The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 360

I cannot tell.

MARY.

Am I condemned?

PAULET.

I cannot answer, lady.

MARY.

[Sir, a good work fears not the light of day.

PAULET.

The day will s.h.i.+ne upon it, doubt it not.]

MARY.

Despatch is here the fas.h.i.+on. Is it meant The murderer shall surprise me, like the judges?

PAULET.

Still entertain that thought and he will find you Better prepared to meet your fate than they did.

MARY (after a pause).

Sir, nothing can surprise me which a court Inspired by Burleigh's hate and Hatton's zeal, Howe'er unjust, may venture to p.r.o.nounce: But I have yet to learn how far the queen Will dare in execution of the sentence.

PAULET.

The sovereigns of England have no fear But for their conscience and their parliament.

What justice hath decreed her fearless hand Will execute before the a.s.sembled world.

SCENE III.

The same. MORTIMER enters, and without paying attention to the QUEEN, addresses PAULET.

MORTIMER.

Uncle, you're sought for.

[He retires in the same manner. The QUEEN remarks it, and turns towards PAULET, who is about to follow him.

MARY.

Sir, one favor more If you have aught to say to me--from you I can bear much--I reverence your gray hairs; But cannot bear that young man's insolence; Spare me in future his unmannered rudeness.

PAULET.

I prize him most for that which makes you hate him He is not, truly, one of those poor fools Who melt before a woman's treacherous tears.

He has seen much--has been to Rheims and Paris, And brings us back his true old English heart.

Lady, your cunning arts are lost on him.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

MARY, KENNEDY.

KENNEDY.

And dare the ruffian venture to your face Such language! Oh, 'tis hard--'tis past endurance.

MARY (lost in reflection).

In the fair moments of our former splendor We lent to flatterers a too willing ear;-- It is but just, good Hannah, we should now Be forced to hear the bitter voice of censure.

KENNEDY.

So downcast, so depressed, my dearest lady!

You, who before so gay, so full of hope, Were used to comfort me in my distress; More gracious were the task to check your mirth Than chide your heavy sadness.

MARY.

Well I know him-- It is the bleeding Darnley's royal shade, Rising in anger from his darksome grave And never will he make his peace with me Until the measures of my woes be full.

KENNEDY.

What thoughts are these--

MARY.

Thou may'st forget it, Hannah; But I've a faithful memory--'tis this day Another wretched anniversary Of that regretted, that unhappy deed-- Which I must celebrate with fast and penance.

KENNEDY.

Dismiss at length in peace this evil spirit.

The penitence of many a heavy year, Of many a suffering, has atoned the deed; The church, which holds the key of absolution, Pardons the crime, and heaven itself's appeased.

MARY.

This long-atoned crime arises fresh And bleeding from its lightly-covered grave; My husband's restless spirit seeks revenge; No sacred bell can exorcise, no host In priestly hands dismiss it to his tomb.

KENNEDY.

You did not murder him; 'twas done by others.

MARY.

But it was known to me; I suffered it, And lured him with my smiles to death's embrace.

KENNEDY.

Your youth extenuates your guilt. You were Of tender years.

MARY.

So tender, yet I drew This heavy guilt upon my youthful head.

KENNEDY.

You were provoked by direst injuries, And by the rude presumption of the man, Whom out of darkness, like the hand of heaven, Your love drew forth, and raised above all others.

Whom through your bridal chamber you conducted Up to your throne, and with your lovely self, And your hereditary crown, distinguished [Your work was his existence, and your grace Bedewed him like the gentle rains of heaven.]

Could he forget that his so splendid lot Was the creation of your generous love?

Yet did he, worthless as he was, forget it.

With base suspicions, and with brutal manners, He wearied your affections, and became An object to you of deserved disgust: The illusion, which till now had overcast Your judgment, vanished; angrily you fled His foul embrace, and gave him up to scorn.

And did he seek again to win your love?

Your favor? Did he e'er implore your pardon?