The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 370

ELIZABETH.

This, Walsingham hath written us.

MORTIMER.

Besides, a bull, which from the Vatican Pope Sixtus lately levelled at thy throne, Arrived at Rheims, as I was leaving it; With the next s.h.i.+p we may expect it here.

LEICESTER.

England no more is frightened by such arms.

BURLEIGH.

They're always dangerous in bigots' hands.

ELIZABETH (looking steadfastly at MORTIMER).

Your enemies have said that you frequented The schools at Rheims, and have abjured your faith.

MORTIMER.

So I pretended, that I must confess; Such was my anxious wish to serve my queen.

ELIZABETH (to PAULET, who presents papers to her).

What have you there?

PAULET.

'Tis from the Queen of Scots.

'Tis a pet.i.tion, and to thee addressed.

BURLEIGH (hastily catching at it).

Give me the paper.

PAULET (giving it to the QUEEN).

By your leave, my lord High-treasurer; the lady ordered me To bring it to her majesty's own hands.

She says I am her enemy; I am The enemy of her offences only, And that which is consistent with my duty I will, and readily, oblige her in.

[The QUEEN takes the letter: as she reads it MORTIMER and LEICESTER speak some words in private.

BURLEIGH (to PAULET).

What may the purport of the letter be?

Idle complaints, from which one ought to screen The queen's too tender heart.

PAULET.

What it contains She did not hide from me; she asks a boon; She begs to be admitted to the grace Of speaking with the queen.

BURLEIGH.

It cannot be.

TALBOT.

Why not? Her supplication's not unjust.

BURLEIGH.

For her, the base encourager of murder; Her, who hath thirsted for our sovereign's blood, The privilege to see the royal presence Is forfeited: a faithful counsellor Can never give this treacherous advice.

TALBOT.

And if the queen is gracious, sir, are you The man to hinder pity's soft emotions?

BURLEIGH.

She is condemned to death; her head is laid Beneath the axe, and it would ill become The queen to see a death-devoted head.

The sentence cannot have its execution If the queen's majesty approaches her, For pardon still attends the royal presence, As sickness flies the health-dispensing hand.

ELIZABETH (having read the letter, dries her tears).

Oh, what is man! What is the bliss of earth!

To what extremities is she reduced Who with such proud and splendid hopes began!

Who, called to sit on the most ancient throne Of Christendom, misled by vain ambition, Hoped with a triple crown to deck her brows!

How is her language altered, since the time When she a.s.sumed the arms of England's crown, And by the flatterers of her court was styled Sole monarch of the two Britannic isles!

Forgive me, lords, my heart is cleft in twain, Anguish possesses me, and my soul bleeds To think that earthly goods are so unstable, And that the dreadful fate which rules mankind Should threaten mine own house, and scowl so near me.

TALBOT.

Oh, queen! the G.o.d of mercy hath informed Your heart; Oh! hearken to this heavenly guidance.

Most grievously, indeed, hath she atoned.

Her grievous crime, and it is time that now, At last, her heavy penance have an end.

Stretch forth your hand to raise this abject queen, And, like the luminous vision of an angel, Descend into her gaol's sepulchral night.

BURLEIGH.

Be steadfast, mighty queen; let no emotion Of seeming laudable humanity Mislead thee; take not from thyself the power Of acting as necessity commands.

Thou canst not pardon her, thou canst not save her: Then heap not on thyself the odious blame, That thou, with cruel and contemptuous triumph, Didst glut thyself with gazing on thy victim.

LEICESTER.

Let us, my lords, remain within our bounds; The queen is wise, and doth not need our counsels To lead her to the most becoming choice.

This meeting of the queens hath naught in common With the proceedings of the court of justice.

The law of England, not the monarch's will, Condemns the Queen of Scotland, and 'twere worthy Of the great soul of Queen Elizabeth, To follow the soft dictates of her heart, Though justice swerves not from its rigid path.

ELIZABETH.

Retire, my lords. We shall, perhaps, find means To reconcile the tender claims of pity With what necessity imposes on us.

And now retire.

[The LORDS retire; she calls SIR EDWARD MORTIMER back.

Sir Edward Mortimer!

SCENE V.

ELIZABETH, MORTIMER.

ELIZABETH (having measured him for some time with her eyes in silence).

You've shown a spirit of adventurous courage And self-possession, far beyond your years.

He who has timely learnt to play so well The difficult dissembler's needful task Becomes a perfect man before his time, And shortens his probationary years.

Fate calls you to a lofty scene of action; I prophesy it, and can, happily For you, fulfil, myself, my own prediction.

MORTIMER.

Ill.u.s.trious mistress, what I am, and all I can accomplish, is devoted to you.