Mary Stuart

SCENE X.

ELIZABETH alone.

Oh! servitude of popularity!

Disgraceful slavery! How weary am I

Of flattering this idol, which my soul

Despises in its inmost depth! Oh! when

Shall I once more be free upon this throne?

I must respect the people's voice, and strive

To win the favor of the multitude,

And please the fancies of a mob, whom naught

But jugglers' tricks delight. O call not him

A king who needs must please the world: 'tis he

Alone, who in his actions does not heed

The fickle approbation of mankind.

Have I then practised justice, all my life

Shunned each despotic deed; have I done this

Only to bind my hands against this first,

This necessary act of violence?

My own example now condemns myself!

Had I but been a tyrant, like my sister,

My predecessor, I could fearless then

Have shed this royal blood:-but am I now

Just by my own free choice? No-I was forced

By stern necessity to use this virtue;

Necessity, which binds e'en monarch's wills.

Surrounded by my foes, my people's love

Alone supports me on my envied throne.

All Europe's powers confederate to destroy me;

The pope's inveterate decree declares me

Accursed and excommunicated. France

Betrays me with a kiss, and Spain prepares

At sea a fierce exterminating war;

Thus stand I, in contention with the world,

A poor defenceless woman: I must seek

To veil the spot in my imperial birth,

By which my father cast disgrace upon me:

In vain with princely virtues would I hide it;

The envious hatred of my enemies

Uncovers it, and places Mary Stuart,

A threatening fiend, before me evermore!

[Walking up and down, with quick and agitated steps.

Oh, no! this fear must end. Her head must fall!

I will have peace. She is the very fury

Of my existence; a tormenting demon,

Which destiny has fastened on my soul.

Wherever I had planted me a comfort,

A flattering hope, my way was ever crossed

By this infernal viper! She has torn

My favorite, and my destined bridegroom from me.

The hated name of every ill I feel

Is Mary Stuart-were but she no more

On earth I should be free as mountain air.

[Standing still.

With what disdain did she look down on me,

As if her eye should blast me like the lightning!

Poor feeble wretch! I bear far other arms,

Their touch is mortal, and thou art no more.

[Advancing to the table hastily, and taking the pen.

I am a bastard, am I? Hapless wretch,

I am but so the while thou liv'st and breath'st.

Thy death will make my birth legitimate.

The moment I destroy thee is the doubt

Destroyed which hangs o'er my imperial right.

As soon as England has no other choice,

My mother's honor and my birthright triumphs!

[She signs with resolution; lets her pen then fall,

and steps back with an expression of terror. After

a pause she rings.