Mary Stuart by Friedrich Schiller (best ereader for epub .txt) 📖

run out? No more assassins
Now on the road? Will no adventurer
Attempt again for you the sad achievement?
Yes, madam, it is over: - you'll seduce
No mortal more. The world has other cares; -
None is ambitious of the dangerous honor
Of being your fourth husband - you destroy
Your wooers like your husbands.

MARY (starting angrily).
Sister, sister! -
Grant me forbearance, all ye powers of heaven!

ELIZABETH (regards her long with a look of proud contempt).
Those then, my Lord of Leicester, are the charms
Which no man with impunity can view,
Near which no woman dare to stand?
In sooth, this honor has been cheaply gained;
She who to all is common, may with ease
Become the common object of applause.

MARY.
This is too much!

ELIZABETH (laughing insultingly).
You show us now, indeed,
Your real face; till now 'twas but the mask.

MARY (burning with rage, yet dignified and noble).
My sins were human, and the faults of youth:
Superior force misled me. I have never
Denied or sought to hide it: I despised
All false appearance, as became a queen.
The worst of me is known, and I can say,
That I am better than the fame I bear.
Woe to you! when, in time to come, the world
Shall draw the robe of honor from your deeds,
With which thy arch-hypocrisy has veiled
The raging flames of lawless, secret lust.
Virtue was not your portion from your mother;
Well know we what it was which brought the head
Of Anna Boleyn to the fatal block.

SHREWSBURY (stepping between both QUEENS).
Oh! Heaven! Alas, and must it come to this!
Is this the moderation, the submission,
My lady? - -

MARY.
Moderation! I've supported
What human nature can support: farewell,
Lamb-hearted resignation, passive patience,
Fly to thy native heaven; burst at length
Thy bonds, come forward from thy dreary cave,
In all thy fury, long suppressed rancor!
And thou, who to the angered basilisk
Impart'st the murderous glance, oh, arm my tongue
With poisoned darts!

SHREWSBURY.
She is beside herself!
Exasperated, mad! My liege, forgive her.

[ELIZABETH, speechless with anger, casts enraged looks at MARY.

LEICESTER (in the most violent agitation; he seeks to lead ELIZABETH
away).
Attend not to her rage! Away, away,
From this disastrous place!

MARY (raising her voice).
A bastard soils,
Profanes the English throne! The generous Britons
Are cheated by a juggler, [whose whole figure
Is false and painted, heart as well as face!]
If right prevailed, you now would in the dust
Before me lie, for I'm your rightful monarch!

[ELIZABETH hastily quits the stage; the lords follow her
in the greatest consternation.


SCENE V.

MARY, KENNEDY.

KENNEDY.
What have you done? She has gone hence in wrath
All hope is over now!

MARY (still quite beside herself).
Gone hence in wrath!
She carries death within her heart! I know it.

[Falling on KENNEDY'S bosom.

Now I am happy, Hannah! and at last,
After whole years of sorrow and abasement,
One moment of victorious revenge
A weight falls off my heart, a weight of mountains;
I plunged the steel in my oppressor's breast!

KENNEDY.
Unhappy lady! Frenzy overcomes you.
Yes, you have wounded your inveterate foe;
'Tis she who wields the lightning, she is queen,
You have insulted her before her minion.

MARY.
I have abased her before Leicester's eyes;
He saw it, he was witness of my triumph.
How did I hurl her from her haughty height,
He saw it, and his presence strengthened me.


SCENE VI.

Enter MORTIMER.

KENNEDY.
Oh, Sir! What an occurrence!

MORTIMER.
I heard all -

[Gives the nurse a sign to repair to her post,
and draws nearer; his whole appearance expresses
the utmost violence of passion.

Thine is the palm; - thou trod'st her to the dust! -
Thou wast the queen, she was the malefactor; -
I am transported with thy noble courage; -
Yes! I adore thee; like a Deity,
My sense is dazzled by thy heavenly beams.

MARY (with vivacity and expectation).
You spoke with Leicester, gave my letter to him.
My present, too? - oh, speak, sir.

MORTIMER (beholding her with glowing looks).
How thy noble,
Thy royal indignation shone, and cast
A glory round thy beauty; yes, by heavens,
Thou art the fairest woman upon earth!

MARY.
Sir, satisfy, I beg you, my impatience;
What says his lordship? Say, sir, may I hope?

MORTIMER.
Who? - he? - he is a wretch, a very coward,
Hope naught from him; despise him, and forget him!

MARY.
What say you?

MORTIMER.
He deliver, and possess you!
Why let him dare it: - he! - he must with me
In mortal contest first deserve the prize!

MARY.
You gave him not my letter? Then, indeed
My hopes are lost!

MORTIMER.
The coward loves his life.
Whoe'er would rescue you, and call you his,
Must boldly dare affront e'en death itself!

MARY.
Will he do nothing for me?

MORTIMER.
Speak not of him.
What can he do? What need have we of him?
I will release you; I alone.

MARY.
Alas!
What power have you?

MORTIMER.
Deceive yourself no more;
Think not your case is now as formerly;
The moment that the queen thus quitted you,
And that your interview had ta'en this turn,
All hope was lost, each way of mercy shut.
Now deeds must speak, now boldness must decide,
To compass all must all be hazarded;
You must be free before the morning break.

MARY.
What say you, sir - to-night? - impossible!

MORTIMER.
Hear what has been resolved: - I led my friends
Into a private chapel, where a priest
Heard our confession, and, for every sin
We had committed, gave us absolution;
He gave us absolution too, beforehand,
For every crime we might commit in future;
He gave us too the final sacrament,
And we are ready for the final journey.

MARY.
Oh, what an awful, dreadful preparation!

MORTIMER.
We scale, this very night, the castle's walls;
The keys are in my power; the guards we murder!
Then from thy chamber bear thee forcibly.
Each living soul must die beneath our hands,
That none remain who might disclose the deed.

MARY.
And Drury, Paulet, my two keepers, they
Would sooner spill their dearest drop of blood.

MORTIMER.
They fall the very first beneath my steel.

MARY.
What, sir! Your uncle? How! Your second father!

MORTIMER.
Must perish by my hand - I murder him!

MARY.
Oh, bloody outrage!

MORTIMER.
We have been absolved
Beforehand; I may perpetrate the worst;
I can, I will do so!

MARY.
Oh, dreadful, dreadful!

MORTIMER.
And should I be obliged to kill the queen,
I've sworn upon the host, it must be done!

MARY.
No, Mortimer; ere so much blood for me - -

MORTIMER.
What is the life of all compared to thee,
And to my love? The bond which holds the world
Together may be loosed, a second deluge
Come rolling on, and swallow all creation!
Henceforth I value nothing; ere I quit
My hold on thee, may earth and time be ended!

MARY (retiring)
Heavens! Sir, what language, and what looks! They scare,
They frighten me!

MORTIMER (with unsteady looks, expressive of great madness).
Life's but a moment - death
Is but a moment too. Why! let them drag me
To Tyburn, let them tear me limb from limb,
With red-hot pincers - -
[Violently approaching her with extended arms.
If I clasp but thee
Within my arms, thou fervently beloved!

MARY.
Madman, avaunt!

MORTIMER.
To rest upon this bosom,
To press upon this passion-breathing mouth - -

MARY.
Leave me, for God's sake, sir; let me go in - -

MORTIMER.
He is a madman who neglects to clasp
His bliss in folds that never may be loosed,
When Heaven has kindly given it to his arms.
I will deliver you, and though it cost
A thousand lives, I do it; but I swear,
As God's in Heaven I will possess you too!

MARY.
Oh! will no God, no angel shelter me?
Dread destiny! thou throwest me, in thy wrath,
From one tremendous terror to the other!
Was I then born to waken naught but frenzy?
Do hate and love conspire alike to fright me!

MORTIMER.
Yes, glowing as their hatred is my love;
They would behead thee, they would wound this neck,
So dazzling white, with the disgraceful axe!
Oh! offer to the living god of joy
What thou must sacrifice to bloody hate!
Inspire thy happy lover with those charms
Which are no more thine own. Those golden locks
Are forfeit to the dismal powers of death,
Oh! use them to entwine thy slave forever!

MARY.
Alas! alas! what language must I hear!
My woe, my sufferings should be sacred to you,
Although my royal brows are so no more.

MORTIMER.
The crown is fallen from thy brows, thou hast
No more of earthly majesty. Make trial,
Raise thy imperial voice, see if a friend,
If a deliverer will rise to save you.
Thy moving form alone remains, the high,
The godlike influence of thy heavenly beauty;
This bids me venture all, this arms my hand
With might, and drives me tow'rd the headsman's axe.

MARY.
Oh! who will save me from his raging madness?

MORTIMER.
Service that's bold demands a bold reward.
Why shed their blood the daring? Is not life
Life's highest good? And he a madman who
Casts life away? First will I take my rest,
Upon the breast that glows with love's own fire!

[He presses her violently to his bosom.

MARY.
Oh, must I call for help against the man
Who would deliver me!

MORTIMER.
Thou'rt not unfeeling,
The world ne'er censured thee for frigid rigor;
The fervent prayer of love can touch thy heart.
Thou mad'st the minstrel Rizzio blest, and gavest
Thyself a willing prey to Bothwell's arms.

MARY.