With this conception out upon the air. 
 (Calling) Erskine ! 
 
 Erskine (At the door) Dear madam. 
 
 Queen Why is this ? 
 
 Erskine You called. 
 
 How lone you grow one waiting-woman, scarce 
 A courtier, every passage and apartment 
 Ranged with steel arquebusiers. Are you free. 
 As you declared, sweet queen ? 
 
 Queen You find I am. 
 
 No bolt across the door ! 
 
 Erskine I have not long 
 
 In which to speak my faith to you, who are 
 Beauty and consecration to my life j 
 But if my service could afford you comfort 
 'Tis yours, though all yon shifting points of iron 
 Were level to my heart. 
 
 Queen (Apart) Then shall I ask 
 
 For knife or sudden poison ? Futile prayer ! 
 For well I know he keeps me out of death 
 By fascinating blandishment, that has 
 The tiger in it, yet man's faithfulness, 
 And will not end, nor let me fail until 
 
 202 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 God loose me of his mercy from the charm. 
 
 (To ERSKINE) I thank you, brave esquire, for your 
 
 confession 
 
 Of youth's devoutness, such as makes the spring 
 Show reverence to the twilight, offering all 
 Its sun-born, crescent virtues, and sweet breath 
 In eve's dim presence. I accept your vows, 
 Your constancy, your warmth with these dropped tears, 
 The bounty of my gratitude. 
 
 Erskine Last year, 
 
 You had fresh eyes, and smiles that did not know 
 That they were in your face. It sends me mad 
 When splendour changes, and I almost turn 
 Apostate to my youth. 
 
 Queen I heard the duke ? 
 
 Erskine He went to charge the guardsmen. But you 
 
 called : 
 Madam, you lack some office ? 
 
 Queen Ah ! a draught 
 
 Of water pure and cold. 
 
 Erskine Not wine ? 
 
 Queen No, no ! 
 
 (Apart) For when I drink the goblet he has filled 
 The vintage dyes my fancies. 
 
 Erskine I will hasten 
 
 To bring a fountain-cup. Exit 
 
 Queen Tell me, Traquair, 
 If the duke mounts, for he has promised me 
 
 203 
 
'The Tragic Mary 
 
 His presence by this hour. (TRAQUAIR comes to her door) 
 
 Traquair Lady, my faith ! 
 
 I hear him swearing roundly in the court, 
 A growl full-formed. 
 
 ^ueen I did not ask for this. 
 
 Traquair Yea, if I heard him. He would spread a 
 
 field 
 With thunder in his passion. 
 
 >ueen Sir, your tongue 
 
 Is master of your breeding. 
 
 Traquair Pardon me, 
 
 I am too rash, and your displeasure is 
 A curb that makes me shiver. 
 
 O^ueen I have left 
 
 A black hood on my dais. Will you fetch it. 
 
 (TRAQUAIR goes Into the audience-chamber} 
 For I must put it out of sight ; he tore 
 My sable widow-raiment from my bosom 
 Some days ago, that I should wear this dress 
 Of harsh and flaunting scarlet. (TRAQUAIR brings the 
 
 hood) Thanks, my knight ! 
 
 (Apart) A stormy noise of steps, a door ! My nerves 
 Fly to some hole or cover . . . but retreat 
 Is earthed up by his presence. 
 
 Enter BOTH WELL. 
 
 Bothwell Who is here ? 
 
 Why do you coy it with this lad ? I ordered 
 
 204 
 
T'he 'Tragic Mary 
 
 Your vile and hellish mourning to your chest, 
 Until you please to put it on for me. 
 
 {As if recollecting TRAQU AIR'S presence'] 
 Pardon, my sovereign lady. Do not visit 
 My rudeness with desert. Some deep concerns 
 Weight me till you give judgment. (To TRAQUAIR) 
 
 Leave the queen, 
 
 And see you keep your distance. Do you hear ? 
 Traquair Yes, my lord duke. 
 Queen (Softly) Obey him. 
 
 Exit TRAQUAIR 
 (BOTH WELL slams the door after him and turns gloomily 
 
 to the QUEEN. A knocking is heard) 
 Bothwell Who will dare 
 Knock at this door, I wonder. (Opens to ERSKINE) Get 
 
 you off! 
 
 Intrude upon our privacy again 
 You answer with your life. 
 
 Erskine But I was sent 
 
 By madam for this goblet. 
 
 Bothwell (Recollecting himself ] seizing his cap and bow- 
 ing to the QUEEN) It is fitting 
 You do her service. Give the vessel here, 
 And keep your distance as your fellow does. 
 Erskine I am a gentleman . . . 
 Queen Sir Arthur, go. 
 
 Exit ERSKINE, with a deep bow to the QUEEN 
 Bothwell Inconstant, as this water ! You must fondle 
 205 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Your equerry to bring it ! By all devils, 
 You shall be plagued like thirsty Tantalus. 
 
 (Dashing it on the floor] 
 
 Cannot you rule your people, make your mobs 
 Obedient to my hand, instead of teaching 
 These amorous youngsters to be insolent ! 
 I am half-mad with burthens, (Pacing frantically') Sold, 
 
 deserted, 
 
 Mocked and withstood, I have been made the dupe 
 Of mentionless deceit. 
 
 )ueen (Apart) Within his eyes 
 
 What dreary menace ! Tell me of your grief. 
 
 Bothwell And you false too. I know it by the way 
 You tempt these boys and let them wheel about 
 Your presence, damn you ! They have courtly skins 
 And I these wound-creased brows. Death ! I believed 
 I had a grasp like fate, and everything 
 Is slipping into limbo : first my state, 
 My coadjutors, and my squadrons vanish, 
 And then my queen slips like a phantom-shape 
 Of mist to others' bosoms. 
 
 ^ueen (Wringing her hands) Would that God 
 Knew I was not your slave ! I burn to share 
 Your molten sorrows. 
 
 Bothwell O my hand-fast wife, 
 
 Are you then heart-fast too ? 
 
 ^ueen I cannot say 
 
 What ties me to your will, that, like a horse, 
 
 206 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Sweeps me through unknown empires. I should faint 
 To nothingness unless it governed me. 
 What must I do to help you ? 
 
 Bothwell Every one, 
 
 Oath-bound to join with me, is splitting off; 
 The folk are sullen ; I have made them sports, 
 Shown them my deeds of arms, and you have watched 
 As if I were your rock of lode-stone, ever 
 A claim upon your sight : yet still they grumble. 
 There is but this to cheer them you must sign 
 A revocation of all licenses 
 To use the Roman worship. You and I 
 Are Protestants ... so lift no hesitation 
 Upon your lips to vex me. Take the pen, 
 And write your signature. (Giving her a deed] 
 
 Queen (Turning to a table mechanically and with despair] 
 (dpart) No, holy Saints, 
 
 I cannot listen to your keen addresses 
 This marriage-ring is seated on my hand ; 
 It is too late to chide me. He has taken 
 The honour of my spirit, my religion 5 
 I can forswear apostacy no more 
 Than rid my ringer from its hoop of doom. 
 
 (She signs and hands the deed to hi?n] 
 There, James ; I almost fancy me a witch, 
 With Satan for my master. (She laughs hollowly] 
 
 Bothwell (Kissing her] Done, brave heart ! 
 Now let me have your child to keep and guard, 
 
 207 
 
'The Tragic Mary 
 
 Or the false lords will seize him. 
 
 >ueen (Recoiling fiercely) You have cast me 
 
 On nature, taken all my sacraments ; 
 On nature I will stand, and as a mother 
 Be there invincible. You shall not have him. 
 
 Bothwell What do you mean ? 
 
 )ueen I have no force of thought 
 
 To understand it I who have dissevered 
 My own, dear sapling from my breast. 
 
 Bothwell The rebels 
 
 Will put the crown upon him, and convey 
 To him your royalties. 
 
 ueen They all are his ; 
 
 He has my blood within him, and my milk 
 Has bred him for a crownet. 
 
 Botbwell O kneel down, 
 
 And do as Popish Mary to the Christ, 
 Acknowledge him your king. 
 
 )ueen My womanhood 
 
 Has often prayed before him ; but the chrism, 
 The consecrating oil of sovereignty 
 Forbids it to his queen. 
 
 Botbwell You go the way 
 
 To make me hate him, and you cannot measure 
 What hatred were in me, because your eyes 
 Transform its dull rock to a jewelled passion 
 With but one glance of light Your bairn, however, 
 With fool-begotten stare, could fetch no kindness 
 
 208 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Out of my detestation. 
 
 Queen Oh, a sword, 
 
 A knife to end this bitterness, or else 
 Within St. Margaret's pool, so cold with winds, 
 To drown myself ! You cannot hinder me, 
 If you dismay the wild, maternal pulse 
 Past nature's own insanity. A sword ! 
 
 Erskine (Within) Her cry at violence; what a 
 
 haunting scream ! 
 Help, beat the door down ! 
 
 Traquair (Within) I shall hold you here. 
 He is her husband. 
 
 Both-well (Apart) I have heard of storms 
 In which an unimpeded wind has stretched 
 The frantic sea-waves level, while it cries 
 Above the soundless plane : she sweeps my will, 
 My wrath down into silence. 
 
 Queen (Coming near to him) Have you thought 
 What utter hatred would be like in me ? 
 How in my eyes it were a basilisk 
 Of frightful charm, and in my voice the song 
 Of syren from her seat among the bones ? 
 Have you beheld the vision ? Very soon 
 It will be actual, and face to face. 
 
 Bothwell Ha ! Turn away ! You do not under- 
 stand 
 
 I pressed a policy, no despot whim 
 A threat to make you reasonable that 
 
 209 p 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Was all my hot intent. The lords henceforth 
 
 Will rally round your son, anoint him king, 
 
 And leave you like the altar of the mass 
 
 In a purged Romish church ; but if you rather 
 
 Will bear such violation than resist, 
 
 I cannot help it, and will never ask 
 
 To have your child again, although your madness 
 
 Should ruin our linked government. 
 
 <j)ueen You promise ? 
 
 Bothwell The devil seize you! What tormenting 
 
 power 
 
 Is in your motions ! But you cannot see, 
 For all your deep endowment, that this clash 
 Of quarrel strikes me haggard. By our God, 
 I swear to keep my peace about the boy : 
 Mar would not give him up. You wrong my aim ; 
 On me you look adversely with an anger 
 Imperative, primaeval, yet unjust 
 As it is blind and senseless. Houri-love, 
 My martial, witching star, if you should fail me, 
 I am alone and worsted. O bend down j 
 These raging tears fall over you. 
 
 6)ueen Nay, nay ! 
 
 What would you have ? 
 
 Bothwell Your pity, your approach 
 
 Pardon ! 
 
 &)ueen A fellow anguish, as of rain 
 Meeting the torrent-sea has brought my head, 
 
 210 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Where it now rests. (Sobbing on his shoulder] James, 
 
 do not ask forgiveness ; 
 Between us by no possibility 
 There now can be exchange. 
 
 Eothwell At least your lips, 
 
 My queen ! 
 
 >ueen You need not ask I am a ruin, 
 Your wishes pierce wherever they may list. 
 Leave me to sleep. My lord, I must not taste 
 This great, salt weeping as you kiss me. 
 
 Eothwell So 
 
 We end this great unkindness. 
 
 hteen Ay, even so. 
 
 (As he goes to the doorway of the private stair y he 
 passes by the neighbouring tapestry] 
 
 Eothwell Phaeton's red-harnessed horses, grey as doom, 
 And he himself 'mong their tumultuous hoofs . . . 
 Such picture by her bedside ! He who owned 
 This stairway's rights before me fell in chaos : 
 I tread where he did, leaving her. What Fury 
 Set up this woful Gobelin ! Exit 
 
 <$ueen When I hear 
 
 His feet within the turret, my whole frame 
 Remembers by degrees, and yet to-day 
 Perchance my doubts were false and passionate 
 
 211 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 SCENE III Holyrood-, a room in the palace : LETHINGTON 
 is discovered writing despatches 
 
 Enter LADY LETHINGTON 
 
 Lftbington Well, Mary, will her grace be pleased to 
 sign these despatches ? 
 
 Lady Lethington I know not : you have the dreariest 
 brows. 
 
 Lethington For I love her infinitely ; this is the last 
 service I shall render her. It is plain I must resign my 
 stewardship and away to everlasting habitations ! 
 
 Lady Lethington What do you mean ? You will not 
 die ? I am sure you are ill ; for you lie awake all night 
 without stirring. I must conclude you are ill. 
 
 Lethington Do you conceive it possible to secure rest 
 in a palace tramped by barbarians ? I tell you, Mary, the 
 voice of that homicide . . . 
 
 Lady Lethington Then you imagine he is the king's 
 murderer ? 
 
 Lethington Tush, child, that were a small matter : he 
 makes onslaught on the delicate fabric of the mind ; he 
 invades the region of alternatives and possibilities, and 
 crushes the tender shoots of inclination. I have not a 
 brain to bear predatory impairment. Sweet wife, there 
 were gentler housing for thy sick spouse at Stirling. 
 
 Lady Lethington What ! You will not leave the 
 queen ? 
 
 212 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Lethington Ay, haply for the moment, for the quieting 
 of my country, and the re-knitting of my mind. 
 
 Lady Lethington You are not faithful ? 
 
 Lethington The chameleon, my pretty moralist, is 
 faithful to the light through variance its susceptibility 
 changes its dyes. Faithful to what? 
 
 Lady Lethington To be faithful is to be fixed and 
 constant. To be faithful in religion is to have ever the 
 same mind toward God. 
 
 Lethington The fidelity of an imbecile ! I must love 
 my God humanly, not with stiff constancy, but with every 
 mood I have not a single devout strain but with 
 jealousy, contrition, humbleness, and pride. Shall we give 
 all our heart to a mortal, and a few notes of piety to 
 our God ? But your pardon, my rigorous philosopher ; I 
 demand of you nothing better than the observance of your 
 own maxims. It is the glory of a woman to maintain the 
 creed of her espousals. How prospers the royal honey- 
 moon upstairs ? 
 
 Lady Lethington Most unhappily, to judge by the 
 queen's countenance. But she will not lose her senses, as 
 'tis reported. It is the duke who blocks up the passage, and 
 lets his hands drop. ( BOTH WELL is heard tramping above] 
 
 Lethington He is insufferable do but listen ! the 
 confusion of palaces. Mary, heaven arm thee with thy 
 lord's fell eloquence to bring down the queen. 
 
 Lady Lethington I am ever your servant to perform 
 your behests. Your kisses are the bribe of my obedience. 
 
 213 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 You seek to make me an unhappy wife, that my fortunes 
 may equal those of my mistress. 
 
 Lethlngton Nay, my spouse, you are mated with 
 wisdom, and the price of wisdom is above rubies. Be 
 not malcontent. Go, urge the queen. The ambassa- 
 dors start for England to-night. It may be I too shall be 
 absent. (Kissing her] God be with you, dear. 
 
 Exit LADY LETHINGTON 
 
 (Turning to the despatches') The last service I shall per- 
 form for her ! The duke had slain me yesterday, but for 
 her intervention. I must leave her ; it is the beginning 
 of my great attachment. Farewell to ideas, dreams, 
 policies ; farewell to unity ! The heir to the English 
 kingdom should be full of all comely conditions, and she 
 hangs as a blanched leaf on a bough. Yet it pierces me to 
 the heart to note how she keeps her queenship to me as I 
 were the single loyal subject in the world. Could she 
 recover ! She must bide somewhere in prison (shrugging 
 his shoulders as he hears more noise] till we get that bar- 
 barian hanged. Afterwards . . . No, there is no restora- 
 tion possible ; but I shall but seem to abandon her. I am 
 cursed by the tenacity of my affections. When I was a 
 boy they set me to keep watch over the dead. It was a 
 duty without issue ; and there is in me a fund of patience 
 for a sort of posthumous religion. 
 
 Enter the QUEEN 
 
 (She takes a pen and bends over the despatches) 
 >ueen I do not ask 
 
 214 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 How you have told the truth of these last days 
 You have had vision of. 
 
 Lethlngton (dpart) She need not lower 
 Her lids, her wide, brimmed eyes are reticent ; 
 And yet there is expansion on the lips 
 And brows that luminous, poetic shine, 
 The presage of some great impolicy. 
 
 Queen (Putting away the despatches] Ay, I have signed 
 
 them all ; if dreamily, 
 
 Forgive me : for a peace comes down and softens 
 My sorrows when I dream. How bare the world 
 Would be without the dead ! 
 
 Lethington Of whom, dear queen, 
 
 May you be taking thought ? 
 
 Queen I think no more 
 
 Of one or two; they come in multitudes 
 Within me, down the currents of my blood ; 
 And the great, outer host drawn in with breath. 
 There is no time in them ; it is alike 
 If they fell ages back, or yesterday ; 
 And Helen, shadowed by ^gyptus* shore, 
 Moves close to me ; she clasps Theonoe 
 About the neck, and through the lotus-flowers 
 The women press together. 
 
 Lethington Ay, the phantom, 
 
 Not the live Helen. 
 
 Queen She who was a queen. 
 
 I love the legend that she never swerved 
 
 215 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 From wifely faith, that Paris' capture was 
 
 A spectre that dislimned into thin air 
 
 When Proteus from his shadow in the rocks 
 
 Rose, and restored his guarded fugitive 
 
 Unblemished to her husband. All those years 
 
 Of bloodshed and reproach she had been held 
 
 In sanctuary, and where her soul received 
 
 No sound of her ill-fame. It seems to me 
 
 One may be so withdrawn, even from the clamour 
 
 Of those who love and fight and suffer wrong 
 
 For the poor image of oneself, the clay, 
 
 Not the live creature, Lethington. I seek 
 
 To give you apprehension of the facts 
 
 That have been open to your ken these last 
 
 Tumultuous weeks for you have still your queen 
 
 Preserved by mystic charity from taint 
 
 Of noisome accident, and overcome 
 
 Of none, being so secluded in herself, 
 
 Storms have no access to her. 
 
 Lethington Can you doubt, 
 
 My sovereign, that my deepest faith is yours, 
 Though to pursue your pretty simile, 
 I hold the lovely Greek so deep in awe, 
 That when I see her injurers, almost 
 I perish of pure passion, as the elms, 
 Planted about Protesilaus' tomb, 
 Faded as fast as their aspiring shoots 
 Caught glimpse of Ilium. 
 
 216 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Queen Hush, that red Dunbar. 
 
 (Taking bis hands and clasping them] How many years 
 You were my mother's counsellor ; how oft 
 By luring sagesse you have drawn me back 
 From folly : you can aid me now no more. 
 Wide ruin overhangs. 'Tis pitiful 
 To bear a name that in its overthrow 
 Carries fair kingdoms, and leaves tremulous 
 The pillars of the church : I bear such name, 
 I front such ominous fortune. Put away 
 These papers ; it is plain that we must part : 
 God will not suffer me one comfort now. 
 I cannot see you murdered in my sight ; 
 Therefore you must be gone. Yet stay awhile 
 (Taking an ornament from her neck) I have an oval orna- 
 ment of gold, 
 
 Enamelled with a curious device 
 From jEsop's fable of the netted lion, 
 And his most nimble-toothed deliverer ; 
 With these Italian words : non mancano 
 Leforze a chi has to /* ammo 
 Written around it. I have often sighed, 
 Touching the trinket, ere I laid it by 
 For see, the violet cord is worn with use 
 O'er this entoiled, forsaken royalty, 
 And the persistent, liberating force 
 Beside it. Should there ever be occasion 
 For breaking the captivity, return 
 
 217 
 
The ^Tragic Mary 
 
 This gift ; my cipher graven within its lid 
 
 Is pregnant as a pass-word to my love, 
 
 And closer than a signet. You have never 
 
 Signed any the vile bonds my enemies 
 
 Have published in their hate : receive this token 
 
 Of grace and benediction from your queen. 
 
 Lethington Madam, this golden outbreak fron the 
 cloud . . . 
 
 Queen My courtier ! I shall lose so soon the voice 
 Whose every invocation was a spell, 
 And yet must break its music. We shall talk 
 No more together. Though I were content 
 To lie and let the waves fall over me, 
 As a wrecked barque that, when the storm is spent, 
 Suffers the soft mishandling of the tides, 
 I still am treasurer of the crown. How fares 
 My boy ? You have much intercourse with Mar ; 
 The lords are gathered in a camp at Stirling 
 Around his cradle. 
 
 Lethington Have but patience, madam, 
 
 You too shall be delivered. 
 
 Queen How is this ? 
 
 It doth not need conspiracy to quench 
 Ambition such as his, so dissolute. 
 
 (Throwing herself on a seat and passionately 
 
 weeping) 
 I cannot banish him ; he would return. 
 
 Lethington Ay, the light, spectral way of guilty souls : 
 218 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 You have your rosary. 
 
 It will be pastime 
 To count my beads on the dark swards of hell. 
 Maitland, my soul is ciphered Catholic, 
 And yet I have withdrawn the licences 
 At the duke's pleasure. I am slight of will. 
 
 Enter BOTHWELL 
 
 Leave us till dinner-time. 
 
 Bothwell (Advancing) What, closeted 
 With Lyd, your secretary an old offence ! 
 You shall not have another faithful servant 
 Like David Riccio. Ah, you whiten, sir. 
 
 Lethington It is my wont at blasphemy. Proceed ! 
 Are these for my revision ? (Attempting to take some papers 
 from BOTHWELL) 
 
 Bothwell (Grasping them) I have writ 
 Brief record of my mind and purposes 
 To England. I can front Elizabeth 
 As you ; I do not need your artifice. 
 
 (Turning to the QUEEN) 
 O Marie, would you see a borderer 
 Expend his hate, at last fall to the feast 
 Of long, unsated, devilish detestation ? 
 
 (Relaxing his hold at the QUEEN'S intercession) 
 Nay then, he shall be spared ; but since you cast 
 On me your ravishment, and since you turn 
 The dun side of your beauty to my face, 
 
 219 
 
The tragic Mary 
 
 Setting the wind of your hot sighs to blast 
 
 My rash, desirous moments, since you thwart me, 
 
 And magnify this pard I will unfold 
 
 The smooth and cowardly creature you esteem. 
 
 This man heard Morton promise me your hand, 
 
 And to and fro he journeyed prospering 
 
 My heady plans j he is the sorcerer 
 
 To lure your mates to death, one after one ; 
 
 He sits, and sees them drop away from you, 
 
 But yet he meddles not. Now chat together ; 
 
 He will advise you how you may entoil 
 
 A second victim. I will leave you now. Exit 
 
 <$ueen To think that you were with me at D unbar ! 
 
 Letbington You saved my life. 
 
 ^ueen (Looking toward the door} He cannot be a king ; 
 They wither, or are murdered, or grow mad 
 Who link themselves with me in sovereignty. 
 Twilight and ruin settle on us both ! 
 Oh, might we be forgotten ; could we lie 
 In the blank pardon of oblivion ! That, 
 Alack, can never be j there is no man 
 Can give me safety, or protection, or 
 Peace from vicissitude ; I have no lover, 
 Servant or friend ; and yet I am beloved 
 Even to marvel. I can pray no more, 
 I have no more dependence upon God ; 
 And none on any of His creatures, none. 
 Go, tell my story as you learnt it, add 
 
 220 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 New matter. If I sat beside the fire, 
 In prison with my maids, and never spoke, 
 While you put forth fresh libels, or confirmed 
 The common talk, you could not injure me : 
 My silence would have privilege. 
 
 Lethington Your pardon ; 
 
 My task is now to write an epitaph : 
 
 Here lies a royal lady who defamed 
 Each soul that did her service^ unashamed ; 
 And loved to raise the vicious to such grace 
 That heaven and hell were centred in one place. 
 
 So I unclasp my shackles. (Unclasping the ornament] 
 
 >ueen (Looking steadfastly at LETHINGTON) By 
 consent 
 
 He seized me at Dunbar ? The Tolbooth gauged 
 
 The pressure of my passions ; and the cartels 
 
 Will pass me truly to posterity, 
 
 While you admit the portrait ? 
 
 Lethington Libellers 
 
 Are sure of popularity. My brain 
 
 Treasures a rare, untarnished miniature ; 
 
 With that I shall not part. (She gazes at him^ sobbing] 
 Nay, pardon now, 
 
 Full pardon, great, obliterating sea, 
 
 Of love overwhelm me ! You have heaven's own measure : 
 
 The seventy-times-and-seven is in your eyes, 
 
 Immeasurable grace. There is no need 
 
 221 
 
T'he ^Tragic Mary 
 
 Of this slave's token j but I put it back. 
 
 (Kissing the gold ornament] 
 
 God shield you from dishonour ! May He draw 
 Blood of me, when my life has other use 
 Than to protect your titles. 
 
 Queen It was thus 
 
 I dreamed of you. Farewell. 
 
 SCENE IV Borthwick; the battlements, with a courtyard 
 
 below 
 
 Enter on to the battlements BLACKADDER and the 
 CASTELLAN 
 
 Blackadder This flight from Holyrood, because 'twas 
 
 mooted 
 
 The lords were on the march, is argument 
 To sure disaster. 
 
 Castellan Though the duke is gone 
 
 Among the border ridges to collect 
 An army at Melrose, 1 have no faith 
 That he can draw the commons after him ; 
 For her black weeping has estranged men's hearts 
 Acutely from his service. 
 
 Blackadder She is restless 
 
 As any creature that has lost its mate, 
 Since he has left her side : she does not sleep, 
 Nor sit, nor feed, nor use her supple hands 
 
 222 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 In needlework or music, but grows thin 
 With pacing, and distempered meditation. 
 Crookstan, this fidget of a woman's soul 
 Sets me distraught. I cannot understand 
 The weeping and constraint of her behaviour 
 At Holyrood, and this sharp pining now. 
 She hates him or she loves him : but which horn 
 Of this dilemma she is pitched upon 
 No son of woman knows. 
 
 Castellan Hold ! Here she comes, 
 
 Untended 'mid that gaiety of dress 
 She flaunts in since he took her. Exit BLACKADDER 
 
 Enter QUEEN 
 
 Queen Castellan, 
 
 Are troops in sight ? The twilight thwarts mine eyes. 
 
 Castellan There is a rumour that the earls of Mar, 
 Morton, Montrose, are pressing to our keep 
 With Lindsey, Hume. 
 
 Queen (Stamping impatiently) In answer to my 
 summons ? 
 
 Castellan Madam, your proclamation is as waste. 
 
 Queen I look forth on a kingdom that is mine, 
 Yet stand here helpless as a country-lass. 
 Peace, peace ! Bring me an army. Scan the space ; 
 Is there no moving colour on the verge ? 
 
 Castellan I have been out twice to the mound and 
 shouted ; 
 
 223 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 The hills were deaf it is an evil sign. 
 
 (Moving to the other side) 
 >ueen If I should pray ! 
 Below there is soft frolic in the fields, 
 Summer and grassy harvest. God, instead 
 Plant me an army for his marshalling ; 
 Remount his courage, lest the last disdain 
 Come o'er me, tempting me to fling him off! 
 
 Enter the MARIES. 
 
 How now ! What, women, treble voices tush ! 
 Well, girls, your service ? Are there no relays ? 
 You have sharp, shining eyes : look to the west. 
 
 Alary Livingstone Madam, we come to alter your 
 
 attire ; 
 For if the duke . . . 
 
 >ueen O frippery ! Your husbands should be grooms ; 
 Break your lords' anger with a string of pearls ! 
 Away with you, you puppets of the court ! 
 There are no pages here to find delight 
 In your small modes. Exeunt 
 
 The leaflets of this rosebush 
 Are plucked away ; how desperate I am ! 
 Do I not hear his step ? My ardours grow 
 With fear and with despair. 
 
 Enter BLACKADDER 
 
 Blackadder My lord returns, 
 
 224 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Is solitary, changed, a very devil. 
 Leave us to brave him. 
 
 ueen But I never dread 
 
 The open air, the vehemence, the storm 
 Of a man's nature. (Jpart) 'Tis his underground 
 Fidelity of force that holds me down, 
 As Plutus kept hell-closed Proserpina ; 
 I should enjoy his rage. 
 
 Enter BOTHWELL: he passes the QUEEN without notice 
 and stares over the country 
 
 Elackadder (To CASTELLAN) Look there ! 
 
 (Pointing to BOTHWELL) 
 
 Castellan My God ! (A deep pause] 
 
 Elackadder (To CASTELLAN) Is not that movement 
 
 to the north a band 
 Of riders? 
 
 Castellan Slip round by the other side ; 
 So let us reach the stair. I may not venture 
 To question our commander, but I think 
 Some peril is approaching. Come away. 
 
 Elackadder (Watching the QUEEN and BOTHWELL) 
 
 They stand against that cloud as still as towers 
 Stand through the night. 
 
 (BLACKADDER and the CASTELLAN pass round 
 the further battlement, and the CASTELLAN 
 descends; as BLACKADDER is descending 
 BOTHWELL turns) 
 
 225 Q 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Botbwell Tell them to make my bed. 
 
 Elackadder Yes, yes, my lord. 
 
 Bothwell Strip all the covers off; 
 
 'Tis hot. 
 
 Elackadder My lord, I will. Exit 
 
 BOTHWELL continues to gaze <?/, and takes no 
 notice of the QUEEN 
 
 Queen (Apart] It is not safe 
 
 To guard this solitude. (Aloud) What, perdu^ love- 
 So weary and dishevelled ? You are dumb 
 And trembling .... (Apart] Still no answer. All 
 
 the world 
 
 Becomes a silence. Stars, stars, break the heat 
 With some swift declaration ; nightingale. 
 Sing through your gurgling blood to us ! 
 
 Bothwell (Suddenly moving to the stair) I'll go, 
 I will be off to couch me. 
 
 Queen (As be passes) Are you ill ? 
 
 Botbwell Damned by your love. Ha, ha, I have been 
 
 king 
 
 A month or so, have swayed it in good earnest, 
 And made my queen my vassal. 'Tis all done ! 
 I have had royal quarters ... At Melrose 
 There is no army. I have torn the crown 
 In haste to seize it, pulled the throne on me ; 
 But when I sit and whistle on my prow . . . 
 
 Queen James, James, you dare not leave me ? 
 
 Eothwell Those famed eyes 
 
 226 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Have learned to make entreaty to my will. 
 When I sit whistling on my prow at sea. 
 Among my buccaneers, I shall make boast 
 Of what, my sovereign dame ? 
 
 (The QUEEN starts towards the battlements' 
 
 edge ; BOTH WELL violently pushes her back 
 
 against the roof) 
 
 Oh, you have courage ! 
 
 Your old trick at Dunbar, it awed me then. 
 You cannot give me pleasure any more 
 With your stained, dripping face. 'Tis over, girl, 
 This play at kings and queens. Will you not come 
 Aboard with me ? I had a Danish wife, 
 Whom I left stranded on the Netherlands 
 When she had served my turn. Your resolution ? 
 Ay, handy-dandy with me, up and down 
 I will not be your jailor ; you are free : 
 The lords are gathering for your rescue : open, 
 Let them burst in and murder me. To-night 
 I'll sleep destruction ! sleep with open window, 
 And let all go to rack. Exit 
 
 Queen Within my head 
 
 There is a clang as if great gates of iron 
 Shook, and then opened to a breeze. My limbs 
 Quaver as do the hill-curves in the heat. 
 Nothing is altered only he is gone, 
 Oppressive in his insolence and gross 
 As manhood is when it descends beneath 
 
 227 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 A woman's foot. Darnley and Lethington 
 And Moray so I have been taught contempt 
 From note to note : the compass now is reached ; 
 I cannot stretch beyond to-day the limit 
 Of scorn, for it is full and perfect, striking 
 This man I reckoned faithful as the seasons, 
 My horoscope, or death. A loosed possession ! 
 And I am that cast off with lack of love 
 By an insensate hand ! O God, the light 
 That pours unblinking inward and how large 
 A difference in my heart ! 
 
 Enter CASTELLAN #WBLACKADDER in the courtyard below 
 
 Castellan (To BLACK ADDER) Go fetch my lord ; 
 A troop without say they are hunted friends, 
 And I must open. 
 
 Elackadder He is laid a' bed, 
 
 Or just undressing. I shall have a thud 
 Of passion for my message. 
 
 Castellan Go. Exit BLACK ADDER 
 
 S>ueen (Listening) A tumult 
 
 Against the bank ! 
 
 Re-enter below BOTHWELL and BLACKADDER 
 
 Blackadder Your doublet is not on. 
 
 Bothwell Curses ! I'll not be touched Just pull this 
 down 
 
 228 
 
T'he Tragic Mary 
 
 Where is that madman Crookstan ? Blast your wits ! 
 
 Lock, lock and hold ! It is a stratagem. 
 
 Fool, must I slumber to be caught alive 
 
 For durance through your softness ? All is up ! 
 
 We have no food or arms to meet a siege, 
 
 Scarcely a dozen men within the walls 
 
 For sortie or repulse. 
 
 Cries (Outside the gates) Assassin, out ! 
 Butcher, come forth ! (Confused execrations) 
 
 Bothwell I have not one resolve. 
 
 (Apart) The mast is broken, and the striving sail 
 Falls down it in a heap. There is such rage 
 Of hopeless circumstance about my ears, 
 It desolates my force as if I heard 
 The water-kelpie howl a sweating panic. 
 Had I but slept an hour ! 
 
 Cries Ha, ha, come forth 
 
 A murderer, a regicide ! 
 
 Both well Confound 
 
 Their vile abuse, dishonourable noise ! 
 Who would have thought this grey and silent hour 
 Would hoot outrageous titles, and besiege 
 My sense with clamour ? 
 
 Castellan You will never let 
 
 Their ribald anger put you out of heart. 
 My lord, I wait directions. 
 
 Cries R avis her ! 
 
 Bothwell I cannot stay. Crookstan, I know all voices 
 229 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 That reach this earthly life of ours ; the shout 
 Of battle and the predatory din, 
 Woman's soft-worded breath, the hurling stream 
 In flood and hate, the sorrow of the wind 
 When ghosts are in its tide all, save this cry 
 Round a defenceless castle, round about 
 Our unprotected conscience. Send your son 
 To meet me at the postern. 
 
 Castellan For escape ? 
 
 Bothwell For anything, for peace I cannot stay, 
 Hedged in by such offence, Exit CASTELLAN 
 
 drawn on to flight 
 
 By something voiceful, and by such distraction 
 As turns all ways to menace me. Ay, yell 
 Below there in the pit ! This midsummer, 
 Far sky is cavernous above my head, 
 Huge, full of wondrous passes through the stars : 
 It looked so from the hole at Lindisfarne 
 They put me in ; and when I choke at night, 
 Wrung with a nightmare, 'tis not Kirk o' Field 
 That sets me gasping ; but a low, arched room, 
 With iron trellis and a muffled door, 
 Where I must hold my breath till they have clamped 
 His bonds about a captive who begins 
 A fairy thrall of twenty thousand years ! (More cries) 
 Howl up your execrations ! Guilty, lords, 
 To every charge. 
 
 Cries Adulteress ! 
 
 230 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Botbwili Let alone 
 
 That cry, confounding her with my misdeeds. 
 She shall not hear it infamy ! (Turning in the direction of 
 
 the execrating lords] To sweep 
 Across you as the north wind on the bents, 
 Clean from the verge to tear you in my transit. 
 Then boom triumphant of the scath behind ! 
 A regicide, a rex ! It bursts again 
 Their shriek that whirrs and eddies like the cry 
 Of sea-fowl at the base. 
 
 Cries Come down to us ; 
 
 Yield yourself prisoner ! 
 
 Bothwell Ay, to be shut up 
 
 As a big, precious relic ! If these men 
 Should act my vision on me, I would loose 
 My thoughts out in a wolfish multitude ; 
 I would betray them. 
 
 Re-enter CASTELLAN 
 
 Crookstan, muffle me, 
 Push me along the passage ; I am blind 
 Your boy there ? O the mountains ! I am safe ! 
 And yonder the wan water. Let us out. Exeunt 
 
 >ueen (IVbo has caught snatches of the talk below) 
 Fidelity ! But now he has no claim, 
 No share in any regal attribute ; 
 He drops to the unsingled multitude 
 
 231 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Of craven rebels. And I stand alone, 
 Full of great, mounting courage ; in my veins 
 The blood that buffets fortune and endures. 
 I will go wander forth into the night, 
 And breathe my freedom. I am free as air, 
 As Dian in the woods. I wedded him 
 By promises heretical and void 
 As is his heart who leaves me. Out, away, 
 I go, I go ! The wife of Hepburn slips 
 Into her boyish hose and doughty cloak 
 To disappear for ever. In the cots 
 Are faithful subjects, charitable hands : 
 My people love their pity-dealing queen, 
 The daughter of their goodman, whom they called 
 King o* the Commons merrily. I wish 
 Bad dreams had all such issue : I am light 
 As when I danced upon the palace-floors 
 In dearest France, and irresponsible 
 As when I strayed at Inchmahome. My youth 
 Rushes in front of memory 5 all my pain, 
 My plight in fresh disguise, are smart as joy j 
 And there is nature in me that persists 
 In hoping, loving ; for the rain and dew 
 I cry, for seed-time and the harvest-fields : 
 The dead, unsightly things that have been cast 
 By alien forces on me presently 
 Must disappear. I leap into my realm 
 Without a thought God speed me ! Exit 
 
 232 
 
T'he T'ragic Mary 
 
 SCENE V Crlchton Muir ; a wlld^ marish country, lighted 
 by glow-worms, in the distance a saddled horse 
 
 The QUEEN enters, dressed as a cavalier , and throws herself 
 on the grass 
 
 I have lost, 
 
 Quite lost my way, and with it every grief. 
 Ah, here is freedom, here is quietness ; 
 Myself's own mystery closes round my soul 
 Once more, and I am healed. I have no prayer, 
 Nor any hopes or fears. To penetrate 
 Still further on, to learn more of this June, 
 This deep, midsummer midnight ! I have touched 
 The roses, and have felt the fanning wind : 
 There is a kingdom where these royalties 
 Are more than faintly dreamed. Oh, if what stirs 
 In sleep, what palpitates with blessedness, 
 Would carry me away in tranced arms ! 
 
 (She puts her hands through the turf] 
 I have no mind for death. What gaiety 
 There is across the banks a showery track 
 Of glow-worms j the whole grass is full of them, 
 And on beyond they thicken toward the moor. 
 1 can be very wakeful with delight, 
 And watch the change and flitting of these lamps, 
 The passing and re-passing to and fro, 
 A luminous, slow load. How heavily 
 
 233 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 One drags behind, and now they all are gone. 
 
 One, two I cannot count them. (She sleeps] 
 
 ****** 
 
 (Waking) Day-break ho ! 
 
 The hills are built again, 
 
 And yonder is a castle. God, it seems 
 
 The sullen country that I saw before, 
 
 As I had made an orbit in the dark, 
 
 And come round to my starting. Silently 
 
 The light is creeping through ; from point to point 
 
 It passes and gives judgment : on the verge 
 
 The barren hills expose their solitude, 
 
 The marsh yields up its rank and heavy pools, 
 
 While at my feet these silky filaments (Gathering sedges) 
 
 Shake their untarnished tufts athwart the wind. 
 
 In this hard dawn I find no comforter ; 
 
 It is too just, it spreads impartially, 
 
 Shooting no dazzling signature across 
 
 The wide, accessible, untrodden ways. 
 
 I cannot choose or wander any more, 
 
 I can but bow me to my misery, 
 
 And take the pensive journey of a spirit, 
 
 That walks from hollow torture to its tomb, 
 
 To clothe itself in flesh that shall receive, 
 
 Foster, prolong, diversify its pangs. 
 
 There is a tramp of footsteps. 
 
 (Turning, she sees BOTHWELL close to her) 
 Bothwell Marie ! What, 
 
 234 
 
The ^Tragic Mary 
 
 You wanton ! But you flitted for my sake 
 Across the brae ? 
 
 Queen No matter for we meet. 
 
 Bothwell Ho, lad ! This change of vesture almost 
 
 might 
 
 Win manhood to adopt you ; yet, my faith ! 
 We have no room among our qualities 
 For wild, exciting pallor, and such gaze 
 As would make civil war within our sex, 
 If once admitted .... Why, there is a change 
 Turn me your face ! there is a change beyond 
 The youngster's cap about your wrung-up hair, 
 The boots and spurs. I madden ! If you mean 
 To punish me you could not use me worse 
 Than mumming in these clothes with face of sorrow, 
 And climax of strange loveliness that makes me 
 Half-dread you are a spirit in disguise, 
 And mine no more. 
 
 Queen Where are we, on what road ? 
 
 Botbwell She wanders still. Black Castle stands to 
 
 left 
 That hid me in my flight. Ah, you are changed ! 
 
 Queen A terrible perfection has been growing 
 In every sense of good and pain I feel. 
 No wonder I turn lovelier I am young, 
 Not adverse as the old are toward their griefs, 
 But lithe to chastening. 
 
 Botbwell Talk less foolishly. 
 
 235 
 
T'he Tragic Mary 
 
 My Thespian, O my buskined love, this stage, 
 This moor, is not for interludes. The foe 
 May any moment seize us. I was sick, 
 Short-tempered when we parted. 
 
 Queen You are wrong, 
 
 We did not say goodbye. 
 
 Bothwell O pardon ! 
 
 Queen Whither 
 
 Does foredoom take us ? 
 
 Bothwell Hasten to Dunbar 
 
 With me : then are you safe. 
 
 Queen Not to Dunbar ! 
 
 Bothwell Why, 'tis the only refuge. 
 
 Queen (Apart} Back to Hell 
 
 God's power dismisses lost ones on the day 
 Of their accompt ; back, back to Hell Dunbar ! 
 
 Bothwell You speak with half a voice and hollowly. 
 Come, you are not yourself and must be led ; 
 I sweep my arm around your shoulders, boy ! 
 I am the stronger man, and shall prevail 
 If you entice my sinews into work. 
 And yet the deepness of your eyes affrights, 
 And is unlawful. I forbid the folly 
 Which thus delays escape. 
 
 Queen Yes, I must come ; 
 
 It is my sentence. 
 
 Bothwell What, you are offended ? 
 
 Then let me kiss the frown away. 
 
 236 ' 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Queen No, no ! 
 
 Shame not my venturous gait. 
 
 Botkwell You shall no more 
 
 Pause in a gleaming stupor, but enlinked 
 Fly to your husband'e castle, and there pay 
 The sweet embraces due to him. On oath, 
 I will not plague your lips, my traveller, 
 Till you have altered guise. 
 
 Queen You do not well 
 
 To take me to your sea-fort, with my clear 
 Aboding that we go there to divide 
 Who left it to be wedded : 'tis the end, 
 A bare, unblest extreme. 
 
 Bothwell The damps have entered 
 
 Your health, the fiendful desolation driven 
 Your wits into the moon. You have not slung 
 Your sword aright. As fair as beaten gold 
 Your neck shines out above the heavy wrap ; 
 There 's no imperfect place in you, except 
 This error of accoutrement. 
 
 Queen Dun bar ! 
 
 Botbwell You shall not speak it on a burning pant. 
 Its red towers are not answerable for 
 The rare effects that bind us. By God's blood, 
 We must put in for haven from revolt 
 There where my cannon are, my guns, and strength. 
 At last an army gathers. 
 
 Queen Oh, to spend 
 
 237 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Warlike, not over-solitary hours ! 
 
 To toil, inspire, and marshal. Will you promise 
 
 An army ? 
 
 Bothwell By my life, I will. 
 
 <$ueen Lead on ! 
 
 There are affairs to settle by the sea : 
 Waves welter and cry out, but I shall hear 
 The press of faithful squadrons. (To BOTHWELL) Loose 
 
 my neck, 
 Then I will follow. 
 
 Bothwell (Apart) She is changed. O fate, 
 Re-make her into woman once again, 
 For she is gone from underneath my hand. (Exeunt) 
 
 SCENE VI Carberry Hill; the camp of the Lords : LETH- 
 INGTON looks across the valley in the direction of the 
 QUEEN'S army on the opposite height 
 
 Lethlngton Will it be thus, I wonder, hereafter : the 
 borders of the great gulf ranged with ironical faces. Could 
 the sheep and goats but front, would they not blink at one 
 another like the unsound augurs of old ? Sheep and goats, 
 sheep and goats ! A disastrous partition, for man is of his 
 nature indivisible, and can have but one destiny. It is the 
 misplacing that irks ! What pleasure can I have among 
 these precise Protestants,, who see a street before their 
 
 238 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 noses, whatsoe'er the pied landscape discover ? How I 
 pine for that rare, lyrical creature I have abjured ! When 
 they roused me from my rest in the city to come march 
 against her to Musseburgh, I rubbed my eyes long, and 
 lay listening to the blare of the trumpets, as it were in a 
 stupor. May it be my portion some day from the house- 
 tops to proclaim what these men are, and to see them 
 degraded one by one. For what I fainest would do is to 
 have my mistress in estate, in person, in honour ; and when 
 these miscreants take her to their keeping, I doubt not I 
 shall have to labour for her very life . . . Du Croc has 
 passed to parley with her, but who can reason under this 
 inexorable sun. Not to budge deserves a palm-branch. 
 (To a soldier arranging a banner) At work, ho ! And on 
 the Sabbath made for man ! I marvel at you. Come, 
 unfurl your canvas. 
 
 Soldier This banner, sir, is to flap before our army. 
 
 Lethington Tut, my man, it will not pay to fight in 
 this dazzle ; we must stand still like cows in the heat. 
 (Nodding, as the soldier unfurls the flag] Ay, it is pretty 
 and most scriptural ! We have here a marvellous sweet 
 babe, pious as the infant Samuel, praying the voiceful air ; 
 and in the midst is murdered Abel under a green growing 
 tree. But where is Cain ? Here you should figure him, 
 Lord Bothwell, in this corner, with his rumpled brow and 
 villainous, hot face. See, good fellow, they are buying 
 food yonder from the country people. Get to your dinner ; 
 I will watch the stuff". 
 
 239 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Soldier Surely, for his pieces will buy cheese. That 
 picture, sir, must make the harlot wince. Exit 
 
 Lethington To eat and drink 
 
 And be religious is all one to them ; 
 I have no superstition ; when a man 
 Is gross in sanctity it gives me qualms. 
 I wonder is she sitting on the hill, 
 Or speaking full of kindness to Du Croc, 
 This tedious summer day. A gallant soul ! 
 And birds, they say, sing sweeter in the cage, 
 For then they sing of freedom. I must wait 
 A time to do her good. These fleecy clouds 
 Of bosomed thunder dull at least the heat. 
 
 Enter MORTON 
 
 Ho, Morton, do you answer to this charge ? 
 
 {Pointing to the banner} 
 
 Morton Is it not bravely pictured ? Thus heaven writes 
 Across the walls of conscience ; I would sooner 
 Be burned alive than leave this infamous, 
 Vile murder unavenged. My blood grows hot j 
 God knows I share His hatreds. Riccio first. 
 Then the limp Catholic, and now this pair 
 Of married liars. Would that I saw them stretched 
 Dead at my feet, like those two subtle ones 
 Who thought upon the value of their land 
 When bartering for their souls. I have been patient, 
 The long, slow way God deals with his elect, 
 
 240 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Although He will avenge them speedily. 
 Since Kirk o' Field I kept this orphan-babe 
 Firm in my thoughts, and stand here now in arms 
 To compass retribution. 
 
 Lethington That shall fall 
 
 On me, on you, on that frail innocence, 
 The earl of Moray ? 
 
 Morton On the queen herself. 
 
 We are but instruments in heaven's high hand, 
 For better station we must cross the stream, 
 And take the ridge of Cowsland where the sun 
 Will not molest us. Grange is with the queen 
 And there is talk of ending this affray 
 By single combat of the duke with some 
 Selected nobleman ; but I will stripe 
 The devil, if he dare to fight with us. Exit 
 
 (LETHINGTON lies down, pulls his cap over hh 
 brows and listens to the sky-larks} 
 
 Lethington How sunnily they sing ! About their 
 
 business 
 
 In the deep blue. I give religion up, 
 It is all controversy; but to flute 
 One's happiness, get wings to it, and fly ; 
 Leaving the realm of question, to create; 
 Listen, create and listen in one's bosom 
 An inexhaustive fount, and from the brain 
 An ever finer conduit to the ear : 
 That were felicity that, in the nest, 
 
 241 R 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 The twitter of the young ones would not mar. 
 If this rude canvas did not flap my face 
 With such a stinging stroke, these battlefields, 
 That give a statesman leisure in the midst 
 Of march and counter-march for reverie, 
 Were not without advantage. I will pen 
 A new, rare counsel of perfection while 
 Insurgent passions parley. ( To soldier who re-enters) Fold 
 it up ! Exit soldier with banner 
 
 Religion ! thou wilt never scan her 
 
 , The way that brings 
 To church^ nor yet upon a banner 
 
 Of kneeling kings : 
 For know religion is a manner 
 
 Of touching things. 
 
 Thou art the sage, and life the fable ; 
 
 Read what it saith ; 
 Keep but thy spirit firm and stable 
 
 Above thy breath, 
 And) dying) thou shalt be an able 
 
 Critic of death. 
 
 And so till the sundown settle all. 
 
 242 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 SCENE VII Carberry Hill. The QUEEN'S army about 
 her ; she wears a countrywoman's dress. Her horse is 
 near. She speaks with KIRCALDY OF GRANGE 
 
 Hieen I cannot be so murderous in my soul 
 To shed my people's blood ; while I was sitting 
 On yonder stone beneath the hawthorn-tree, 
 I thought of every kind device to shelter 
 My faithless subjects from their punishment. 
 But I am dazed ; the sun all afternoon 
 Has streamed upon my head, I cannot hold 
 Firm converse with myself, and seem to grow 
 Confused as in a swoon. This long, slow day 
 Labours with tangled issues. 
 
 Grange I am come, 
 
 Madam, at your request, and on my knees 
 Attend your will. 
 
 hteen I hear that friends of mine 
 
 In parley with your leaders have declared 
 Their wish for single combat. 
 
 Grange To prevent 
 
 The slaughter that you dread. 
 
 ^ueen 'Tis very strange ! 
 
 They gave me to a husband, whom they now, 
 Because I love not bloodshed, would destroy 
 Before my eyes. 
 
 Grange Have you so little trust 
 
 243 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 In your good cause and his that you should look 
 For death as God's award if he should fight ? 
 
 )ueen Sir, he has borne his trial, and the voice 
 Of law has called him pure. 
 
 Grange I wish all men 
 
 Believed the judgment. 
 
 )ueen We are much offended 
 
 By any words dishonourably spoken 
 That touch our husband's honour. 
 
 Enter BOTHWELL 
 
 Bothwell Is it I 
 
 With whom they pick a quarrel ? Let them say 
 What harm I ever did them. I have injured 
 Not one among them, but have simply wrought 
 As they desired. I tell you, laird of Grange, 
 'Tis envy brings them to the field : they see 
 My eminence and grieve. They never knew 
 That fortune, like a woman, sits and waits 
 Longing to feel her conqueror. I won 
 By sudden rape, I handled destiny 
 As if she were a prey. 
 
 >ueen You give no heed 
 
 To present business. {Apart} As he rode along 
 High-mounted, with the lion upon my banner, 
 Flapping about his cheek, I loved him now 
 An evil coldness strikes me. 
 
 244 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Bothwell Give command, 
 
 I am your common soldier, and your will 
 The only motion in me. 
 
 Queen You must fight, 
 
 And prove before the armies your acquittal 
 Was veritable innocence. 
 
 Botbwell My sword 
 
 Is ready, sir. Marie, you gave your order 
 More strictly than you need. 
 
 Queen The time is short, 
 
 The enemy impatient. 
 
 Bothwell (To GRANGE) Step aside. (They converse] 
 
 Queen How dim it is about the woodland's edge ; 
 The twilight seems to rise up from the earth ; 
 I never felt so cheerless. I could wish 
 To take a needle at my tapestry, 
 And at an open window sit and sing ; 
 It would be less monotonous by far 
 Than this uncertainty that stuns my head^ 
 All the vague action that has circled me, 
 And made me like a stranger to myself 
 Hour after hour. Although the evening grows 
 More intimate and nearer I can watch 
 Our weary soldiers, parting from their ranks 
 In search of food and drink ; the army sunders 
 In tired confusion. I shall let him fight, 
 Though I refused this morning. I am hard, 
 His fires have burnt me hard as in the oven 
 
 245 
 
The "Tragic Mary 
 
 The soft, responsive clay. He ever was 
 
 To me a faithful subject, and my soul 
 
 Was built upon his loyalty, until 
 
 I found that as a lover he could do 
 
 Stern treason, and could wrong me in such sort 
 
 As turns affection marble. It is fearful 
 
 To have this vile disease within the heart, 
 
 This cold paralysis, to long for cure, 
 
 Yet to remain inveterately dead 
 
 Just where you once were loving and divine, 
 
 And soft compassion pained you. 
 
 Botbwell (To the QUEEN) All is settled. 
 
 The laird of Grange would bid adieu. 
 
 >ueen God speed ! 
 
 I will receive the lords if they repent, 
 And turn away my anger. 
 
 Grange Our condition 
 
 The duke of Orkney grants that he should meet 
 A peer, and prove his cause. 
 
 Botbwell I will. 
 
 t^ueen Adieu. Exit GRANGE 
 
 Bothwell (Unsheathing his sword") It shines a confi- 
 dent, fine-tempered blade 
 As ever did good work. You tremble, Marie, 
 Yet not the wifely way. This pensive lip, 
 These dreaming eyes ! O lass, I wield the sword 
 To keep you ever mine, to hold from foes 
 My prize, my love, my crown. Before I smite 
 
 246 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 And triumph, kiss me with warm mouth, and breathe 
 Success ! between the kisses. 
 
 Queen Ha, I am 
 
 Too tired and anxious to encourage you ; 
 And, James, you are so bravely made, so doughty, 
 You need no pricking words. Turn, I will fasten 
 Your scarf more firmly ; you have ever loved 
 The gayest colours, fie ! 
 
 Bothwell They are more royal, 
 
 More wealthy than all others, have the front 
 To capture sight. Well, these are perfect hands 
 Knotting my plaid, but in an hour, I tell you, 
 They will be busy with my corpse, if thus 
 You send me forth to battle. Do you care 
 That I should win, or are you so estranged 
 You will give welcome to the laird of Grange 
 If with soft manners he report me slain, 
 Curse him ! and lead you to a widowed throne ? 
 
 Queen James, if my love is dead, it is your hand 
 Hath murdered it, and all that now is left 
 Is a long night of mourning. Oh, I feel 
 Stricken and hopeless as a mother bird 
 Covering her callow brood when there's no warmth, 
 No twitter in the nest ; the use of loving 
 Was over long ago. 
 
 Bothwell The wanton birds 
 
 Get them new mates. 
 
 Queen The linnet, broken-winged, 
 
 247 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Dies in a bright-eyed silence 'neath the bush. 
 Think not, if death should take you, any more 
 There can be mirth in Mary Stuart's heart, 
 But fond with her old fondness, she will build 
 Her life upon some relic of the past, 
 As many stately priories have been founded 
 Over a heap of long-since mouldered bones. 
 All will be recollection. 
 
 Bothwell Must I fight 
 
 For a mere shade ? Confound their trickery ! 
 They move their squadrons ; I must hasten yonder 
 Before they snatch advantage. Exit 
 
 ghieen (Looking anxiously over the field) Is it so ? 
 I will awake and reason, win his safety 5 
 And then O God ! there is another knot 
 I must untie, release him from myself. 
 
 (She hastily writes a message and gives it to 
 
 a Soldier) 
 Bear this to the encampment. Exit Soldier 
 
 I must act 
 
 For him then take possession of my sole, 
 Unflawed estate, my sovereignty, and draw 
 Down slowly on base, unsuspecting heads 
 Such retribution as God pays for wrongs 
 Done to His honour ; I will lift myself 
 Among the kings and punish. 
 
 A rare love 
 
 Sustains me : wheresoe'er I lie to-night 
 
 248 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 He will be safe, I shall not have a care. 
 I think I shall sleep on through many days 
 And nights just dreaming that I do not dream ; 
 There is no other comfort. 
 
 Re-enter GRANGE 
 
 Kircaldy, 
 
 Hear my brief terms : if you are willing now 
 To take me to your ranks I will return 
 In single royalty, bespeaking mere 
 Safe-conduct for my husband, no pursuit. 
 
 Grange Most just conditions. Madam, you have won 
 To-day a signal triumph. 
 
 Re-enter BOTHWELL at a distance. 
 
 Queen Leave me, Grange ; 
 
 While you make final parley with the lords 
 I will convey my pleasure to the duke, 
 And speed him from my presence. 
 
 (Seeing BOTHWELL bidding an arquebusier aim 
 at GRANGE) 
 
 Haste, the guard 
 
 About me is provoked at your delay, 
 Repression, change of front. God's peace ! they shoot 
 Unless you leave the ground. Exit GRANGE 
 
 (Angrily to BOTHWELL) You know he lies 
 Beneath my great protection : would you slur 
 My queenly faith, and 'gainst an embassy 
 
 249 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Level your lawless weapons ? 
 
 Bothwell A dull face 
 
 Watched me away ; the lights are burning now 
 Athwart your lips and eyes. O Marie, Marie, 
 I know that you are false ; you have made terms 
 To hand me to the headsman. Give the news ! 
 And so you never meant that I should fight. 
 You have been busy fooling me all day, 
 Wrecking and fooling. May you never know 
 The agony of loving with such hate. 
 
 (He covers his face with his hands, she moves 
 toward him, then controls herself, turns back^ 
 and stands apart) 
 
 >ueen The steep and rending moment comes at last, 
 Comes with the sunset. (To BOTHWELL) I have fixed 
 
 my will ; 
 
 You cannot win the day now day is done. 
 I am a queen, and must resume the rule, 
 And heed the counsel of my subjects : therefore 
 I pass across the valley to the lords, 
 And you in safety ride back to Dunbar. 
 'Tis so I have determined. 
 
 Bothwell Earth and sea ! 
 
 How dare you speak like this ? Impossible, 
 Exclusive voice, that smites like ugliness, 
 As if a magic woman had been changed 
 To dragon in a second. At Dunbar 
 My walls were round you ; now, in open air, 
 
 250 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 You look out on that army of your foes, 
 And my poor, melted ranks. 
 
 Queen We must be brief. 
 
 Imperial guidance in my nature draws me 
 Over the valley : I must follow it. 
 And part with you. 
 
 Botbwell The impulse is a fooPs ! 
 
 Those men are traitors, and their crime is greedy 
 For its occasion. Love, return, return 
 To yon siege-proof D unbar, and I will fight 
 To the last drop of blood to keep you mine ; 
 To-day I should have conquered, if the battle 
 Had not been struck with paralytic sun. 
 
 Queen Grange brings me pledge of loyalty. My lord, 
 Where you have used me ill I have forgiven, 
 And signed away your treason : if my realm 
 Raise charges of another dye against you, 
 With claim for scrutiny more liberal 
 Than what acquitted you, I stand your help 
 And your protection, until innocence 
 Is reconfirmed. 
 
 Bothwell I might as well be dead, 
 
 A ghost in my despair. I find but ice, 
 When I have reached the summit o' the world, 
 And thought its poles were mine. 
 
 Queen O James, I freeze, 
 
 Because so much is dying in my heart 
 Ere we can kiss and sever. 
 
 251 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Bothwell Come along, 
 
 Break from this stagnant hill-side, where I feel 
 As if the fates in yonder setting sky 
 Prepared for us imprisonment. My swift, 
 Free-tempered wife, come with me to Dunbar 5 
 I will defend you, while beneath your feet 
 Will sway the chainless waters. I implore, 
 Not as the consort of your sovereignty, 
 But as a man who loves you. Do not sweep 
 The great brim of your hat across your face, 
 And leave me but that crystal ball, your chin, 
 For divination, of my future lot ; 
 Grant me your eyes. 
 
 ghieeri We have short space of time, 
 
 Short moments ; Grange is coming from the camp. 
 
 Bothwell You often longed to leave your kingdom, 
 
 sail 
 
 For liberty away ; to greet the foam 
 By loosened hair on wind-washed cheek ; to slip 
 Within revolving, spheral influence, 
 To wayfare through the world. We will escape 
 Aboard 
 
 <j>ueen Ah, let me think of you at sea 5 
 
 Have joy in taming what you cannot tame, 
 The pliant, dauntless swell. 
 
 Bothwell In hearing of 
 
 The ocean's sough, we yet can hold Dunbar 
 Those stout and ruddy stones that dye with red 
 
 252 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 The swinging tides. Be dominant, recall 
 
 Black Agnes and her feminine defence, 
 
 My Amazon ! You will not turn your eyes, 
 
 Your indiscoverable, watchful eyes ; 
 
 I know they weep within the orbs, while mine 
 
 Are wet with anguish. 
 
 Queen (Half-apart) How the worst of wrong 
 Is the new wrong one does to set it right ! 
 Even God, our God, must make a hell to chasten 
 The evil He permits : O heart, this voice 
 Will break me into ruin ! 
 
 Bothwell For one night 
 
 Turn back to refuge, that the Hamiltons 
 May find us with their strength. You ever loved 
 A cool, dawn-ended gallop. 
 
 Queen For my crown 
 
 I fled this way these eighteen months long passed. 
 
 Botbwell For that fly now. 
 
 Queen Grange renders me allegiance, 
 
 An oath of loyalty. 
 
 Bothwell The very grain 
 
 And compass of my nature questions you- 
 Will you not come ? 
 
 Queen I cannot. 
 
 Bothwell This wild stroke 
 
 Dashes my hopes out. 
 
 (He casts himself down on a rock. GRANGE rides 
 up ; the QUEEN meets him} 
 
 253 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Grange Let me kiss your hand ; 
 
 The lords, your honest subjects, welcome you 
 Whom they alone obey. 
 
 (She bows and motions GRANGE to go further off- y 
 then returns to BOTHWELL, who springs 
 fiercely up) 
 
 >ueen We must not think, 
 
 No, not even speak . . . but kiss. 
 
 Bothwell I will not come 
 
 To trial, if invited. I have more 
 Of fiendish pride than that. Shall murderer 
 Be judged by fellow-murderer ? Ha, ha ! 
 That were fine reformation in the state ; 
 I'm for old ways of justice anyhow. 
 Look here, my lady ! (Holding out a parchment) 
 
 0$ueen How his swollen, white lip 
 
 Is terrible ! Explain ! 
 
 Bothwell I let you choose 
 
 The company you are so sweet upon. 
 Here in this bond are stainless signatures, 
 Morton and Moray, Lethington, Argyle. 
 See, see ! And for the purpose what is that ? 
 The king's destruction. 
 
 >ueen And you hold the bond, 
 
 Then .... 
 
 Bothwell You shall make no blab. I throw myself 
 Upon your honour in extreme attempt 
 To save you. In the mitigating light 
 
 254 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Of your sweet face, and kneeling as to one 
 
 White in the heavens, I now confess my guilt ; 
 
 Yet though you walked aloft so clean and proud, 
 
 It was your will that wrought at Kirk o' Field, 
 
 Your will that made me a black, blasted devil : 
 
 You have not a frank, amorous face for naught 
 
 To watch the change of climate on your cheek 
 
 Is all-sufficing. Do not turn from me, 
 
 As if a statue took possession of 
 
 Your breathing frame. O Marie ! I am lone 
 
 As Adam on the sod before his bliss, 
 
 His woman girt him, if you turn away. 
 
 All I have done is horror in my nights, 
 
 And follows day like pestilence all, all, 
 
 Was done for you : demoniac and lovely 
 
 You came to rule me ; do not start ; I plead 
 
 That when you entered me you were no more 
 
 The queen, the lady but a temptress love ; 
 
 It was no fault of yours ; we cannot tell 
 
 How we drop down in other natures. I 
 
 Was born half-wizard on my southern hills. 
 
 A bandit like my sires, a worshipper 
 
 Of rich, exalted women . . . and you set 
 
 My elements a-flame. Such wrought desire 
 
 Will murder, ravish, spell-bind. I shall grasp 
 
 Your wrists until you soften. 
 
 ^ueen Loose ! Farewell ! 
 
 There is no circle of God's ire for pain 
 
 255 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Like this horizon ; yet I stay alive 
 
 The wonder breath provides for. And this bond . . ? 
 
 Botbwell Keep it with care, it is my testament ; 
 And I am for the whirlwind for no bonds 
 Of marriage or of fellowship henceforth. 
 The falsehood of the universe is gathered 
 In vow and pact ; goodbye to them, goodbye 
 To you ! There stands my horse, there are my towers ! 
 You know your men, you know how merrily 
 They will receive you. We shall never meet 
 Again. At least I catch your hand and kiss 
 Where Grange has kissed the finger that I ringed. 
 Death, I must go ! 
 
 Queen We write to you our will. 
 
 (He leaps on his horse) 
 Be strong in me, my terror ; hold me up 
 From where a gulf has opened ! My whole life 
 Will see that form a' riding to the glare 
 Of far-off sunset. (Dropping the parchment) Laird of 
 
 Grange, I come. 
 
 We have what is the calm of sovereignty, 
 That faith it has in subjects. 
 
 Grange * See, the lords 
 
 Advance their arms and ranks to compass you, 
 As with a land's embrace. 
 
 (He stoops and snatches the bond up) 
 
 256 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Enter MORTON, ARGYLE, Lords, and Army 
 
 Queen (To MORTON) We had no will 
 To shed enfiefed blood ; and therefore freely 
 Join you, our earls and nobles, that together 
 We may unravel discord and present 
 To foreign gaze accompt. 
 
 Morton (Kneeling) You find yourself 
 
 Where you pertain, among your lieges, madam, 
 And we will hold you fast ! 
 
 Cry Burn her ! 
 
 Queen (Apart} His lips 
 
 Are far away. What is it that is thrown ? 
 I am not wholly queen above myself j 
 I have unsettling fancies. Lead me on, 
 Deep to your trusty centre. There are smiles, 
 Though I am over spent. When I have rested 
 I shall breathe olden life in all I do. 
 
 Ah, my good people ! Mercy, what is this 
 
 Why flap this buried man ? Would I had never 
 Seen him before I I know he looked like that 
 So long in his long coffin and the child ! 
 I've clapped those chubby fingers in my palm 
 That point to point beg vengeance of the Lord ; 
 For once I heard a little, lonesome cry, 
 And then a voice that said I had a son. 
 
 Cries The murderess, ha, the murderess ! 
 
 257 s 
 
The Tragic Mary 
 
 Queen I would rather 
 
 Hear of the evil that I have not done, 
 Than do the evil of which nought is heard, 
 So greater far is my respect for God 
 Whom no man can deceive, who sees the drop 
 Of light at the well-bottom than for man, 
 The misconceiving witness. I have never 
 Worn mask to God; before Him I could lie 
 As a white effigy, and let Him probe 
 Through to my soul. I have great need of pardon 
 For sins of which you cannot take account. 
 
 Cries Burn her the witch, the harlot ! 
 
 Queen (Wildly} Is it hell ? 
 
 Why this is Morton, Grange is striking out 
 To stop the spume. Look yonder, noblemen, 
 Strike down that standard .... Will it never cease 
 To write its libel on yon wall of sky ? 
 Have I not made an edict that no words 
 Shall be set up for scandal morn or eve ? 
 Are queenship and executive gone too ? 
 Have they been ravished from me ? I am sinking 
 To impotence amid such scrannel whirr 
 As ship whose helm and birthright government 
 Are taken by a sea. How strange and deep ! 
 Kneel down, repeat your oaths of fealty Down, 
 Down ! (She faints} 
 
 Morton We have worked most manifest detection. 
 Press on, for darkness loads the west, a rabble 
 
'The Tragic Mary 
 
 Is waiting to give cheer of Christian voices 
 To this high-browed adulteress, in the town. 
 Her hat falls off St. Bride ! her clothes are short ; 
 Her face is blurred with evil and with tire ; 
 She looks a thing to put away ; and shortly 
 There must be talk of prison or of death 
 For her, and for her lawful son the honours 
 She trails into the dust. Her shameless eyes 
 Open, grow hot, dilate : she raves and throbs. 
 
 )ueen (In frenzy) God speed him over seas, my law- 
 less love; 
 
 God stop that small, defaming, pious cry, 
 Blazon the deed of Kirk o' Field as just, 
 And set the great Lord Warden o'er the world ! 
 Would we not judge together, he and I, 
 Uproot these trembling, vile hypocrisies, 
 Recall untempered love from banishment, 
 And make a progress down the Canongate, 
 Constraining all men to our gaiety ! 
 How vile was our false wedding, vile the banns, 
 The ritual dear the rape, the ride along 
 The High Street with my king at bridle rein ; 
 So should Queen Mary flaunt upon a banner 
 Subject, subjecting. I would follow him 
 In my wild, woman-scanted Highland dress 
 Across the world. Has he yet reached the shore, 
 My rough free-booter ? Who craves audience now f 
 I choke with wrath ; these scalding, vengeful tears 9 
 
 259 
 
T'he 'Tragic Mary 
 
 Breed in my head ; they cast a torchlight glare 
 Athwart the past, and fall in fiery sparks. 
 We pay for truth by madness. Give your hand, 
 Morton, and your's, Argyle, to squeeze in mine : 
 We have been fellows in deception, boldly 
 Wearing false hearts ; but when I am a queen 
 Again, the axe shall split them into ruin, 
 And I shall swing the axe, for I am saved 
 Through foam and horror. I have still myself 
 To set within myself and crown, the true 
 Religion to give faith to, a lost love 
 To weep for through the long captivity 
 Of unenjoying years, and the whole earth 
 To gain, when I have repossessed my soul. 
 
 260 
 
NOTE 
 
 THE title of this play is taken, with his consent, from the 
 following passage of Mr. Pater's Essay on Rossetti in his 
 Volume of Appreciations^ (page 240) : 
 
 Old Scotch history, perhaps beyond any other, is strong in 
 the matter of heroic and vehement hatreds and love t the 
 tragic Mary herself being but the perfect blossom of them. 
 
 To himj as to the friends who have aided me in research 
 and by suggestion, my thanks are proffered. My indebted- 
 ness to historians, living and dead, it would be impossible 
 to acknowledge : but of Mr. Skelton's charming and ani- 
 mated work, Maitland of Lethington^ I desire to make 
 special mention. The Lethington of these pages owes 
 his existence to Mr. Skelton's portrait ; at the same time, 
 since many imaginings have been added to the historic 
 delineation, I must be held wholly responsible for my 
 dramatic treatment of Mary Stuart's minister. 
 
 261 
 
CHISWICK PRESS: c. WHITTINGHAM ANIJ co., TOOKS COURT, 
 
 CHANCERY LANE. 
 

RETURN TO the circulation desk of any 
 University of California Library 
 
 or to the 
 
 NORTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 Bldg. 400, Richmond Field Station 
 University of California 
 Richmond, CA 94804-4698 
 
 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS 
 
 2-month loans may be renewed by calling 
 (510)642-6753 
 
 1-year loans may be recharged by bringing 
 books to NRLF 
 
 Renewals and recharges may be made 4 
 days prior to due date. 
 
 DUE AS STAMPED BELOW 
 
 12,000(11/95) 
 
YC 10369 1 
 
 470289 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY