THE Island Queens: Or, The Death of MARY, Queen of Scotland. A TRAGEDY.  
Published only in Defence of the Author and the Play, against some mistaken Censures, occasioned by its being prohibited the Stage.  
Vis Confili expers mole ruit sua,  
Vim temperatam Dii quoque provebunt  
In majus; iidem odere Vires  
Omne nefas Animo moventes.  Horace Lib. 3. Ode 3. 
By Jo. BANKS.  
LONDON, Printed for R. Bentley, in Russel Street, in Covent-Garden, 1684.   

To the Illustrious Princess, MARY, DUCHESS OF NORFOLK.  
Madam,  
THIS Tragedy of Queen Mary, tho' forbidden the Stage, has acted its Part almost as public; particularly, your Grace has been acquainted with its Misfortune, having done It the Honour to peruse it in Sheets, and because your Noble Father the Earl of Peterborough (whose Name I shall never mention without my greatest Zeal and Respect) has vouchsafed me the Charity, to protect it against its Enemies, and to stand betwixt his Royal Highness and them; the worst of which, and indeed the only Persons in their Stations, to do me such an Injury, I have cause to believe, were they that took the same Course, and with as much Reason, to silence the Play of the Earl of Essex, which was the first that got Them and Theirs Money and Reputation. I present it to your Grace, with those few Alterations which his Royal Highness, the best of Judges, was pleased to mark with his own Hand, and I should not have presumed to put it in Print, without following those most judicious Amendments, with which He was pleased to consent to the Acting of it; till the same evil Spirits, by themselves, or others (for I have heard, it has been protested, This Play should never be Acted, if they could hinder it) in contradiction to his Royal Highness's Pleasure; because it was in Favour to Me, incensed the King with a wrong Interpretation of the Scenes, or of the Story; tho', I make no doubt, but his most Sacred Majesty, by your Grace's Means, when he considers what a penetrating Loss it has been to an unfortunate and faithful Subject, and shall look on it in Print, but he will soon perceive the Loyalty of the Writing, and be of the same Opinion with his Royal Brother, in permitting it to be Acted. And now, Madam, after I have told my own pitiful Tale, I am afraid to approach your Grace, lest it should be thought Design in me, as most Dedications to Persons of your high Rank are branded with, and that Flattery is the side-Wind or Bias that carries them, tho' about, the surest Way to their Aim; but I am of Opinion, and the Thought of it, has emboldened Me, that it is Profaneness, to think Nobility and Graces like Yours, are of that Alloy, which either can, or will be flattered; for who dares imagine, when I am to speak to the Duchess of Norfolk (the next of Quality to the Royal Family, in the three Kingdoms) that I can say enough of her admired Character? You are joined by Heaven, to a Prince, who is the true Inheritor of all the Virtues and Greatness, as well as the Blood of that Illustrious Duke, the Hero in the Play; to say more, in whose Praise, is to repeat his Character, that I have filled all the Scenes with; I will only add this observation; Never Man was more brave, nor more unfortunate, unhappy, that he died for his Loyalty, his Truth, and succouring the distressed, and happy that he will have the Glory of it to Eternity; but to complete his Joys, looks down from Heaven, and sees You in his Princely Offsprings Arms, a Reward, that only can exceed his Injuries; since from those chaste Embraces, he hopes will proceed a Race of Successors, that will make the noblest and best of Houses flourish, whilst the Stars shine, or the World lasts. You are such an early Patroness of Wit, that like young Alexander, you traveled o'er, and conquered all that rare World, sooner, and in a lesser time, than others have learned their Mother Tongue, as if it were inspired, not studied; and as Heaven, tho' it be Heaven, would not be admired, nor perspicuous to men's Eyes, unless the Sun were in it, to attract the Sight; so the Divine Power has given you so many excellent Beauties to adorn your other Parts, that whosoever sees so glorious a Fabric without, may be sure to find a richer Furniture within; You are the only Person too, who having so large a Portion of both, yet envy not the Enjoyment of them in others. Hail than Monarchess of Wit and Beauty! (For all that have, or pretend to either, are your Subjects) be pleased to accept of this Poem, it is your Tribute, and though it be mean, 'tis like the poor Woman's Mite, It is my All, and best of Essays in this Kind; yet, were it sure to survive as many years as Homer's Works, your Graces Name prefixed, will be the only Soul that's moving in it, or can make the Pages deathless. I dare say no more, for fear I should commit more Faults, but humbly beg leave to withdraw as Pilgrims from their Shrine, to make a zealous and constant Repetition of this to myself in private, with my Prayers for your eternal Happiness, which shall ever be the Theme and Wishes of,  
Madam, Your Grace's most Humble, Most Devoted, and Most Obedient Servant, John Banks   

Persons Represented.  

Queen Elizabeth.  
Queen Marry.   

Duke of Norfolk.  
Morton, Regent of Scotland.  
Cecil.  
Davison.  
Young Dowglas.  
Gifford.   
SCENE, LONDON.   

MARY, Queen of Scotland.  
ACT I. SCENE I.  Enter Cecil, Davison. Cecil. 
REmember Davison, how much thou ow'st;  
(For thou hast Wit, and Honour to be faithful,  
As well as to be great) first to thy Mistress,  
Then to myself, who took thee from thy Lowness,  
And placed thee on this Height, whence to look down,  
Men but appear like Birds or Infects to thee.  
Remember too thou now art in a Sphere,  
Where Princes to their Favours set no bounds,  
And their Rewards, tho' large and bottomless,  
Yet States men have no Mien 'twixt those and ruin:  
For when King's Eyes are like the Sun withdrawn,  
Darkness and Scorn surround them on a sudden,  
And straight, as Lucifer from Heaven was thrown,  
In thunder they're precipitated down.  Dau. 
Wisest, and Justest that in Courts e'er dwelled!  
Great Oracle of Britain! Prince of States men!  
Whom Men nor Angels scarce can praise enough;  
Not divine Plato ever spoke like You,  
Plato on whose sweet lips the Muses sung,  
And Bees distilled their Honey in his Cradle.  Cec. 
No more. 'Tis worse than Death for me to hear  
A fawning Cringer, or submissive Praiser.  
I should suspect thee, did I not believe  
Thou art as far beyond a Sycophant,  
As I above the reach of Flattery.  
Thou art my Equal now; nay, more my, Friend,  
Thou art an honest Man of Parts, a Compound  
That I have chosen 'mongst the Race of Men  
To make a Phoenix in the Court.  Dau. 
The sacred Host of Heaven, the Guard of Kings  
Still place such men about her Royal Person.  Cec. 
But now especially she needs their Aid,  
Now when the madness of the Nation's grown  
To such a height, 'tis to be feared— Death walks  
In Masquerade, in strange and many shapes;  
The Court, that was the Planet that should guide us,  
Is grown into Rebellion with itself;  
Fears, Jealousies, and Factions crowd her Stage;  
Two Queens, the like was never seen before,  
By different sides maintain each others Right;  
Our Virgin Constellation shines but dim,  
Whilst Mary, Scotland's Queen, that Northern Star,  
Tho' in a Prison, darts her Rival Light.  Dau. 
The Champions of her Faction are not few;  
Men of great Birth and Titles plead her Cause,  
And daily urge the Queen for her Release;  
'Mongst whom, the gallant Duke of Norfolk's chief,  
A Prince that has no equal in his Fame;  
A Man of Power and interest to be feared  
For his own sake, as well as for the Queen's;  
For should h'ingage himself too deep in this,  
England might chance to lose the best of Men.  Cec. 
The Queen's peculiar safety be thy care;  
Therefore the Secretary's Place is thine,  
In which high State, as from a Perspective,  
Thou may'st discover all her foreign Foes,  
And home Conspiracies, how dark soever;  
But most of all, let Mary be thy fear,  
And what thou learnest, inform me of; I'll act,  
But in thy shape; be thou my Proxy still.  Dau. 
Not Cromwell ever trod with so much care,  
The subtle steps of his most famous Master,  
As I the Dictates of the wiser Burleigh.  
The Scottish Regent yesterday arrived  
With new discovered Plots t'accuse his Queen;  
And since (to poise those heavy Articles)  
The Duke of Norfolk is from Mary come,  
And both are to have Audience straight— Behold  
The Man I speak of.  Cec. 
Wait you on the Queen.  (Exit Davison.) Enter Norfolk. 
Your Grace is welcome from the Queen of Scotland.  
How fares that sad, and most illustrious Pattern  
Of all Misfortunes?  Norf. 
Dost thou pity her?  
O let me fly and hold thee to my Bosom,  
Closer and far more dear than ever Bride  
Was held by hasty Bridegroom in his Arms!  
Who says thou art not straighter than the Pine,  
Thy Visage smother than Diana's Cheeks?  
Who says this little Globe upon thy Back  
Is not more beautiful than Nature's World?  Cec. 
My Lord, you give what Nature never lent me;  
Blushes.  Norf. 
Should the Hyena thus bemoan,  
And thus the neighbouring Rocks but echo him,  
My Queen, I would devour the precious Sound,  
And thus embrace him from whose Lips it came,  
Tho' wide and gaping as the Jaws of Hell—  
My Lord, I came to seek you; I've a Secret  
T' unfold, which while I keep, it weighs me down,  
And when 'tis out, I fear it will destroy me.  Cec. 
Then keep it in your Breast; let me not know  
What is not fit for you to speak, nor me to hear.  Norf. 
O 'tis o'er charged, and can no more be held,  
Than Thunder when the Lightning has given warning!  
Now, only now's the time; the Traitor Morton,  
The false usurping Regent is returned  
With all the Magazine of Hell about him;  
The Queen, my lovely Alban Queen's in danger,  
And if thou hear'st not to advise thy Norfolk,  
There ne'er will come a time for after-Counsel.  Cec. 
What is't, my Lord?  Norf. 
First wear the Looks of Mildness,  
Such as forgiving Fathers do to Sons,  
And hear, and speak me gently for thy Sovereign;  
Yet 'tis no Treason, unless Love be Treason.  Cec. 
Out with't my Lord.  Norf. 
I love the Queen of Scotland.  Cec. 
Ha! Love her! How?  Norf. 
How should she be beloved?  
But as mild Saints do to their Altars bow,  
And humble Patriarchs kiss the Copes of Angels.  Cec. 
Love her! for what?  Norf. 
Not for a Crown, I swear.  
O hadst thou seen her in that Plight as I did.  
And hadst been Alexander, thou hadst kneeled,  
Thrown all thy Globes and Sceptres at her feet,  
And given a Crown for every tear she shed.  Cec. 
I dare not hear you out.  Norf. 
By Heaven you shall;  
Nor shall your Ears be deaf alone, nice States man!  
And see, you Crystal Pavement of the heavens'  
Wire Angels swarmed more numerous than Stars,  
Whose Voices, louder than the breath of Thunder,  
And swifter than the Winds, proclaim to Earth  
Bright Mary's Wrongs, and my eternal Love.  Cec. 
My Lord, you've said too much; I dare not hear you.  Norf. 
Is pitying the distressed, and loving Her  
Whom none but Envy hates, 〈◊〉 to hear?  Cec. 
What Reason has your Passion? You'd not marry her?  Norf. 
Not marry her! Would not a Saint choose Bliss,  
A starving Creature rather eat than die?  
By Heaven, were she on Acheron's t'other side,  
And charmed me by my Love, to overtake her,  
I'd swim the burning Lake to grasp her thus.  (Embraces him. Cec. 
For Pity recollect your banished Reason.  
Consider what you've said, it must undo you.  
The Danger's greater far than you can feign.  
Do you not know that she's accused of Treason?  
That for the Royal Crown our Mistress wears,  
She yet stands Candidate against all Force,  
And hopes to snatch it from her rightful Head?  Norf. 
By the eternal Beams that bless the World,  
'Tis false thou know'st, false as the Sun is clear.  
O Cecil! tell me what thou truly think'st:  
Thou hast a Soul with shining Wisdom crowned,  
Whose virtuous, honest steps whoever tracks,  
May challenge to be saved; O tell me then,  
Can Scotland's Queen be any but a Goddess?  Cec. 
I dare not utter every thought that pains me,  
Nor can I longer with my Oath dispense,  
An Oath that charges me for Life to hold  
No dangerous Secret from the Queen— Farewell.  
Repent my Lord, and urge this thing no more,  
For 'twill be fatal, should our Mistress know it.  Norf. 
The Queen must know it, you shall tell her too;  
Therefore I came, that thou shouldst intercede,  
You, from whose Mouth the Queen takes nothing ill.  Cec. 
Not for the Crown she wears would I acquaint her.  Norf. 
You must, you shall.  Cec. 
Beware Ambition Sir.  
The Queen has Jealousy to give't a Name;  
Disloyalty, Ambition is the least.  Norf. 
By Heaven, you wrong the faithfullest of her Subjects;  
I'd touch a Scorpion rather than her Sceptre;  
Her proud Regalias are but glittering Toys,  
And the least Word or Look from Scotland's Queen,  
Is worth whole Pyramids of Royal Lumber.  
We only ask but Love and Liberty,  
Give us but those, we'll quit her all the rest:  
For where Love Reigns so absolute as here,  
There is no room for any other thought.  Cec. 
My Lord, consider what you'd have me say—  
I dare not speak— not think of it— Farewell.  Norf. 
Tell her, or by my desperate Love I swear,  
I'll fly and do't myself, were she hemmed in  
With Basilisks, or were she Queen of Furies,  
Love, mighty Love should lead me and protect me;  
Else by the Throne of Thrones that awes the World,  
If she'll not hear me, I'll proclaim aloud,  
And hollow in her Ears the hated Sound  
Of Royal Mary's Wrongs;  
And that it is, because she has more Right  
And Title to her Crown, as she has greater  
Virtues, Wit, Fame, and Beauty more than she.  Cec. 
My Lord, my Lord, come back— To save you,  
(For nought but Death can follow such a Rashness)  
Restrain your Passion but a few short moments,  
And I'll acquaint my Lord of Leicester with it,  
'Twill be more proper from his Mouth than mine.  
Him I will arm with Reasons for your sake,  
As shall the least incense the Queen's displeasure—  
Behold she comes; the Scottish Regent too.  Norf. 
Confusion seize the Fiend.  Cec. 
Be sure, my Lord,  
〈…〉 you see and hear, contain yourself.  Enter to them Queen Elizabeth, Officers of State, Morton, Davison, Women and Guards. Queen sits down. Qu. Eliz. 
Alas! my Lords, when will you cease complaining?  
And when shall this poor Bosom be at rest?  
To see you still thus persecute my Soul,  
My Sister, Cousin, every thing that's dear.  
No, rather sink me instantly to Hell,  
Or, by some Magic, turn me into Stone,  
Then fix me like a Statue high as Heaven,  
Round me such gaping Monsters as yourselves,  
And underneath be this Inscription writ,  
Lo, this was once the cursed Elizabeth,  
The Queen of Wolves and Tigers, not of Men.  Norf. 
What is't I hear? 'Twas some Immortal spoke.  
Down all ye Stars, and every gaudy Planet,  
And with your Lambent brightness Crown her Head,  [Aside. 
She shall be Queen of Saints and Cherubins.  Mor. 
The Parliament of Scotland, gracious Queen!  
(Begging protection of their Infant King)  
Have sent me to your Majesty—  Qu. E. 
What King? What Queen have you but Royal Mary?—  
Ha! I am told you can produce a Law  
To justify your Nation has a Right  
To question Kings— you boldest, vilest Rebels!  
The far less barbarous Picts, your ancient Sires  
ne'er taught it you— Go home, and tell your Masters,  
And the crowned Property their Cradle Prince,  
That here his Mother Mary shall be owned  
His Queen, and absolute, while I am so.  Mor. 
Most mighty Queen!  Qu. E. 
You shall be heard— My Lord,  
You're welcome, welcome as you most deserve,  (To Norfolk.) 
The noblest Subject, and the gallantest Friend  
That any Monarch claims— How does the Queen?  
How fares my excellent and Royal Sister?  
O tell me quickly.  Norf. 
Desolate she is.  
Alas, I tremble, fearing 'tis a sin  
To stab your Ears with such a doleful Tale;  
Could I draw half that Pity from her Fees,  
Hearing me count her miserable Plaints,  
As she extorted from her Prison Walls,  
Then she might hope; for they would echo them,  
And sometimes weep at the Relation.  Mor. 
I beg your Royal Hearing now, before  
That Duke has charmed you with a Siren's Story:  
By the Impartial Right of Embassies,  
And justice that still waits upon your Throne,  
I humbly claim first to be heard.  Qu. E. 
You shall.  
Say what you please, my Lord, you have my leave  
But let there 'scape no malice from your Tongue  Mor. 
Heaven grant my Hopes, as there is nought but truth  
And grounds most just in what shall be alleged.  
Our Queen, most mighty Princess, Europe knows  
Has long been wrapped in such a Cloud of Crimes  
That have eclipsed the lustre of a Crown.  
Who sees into her Life—  Qu. E. 
My Lord, I do command you cease; for if  
You speak one word again to blot your Queen,  
I shall suspect, as all the world has done,  
You had a hand in that vile Regicide,  
Else why are Angus and the false Argile,  
Supposed to be Contrivers of the Murder,  
By you protected from the Cry of Justice?  
If you've nought else to say, be dumb for ever.  Norf. 
Let Justice now be silent, Angels too  
Look down and wonder at her Oracle!  (Aside) Mor. 
Your Majesty must give me leave to speak,  
And plead the Right of Nations for my Guard—  
Your Subject I am not.  Norf. 
Audacious Villain!  (Puts on his Hat.) Mor. 
If Innocent, why is she then a Prisoner?  
If Guilty, why against the Law of Heaven,  
And Clamours of a Kingdom your Ally,  
D'you bar the Gates of Justice and secure her?  Qu. E. 
Ha! am I dared! braved by a Slave! a Snake!  
Crawled from the frozen Corner of my Land,  
But warm grown by my Beams of Majesty,  
To hiss me to my Face! Malicious Rebel!—  
Quick, take him, bind him, gag him, bore him through  
The Tongue, this haughty Scot!—  
I'll tame you Sir— Nay, I will use thee worse  
Than once a King served such a saucy Post,  
Who daring to be covered in his Presence,  
Nailed his proud Bonnet to the Villains Head,  
And made him feel the Reverence due to Crowns—  
Away with him.  
〈…〉 I will be heard  
〈…〉 Danger will not wake you,  
〈…〉 must— Behold a Letter  
〈…〉 signed with herown Hand  
Sent to the Noble Men her Friends in Scotland,  
Wherein she does asperse your Majesty  
With Treachery and breach of Promise to her;  
But bids 'em be of Courage, and expect her,  
For she is now assured of other Means,  
Some mighty Man, your Subject, by whose Aid  
She hopes to be released, and suddenly.  Norf. 
Most wise discerning Princess! did you hear?  
Hear this bold man, how loud he barks at Princes.  
The base degenerate Coward dreading you,  
Now turns his Back, but worry's still a Queen.  Qu. Eliz. 
Let him be heard.  Norf. 
O stop the Traitor's Mouth!  
Hear not a Monarch by her Rebel stained.  
By that bright Throne of Justice which you fill,  
'Tis false, 'tis forged, 'tis Lucifer's Invention.  Q. E. 
Ha! you will give me leave to judge of it?  
If not, sit you where I am— Pray my Lord  
No more.  Mor. 
we've Letters too, and Witnesses,  
To prove that Allan, Inglesfield, and Ross,  
More cunning Devils than deluded Eve,  
Have bargained with the Pope, and King of Spain,  
To Excommunicate her Son, and You;  
And given a Resignation of both Crowns  
To that most Catholic Tyrant for his Service.  Q. E. 
Defend me Heaven! This is a Mountain Treason!  Norf. 
Prodigious Villain!  Q. E. 
Are you not amazed!  
My Guard, my faithful Cecil, more, my Friend!  
Thou art my Delphos, to what Oracle?  
Where shall I have recourse but unto thee,  
Whose Bosom is my Rest, whose Breast my Counsel?  
What think you now, my Lord?  Norf. 
'Tis all Conspiracy.  Cec. 
Rest and refer this Matter to your Council.  
Something may be in this, but more Design.  Mor. 
If all's not true, I'll give my Body up  
To Torments, to be Racked, and die a Villain,  
Or stand the Test with any He that dares.  Norf. 
Quick, let me take him at his Word.  
O that I had thee on some desert's Cliff,  
Where shouldst thou stir one step, on one hand stood  
Tiger, fierce Wolves, and Dragons to devour thee,  
And on the other, endless Waves to catch thee,  
I'd crush the Treason from thy venomed Throat,  
As I would do its Poison from a Toad.  Mor. 
My Lord—  Qu. E. 
My Lord of Norfolk, you're too bold.  Norf. 
I beg your Majesty grant his Request;  
And I, as Champion for that Saint and Heaven,  
I Thomas Norfolk with this Arm will prove  
That Mary Queen of Scotland is abused,  
That she is innocent, and all is forged  
By that base Monster, Villain, Traitor, Morton;  
Nay, till I've made him own to all the World  
That he's not born of noble Blood, but that  
Some Ruffian mingled with his Father's Lust  
And more than half begot him.  Mor. 
Gracious Queen!—  Q. E. 
How dare you utter this before my face  
What, have my Favours placed you so aloft,  
That you're become my Equal?— Is it so?  
Yet know, proud Duke, that I can pull you down;  
Nay, were you Duke of all your fancied World,  
Your Head as high as your aspiring Thoughts—  
Confess you're mad; if so, go home and sleep;  
But take this Caution, Sir, along with you,  
Beware what Pillow 'tis you rest upon.  Norf. 
If to proclaim the Innocence of her  
Who has no liberty to do't herself  
Be such a Crime, take then my Life and Honours,  
theyare more your majesty's then mine that wear 'em;  
But while I breath, I'll hollow to the Clouds,  
Nay, Hell shall echo from the deep Abyss,  
Queen Mary's wronged, Queen Mary's innocent.  Qu. E. 
Patience kind Heaven! must I endure all this?  
Take him away.  Norf. 
They need not, I will go—  
You'll hear an Answer first from that sad Princess—  
Here is a Letter from that guilty Fair One.  
She bids me thus present it on my Knees.  Qu. E. 
Before I read it, you may speak my Lord.  Norf. 
Mark but the Superscription— Is't not to  
Her dearest Sister, Queen Elizabeth?  Qu. E. 
It is.  Norf. 
But had you seen her write it, with what Love!  
How with a Sigh she perfumed every Word,  
Fragrant as Eastern Winds, or Garden Breezes,  
That steal the sweets of Roses in their Flights.  
On every Syllable she reigned down Pearls,  
And said, instead of Gems, she sent you Blessings,  
For other Princely Treasure she had none.  Qu. E. 
Alas! What mean'st thou Norfolk?  Norf. 
Then she sighed and cried,  
Go to the Queen, perhaps upon her Throne.  
Tell her, mine is an humble Floor, my Palace  
An old dark Tower, that threatning bore's the Sky,  
And seems at war with Heaven to keep Day out.  
For eighteen years of Winters I ne'er saw  
The Grass embroidered o'er with Icy Spangles,  
Nor Trees Majestic in their snowy Robes;  
Nor yet in Summer, how the Fields are clad,  
And how soft Nature gently shifts the Scene,  
Her hoary Vestment to delightful Green.  Qu. E. 
O Duke, enough; thy Language stabs my soul.  Norf. 
No feathered Chorister of cheerful Note  
Salutes my dusky Grate to bring the Morn,  
But Birds of frightful Omen, Scriech Owls, Bats,  
And Ravens, such as haunt old ruined Castles,  
Make no distinction here 'twixt Sun and Moon,  
But join their clattering Wings with their loud croaks,  
And sing hoarse Midnight Dirges all the Night.  Qu. E. 
O horror! Cecil, stop thy ears and mine—  
Now cruel Morton, is she guilty now?  
She cannot be ambitious of my Crown,  
For tho'it be a glorious thing to sight,  
Yet like a gaudy Serpent round it sits  
Wreathing about a Prince's tortured Brow,  
And O! it has a thousand stings more fatal—  
Thou hast no more to say.  Norf. 
I found this mourning Excellence alone,  
She was asleep, not on a Purple Bed,  
Or gorgeous Pallet, but upon the Floor  
Which a mean Carpet clad whereon she sat,  
And on a homely Couch did lean her Head.  
Two winking Tapers at a distance stood;  
For other Light ne'er blessed that dismal Place,  
Which made the Room look like some sacred Urn,  
And she the sad Effigies of herself.  Qu. E. 
Alas! have done; I cannot hear thee out.  
Pray rise, my Lord.  Norf. 
O never till you've Pity!  
Her Face and Breast, I might discover bare,  
And looking nearer, I beheld how tears  
'Slid from each crevice of her scarce closed Eyes,  
And every Breath she fetched turned to a Sigh.  Qu. E. 
O I am drowned, I'm melted all to Pity!  Norf. 
Quickly she waked, for Grief ne'er rested long,  
And starting at my sight, she blushed and said,  
You find me full of Grief; but know, my Lord,  
'Tis not for Liberty, nor Crowns I weep;  
But that your Queen thinks me her Enemy,  
And will not hear the Voice of Innocence,  
But stops her Ears 'gainst Nature's and my Cries;  
The worst of Villains may be heard to pray,  
And at the Altar plead; but me she banishes,  
And hears my Foes, but will not hear her Sister.  Qu. E. 
My Breast like a full Prophet's is o'ercharged  
The God of Pity rages to get out,  
And must have way— Rise Norfolk, and haste all,  
Fly with the Wings of posting Angels, fly,  
Swift as the merciful Decrees above  
Are glided down the Precipice of Heaven,  
When the Almighty is resolved to save—  
Quick, take your Queens own Chariot, take all my Love,  
And bring this mourning Goddess to me straight:  
Fetch me that warbling Nightingale, who long  
In vain has sung, and fluttered in her Cage,  
And lay the panting Charmer in my Breast,  
This Heart shall be her Jailor, and these Arms her Prison.  Norf. 
O run and execute the Queen's Commands,  
Prepare her golden Coach and snow white Steeds  
The Pattern of that Innocence they carry,  
And fly more fast than Venus drawn by Doves.  
Should all the Clouds pour down at once upon you,  
Make your quick passage through the falling Ocean,  
Not its dread Thunder let it stop, nor Lightning stay you.  Mor. 
Madam—  Qu. E. 
No more, you shall have Justice Sir.  
If you have bravely urged the truth, fear not,  
For Majesty is always the severest  
And truest Touchstone of a Rebel's Heart.  
Why Heaven have you perplexed me with a Crown,  
Now when the World is such a Monster grown?  
When Summer freezes, and when Winter springs,  
When Nature fades, and Loyalty to Kings.  
Once such Respect to Iudah's Prince was shown  
Ten thousand Lives were proved to save his own;  
Then, as the Lion to the Fox looked grim,  
King's first were awful, now they lesser seem.  
What makes such Rebels? what makes Monarchs poor,  
But giving Slaves too large a taste of Power;  (To Morton.) 
'Tis for the Royal Fur you hope to win,  
The Ermine might be safe but for her Skin;  
If Kings have any fault, 'tis but the Name,  
And not who wears it, but the Crown's to blame.  [Exeunt Omnes. 
Finis Actus Primi   

ACTUS SECUNDUS, Scena prima.  Norfolk Solus. 
Rejoice all living Creatures that have Breath,  
Through this vast City let your Noises join,  
And Echo all ye Lands and Seas, she comes.  
The distant Shouts and wafted sounds of Bells  
Proclaim to London's Walls Queen Mary's come.  
Winds bear it into France to glad her Friends,  
Winds waft it into Scotland to her Foes,  
Till with the News they blast, with envy die.  Enter Morton to him. Mor. 
My Lord, I came to find you.  Norf. 
Pardon me,  
The mighty joy that has since filled my breast,  
And left no room for other thoughts, has made me  
Forget that you and I were angry.  Mor. 
And I.  
My Lord, brave Spirits should be stirred to wrath  
As seldom as the Centre is with Earthquakes,  
Not like the Sea, disturbed by every Blast.  
I came to speak with you, but as a Friend.  
Last Night within my Bed, prepared for slumber  
That gives soft Rest to all but sorrowful  
And guilty Minds, a sudden Dread assailed me,  
Started some Divinity that awed,  
And stole soft entrance in my cruel Bosom.  
The awful God within me shone like Day,  
First made me view, than chased my Guilt away.  
I felt my Breast began to 'bate its Rage,  
My barbarous Zeal for a more barbarous Cause  
Began to slack, whilst true Remorse and Pity  
Surprised my Soul, and held it for the Queen.  Norf. 
O, may they ever keep possession there!  Mor. 
They shall. All she's accused of, is no more,  
But that she strove to cast her Fetters off.  
The Lion, when he's hunted in the Toil,  
Spares not himself, nor Foes within his reach,  
But wounds his brisly Hide, and tears the Ground,  
And all for precious Liberty he roars,  
Freedom which God and Nature gave to all,  
But cruel Man and cursed Laws deny.  Norf. 
Now thou art beautiful, no Devil now  
Thou dost appear; for from thy Arms and Feet  
Sprout Angels Wings where Vultures Talons grew,  
And cloven hooves.  Mor. 
The Vision further went;  
(For 'twas a Heavenly Vision sure that said it.)  
What if some noble Man should be picked out.  
A Subject of this Realm to wed our Queen?  
For here are Subjects of Estates and Rank  
May weigh their Coronets with princes' Crowns.  Norf. 
Some such there are, if she would think 'em worthy.  Mor. 
She must and will, for sh'as no other hopes,  
As she 'twixt Scilla and Charybdis sails.  
Your Jealous Queen would then be freed from fears  
By such a Match, who all her Reign has dreaded  
Her Marriage with some Prince of France or Spain,  
So to convey her Title to the Crown  
To the worst Enemy this Nation has.  Norf. 
Nam●●t the Man that dares aspire to be  
Her kneeling Slave, much more her God like Husband!  
Is it not Leicester?  Mor. 
All the world beside  
Yourself, would first have named the Duke of Norforlk.  Norf. 
Ha!  Mor. 
Start not Sir, nor let your Modesty  
Usurp the Privilege to bar your Fortunes.  Norf. 
I cannot be ambitions of a Crown;  
But if I were, and loved, to thee I swear  
I would prefer that charming Queen to all,  
To Crowns, to Empires, or ten thousand Lives—  
Queen, did I say? that Name's too great, too distant,  
It sounds too mighty in a Lover's Mouth.  Mor. 
You are by Heaven and Earth designed her Husband.  Norf. 
Were she so low, the farthest from a Crown,  
Sat on a Bank for Scotland's gaudy Throne,  
Under no Canopy, but some large Oak,  
And for a Sceptre, in her hand a Crook;  
A Coronet of Flowers upon her Head,  
Where round her all her fleecy Subjects feed,  
Glad I would be to dress me like a Swain,  
Steal from her Eyes my Pleasure and my pain,  
Smile when she smiles, or else out-weep the Rain.  
Sit by her side, freed from the Chains of Power,  
And never think of Wealth or Honour more.  Mor. 
You speak like that rare Lover as you are—  
Come, come my Lord, you wrong your hopes to hide  
This secret from the only man can serve you.  
I know you love the afflicted Queen, confess,  
And soon as she's arrived, I'll wait on her,  
Fall on my knees, nay prostrate on the Earth;  
Implore my pardon of that injured Saint,  
And make it my Request for all her Subjects,  
To take you for her Husband and our King,  
And for her Dower, her Crown and Liberty.  Norf. 
By you bright truth in Heaven, if this thou mean'st,  
I swear to thee, O Morton, that I love her;  
And if thou real art, and joyn'st our Hands,  
I will reward thee with that Crown thou proffer'st,  
Thou shalt Reign still for Infant james and us;  
But if thou provest a Villain, and hast now  
By subtle means stole this Confession from me;  
Hear, mighty Vengeance, guard me when I find it,  
Lend me thy surest Thunder thus to grasp,  
Give me the strength, the Rage of Hercules,  
That I may take this Monster with these hands,  
And when he proves a Traitor, shake his Body  
Into as many Atoms as 'twas formed of.  Mor. 
By that brave Spirit you have show, I'm real—  
The Queen's approaching, one of us must part.  
It is not fit we should be seen together.  
You will go wait upon the Queen of Scotland.  Norf. 
O Morton! be thou faithful and be great.  Mor. 
Farewell.  (Exit Norfolk. 
Greatness I'll owe unto myself, not thee.  
Mary does like a lasting Fabric stand,  
Supported by proud Norfolk, like a Column;  
Saw but this Pillar off, the Building fails.  
This hot-brained, heedless Duke, to save the Queen,  
Runs blind with Love, himself into the Gin.  
Thus when the King of Beasts hears his loved Mate  
Roar in the Toil, with hopes to free her strait  
Scours to her aid, and meets the self same Fate.  Enter Queen Elizabeth, Cecil, Lords, Attendants and Guards. Qu. E. 
My Lord, your Queen's already in our Walls,  
And passing through the City to our Palace.  Mor. 
Madam, I hope this meeting will be prosperous,  
And prove as joyful to your Majesty,  
As is our welcome Queen to all your Subjects.  Qu. E. 
My Lord, what mean you, who has welcomed her?  Mor. 
I mean the Shouts, the joyful Ring of Bells,  
Bonfires that turned the Night to shining Day,  
Soon as your Orders were dispatched to bring her.  Qu. E. 
Were they so much transported at the News?  Cec. 
No doubt, to please your Majesty they did it.  Qu. E. 
It does not please me. Why was I not told it?  
I would have added Water to there lame,  
Dug up their Wharfs and Sluices at their Gates,  
And let the Ocean in their lighted Streets  
To quench their saucy Fires.  Cec. 
'Twas Ignorance.  Qu. E. 
'Twas Impudence; for me they scarcely thanked,  
Nay, when in Person I led forth their Armies,  
Armed like an Amazon, an Helmet on,  
Dwelled in the Camp long months of Hot and Cold,  
Feeling more hardship than the meanest Soldier,  
And brought bright Victory to their Thresholds home;  
Yet me they never welcomed with such joy.—  
Ha! in my Ears, and at my Palace Doors!  [Shouts within. 
Thus they would dare me, had they Forts and Cannons.  Mor. 
This sounds as if the Queen were near the Palace.  Enter Davison to them. Qu. E. 
Speak Davison, what mean these Shouts?  Dau. 
The Queen of Scotland's come, these Acclamations  
Proclaim your People's Joy where ere she passes.  
It was your Royal Pleasure I should go  
To meet this welcome Princess out of Town,  
But could not pass it for the Multitude,  
So numerous, that had your Majesty beheld 'em,  
You would have wept as Xerxes o'er his Army,  
To think that in a hundred years or less,  
Not one of all those goodly Creatures would be living.  Qu. E. 
Thou art mistaken, had I seen the slaves,  
If wishes could have done't, they had not lived  
A day; they should have died for Traitors all.  Dau. 
Mistake me not, nor your kind Subjects Loves.  
I hope they did not mean it as a fault.  Qu. E. 
Proceed. Did they not strive to make thee way,  
Not for my Sake, nor for thy Dignity and Place?  Dau. 
Alas, 'twas past their Power! I might as well  
Have put my Breast against a gushing Torrent,  
Or drive the Ocean from its deep abode,  
As stem the Multitude— But mark what followed;  
For this was but the Curtain to the Scene—  
You look displeased; I doubt I've said too much,  
And fear I've done e'em wrong.  Qu. E. 
I'll hear— Go on.  Dau. 
The Queen no sooner did appear, but straight  
Th' obedient Crowd shrunk back at her Command,  
Making a Lane to-guard her on each side.  
Not Israel's Chief with his commanding Rod  
Did the Red Sea so suddenly divide,  
As she with her kind Looks the Rout dispersed.  Qu. E. 
'Tis well, and what am I, ungrateful People?  Dau. 
But till she spoke, they hung like clustered Grapes,  
And covered all her Chariot like a Vine,  
The loaded Wheels thick as the Dust did hide,  
And swarmed like Bees upon her Coaches side;  
Matrons and Virgins in her Praises sung,  
Whilst wanton Bells ingrateful Changes rung;  
All harmony from discord seemed to flow,  
And Shouts from houses tops met Shouts below;  
Mothers, when they with joy her Face had seen,  
Would point, and to their Infants show the Queen,  
Whilst they (ne'er learned to talk) for her would try,  
And the first word they spoke would Marry cry.  Qu. E. 
'Tis false— Thou wrong'st my Subjects.  
They durst not do this, durst not did I say?  
My People would not— What is this I hear?  (More Shouts. 
Are these the perjured Slaves that at my fight  
Have left their Callings, all the Youth their Sports?  
Old men their Crutches too would fling away,  
And run to see my Face— The Bridegroom at the Altar  
That held his Bride by th' hand, at my approach,  
Left the unfinished Rites to see me pass,  
And made his eager hopes wait on his Queen.  Dau. 
And there are yet a million so would do.  Qu. E. 
No, I'm forgot; a new thing has their hearts.  
I am grown stale, as common to the sight,  
As Sun by day, or Moon and Stars by night.  
O curse of Crowns! O curse of Regal Power!  
Learn you that would such Pageantry adore.  
Trust whining Saints, the cunning Harlot's tears,  
And listen when the perjured Lover swears;  
Believe the Serpent that did Eve delude,  
But never, never trust the Multitude;  
There is more Innocence, more truth in those,  
Than in false subjects Coronation Vows.—  (More Shouts. 
Again! some Thunder-Bolt come strike me dead,  
Or snatch away my Sense of hearing quite—  
Discharge a Volley; quickly drown this Noise;  
Sound a whole Clang of Trumpets in my Ears,  
And beat a Regiment of Drums about me,  
I can hear any thing but this.  Cec. 
Run and proclaim the Queen's Commands to all  
On penalty of Death to cease this Shouting.  Qu. E. 
No, let 'em stun me, kill me; yes, vile Traitors!  
Ye shall have her ye long for in my Throne,  
False Queen! you shall enjoy your Sister's Crown;  
But it shall be of Serpents, Adders, Scorpions,  
And a worse plague to thee than mine is now,  
It shall be in the Tower, there do thou sing  
Thy Syren's Song, and let them shout in answer, do—  
I'll teach you how to flatter and betray—  
Run, seize the Queen, like Lightning straight obey—  [Offers to go and returns again. 
Where wouldst thou go? where would thy fury drive thee?  
What has my Sister, what has Mary done?  
Must she be punished for my Subjects Crimes?  
Perhaps she's innocent of all this Joy,  
And hears the Sound with greater pain than I.  
Where shall I wander? in what place of rest?  
Under what Canopy with Peace be blessed?  
The Shepherd's Pallet made of Turf or Stone,  
Is easier than a Prince's Bed or Throne.  
Hear Guard of Kings, revenge an injured Monarch.  (More Shouts. Dau. 
The Queen is just on entrance.  Qu. E. 
Does it please you?  
Behold, she comes, meet and conduct her in.  
Why stay you here? each do his Office straight,  
And seat her in my Place, my Crown present her with,  
And with your Hollows echo all the Rabble.  
The Deed is done, that Mary is your Queen;  
But think not to be safe; for when I'm dead,  
Swift on a Dragon's Wings from Heaven I'll fall,  
And rain down Royal Vengeance on you all.  Cec. 
Make haste and follow all that love their Queen.  [Exeunt Omnes Enter Queen Mary, Young Dowglas and Attendants. Qu. M. 
Come poor Remainder of my lost Estate,  
Once I was served in Pomp, had many Friends,  
And then scarce felt a Blessing in the Cumber,  
But now I'm more beholding to my Fate,  
That after having plundered me of all,  
Left me the Gleanings of so kind a few.  
Friendship to Misery is dainty Fare,  
Like Hunger to the Poor, it makes all rare.  Dow. 
What will betide us now?  Qu. M. 
Come near your Mistress.  
Methinks your Queen, and her poor sorry Train,  
Look like a crew of Shipwrecked Passengers,  
Shuddering and wet, thrown on some Land by night,  
Without a Friend to cheer, or Fire to warm 'em.  Dow. 
Like them perhaps we're cast upon a shore.  
Where no kind Creature lives to pity us,  
But Wolves, dread Basilisks and gaping Monsters.  
Alas! what meant those Shouts of Joy? to mock us?  
Is this the Court of famed Elizabeth?  
And this the Throne where she was served with Throngs?  
Is this your Welcome? Where's her glittering Train?  
Here are no Crowds, no face of either Sex.  
But all abandoned like the Place we came from.  Qu. M. 
Sure it was all a Dream, was it not Dowglass?  
Thou little Angel that preserv'dst thy Queen,  
Appeared like Mercy and unlocked my Prison;  
But I ungrateful and my Fortunes worse,  
Took thee, young Rose, from thine own fruitful Garden,  
And planted thee within a cold dead Soil,  
To nip thy Youth, and with my sorrows kill thee,  
But shortly I'll release thee from thy Woes,  
And leave thee to enjoy when I am dead,  
What thou ne'er found'st with me, Content.  Dow. 
Surely the Queen will see you now you're come,  
Else we do walk enchanted, and this Place  
Is not White-Hall, but Pawlets Prison still.  Qu. M. 
Lend me your hands, for I am faint and weary,  
My Legs too tremble, and methinks the Floor  
Sinks under 'em, and now it fares with me  
Like a poor Mariner that had been condemned  
To a close Bark, a long and tedious Voyage,  
Who, coming to the Shore, scarce feels the Ground,  
And thinks the World does like the Ship go round.  Dow. 
Here, sit you down a while.  Qu. M. 
What? in her Chair?  
Then she indeed may say I am ambitious,  
Ambitious of her Crown, which Heaven avows  
I am not—  
No, bring me another Chair,  
And place it where I may give no offence,  
And you upon the Floor encompass me—  [Queen sits down, and her Attendants upon the Floor round about her. 
So, this is as it should be; Is it not?  
Thus have we oft beguiled the time at Fotheringay—  
Lend me a Glass Aurelia, and pray tell me,  
And tell me faithfully, how do I look?  
I dare not see myself, till I'm prepared  
And made acquainted with the ghastly horror,  
Lest I view that should strike me into Madness.  Dow. 
To see yourself, is straight to banish Woe,  
And make you happy for that Day, I'm sure  
It does your Servants when they look upon you,  
You are so good, so perfect and so fair.  
Beauty and sorrow never were so nigh  
A Kin in any but in you— Behold else.  [Reaching her the Glass. Qu. M. 
If fear will give my Senses leave,  
And hands can do their Office without trembling.  
I'll lift it to my Eyes— Ha! do you mock me?  
Who is behind me? who looked in the Glass?  Dow. 
Here's no body, here's none within the Room  
Besides yourself, and us upon the Floor.  Qu. M. 
Alas, these cannot be thy Mistress Eyes,  
Mine were dim Lamps that long ago expired,  
And quite dissolved, or quenched themselves in tears.  
These Cheeks are none of mine; these Roses look not  
Like Tempest-beaten Lilies as mine should.  
This Forehead is not graven with the Darts  
Of eighteen years of sharpest Miseries;  
Nor are these Lips like Sorrows blubbered Twins,  
ne'er smiling, ever mourning and complaining.—  
False Glass that flatters and undoes the Fond.  [Throws down the Glass. 
False Beauty! May that Wretch that has thee, curse thee,  
And hold thee still detestable as mine;  
Why tarry'st thou to give me yet more woe?  
The Earth will mourn in Furrows at the Blow;  
Birds, Trees and Meadows, when the Summers gone,  
Put their worst Looks and sable Colours on;  
The sullen Streams, when any Tempest blows,  
Their Crystal smoothness in a moment loose;  
But my cursed Beauty, this malicious Charm  
No time, long Griefs, nor blasts of Envy harm.  Enter to them Norfolk. Norf. 
What do I see! the Person or the Shadow  
Of the most bright Divinity of Scotland?  
Is this her real Body on the Floor?  
And these the faithful Mourners of her Fortune?  
Bright as Diana with her starry Nymphs  
Descending to make fertile Land and Sea,  
To bless the Waves, and brood the World with Plenty.  
O rise, most charming of all Creatures rise!  
Or Heaven shall be no more where now it is,  
But sink the Scale and mount the Globe above it.  Qu. M. 
Who sees the needy Traveller on foot,  
When he approaches to his long'dfor Inn,  
Welcomed, carressed and showed the fairest Room,  
And richest Bed to rest his weary Limbs?  
Or who beholds the Beggar on his Straw,  
Crying for Alms before the Rich Man's Door,  
And bids him rise?— Go Duke, and shun this Wretch,  
Fly Mary's Fate; for such, and worse is she.  Norf. 
Rise Heavenly Excellence, or by yourself,  
The greatest Oath that I can take,  
I'll bear your precious Body in these Arms,  
(Forgive the Sacrilegious Violence)  
And seat you in that proud Imperial Chair,  
Beneath whose scornful Feet you meekly lie;  
Nay I would doit, were this She-Harry by,  
Tho' she stood here and dared me with Revenge,  
I ' de put you in that Place in spite of her.  Qu. M. 
Now all the Powers of Heaven and Earth forbid.  Norf. 
heavens' Throne of Thrones, Angels and Cherubins,  
The Powers above and Mortals all below  
Would praise me for the Deed— Who can behold  
England's bright Heiress, Queen of France and Scotland,  
Whose Veins run treasured with the sacred Blood  
Of Fergus, and an hundred Alban Kings,  
Lie thus neglected, in a State thus mean?  
Who can behold it, and at once be Loyal?  Qu. M. 
O tept me not with thoughts of any State  
But this that I am in; it was a Vision,  
The World till now was but a Dream to me.  
When I was great, I always was in Danger,  
Giddy and fearful when I looked beneath;  
But now with scorn I can see all above me,  
Happy in this, that I can fall no lower.  Norf. 
O say no more, for pity of Mankind,  
Lest Heaven descend in Battles, Plagues and Fire,  
To scourge the Earth for so profane a sight,  
And treating thus the Majesty of Kings.  
Were I a God, Nature should wrack for this,  
The frighted World should at my Burden groan,  
Whilst thus I fell with my Immortal Weight,  [Falls down flat. 
Thus at your Feet, and crushed its Soul away.  
But as I'm Norfolk still, the meanest Wretch,  
I will entreat of thee a Grave, and say  
As raving Aristotle to the Sea,  
Since I can't conquer thee, to swallow me.  Qu. M. 
Rise gallant Duke, and show me if you can,  
Where shall the wretched fly to be at rest?  [Queen rises. 
For I am like the Dove banished the Ark  
To perish by the Waters; but yet at last  
She saw the Mountains rear their wished for Tops,  
And Trees their welcome Branches sprout above  
The Waves; but my poor Feet find no kind ground,  
My Soul no Perch to rest its weary Wings on.  Norf. 
O could I dare repeat it in your hearing,  
Or claim the sacred Promise once you made,  
Here you should meet that calm repose you want,  
In Norfolk's grateful Breast.  Qu. M. 
O name not Love!  
Love always flies the wretched and deformed,  
And I am both— Sorrow has played the Tyrant,  
Ploughed up this lovely Field where Beauties grew,  
And quite transformed it to a naked Fallow.  
That you had once my Word, 'tis true; but 'twas  
When I had hopes to be a Queen again;  
I thought to give you with some Charms a Crown,  
Which you deserve; but now they all are gone,  
I am not worth the taking— cease the thought.  Norf. 
By Heaven! you are above all Queens to me;  
Your glorious Head was shadowed with a Crown,  
And lovely Body seemed but coursely clad  
With Robes of Majesty, like Stars beclouded;  
Those cast away, the Cherubin appears  
Bright as the World was in its Infant years.  
Eased of this Sumpter, take your happy Flight,  
The lighter by the Load of cursed Crowns.  
You bear the badge of Heaven where ere you go,  
Bright Beauty and Divinity all o'er.  Qu. M. 
Where shall I fly?  Norf. 
To Scythia, wild's of Beasts,  
Or any where but this accursed Place.  
To Scotland first, where the repenting Morton,  
(Whom real pity of your matchless Sufferings  
Has turned a Saint) has writ to all the States  
To meet receive you, and approve your choice.  Qu. M. 
First let my Virtue with my Heart consult.  Norf. 
Nay, whilst you think you'll stumble on a Grave,  
Or Prison— ah you know not what the Queen,  
And your cursed Foes are now consulting of.  Qu. M. [Aside 
To fly suspected, is to make me guilty;  
Yet she condemns and shuns me as a Monster,  
Denies what to the meanest Criminal she grants—  
Aside. Now Fear and Passion strive  
Like Seas with bold contrary Winds oppressed,  
And rouse the quiet Ocean in my Breast.  Enter to them Davison with Guards. Dau. 
The Queen my Mistress to her Royal Sister,  
The wronged and beauteous Majesty of Scotland,  
Sends by her Slave the dearest of all Loves,  
Not such as fickle, wanton Lovers pay,  
But such as Friends and Angels owe each other.  
She lovingly entreats you would accept  
Of this her Guard—  Norf. 
Ha!  Dau. 
Not as a Restraint,  
But to protect your Life against your Foes,  
Which she still prizes dearer than her own.  
Without are Officers prepared to wait you  
To an Apartment nearest to her own.  
My Lord, It is her Majesties Command  [To Norfoolk. 
You leave the Queen, and instantly attend her.  Norf. 
Immortal Powers! a Guard!  [Exit Davison. Qu. M. 
Haste noble Duke, prevent her threatning Rage;  
Plead for yourself— Behold I am not worse,  
Than when you saw me first at Fotheringay.  Norf. 
Ah rigid Caution! Virtue too severe!  
Y'ave done a cruel Justice on yourself,  
And quite undone my hopes.  Qu. M. 
Give me your Hand.  
I will be yours, or ne'er will be Another's:  
That as my Heart, but oh most gallant Norfolk!  
Some time allow to weigh the nice Regards  
Of Jealous Honour in a Prince's Breast.  
Cruel Example, cruel Greatness awes  
Our Sex and Monarchs with the hardest Laws—  
Farewell.  Norf. 
Cursed be those Laws, more cursed be Greatness still;  
Man till forbidden, knew not what was ill,  
And till Ambition sowed the deadly strife,  
Adam was blessed, and Eve a happy Wife.  
Virtue one hoped, and then was so renowned,  
Valour made Kings, and Beauty oft was crowned;  
Merit did then o'er Friends and Interest plead,  
The happy Pair but liked, and soon agreed;  
But now Love's bought, and Marriage grown a Trade,  
Estate and Dower are in the Balance weighed;  
Love still was free till Pride broke in by stealth,  
And ne'er a Slave till undermined with Wealth.  [Exeunt Omnes. 
Finis Actus Secundi.   

ACTUS TERTIUS. Scena prima.  Morton. Davison. Mor. 
NOw famous Davison, 'tis in your Power,  
To be the Genius of your threatened Nation,  
And the Protector of your Crown and Laws;  
A glorious Merit offers to espouse you,  
And make your Name in England's Cause renowned.  
Your Mistress must not see the Queen of Scotland;  
This you must study to prevent; for 'tis  
To give a Dagger to a Lunatic.  
How does she hold her Yesterdays Resolve?  Dau. 
Just as I feared; for in her Bedchamber  
Early this Morn, I found the Duke of Norfolk  
Upon his Knees, petitioning for the Queen.  
At first she started, with her Eyes shot Flames,  
And bid him in a fury straight be gone;  
Then with an elevated Tone, she cried,  
What, must I ne'er be kneeled to but for her?  
All Kness, all Hearts must bend to her alone,  
Whilst I, alas, like the dull slavish Beast  
That bore the Goddess Image on his Back,  
Am worshipped only but for her.  Mor. 
Said rarely!  Dau. 
Then on a sudden called him back again,  
Blotting a Tear that fell in spite of her,  
And bid him go to the distressed, poor Queen,  
And bear a Token to her,  
Giving a Ring, and with it many a Sigh.  
Tell her, said she, tho' Jealousies of State  
Forbid that we should meet, yet many days,  
Nay, many hours I am not sure to live,  
Unless I see her quickly, and embrace her.  Mor. 
Then all my Fears again return.  Dau. 
The Duke  
Rise from the Ground exalted and expired,  
Leaving the Queen with Burleigh and myself;  
But soon, on us presuming to advise her,  
She thundered as the Gods on the rash Giants,  
And made us feel what 'twas to war with Heaven.  
Then in a Rage, she darted from her Closet,  
And threw the Door so hard with such a Flounce,  
(As I have seen her Father Harry do)  
That made us tremble.  Mor. 
What would you advise?  Dau. 
I know not, for she wearies her Attendants,  
And fain would shake 'em off; surveys each Chamber,  
And measures every Gallery in her House  
An hundred times, as if she meant to take  
A View, and by the Model build the like.  
I know the Cause, and tho' her Spirit's proud,  
And would not stoop to see the Scottish Queen,  
Yet she feeks all occasions out to meet her,  
And therefore loiters like a Miser's Ghost  
About the Treasure that it loved on Earth.  Mor. 
This mighty Duke must be loped low, or fall,  
His Branches are too spreading and too high,  
Under whose Tops our Queen securely lies,  
And mocks the just avenging storms of Heaven.  
He thinks he's cleared from all Accounts of Guilt,  
But I have that will set him in Arrear,  
ne'er to be paid, and ne'er to be forgiven.  
I'll to the Duke.  [Exit Morton. Dau. 
And I'll go seek the Queen—  As Davison is going out, enter Gifford and meets him. 
What art thou that has haunted me so long?  
Thou look'st as if thou mean'st to draw my Picture.  
I saw thee in the Presence of the Queen,  
Which, when I left, thou follow'dst me,  
And still survey'st me with a curious Eye.  
What wouldst thou with me? say, what art?  Giff. 
A Man.  
And what indeed is rare in such a Place,  
A Miracle at Court, an honest Man.  
I am a Priest.  Dau. 
How dar'st thou peep thy Head within these Walls?  
I'll have thee seized.  Giff. 
thou'dst better, if 'twere possible,  
The Guardian Angel of thy Mistress seize.  
I'm hired to kill the Queen.  Dau. 
O monstrous Villain!  Giff. 
I am no Villain, but a Scourge to Villains.  
I have the Instrument of Fate about me.  Dau. 
O horrid! most unheard of Impudence!  
Durst thou tell this to me that am her Servant?  Giff. 
Because you are, therefore I sought you out,  
And came not here to act it, but reveal it.  
Hell could not rest and know it.  Dau. 
Thou sayst well.  
What dire Companions in this Tragedy  
Hast thou? who set you on?  Giff. 
O they are mighty!  
Nor was the Queen alone t'have felt the Blow.  Dau. 
Is not the Queen of Scotland in the Plot?  
Speak as thy Virtue prompts thee, and the Throne,  
Thy Innocence, and Heaven be all thy Guard.  Giff. 
I know that for Her sake this was contrived;  
But dare not think that she's consenting to it.  Dau. 
Were't thou alone to act this monstrous Treason?  Giff. 
No, five bold Villains more besides myself,  
(Cursed that my Name should e'er be read for one)  
All made of Nature's ruffest, fiercest Mould,  
Have entered in a damned Association,  
(Start Heaven, and all Divinity to hear)  
To kill the Queen! to murder Majesty!  
Their several Instruments of Death, in sport  
They made the Guilt of Chance. One had a Sword  
Fell to his share; the second chose a Gun,  
The third a Pistol; Poison had the fourth;  
The fifth had Water for the Deed, who was,  
If all the rest had failed t'have sunk her Barge,  
Rowing some Evening, as her Custom is,  
From Greenwich; and this Dagger was my Lot.  [Shows a Dagger. Dau. 
Thou'st gained a glorious, and immortal Credit.  Giff. 
I can produce what will amaze you worse.  
No Necromancer ever showed the Face  
Of a suspected Stealer in a Glass,  
As I the lively Figures of these Monsters,  
In glorious ostentation of the Deed,  
Painted on Tablets set in Gold, with Babington  
High in the midst, and in his threatning Hand  
Grasping the Weapon that should kill the Queen,  
And underneath this horrid Sentence writ,  
High mihi sunt Comites quos ipsa pericula ducunt.  Dau. 
O Villain! didst thou ever see Queen Mary?  Giff. 
Never, but have her Letters to the Pope,  
To the Confederates, and to Babington.  Dau. 
To Babington! say, does she write to him?  Giff. 
To him— I am th'entrusted Messenger.  Dau. 
Dost know them to be hers? Who gave 'em you?  Giff. 
Her Secretary Curl.  Dau. 
But are you sure they are the Queens own Hand?  Giff. 
Her Hand I know not, but her Name is to 'em.  
To me they're first delivered to convey;  
And henceforth as they come into my hands,  
To you I'll give 'em.  Dau. 
Do so, which I'll open,  
And cause them to be neatly counterfeited,  
Then send the false, and keep the true ones by me—  
But hold, we are perceived; come, follow me,  
And when time serves, I'll bring thee to the Queen.  [Exeunt. Enter Queen Marry, young Dowglas, and Women at the other Door. Dowglas spies Davison and Gifford. Qu. M. 
Show me the unfrequented'st Gallery  
To walk in; for we have not changed our State;  
We only have a little larger Prison.  Dow. 
Ha!  Qu. M. 
What does all the Genius of his Queen?  
Why this Disorder? wherefore didst thou start?  Dow. 
Saw you that Fellow Madam?  Qu. M. 
Yes, why ask'st thou?  Dow. 
I know not, but a sudden Horror seized me  
At that Man's sight, as if he were some Fiend.  
Was not that Davison and he together  
In private talk?— Ah Madam, Davison  
A Spy of Quality, and Legier here  
Of Plots against your sacred Innocence.  
By your unspotted Soul! just such a Parson  
(Pray Heaven he's not the same) I often saw  
With Navus during your Imprisonment.  
O my prophetic Heart warns and foretells me,  
There's mischief gangring in our scarce closed Wounds.  Qu. M. 
Thou needest not fear, for my kind Sister's Love,  
And my own Innocence shall conquer all  
That Hell and Furies can invent against me.  Dow. 
What mean these drops? O heavens'! what means this shaking?  
Young Prophets never wept nor trembled so,  
For Pity, when they told the Fate of Kingdoms.  
Ah brightest Star that e'er adorned the World!  
Take, take young Dowgla's Counsel and retire;  
O shun this barbarous Place, and fly this Moment.  Qu. M. 
What dost thou mean?  Dow. 
I know not, but am pulled  
By some strange Destiny that seems to you  
As if Iraved, but blessed were you 'twere madness.  
Last Night no sooner was I laid to rest,  
But just three drops of Blood fell from my Nose,  
And stained my Pillow, which I found this Morning,  
And wondered at.  Qu. M. 
That rather does betoken  
Some mischief to thyself.  Dow. 
Perhaps to Cowards,  
Who prize their own base Lives, but to the Brave  
'Tis always fatal to the Friend they love.  
Mark further. I was scarcely fallen asleep,  
But You were represented to my Fancy,  
Decked like a Bride with Norfolk in you Hand:  
The amorous Duke shot Smiles with every Word,  
Whilst you returned 'em with more piercing Darts;  
But straight it seemed to Lighten, and a Peal  
Of dreadful Thunder rent you from each other,  
Whilst from the Ceiling painted o'er like Heaven,  
Methought I saw the furious Queen of England  
Like angry juno mounted on a Cloud,  
Light on a Throne, at which dread Sight you vanished.  Qu. M. 
These are but starts of an o'rewatchful soul,  
Which always represent to us asleep,  
What most we fear, or wish when we're awake.  Dow. 
Ah my best mistress! on my knees I beg you,  
Tho' the brave Duke be as renowned as any  
That e'er the ancient Greeks picked out for Gods;  
Thou never Man so rivaled all his Sex,  
And left 'em bare of Virtues like himself;  
Yet for your precious Life's sake that's more worth  
Than thousand Dukes, break off your Marriage with him.  Qu. M. 
My little Guardian Angel, thou dost rouse  
And beat a War within my Breasts, between  
The Interest of my Love and Preservation;  
Thou know'st 'twas long consulted, and at last  
Concluded best for my uncertain State.  
Leicester and Cecil, both of 'em have promised,  
With Morton too, to gain the Queen's Consent.  Dow. 
There's Morton in it, therefore go no farther.  Qu. M. 
Thou wouldst not have me wed the gallant Duke,  
Yet thou wouldst have me fly; where shall I fly?  
I dare not go to Scotland, That lays wait  
To catch me in a hundred Snares of Death;  
And into France, I will not, must not go;  
For than my Sister may with reason say,  
I went for Aid to drive her from her Throne;  
Besides, with sad Experience oft we find,  
France seldom to a banished Prince is kind.  Dow. 
See where he is, just in the moment Heaven!  
As if ill Fate against itself were kind,  
And comes to warn you that you might avoid it.  Qu. M. 
What shall I do? say Heaven; for lo I stand  
Like one that in a Desert seeks his way,  
Sees several Paths, yet doubting of the right,  
Stands in a maze, and fears to venture upon any.  Enter to them Norfolk and Morton. Norf. 
What! what in tears, thou mourning Excellence!  
Shed not that precious Balm in vain, but spare it  
To heal the world when Nature is a dying,  
And Chaos shall be threatened once again.  
O save those Pearls to buy large Empires for us,  
And when we've lived to the old Patilarchs' Age,  
To purchase twice as many years of Heaven.  Mor. 
Weep you when Love and joyful Hyment wait  
To banish Grief for ever from your Breast!  Qu. M. 
Morton, I will proceed no further in this Marriage.  
My Lord, I fear it will be fatal to us.  Norf. 
What do I hear!  Qu. M. 
By all my hopes I dare not.  
Most generous Norfolk! to your virtuous Love  
I owe my Freedom, and what's more, my Life,  
And mary Heart is but the least return  
That she can make; but if that Heart proves fatal,  
A wretched Load to curse with woes the Taker,  
And sink the Noble Vessel that does hold it,  
Then Charity forbids me be so cruel—  
Think I deny you for your own dear safety,  
Think I deny myself— Run, fly, forsake me,  
Seek not for shelter in a falling Tower,  
But leave me to be wretched here alone.  Norf. 
Should all the Fiends break loose to bar my way,  
And were that Marble Roof of Heaven descending  
To crush me and my Hopes, I'd fly this moment,  
And perish with my Love, but I'd enjoy her.  
Give me this trembling Hand, the fairest Lily  
Set in the loveliest Garden of the World.  
Purer and whiter than the Virgin Snow.  
If 'tis a Sin to blot it with a Tear,  
O could it speak. 'twould expiate the Crime,  
And say my soul does want a rougher Language,  
To chide my Alban Queen.  Qu. M. 
Cease Norfolk, cease;  
By all your hopes of happiness I charm you.  
Your better Genius, not my own foretells me,  
This deed will be the ruin of your Fortunes,  
If not your Life; first break it to the Queen,  
Gain her Consent.  Mor. 
That is already done;  
Leicester long since implored her Royal Leave;  
She knows it, and in not forbidding it,  
Her Silence must be taken for a Grant.  Qu. M. 
Delay it but a Day, and let me go  
Myself, if Blushes will not quite confound me,  
And ask the Queen.  Mor. 
You still create fresh Hazards,  
And still forget the Queen denies to see you;  
Besides, that were to wake some new surmise  
Of State; perhaps she'll then demur on the Request,  
And call your Foes to Council, which when done,  
And past prevention, she'll not blame the Deed.  Norf. 
O gallant Morton! let me thank thee thus,  [Embraces Morton. 
More pitiful than weeping Virgins are,  
And kind as interceding Angels thou.  Mor. 
Go quickly then, and tie this sacred Knot  
Due to your Interest, due to both your Loves;  
Elizabeth shall jealous be no more,  
Nor fearful then that any foreign Prince  
Should thereby join his Kingdom to your Right,  
And claim your lawful Title to her Crown.  
Go instantly, how e'er she seems to frown,  
She'll smile within her heart to hear 'tis done.  Norf. 
By all your Woes now fled, my Service past,  
And more, by all your precious Vows I beg you.  Qu. M. 
Why do you hold me? where d'ye hurry me,  
To be your Fate, to be your Enemy?  Norf. 
Remember, O remember Fothering ay!  
Remember what it heard, and echoes still,  
Your oft repeated Vows, and Norfolk's Groans.  Qu. M. 
Some pitying Angel from above, behold,  
Fly swift, and point the Path that I must follow.  Mor. 
Away, the Sun sets forth like a gay Brideman  
With you.  Qu. M. 
Come then, conduct me since I must.  
And now Ambition, Empire, All be gone,  
I leave you with your heavy Weight a Crown,  
And if I err, bright Register above,  
Mark with forgiveness, all my fault was Love.  Mor. 
Cursed Accident; the Queen's approaching hither.  Qu. M. 
What is't you say? O bear me from her sight.  
My Joy and Fear like two huge Giants fight.  
Hope bids me fly, my trembling heart forbids,  
But who can Love and Reason both obey?—  
Do what you will with me,— away, away.  Enter Queen Elizabeth, Cecil, Davison, Lords and Attendants. Queen Elizabeth seas Norfolk and Queen Marry go out at the other Side. Qu. E. 
Ha! see my Lords! I dare not trust my Sight.  
Is not that Norfolk, so officious with  
The Queen?  Cec. 
May't please your Majesty, it is,  Qu. E. 
Bid him return—  [Davison calls the Duke back. Queen Mary comes back with him. 
See, she comes with him too.  
My Lord, how dare you take her by the Hand?  
Nay, talk with an Offender 'gainst your Queen!  
And slight thus plain my positive Commands.  
Bold Duke! If I am Queen, you then shall know,  
thou'dst better thrust thy Hands into the Flame,  
Or took a Lion by the Paw.  Qu. M. 
Alas!  [Queen Mary makes up at some distance to Queen Elizabeth. 
Let not the Noble Duke for Me be blamed,  
Nor bear a Weight so dreadful as your Anger,  
When I am thought by You the chief Transgressor.  
He only met a poor afflicted Wretch,  
Lost in a Wild, and put her in her Way;  
For here I wander to myself unknown,  
Know few, and taken notice of by none.  Qu. E. 
She has a glorious Form!  
By those bright Constellations o'er our Heads,  
Which Story tells where charming Women once,  
There is not half such Beauty in those Orbs,  
Nor Majesty in Heaven— Think you my Lords,  
That she appears so beautiful as famed?  
What dull and sottish Fancies have my Women!  
I ne'er was set so ill together in  
My Life— Look but on her; and yet methinks  
She is beholden to her Sable Dress,  
As, through a Jetty Sky Stars glitter most.  Cec. 
'Tis no dispraise to th' Beauty of the Queen,  
To say Yours Rival's Hers, and all the Sex.  Qu. E. 
Nay, now you grossly flatter me, Old Man.  
'Tis long of such mean Sycophants as you,  
That Princes are so wretched, ne'er to know  
The Errors of their Persons, nor their Minds.  Qu. M. 
What, not a Word! Am I not worth one word?  
Now Heaven! I dare you now to do your worst,  
You cannot curse me now more if you would.  Qu. E. 
Assist me now my Courage, Pity, all  
Stand by my Soul; how shall I bear it now?  Qu. M. 
Nor yet a Look! not one kind Look upon me?  
No Token that I once was Scotland's Queen!  Qu. E. 
Hear this obdurate Cecil, Davison!  
Ye Seed of Rocks, you Brood of Wolves and Tigers!  
Y'ave made me a worse Monster than yourselves,  
That when I'd look on her, she awes my Sight,  
Like a loathed Fiend, I dare not see the Light.  Qu. M. 
Could Angels think our Meeting should be thus!  
Thus Mary and Elizabeth should greet!  
So do the Christians and the Pagans treat,  
The brave Plantagenet with th' Ottomon,  
The golden Eagle with the Silver Crescent,  
But never thus the White Cross with the Red.  Norf. 
This needs must charm, were she more fell than Woman.  Qu. M. 
The friendly Ocean, when the world was made,  
Took care to join our Countries close together,  
And shall not we our Loves and tender Hearts?  
We whom one happy loving Island holds,  
Of the same Sex, the same blessed Faith embrace;  
And one rich Blood travels through both our Veins.  
Should we thus meet, and at a distance talk?  Qu. E. 
Support me Cecil, for I sink with shame.  Qu. M. 
The beauteous Margaret, your Royal Aunt,  
Whose right and lawful Granddaughter I am,  
Met not my Grandfather, the valiant james,  
With such a scornful and revengeful Brow;  
For if she had, I never had been born,  
And you not known the hated Queen of Scotland.  Qu. E. 
heavens' lift me from this place where I am rooted;  
On Wings of Angels bear me to her Arms.  Qu. M. 
What ever contrary Effect it works  
In your hard Breast, I'm sure that part of you  
That is in mine, torments me to get forth;  
Bounds upward, and leaps outward to embrace you;  
My whole Blood starts—  Qu. E. 
And mine can hold no longer—  
My Sister! Oh—  [Queen Elizabeth runs and embraces her. Qu. M. 
Can this be real?  Qu. E. 
Ah turn not from me, lest you force me now  
To sink into the Earth low as my Crimes,  
Deeper than Hell, whereto that Cruelty  
Is fled, that parted us so long asunder—  
Throw thy loved Arms as I do mine about thee,  
And never feel less Joy than I do now.  
Oh, 'Tis too great, it is unspeakable!  
Cleave to my Breast, for I want words to tell.  Qu. M. 
Then farewell hence all Miseries and Wrongs,  
Forgiveness now and Pleasures fill my Breast.  
Mine were not half so great when I espoused,  
And threw these Arms about young Francis Neck,  
And laid me down the Queen of half the World.  
I feel the Blood of our glad Ancestors,  
The Spirit of every brave Plantagenet,  
Glow through my Cheeks, and start up to my Lips,  
To parley with, to wonder at, to kiss  
Their Royal Brothers hovering upon thine.  
I rave, I am distracted with the Joy;  
It is too great; for sense, I faint, I die.  Qu. E. 
Look down you Powers, take notice how I love her,  
Worship this Token as glad Saints receive  
Angels when sent Ambassadors from Heaven.  Qu. M. 
O let me go, let ravished Mary go;  
Give my wild Joy some breath, some Room to walk in,  
Or I shall burst into ten thousand Atoms,  
As many pieces as you've murdering Charms—  
Here, take me, kill, or quickly carry me  
Back to the dreadful Prison from whence I came;  
A thousand years of pain is not enough  
For this one moment of Seraphic joy;  
That she is kind, and thinks me innocent!  
Sound Heaven, me innocent! that one word's more  
Than Tongue can speak, or all e'er said before.  Qu. E. 
Ah Royal Mary! urge no more my Guilt,  
But blot it from thy Breast, as I from mine—  
Down on your Knees all that regard my Frowns;  [To her Attendants. 
Behold your Queens; both Scotch and English hear;  
Let my dread Voice far as the Winds be heard,  
From Silver Thames to Golden Tweed proclaim,  
With harmony of Drums and Trumpets sound,  
Not her, nor me alone, not One, but both,  
Sound Mary and Elizabeth your Queens.  Qu. M. 
O be less kind, lest Heaven should snatch my Joys,  
And hoard 'em up for Deities themselves;  
For they're too great for Mortal sense to bear.  
Here I'll not change my happy State to be  
Greater than Caesar, Philip's mad-brained Son,  
Or sweating Atlas with the Globe upon him.  Qu. E. 
I do her wrong to keep her from new Joys.  
Each moment shall beget, each hour bring forth  
Fresh Pleasures and rich Welcomes to delight her.  
Prepare her Table, deck her Bed of State;  
Let her Apartment shine with golden Arras,  
Richer than e'er was wrought in Persian Loom.  
Strew Perfumes in her Way, sweeter than Incense,  
Rare as the Sun sucks every Morning up,  
And sweet as is the Breath upon her Lips.  
Soft Music sound when e'er she wakes or sleeps,  
Music as sweet, harmonious, and as still  
As does this soft and gentle Bosom fill.  Norf. 
See the Queen's Orders instantly obeyed.  Qu. E. 
Thus let us go with hand in hand combined,  
The White Cross with the Red thus ever joined.  
England with Scotland shall no longer jar,  
Nor Albany with Albion no more War;  
But thus we'll live, and walk thus every day,  
Till from the Verge of Life we drop away.  
So have I seen two Streams with eager pace,  
Hasten to meet, and lovingly embrace;  
Making one Current as we make one Soul,  
Till Arm in Arm they in the Ocean roll.  [Exeunt Omnes. 
Finis Actus Tertii.   

ACTUS QUARTUS. Scena Prima.  Cecil, Davison, severally. Cec. 
WEep Davison, and drown thy Head in Tears,  
Or let thy Tongue for Eloquence so famed,  
Be mute for ever or like Schriech Owls howl,  
If thou want'st Words to mitigate his Crime,  
And Charm with Pity the offended Queen.  
The gallant Duke, the Darling of the World,  
The Scipio, the delight of Mankind's seized.  
You came from searching of his Papers, say,  
What hopes have his sad Friends that he will clear  
Himself?  Dau. 
O none! The false accursed Morton  
That fired the Duke's fond Passion to the Queen,  
Then like a Villain to his Foes betrayed him;  
This Serpent of Delusion has discovered  
What ere the brave and generous-hearted Man  
Did in his harmless Mind intrust him with.  Cec. 
What Circumstance or Sign of any Treason  
Amongst his Letters found you?  Dau. 
Very little,  
Besides his aim to wed the Queen of Scotland;  
Yet one thing paints some Colour of a Guilt.  
It does appear he furnished her with Money  
To aid her Friends in Scotland; who, you know  
Do at this time invade our English Borders.  
Here is the Paper, which, alas, was found  
Under the Mat beneath poor Norfolk's Bed,  
Placed there on purpose, as supposed by all,  
By Hickford, a Domestic of the Duke's,  
Who, apprehended, has accused his Master—  
Read here a List of several Lords his Friends,  
As Arundel, Southampton, and the rest,  
All ordered to be taken.  Cec. 
Cursed Chance!  
What temper holds the Queen in this extreme?  Dau. 
Fiery and cool again in every Breath,  
At once she sighs and pities the fallen Man,  
And the same moment rages and upbraids him.  Cec. 
O she must worse be stung before to Morrow!  
How will she bear herself when she shall know  
The foul Conspiracy of Babington!  
Place Gifford ready as the Queen comes forth,  
'Tis dangerous to conceal it any longer.  
Methinks I pity less Queen Mary's Fate,  
Since it has cost the Ruin of the Duke—  
See where 'a comes; would Cecil had no eyes;  
Yet he bears manly up, rears his stout Head  
Like a brave Vessel in a Storm, and scatters  
Bright Beams of Majesty through all his Clouds.  Enter the Duke Guarded. Guards cry, room for the Duke. Norf. 
Room for the Duke! Room for no Duke, no Lord;  
The Emblem of expiring Greatness rather.  
Man is the truest Dial of his Fate;  
His Prince's Favour and the Sun at Noon  
Shows not a thing so beautiful and great;  
Whilst he,  
(As the proud Peacock that abhors his Feet)  
Sees not his growing Shadow on the Ground.  
Cecil, thou and false Leicester have undone me,  
Brought by thy cruel caution in these Fetters,  
And by the Villain Morton thus betrayed.  Cec. 
These Tears be Witnesses I never meant it.  Norf. 
My Lord, I do believe you; but you are  
Too good a Statesman, and too nice a Friend.  
What e'er wise Cecil can have hopes to gain,  
Perhaps to heap a Mass of Wealth and Fame;  
Yet cruel Policy ne'er prospered long,  
And thou may'st once lie loathed as any Slave,  
Condemned by all, and hated in the Grave.  Cec. 
By all that's just, you wrong the Love I bear you—  
Behold the Queen— I'll gain your Life, Brave Duke!  
Or venture mine.  Enter Queen Elizabeth, Lords, Davison, Women and Attendants. 
Most merciful and mighty!  
Behold your Cecil bends that ne'er yet kneeled  
To you in vain— O spare the gallant Duke,  
And I will promise, and himself shall swear  
Henceforth to prove the faithfullest of your Subjects,  
And from this hour abjure the Queen of Scotland.  Norf. 
Hold Burleigh, go no further for the Globe;  
If the least Word, that I'll abjure the Queen,  
'Scapes from thy Tongue, by yond bright Heaven 'tis false.  
That I'll ask pardon, tho' I never wronged you,  
'Tis but a Word, and I will do it thus.  [Kneels. 
For Kings are like Divinities on Earth,  
Whom none can serve, but must sometimes offend.  (Rises. 
But to deny my Love, and to disclaim her!  
O ye bright Powers! abjure my Alban Queen!  
First let me grovel in the worst of Dungeons,  
Flat like a Toad, and feed on Damps and Vapours,  
A thousand years, if I could live so long.  
What! for to save my Life! a hated Scull!  
Had I as many Heads as I have Hairs  
To be sheared off me like a Field of Corn,  
Yet, after that, not one should be so base,  
But every Head should speak and sound her Name.  Qu. E. 
You'll find, bold Duke, this One has said too much,  
And done more than a Thousand Heads can answer.  
What, am I braved? by Mary's Champion threatened!  
Carry him to th' Tower hence, and from the Peers  
Choose three and thirty Lords to be his Judges.  
I'll have him tried to morrow, and if guilty,  
Beheaded straight, send his ambitious Head  
To travel for that airy Crown it looked for,  
And tell me when 'tis off, if then it talks,  
Or calls out for his Alban Queen to help him.  
O, where my Soul, is there a Friend that's just?  
Or after him a Man that I can trust.  [Aside. Norf. 
You need not doubt it; for by Heaven I will.  
That dying Martyr who invokes her Name,  
Calls for more aid than all the Saints above.  
She is herself Salvation; but for her,  
This Isle had been like flaming Aetna found,  
Or, as the World was, with the Ocean drowned.  Qe. E. 
She's false, and thou a most ungrateful Traitor.  
Here's Morton, Cecil all the World can witness  
Thou didst aspire to marry her and get my Crown,  
With her Consent.  Norf. 
By the Immortal Judge I am betrayed,  
And she's abused by Villains.  
Cecil will not, no honest Man dares say it,  
But Morton as the worst of Devils may.  
O she's so good, so Innocent, and mild,  
That Scotland, wert thou cursed to this degree,  
Should all thy Seed there sowed yield nought but Poisons,  
And pregnant Women bring forth none but morton's,  
Thou hast atoned for all such ills in breeding Her.  Qu. E. 
Away with him, and let me never see  
That Head again, but on a Pinnacle.  Norf. 
Bear Witness all you Powers, I bear it mildly,  
And for my Fate I kneel again and bless you.  
May you live ever, and for Norfolk's Death  
ne'er sleep a moment of your Life the worse,  
But pass your soft Eternity away  
With Angel's Days, and Lovers blessed Nights—  
But for the injured Queen I rise inspired;  
And tho' a threatened Prophet, yet dare speak.  
When e'er She falls, which both the blessed in Heaven,  
And damned in Hell forbid: If you believe  
And punish not those Villains that betrayed her;  
Loud Cherubins to Earth your Guilt shall sound,  
Which worse than the Last Trumpet shall rebound;  
Wake or asleep her Image shall appear,  
And always hollow Mary in your Ear.  Cec. 
Now, Davison's the Time.  [Exit Duke Cuarded. Dau. 
May't please your Majesty,  
What shall be done with the offending Queen?  Qu. E. 
Nothing, bold, saucy Penman, I say nothing.  
Send Norfolk to the Tower; but on your Lives  
I charge you, use no Violence on Her.  
Make not such haste; too soon you'll break this Heart,  
Then glut yourselves with cutting off of Heads.  Dau. 
Then so much for the Duke— Call Gifford in.  Enter Gifford 
If you are drowned, steeped in a Lethargy  
Of Love and overgrown Mercy to this Queen,  
And will not open your Eyes to see your danger,  
Then we that are your watchful Servants must—  
Behold and hear; for 'tis so loud and plain,  
That 'twill astonish every Sense within you.  
This Man, this honest man, whose Statue ought  
To be set up in gold in all your streets,  
Inspired by Heaven, discovers that himself,  
With five bold Ruffians more were all set on  
By Marry Queen of Scots to murder you.  Qu. E. 
To murder me!  Cec. 
Forbid it Heaven and Stars,  
To kill the Queen!  Dau. 
With Sacraments they bound it.  
More horrid than e'er Catiline invented,  
Who, to ' slave Rome, tied it with humane Blood.  
First view the Monsters pictured to the Life,  
Each with a several Instrument of Fate  [Produces the Tablets. 
Waved in his Hand, with which to Hell they swore,  
If either of them failed to cut you off.  Qu. E. 
Preserve me Heaven!  [Queen takes the Tablets in her Hand. Dau. 
What, does it make you start?  
Do these odd Hieroglyphics make you wonder?  
The Rogue that fired the gaudy Fane at Ephesus,  
Deserved to be a Saint to these; he strove  
But for a little Memory after Death;  
But these before, presumptuously defy.  
Heaven, and the World, t'anticipate the Blow,  
And tell Mankind they glory in the Deed.  Qu. E. 
What's here? a Latin Verse, which he that is  
The Chief, does seem to bellow from his Mouth;  
These are Companions chosen and fit for such a danger—  
Here is thy Face makes one amongst the Villains.  Giff. 
With horror I confess it.  Qu. E. 
Name the rest.  Giff. 
I will; but wonder when you hear what Men  
Of several Stations clubbed to do this Mischief.  
The Elements were not more aptly mixed  
To make a perfect World, as they to do a Deed,  
Would startle Nature and unfix the Globe,  
And hurl it from its Axel Tree and Hinges.  
This first is Babington, Rich, and of Birth,  [Pointing to the Tablets. 
Might lift him to be ranked amongst the Nobles;  
Young, proud and daring, fiery and ambitious.  Qu. E. 
I know the Gentleman of Derbyshire.  
He came to me for leave to go to France.  Giff. 
The same.  Qu. E. 
O horrid! Who can read a Villain?  
How subtly Nature paints, hides a false Heart,  
And shroud's a Traitor in an Angel's Garb!  
The next.  Giff. 
Tillny a Courtier.  Cec. 
What, the Queen's own Servant?  Dau. 
I know him too, his Father's only Hopes,  
Heir to a great Estate. O Parricide!  Giff. 
This, Barnwel, turbulent, and precipitate.  
A bloody minded Wretch fit for the Deed;  
Of Ireland.  Cec. 
I believe each Word thou utter'st.  
Without his Country it had been no Plot.  Giff. 
Savage, a Ruffian of the worst degree,  
And never to be painted as he is;  
Stewed in a Brothel house, and tanned in Blood.  Qu. E. 
O Queen! O Mary! where's thy Refuge now?  Giff. 
The fifth is Charnock, Student of the Law.  
Lastly, to make the Compound great, myself.  Qu. E. 
I've heard too much.  
If this be true, how shall I help thee now?  
Boldly this Breast has stood the Shock, but now  
Can hold no longer— hence, be dumb for ever.  
O for the quiet that my Mind has lost,  
My Crown I'd give, a Kingdom I'd bestow,  
But for the sweet Repose my Soul last Night  
Enjoyed— Hear Heaven, deny me not this Prayer;  
Curse me with Madness, blast me with Diseases,  
Melt this loathed Crown away like scalding Lead,  
Turn all my Hairs to Snakes upon my Head,  
And in a Dungeon let me long lament;  
All I'll endure, make her but innocent.  Cec. 
'Tis fit you double all your Strength about you,  
And let the Queen immediately be seized.  Qu. E. 
'Tis false, she is abused, and all is forged.  
She is not, can't, nor shall she guilty be.  
Confess it, do, and I'll forgive you all;  
I now command you, nay, entreat you too,  
Be merciful to your tormented Queen,  
And O, restore my Sister's Innocence again.  
See, Monster, Villain, Fury, Devil, Priest!  
Be sure thou provest this Crime upon my Sister,  [To Gifford. 
Be sure thou dost, without the smallest doubt,  
Or I will have thee hanged to touch the Sky,  
For Sun to burn thee, and the Clouds to quench thee,  
To show to Heaven, to show to Earth below,  
The Wretch so cursed, and banished both for ever.  
Or I will have thee long, long years a dying,  
Feed thee by Weight to starve, a Grain a day,  
Whilst thy racked flesh whole Ages shall decay,  
And Spirits by slow degrees distil away.  
Yet, O! 'Tis all too little to recall  
That wealthy Mass of quiet thou hast robbed me off.  Cec. 
'Tis the Request of all your faithful Subjects,  
That you'd be pleased to seize the Queen of Scotland,  [Cecil and Davison kneel. 
Lest she should act what is but yet designed.  Dau. 
Your sacred Life's in hazard every hour,  
For heavens' sake, and for pity to yourself,  
For all your Nations Lives, think on the Danger.  Cec. 
Thus lower yet, we beg you would consent,  [Fall prostrate. 
Or your Court-Gates will ne'er be free from Throngs  
Of your poor People, who with Groans and Cries,  
Will force you to't in kindness to yourself.  Qu. E. 
Rise, Cecil—  
Let the Conspirators be apprehended,  
Of whom this Gifford gives you information.  Cec. 
And not the Queen?  Qu. E. 
Spare my Sister's Life;  
If nothing but a Queen's Blood will content you,  
Take mine, ye ravenous Wolves.  Cec. 
Alas!—  Qu. E. 
Be gone, why was this hid from me so long?  
Yeave robbed me of my rest, eternal rest.  
If this be real, I had soon been dead,  
And then ne'er felt the Blow, 'cause unexpected;  
But now ten thousand Deaths are not so painful,  
As this cursed Life, which thou dost strive to save;  
My Soul is wracked, my Reputation, All  
In this loathed Act, that thou wouldst have me do.  Cec. 
Whose Soul, whose Reputation will be racked,  
And censured with severest Plagues from Heaven,  
If by your fond Neglect, you lose that Life,  
Entrusted by the Powers to guard your Nations,  
And leave your Laws and Liberties betrayed,  
Your Subjects all a Prey to foreign Yokes,  
die and bequeath the Dagger in your heart,  
To brood and get a hundred thousand more,  
Perhaps as many as your Subjects Throats—  
Nay, we must speak, think what you will, and weep,  
Since not to tell you, is to be more cruel.  Qu. E. 
O Cecil! rather, how should I be blamed,  
To take this Guest so quickly from my Bosom,  
And shut her in a Grate— Mark what I tell thee,  
'Twas but last Night she had another Prison;  
When she did throw her Arms about my Neck,  
Her cheeks laid close to mine, methought I drew  
Such Sweets as Eden's Flowers send up to Heaven,  
Whilst from her Lips flew warm Arahian Sighs,  
And from her Eyes a Shower of Pearls ran down;  
Then with a Tone, sweet as an Angel's voice,  
Now let me die, she said, 'tis all I wish,  
Since I have her within my Arms I love▪  
And she protests, and says, she loves me too.  Cec. 
There's now no time for Answers nor Disputes,  
Either resolve her Fate, or bear your own.  Qu. E. 
Be gone, I charge you, tempt my Breast no more;  
Our Sex is made of mildness, Love and Pity;  
Take from me first the softness of a Woman.  
Were I the hot revengeful Monster, Man,  
A Man! a Beast, a fierce Hyrcanian Tiger;  
Nay, were I Cecil, I'd not be so cruel.  Cec. 
Then, since you'll shut your Ears to all safe Counsel,  
To what kind Heaven acquaints you with by us;  
Bear Witness those Celestial Powers, and you  
My Queen, that Cecil has discharged his Duty,  
And clears himself of the approaching Danger;  
But ere that dreadful day of your Eclipse,  
Come Davison, let thee and I go wander,  
Far we'll remove, where such a horrid Deed  
Shall never blast our Eyes, nor curse our Ears.  
Here, take my Staff, I've served you well and long;  [Lays down his Staff. 
We'll not stay here to be good Counsels Martyr,  
And to be torn in pieces by the Rabble,  
When you are dead, which we forwarned you off.  
Farewell—  
Let us be ne'er so cautious in our Aim,  
A King's Miscarriage is the Statesman's Blame.  [Offer to be gone. Qu. E. 
Stay, I command you take it up again—  
Arrest a Crown! impeach a Sovereign Queen!  
The Majesty of Heaven forbid the thought—  
Nay, if I think I never shall consent.  
Here, take my Crown, depose me first, or kill me,  
Let Gifford's Dagger do its fatal Office,  
Then like a Nest of Tyrants you may reign,  
And under public Laws do public Wrongs,  
But Royal Power can never be so cruel.  Cec. 
Behold she comes, command we apprehend her.  Qu. E. 
who'd be that Monarch, who that wretched thing,  
Whose Slaves make Laws, and People are the King?  
You have my Leave, do with her as you please—  
Now Tyrants send me straight, where by your Power,  
These cruel Eyes may never see her more.  Queen Elizabeth going off, Queen Mary enters at the other Door, and speaks to her, who returns. Qu. M. 
Turn, turn your Face, and give one longed for Look,  
My charming Queen! the Morning's past, and yet  
I have not seen those Eyes that blessed the Morn.  
Shrowded not those Looks where Beams of Mercy shine,  
And Pity sits enthroned with Majesty.  
I hear the Duke of Norfolk's in displeasure;  
Forgive the brave unhappy Man—  
Why do you sigh? why hang you down your Head,  [Queen Elizabeth turns her Face. 
As loath to grant?— Can mercy plead in vain?  
Nay, then I'll hold you with these Chains of Love,  
Lean my glad Cheek upon your Godlike Cheek,  [Queen Mary offers to embrace her. 
And sow fresh Kisses where my last are fled;  
This Language charmed you once, this greeting pleased you.  Qu. E. 
Now Cecil, rescue me, or I am lost.  Dau. 
Guards, execute your Orders on the Queen.  [Cecil and Davison get on each hand of Queen Elizabeth. 
We beg your Majesty for love of Fame,  
By your unbiased Rule, and Charms of Justice,  
Resume your wonted Courage, and rouse up  
An awful and offended Majesty.  Cec. 
For now your Wisdom, Crown and Life's at Stake,  
Nay more, the Lives of all your faithful Subjects,  [The Guards whisper Queen Mary. 
For this one precious Moment of your Conduct.  Qu. M. 
I will obey. Your Orders fright not me,  
Nor move my Soul so lately used to Wrongs—  
What is my Crime?— Yet wherefore do I ask?  
For Chains look better far about these Wrists,  
Than Diamonds, and Tears hang on my Neck  
More beautiful than strings of Orient Pearl.  Qu. E. 
Ah cruel Princess! we are both undone;  
You've robbed your Sister's Breast of all its wealth,  
Lost a dear Friend, and robbed me of yourself.  Dau. 
Marry late Queen of Scotland, you're impeached  
By th' name of 〈…〉 High Treason,  
For plotting to usurp our Sovereign's Crown,  
And hiring Babington to kill the Queen.  Qu. M. 
heavens', Thrones and Angels guard the Innocent,  
The Gorgon is at last disclosed to view.  
What, kill my Sister! hurt your precious Life!  
O Monster of Invention! cursed Liar;  
And oh damned Calumny begot in Hell!  
Nay, than I see my Ruin is conspired,  
The Duke must die, and I must suffer too.  
But cruel Foes, had you no way but this,  
To blast me with eternal Infamy?  
And oh bright Vengeance! is there none in store,  
No Pity in the heavens', no Thunder left!  
Protect the wronged, and strike the Guilty dead,  
Lest men suspect that you are great and good.  
Will you that rain down Providence on all,  
And every living Insect claimsa share?  
Will you, I say, shut fast your cruel Doors,  
Now when a Queen, an injured Queen implores?  Qu. E. 
Encroaching Pity, stop thy flowing Torrent,  [Aside. 
And ebbing Nature sink to that extreme,  
As cruel Brutus that condemned his Son;  
For this is now my Trial.  Qu. M. 
Say amongst you,  
Where is that Man or Devil that dare accuse me?  Dau. 
The Villain has confessed his Guilt and yours,  
With Letters that you signed to do the Deed.  Qu. M. 
Hear, hear deaf Heaven, and all you Guard of Princes!  
You backward Thunder burst from forth your Prisons,  
And strike the Offender, strike cursed Mary dead,  
If I'm that Wretch, O spare it not for me!  
Heard you,  
How they did slander Majesty so loud?  
And can you bear it? Half these Veins are yours,  
My Royal Title, tender Sex the same,  
Doubly of Kin, in Royalty and Blood,  
And can you hear your Sister, hear yourself so wronged?  Qu. E. 
Alas, I am like one that sees far off,  
Have all the wishes I can think to save you,  
But gagged and bound, and cannot stir to help you.  Qu. M. 
This Babington, who ne'er yet cursed my sight,  
Must be some Villain hired to do this Treason,  
And lay it upon me; but bear me witness,  
You high, imperial, and eternal Truth,  
That of disjointed Atoms formed the Sun,  
The shining heavens', the Planets, and the World,  
So wonderful and glorious as they are;  
Who sees into the Soul and all its walks  
Through this dark Mould transparent as a Glass?  
O may these blubbered Eyes worshipped like Stars,  
Drop from this Visage once like Heaven adored,  
And leave this Face a Death's-head to be shunned;  
Or may that cursed Hand, this Hand, or This  
That once was fragrant with the Breath of Kings,  
That kneeled to kiss this wronged, this innocent hand;  
May it rot from me like a withered Branch,  
From this vile Stock, and never sprout again,  
If e'er I saw the Man, or signed such Letter.  Q. E. 
'Tis time for me to go, is't not my Jailers?  
I have seen more than any Panther could—  
Farewell.  Qu. M. 
O stay and mingle kindness with your Justice!  
I beg not for myself, but for my Fame,  
To die's no shame, but to die branded is:  
For tho' hereafter, when my Story's told,  
Good men inspired with pity of my Wrongs,  
May say my Innocence was basely stained,  
Yet with the Bad 'tis ne'er to be regained.  Qu. E. 
Farewell, 'tis Cruelty in me to go,  
But worse to stay.  Qu. M. 
Yet I entreat you;  
Give me a Weapon, I'll unrip this Bosom,  
There you may see wronged Innocence enthroned,  
My Heart may be believed, tho' I am not,  
Behold the naked Passions ebb and flow,  
Even as my Griefs swell or exhaust the Tide.  Qu. E. 
Yet loose, for pity of us both let go,  
The world has not so grieved a wretch as I,  
And thou lav'st hold upon so weak a Bough,  
That the least pull will sink me quite with thee.  Qu. M. 
Hear me, thou deaf and cruel Queen!— ah no,  
Thou mild as Babes, and merciful as Saints,  
In whose soft Breast is all the Angels Pity,  
Hear but this last, this Execration—  
Neither—  
Then to just Heaven I kneel, but not to thee,  
And you complete my Curses if I lie.  
If e'er I had a thought to hurt your Life,  
A thought less mild than Virgins in their Prayers,  
Here may my Knees take root, and Body grow  
A Monster foul as ever Nilus bred,  
May these quick drops that Innocence do show  
Poison the Parts and Eyes through which they flow,  
And from their Seeds thus sown upon the Earth,  
May Serpents, Adders, Fiends and Devils take Birth,  
And with their frightful Talons seize me straight,  
And drag me into Hell if you I hate.  Dau. 
Tho' clear and spotless as the Sun you are,  
Yet that must be examined by the Peers,  
The Law must quit you.  Qu. M. 
Must the Law then judge me?  
Nay, then I'll rise with shame from this mean Posture.  
And now I feel the Majesty of King's  
Dart from above to hear itself profaned,  
Stretching my Soul and Limbs to such a vastness,  
As the first Race of Mankind's ere the Flood,  
When Gods, and Godlike Giants ruled the world.  
Come, bring me straight to this accurst Tribunal,  
Then all the Courage and Divinity,  
Of my imperial Ancestors inspire  
This Breast, from Fergus first to james my Son,  
Last of his Race that swayed the Scottish Globe  
For fifteen hundred years, shine through my Face,  
Print on my Forehead every awful Grace,  
Defend your Royal Right, and for me plead,  
Shoot from my Eyes, and strike my Judges dead.  Qu. E. 
Grief ties my Speech, and Pity drowns my Eyes.  Qu. M. 
Pitied by you! I will not die so meanly,  
No, tho' in Chains, yet I'm more brave and free,  
Scorn thy base Mercy, and do pity thee;  
Thou canst not take my Life, but if thou dares.  
I'll leave a Race as numerous as the Stars,  
Whilst thou shalt fall with Barrenness accursed,  
And thy tormented Spirit with Envy burst,  
To see thy Crown on Mary's Issue shine,  
And England ever blessed with Scotland's Line.  [Exit Queen Mary with Guards. Qu. E. 
Stay Sister, stay— Come back into my Arms.  
Run and release her, quick.  Cec. 
Your Majesty—  Qu. E. 
O 'tis too late— Leave, leave me to my Rage.  
You'd better hear the Doomsday Trumpet sound,  
Than wake my Fury with another Word.  
She's gone, dragged from me by the cruel Laws,  
Nor can I tear her from these Vultures Claws,  
But oh, like the distracted Mother roar,  
Whose Child a Wolf had from its Cradle bore,  
hastes to its Aid, and all the way in vain,  
To Heaven and to the Savage does complain,  
Speaks the Beast kind, till hearing as a flies,  
Betwixt his Teeth, her tender Infants Cries;  
Then she adds wings, and in her Flight does rave,  
With eager Hopes its precious Life to save;  
But finds the Monster with her Bowels gored,  
And in her sight, its panting Limbs devoured.  [Exeunt Omnes. 
Finis Actus Quarti.   

ACTUS QUINTUS. Scena Prima.  Morton, Davison, Severally. Mor. 
WEll have we met, thou Machiavelli of England!  
And Rival to great Cecil in his Fame;  
There's something of Importance on thy Brow!  
Where's to be read the great Delinquents Fate.  Dau. 
Queen Mary is condemned, and which is worse,  
The Sentence of the Duke must rest no longer,  
And Norfolk is this hour to lose his Head.  Mor. 
The Plot of Barny to release the Duke,  
Was wisely made to urge his speedy End.  Dau. 
And, but for that, 'twas thought he might been pardoned,  
His Circumstance of Treason was so slight.  
Poor Duke! The most unfortunate and brave!  
He comes to meet his Death without these Walls,  
Where she must enter and prepare for hers;  
And Chance, alas! may be so kind or cruel,  
To let them meet— Her Sentence was pronounced,  
And she preparing hither in her Barge.  Mor. 
How did the haughty Queen submit herself?  Dau. 
This high-Commission which consisted of  
All the Queen's Lords, and Counsellors of State,  
Of which myself was one, with five of th' Judges,  
Made up next Heaven, the Godlik'st great Tribunal,  
Which she denied, and scorned 'em as too base  
To sit upon, and judge a Sovereign Queen.  Mor. 
How could you then proceed?  Dau. 
The Court o'erswayed it as a wrong Objection,  
And said, they would not try her then as Queen,  
But as a person taken into Protection  
Of England's Laws, and therefore but a Subject.  Mor. 
A quaint Distinction that, and like your Lawyers;  
But since it serves our Ends, no matter how.  Dau. 
At last, having denied with Constancy,  
The legal Power of this Imperial Court,  
And finding they were all resolved against her,  
As a rare Swimmer shipracked on the Ocean,  
A vast and dreadful distance from the Shore,  
And hopeless grown with all his Art to gain it,  
Gives himself o'er contentedly to drown;  
So she sat down, and mildly then submitted.  Mor. 
Were her two Secretaries heard in Court?  Dau. 
No, tho' she still did urge to have 'em brought,  
Pleading that Navus was a Foreigner,  
And might, for fear of Tortures and the Wrack,  
Be threattened to accuse her wrongfully;  
Curl too she said, a timorous biased Man,  
Would sign to any thing that Navus wrote.  Mor. 
But what was the most stabbing Proof against her?  Dau. 
Her Correspondence had with Babington;  
So by the fatal Oaths of two false Servants,  
Never seen Face to Face to be confronted,  
But more, to buy the safety of the Nation,  
She was at last condemned, and soon must die.  Mor. 
But, as the Prophet in the guiltless Ship,  
Was thrown into the Sea t'appease the Tempest;  
If she on Land has raised a Storm to wrack us,  
'Tis fit She should be sacrificed as he was.  Dau. 
Behold the Duke's just coming forth to die—  
The Queen is entering too— 'Tis as I feared.  [Exeunt Morton and Davison. Enter Queen Mary with Dowglas attended, at one Door, and Norfolk going to Execution at the other; they meet. Qu. M. 
Must the brave Duke receive his Death to day?  Dow. 
Alas! see where he comes, a Sight will kill you!  Queen M. 
Quick, drive me, scourge me, lash me from this Place.—  
Will the Queen's Malice hunt me to the last?  
Was there no Time but now? no Way but this?  
O lead me through some Passage under ground,  
Some horrid Vault, or Hell, but to avoid him!  Norf. 
My Queen! my lovely Alban Queen! sure I'm  
Already dead, and this the happy Place  
Where Souls like hers receive their blessed Rewards.  Qu. M. 
Turn wretched Duke, or e'er Death seals thy Eyes,  
This moment tear 'em out, as I would mine.  
Shun me, as, if thou couldst, thy horrid Fate,  
Or a Goblin damned.  Norf. 
What says my Goddess Queen?  Qu. M. 
Is not your wronged and mighty Spirit shockt?  
And Death a much more welcome Guest than I?  
And worse to see me than to feel the Blow?  Norf. 
By all your Wrongs and mine—  Qu. M. 
O come not near me—  
'Tis said a murdered Body when 'tis cold,  
And all its Veins freeze and congealed by Death,  
When he approaches near that did the Deed,  
Warned by the mighty Power of just Revenge,  
Pours a warm Flood, and bleeds afresh again.  
Why dart you not a Peal of Curses on me?  
Your Eyes Promethean Fire to blast my Soul!  
And why done't every Hair upon thy Head,  
Arm like the brissled Porcupine against me?  Norf. 
love's Wounds may bleed afresh; but no Grief else.  
The Axe, these Guards, and this grim Pomp of Death,  
Stir me no more than acted in a Play.  
My love's immortal and can fear no Fate,  
Nor feel a Terror but to part with you,  
And could I but redeem your precious Life,  
I'd fly to meet the Torments of the Damned  
A thousand years, and die thus every day.  Qu. M. 
Alas, most pitied Prince! force not these drops,  
Tears the kind Balm to ease all tortured Breasts  
But mine, and mine finds no Relief— Be gone— oh no;  
For you must ne'er return— Let me be gone.  Norf. 
For Death I am prepared, but not to leave you.  Qu. M. 
The dearest Friends ne'er make a stir at parting.  
Before so small a Journey as we take.  
'Twill not be long, some two or three short days,  
Or hou'rs perhaps, and we shall meet again.  
We both are in the Balance weighed for Death,  
You in the bottom Scale that's next the Grave,  
And I hang wavering in uncertain hopes  
Above, but when you're mounted up to Heaven,  
I then shall drop where youare now going, to Earth.  Norf. 
By Heaven the Queen, the hungry Tigress durst not.  
What! shed the Blood, the sacred Blood of Kings!  
'Twere Blasphemy in Angels to suspect it.  
But if she dare, I will myself descend,  
And armed with Legions in the shades below,  
Stand Century in the utmost Gap of Fate,  
And drive your beauteous Spirit back to be  
Enshrined within this sacred Mould again.  Q. M. 
Ah Duke! are you so cruel and unkind?  
I had but two prized Friends within this Bosom,  
The Queen and you, and she forbids me Earth,  
And you deny me Heaven— Hear me Friend,  [To the Headsman. 
Thou with the Vizour; if thou'rt Death, be not  
Ashamed to show thy Face, for I can dare thee.  
How long hast thou been practised in this Art?  
And how many brave Heads hast thou cut off?  
Why dost not speak?  Dow. 
He's not the public Headsman,  
But one whose horrid Zeal has bribed his Hand:  
The common Executioner, who proffered  
A mighty Sum refused to do the Deed.  Norf. 
Can there be Conscience found in such as He?  
What Villain then art thou?  Qu. M. 
Thou art some Bungler, and com'st  
To learn thy Trade on this brave wretched Man.  
If thou shouldst fail at once to take his Head,  
Be sure you sever mine off at a Blow.  Norf. 
Away, your Danger spurs me on my Race.  
Swift as the Mind can think, my Soul shall fly,  
And make the Scaffold but one step to Heaven.  Qu. M. 
And till I come, your happiness to see,  
Kneel and atone th' offended Powers for me.  Norf. 
Yes, all the shining Host shall plead your Cause,  
The nearest Saints to the Imperial Chair,  
Shall still repeat it in th' Almighty's Ear,  
Whilst round the dazzling Throne, Queen Mary's Wrongs  
Shall be the Subject of the Angels Songs.  
Whilst the great Deity for Revenge shall call,  
All Heaven shall shake, the Universe be awed,  
But Rebel England feel the angry God.  Qu. M. 
Farewell.  
Our Souls a joyful Meeting soon shall feel.  Norf. 
But to our Bodies here, a long Farewell.  [Exeunt severally. Queen Elizabeth alone. Qu. E. 
A Midnight Silence sits upon the Morn;  
The Eye of Day shuts, as afraid already,  
And seems the setting, not the rising Sun.  
Behold, a Crown, a Sceptre, and Regalia's;  [Crown and Regalia's on a Table. 
Without, two Kingdoms full of flattering Subjects,  
Watching my Looks, and waiting on my Nod;  
Yet where's the Quiet? where's the Freedom here?  Enter Cecil and Davison, with Commissioners from both Houses. Dau. 
My Lord, I fear we have transgressed too far  
Upon the Queen's most private Thoughts—  Cec. 
Thoughts or no thoughts, I must and will awake her;  
Yet hold, do you with these retire a while,  
And I'll wait near till she is pleased to call.  Qu. E. 
Norfolk is dead;  
His Body's freed from Pain, his mind from fear,  
And feels like me no doleful Beatings here—  
Cursed be this Crown, and this loathed Scene of Power,  
And cursed this Head that e'er the Magic wore.  
The careless Shepherd now feels no such Sting,  
More loved, obeyed, and happier than a King:  
His Subjects do not one another hate  
For Malice, nor for Jealousy of State;  
But harmlessly the Ewe and crested Ram  
Walk Side by Side, and guard the tender Lamb.  
This from some Bank beholds the Joyful Hind,  
Tuning his Pipe, harmonious as his Mind,  
Views all around, more blessed than from a Throne,  
Possessing all, and yet does nothing own—  
Who's there? welcome kind Cecil to relieve me;  
Welcome I hope, to rid this Breast from pain.  
What say the Houses to their Queen's demand?  
Shall my dear Sister live? shall I be happy?  Cec. 
Here's Davison commissioned from the Commons,  [Re-enter Davison and Commissioners. 
And I from all the Lords, with both their Answers.  Qu. E. 
Thanks my dear People— faithful Davison!  
Speak, for my soul now starts to meet the sound.  Dau. 
May't please your Majesty, your Loyal Commons,  
To what you bid 'em think, that Mercy should  
Be shown to one of Mary's Dignity and Sex,  
And near Relation that in Blood she's to you.  
They humbly offer, that no Sex nor Title,  
Nay, were they sprung from the same Royal Father,  
Ought to protect Offenders 'gainst their Sovereign;  
And boldly tell you, Mercy is a Crime,  
When it is shown to one that has no Mercy.  
She would have taken your Life, which is not safe  
As long as Mary lives;  
Whom if you save, in hopes that Heaven will spare you,  
Is not to trust th' Almighty, but provoke him.  Qu. E. 
Is this the Censure then of the most wise,  
And Arbitrary Commons?  Dau. 
Mightiest Queen!  
Do not miscall what is your Subjects Loves,  
Their only Zeal is for your Royal Safety,  
To whom one moment of your precious Welfare,  
Is far more worth than all their Lives and Fortunes.  Qu. E. 
The Commons, let 'em mean my Hurt or Fame,  
They never want to give it a kind Name.  Dau. 
To that Objection of your Majesty;  
That this may draw a War from France or Spain,  
They all agree with one entire Consent,  
If any such should be, to guard your Crown,  
And Royal Person, with their whole Estates and Lives;  
But such fond Fears are held impossible;  
For they can ne'er hurt England but by Her,  
And all such Dangers at her Death will vanish.  Qu. E. 
This then's the Commons Resolution?  Dau. 
With which the Lords do with one Voice concur.  Qu. E. 
Is this their Answer to their Sovereign's Tears?  
This all the kindness that two Queens can beg?  Dau. 
All fixed and firm as Fate they are resolved,  
Like Rocks to stand the Tempest of vain Pity;  
Since to deny you this, is to be Loyal.  
To your most sacred Majesty's Request,  
And to assuage the Tyrant Mercy in your Bosom,  
No other Answer we could get but this.  
They bid us humbly offer to your thinking  
A Proverb no less true to be observed,  
Than what was said of Conradine of Sicily,  
And Charles of Anjou, Rivals in a Crown.  
Which is— The Death of Mary, is the Life  
Of Queen Elizabeth; the Life of Mary,  
The Death of Queen Elizabeth.  Qu. E. 
Hear you immortal and avenging Powers!  
Are Kings Vicegerents of your Rule on Earth?  
Breathes the rich Oil yet fragrant on our Brows!  
And are we thus obeyed? There are but two  
Main Attributes, which stamp us like yourselves,  
Mercy and sole Prerogative, and those  
Daring and saucy Senates would deny us.  
Why Heaven! that gave my Ancestors a Crown,  
Power uncontrolled as any King could wish;  
Yet let 'em lavish out so vast a Stock,  
Then Mortgage it, and put it in the Hands  
Of such hard Usurers as these!  Cec. 
May't please your Majesty—  Qu. E. 
I'll hear no more—  
Go tell your Masters, that their Queen is coming—  
Give me my Robes, I'll instantly dissolve 'em.  
I'll drive you from your Hives, your Sanctuary  
To rail at, judge, and censure whom you please.  
Asunder you're such cringing, fawning Wretches,  
And tremble like the Fox before the Lion;  
But let us touch but one amongst your Herd,  
Tho' an Offender, than you roar out all,  
And Privilege is the Word, like a whole Kennel,  
If one of all the Hounds but make a noise—  
Hast, and beware, for I will Thunder bring,  
Fell as a Woman, awful as a King.  [Exeunt Cecil, Davison, and the rest cringing. 
What have I done? with whom shall I advise?  
Heaven keeps at stately distance now, and treats not  
With Kings, as they with Monarchs did of old  
By Messengers of Angels, or of Prophets.  
Inspire my Thoughts— Bid Davison come back;  
And send 'em word that I'll not come to day.  
Why incensed Powers, have you decreed  
So large a Road of Bliss to all Mankind,  
And marked me out a Destiny so narrow?  
That on one side I must be sure to err,  
Or take my Sister's Life, or lose my own.  Re-enter Davison. Dau. 
I come at your dread Majesty's Command.  Qu. E. 
O Davison! thou art a man, on whom  
I've showered rich Favours to adorn thy Person;  
But thou hast Merits that outshine my Bounty.  Dau. 
O whither would your Majesty!  Qu. E. 
Thou seest how thy poor Queen is tortured here;  
'Tis vain to hide what thou hast Eyes to find:  
How backward I am still to Cruelty;  
How loath to drain the Blood, even of my Foes.  
Is there no way to satisfy my People,  
Nor jealous Power, but by my Sister's Death?  
O speak, and call my Favours to thy mind!  
And that on Earth there's none so cursed as I.  
There's none so wretched, but may hope for Ease,  
But thy poor Queen has none. Now if thou hast  
One spark of Comfort in thy grateful Breast,  
O put it into mine!  Dau. 
I would advise,  
But ah, what Hopes can that Physician have  
Of Cure, whose Patient throws away his Medicine,  
And says that it is Poison?— Lo, I kneel  
To you the wisest, Charming'st Queen on Earth,  
The perfectest Pattern of those Powers above;  
But oh! the more you're good, in Mercy shine,  
Heaven seems more fixed to save such Excellence,  
Which cannot be, but by the Death of Mary.  Qu. E. 
Vultures and Ravens! Schriech Owls, Croaks of Toads,  
Are jarring in that Voice— Fly from my sight,  
Run Monster, Fiend, and seek thy Habitation,  
Where such loathed Vermin build their fatal Nests;  
Or sink thee into Hell, just where thou kneel'st,  
Rather than that should be— Rise and be gone.  Dau. 
This shall not fright your Slave from his loved Duty;  
Nor from this humble Posture; no, unless  
You take this Weapon in your Godlike Hand,  
And thrust it in your Servants faithful Breast,  
And let out all my Blood that's Loyal; yet  
When I am dead, so well you are beloved,  
There's none of all your faithful Parliament, but would  
Thus kneel, implore, and hug the Fate that I had.  Qu. E. 
Be gone, quick Davison, thou fatal Charmer,  
Thou subtle Mouth of the Deluding Senate.  Dau. 
Alas! what Ends can your kind Subjects have?  
What private Benefit can they propose  
By this Queen's Death, but to preserve your Reign?  
Which is the All and only Blessing aimed at.  
Perhaps, when you are murdered, or deposed,  
(As Tyrants subtly best reward their Foes,  
And cheat the People with the wholsom'st Laws)  
We then may hope to climb to vast Promotions,  
And heap huge Sums, if Covetous or Ambitious,  
Or at the least, enjoy those Wealth and Honours  
Which you with liberal Hands bestowed on us.  
Believe, Consider—  Qu. E. 
O Davison!  Dau. 
Remember too your Danger— News is brought,  
That Spain has an Armado launched, so vast,  
That o'er your narrow Seas will form a Bridge  
To let in all their Living to this Island,  
With Iron Rods to scourge, and Chains to bind us,  
And lead your Subjects Captives to their Goals,  
In greater Shoals than Balthasar the jews.  
The affrighted People hasten to their Shores,  
And scarcely can perceive a Cloud far off,  
Darkening the Sky, and blacking all the Sea;  
But cry, th'armadoes coming.  Qu. E. 
Vain Reports!  Dau. 
Upon this great surprise and strange Alarm,  
I heard it run in Whispers through the House,  
And 'mongst the Lords that sat upon the Queen,  
How this Invasion was for Mary's sake,  
And that if you'd not Sign her speedy Death,  
They must be forced to fly, or set up Her,  
In hopes that when She Reigns, that prosperous Act  
May expiate their Crime in judging her.  Qu. E. 
Ha!  Dau. 
'Tis most true— Can you condemn 'em for it!  
Sign but the Warrant, stay the Execution,  
And then, perhaps, your Subjects when they find  
How much their Queen did condescend to please 'em,  
May soon relent, and with submissive tears  
Request that Life which you so long had begged  
In vain of them.  Qu. E. 
I have considered— Write.  Dau. 
Write what?  Qu. E. 
Write what thou wilt, write any thing,  
A Warrant for Queen Mary's Execution—  
Queen did I say?  Dau. 
O all good Angels bless you!  [Taking Pen and Paper. 
Young Infants that you've now redeemed from slaughter,  
Shall live to the full Age of Man, and sing  [Davison writes. 
Your Praise.  Qu. E. 
Did I say Queen?  
Shall this fell Hand of cursed Elizabeth,  
Condemn to die her Cousin, and a Queen!—  
Dispatch, and let thy hand fly o'er the Paper.  
Swift as thy Quill were on an eagle's wing;  
For if thou giv'st my Thoughts one Moment's Pause,  
The Eloquence of Angels can't reprieve 'em.  
Write, write, no matter how, if foul the better,  
Foul as the Fact I am about to do.  Dau. 
See, I've already done.  Qu. E. 
Quick, give it me.  [Queen takes the Warrant and reads. 
To Our Lieutenant of the Tower, Commanding  
That the next Morning after sight of this,  
You shall deliver to the Sheriffs of London,  [Reads. 
The Body of your Priso'ner Mary Stewart—  
Ah cruel Davison! when thou cam'st here,  
Why for her Name didst thou not write a Blot,  
Or blot it with a Tear?  
To be beheaded  
Upon a Scaffold fixed without the Tower.  [Reads. 
To this I must subscribe Elizabeth;  
O ye dread Powers and Saints that intercede  
For Kings before the gaudy Throne, and must I!—  
Quick, give my raving thoughts no time for Reason;  
But thou successful Devil put the Pen  
Into my Hand, and Hell into my Bosom.  Dau. 
Consider that it is of no more force  [Queen Signs it. 
Than Testaments, that may at any time,  
The Party living, be revoked or nulled.  Qu. E. 
There, there it is; but then as sick Men loath  
To make their Wills, and leave their dear Estates  
To their glad Heirs, behold, I give it thee—  
Yet stay, be sure thou keep'st it as thou wouldst  
Thy Flesh from Racks, and Soul from being damned,  
Not as the Life of Mary, but thy Queen:  
Think when I put into thy Hands this Paper,  
I pawn my Peace on Earth, and Rest above.  
That Moment when thou parts with it to Any,  
Heaven send as many Curses on thy Head,  
As Egypt's Plagues, to scourge thee when thouart dead.  [Exit Queen Elizabeth. Dau. 
The Deed is done at last, but forced from her  
With greater Art than Virgins made to yield,  
who're loath to part with what they long to grant,  
Till ravished from them.  Enter Morton and Cecil. Cec. 
Hast thou got the Paper?  Dau. 
'Tis in my hand.  Mor. 
Victorious Davison!  
Eternal Ages shall adore thy Statue,  
And wise Historians when this Deed they note,  
Shall lift thy Name amongst the Stars for this.  Cec. 
Give't me.  Dau. 
But had you heard what Execrations—  Cec. 
O 'tis no matter! ours be all the blame.  
We'll carry to the Joyful Council This.  
To morrow She shall die, and the Queen rest,  
When this hugged Cancer's parted from her Breast.  [Exeunt. Queen Marry discovered kneeling, with a Book in her Hand, her Women kneeling by her. Enter Dowglass and all her Men-Servants. Dow. 
Behold her kneeling— O y'immortal Powers!  
If Powers there are so good, so mild as She,  
Send Hosts of Cherubs down to waste those Sighs.  
Sure all the World's remembered in thy Prayers,  
And in those Tears thy guilty Foes are washed.  Qu. M. 
Come all of you, draw near— how goes the Day?  Dow. 
The Sun is risen, whose setting you'll ne'er see.  Qu. M. 
Perhaps I've but an hour of Life, and that's enough;  
The Distance up to Heaven, tho' it seems great,  
Yet 'tis so nigh, and Mercy flies so fast,  
That in less while than swiftest Lightning falls,  
It saves the poor Delinquent at the bottom,  
That has been Ages tumbling to Damnation.  Dow. 
O ye dread Powers! ye sovereign Guard of Kings!  
Must that bright Head be snatched off by an Axe?  
Upon whose Brow's a Crown, a sacred Crown,  
Just Heaven!  Qu. M. 
What matter is it how we die?  
When dead, we're all the same— there's no distinction  
Betwixt a Prince that on his Gorgeous Bed  
Gives up a pampered Ghost, and Me upon  
A Scaffold, and with that impartial Judge  
That holds the equal, steady Beam of Justice,  
A Crown weighs light with Virtue in the Balance.  Dow. 
How do you? and how bears that precious heart  
Th'expected moment of its Body's Fate?  Qu. M. 
ne'er better; for my Maids can bear me witness,  
I laid me down to rest, and all the Night  
Slept like a thoughtless Infant in his Cradle,  
With Smiles imprinted on its lovely Cheeks;  
And waked with Joy to dress me for my Journey,  
Like one that on a Mayday Morn sets forth,  
Pleased with the Beauties of the Lawns and Fields,  
And hopes to come into his Inn at Night.  Dow. 
O Miracle of Innocence!  Qu. M. 
Thou Dowglas  
Art young, may'st live my Story to relate  
To men that now are Children in the Womb;  
But Melvil, thou'st been long my faithful Servant,  
Haste into France and Scotland when I'm dead,  
There tell the Guises, my dear Cousins, and Son,  
Thou sawst me die in the true Faith I lived in,  
Not Scotland's Crown, nor England's Hopes could tempt me,  
Nor nineteen years a Prisoner, to apostate;  
Nay, nor my Life, which now I seal its Martyr.  Dow. 
O Saintlike Goodness!  Qu. M. 
Y'ave been faithful all.  
What poor Estate my cruel Wants have left me,  
Here is my Will, I freely give amongst you,  
Would it were more, as much as you deserve.  
Nay, weep not,— Some few Trifles  
I will distribute with my own glad hands.  
Here is some Gold and Jewels in this Casket,  
Share 'em amongst you, and a Kiss to each.  [To her Women. 
Heaven bless you all— Here Melvil, take this Ring;  
I would not have thee every time thou look'st on it,  
But sometimes call to mind that it was Mary's—  
Poor Man! his Griefs have choked his Words— Dowglas,  
Receive this Bracelet from thy Mistress Neck,  
And tie't about thy Rist— Go to my Son,  
The rising Sun from Mary's endless setting,  
And he'll take care of thee, and all of you.  Dow. 
Alas! I quickly shall be passed all Care;  
This fatal Day hangs heavier on my youth,  
Than threescore years can do on Dowglas Head.  Qu. M. 
I've nothing else to give but This, and this  
I kiss, and beg that it be buried with me.  [Kisses her Crucifix. 
And Marry, do not think it strange, that thou  
A sovereign Queen diest by an Axe, and see  
The King of Heaven nailed on a Cross for thee.  Dow. 
'Twill not be long ere you will shine with him.  Qu. M. 
Give me some Wine— your Mistress here bequeathes  
Her last kind Wishes to you in this Draught.  
I have no Friends, no Children nigh but you;  
He whom I bore wracked from these tender Bowels,  
Scarce blessed his joyful Mother for her Labour,  
With his first Infant Beams, but was by Villains,  
Like little Romulus, from this Bosom torn,  
And nursed with Wolves; wherefore, my dearest Friends,  
My faithful, suffering, mourning, weeping Servants!  
Your Queen, your Mistress drinks to all of you;  
And all Revenge and Malice buried be  
In this kind Bowl, as is this Wine in me.  [Drinks kneeling, they all kneel while she drink. Dow. 
Behold they're come to fetch you.  Qu. M. 
They are welcome.  Enter Cecil, Morton, Lieutenant of the Tower, Guards. 
My Lord, I have expected you with Joy,  
You find me like a cheerful, longing Bride.  
Must you conduct me to my Bride Groom Death?  Cec. 
Alas! I must,  Qu. M, 
Has the Queen sent no Message?  
No word of Farewell to her dying Cousin?  Cec. 
Something She would have said, but burst in Tears,  
Whilst with a Groan her tortured Speech expired,  
And only cried, O Marry! and no more.  Mor. 
Madam I kneel, in hopes that you'll forgive me.  Qu. M. 
Thou'st done no ill to me, but as thy Nature.  
A Wolf can do but as a Wolf— Thou hast it;  
Tho Heaven thy cursed Crimes may ne'er forgive,  
But make my Son revenge his Father's Murder,  
Which thou too surely didst, and laid the Stain  
On me.  Enter Davison in haste. Dau. 
My Lord, I've News;  
Just now's arrived from Scotland, Patrick Grace  
With Letters to the Queen, which have disturbed her;  
But more, my Lord, she seems incensed at you.  [To Morton. 
I wish this Execution had been done,  
Or not to do.  Cec. 
we've gone too far already  
To think of going back.  Dau. 
Room for the Queen.  
Madam, 'tis fit you send back all your Servants,  
The Scaffold will be crowded else.  Qu. M. 
The Queen my Sister cannot be so cruel.  
Shall this chaste Body (which great Princesses  
Have kneeled to dress and undress) be exposed  
And made a common Spectacle,  
To be profaned by every Villain's Sight?  
And none of all my Servants be allowed  
To weep and close my Eyes when I am dead?  
Which these poor Wretches all would thank you for.  Cec. 
Madam tho' contrary to Orders, you may take  
Two of your Women-Servants and two Men,  
Which you'll be pleased to choose.  
Now have you ought for us to tell the Queen?  Qu. M. 
I have but one Request, that She'll permit  
My Friends to bear my Body into France,  
There to be buried with my Ancestors  
Of Lorraine, whence my Mother was descended:  
For Scotland, thou that never gav'st me quiet  
When I was living, ne'er shall rest me dead.  Dau. 
On then— make way there.  Qu. M. 
Come near, and you two take me by the Hands;  
For to the last I would with decent Form,  
Tho' little Port, retain the Majesty  
Of what I am, the rightful Queen of Scotland,  
Queen Dowager of France, and England's Heiress,  
A glorious Shine of Titles that should like  
The Lambent Beams about the Heads of Angels,  
Protect a Crown—  
Weep not, but take me thus as you have seen  [Melvil and her Physician take her by each hand. 
Your now expiring, than your Blooming Queen,  
Brought by two Monarchs to the Dauphin's Arms,  
Adorned with all love's Pride and all love's Charms,  
So lead me to the Place where I may gain  
Immortal Pleasures, and immortal Reign.  [Exit Queen Ma. to Execution, manent Morton and Dowglas. Mor. 
Why dost thou weep and grovel on the Floor?  Dow. 
Traitor! because I will not herd with Man.  
'Tis happier thus to crawl like Snakes and Toads,  
Than live and have a Face erect like thee.  Enter Queen Elizabeth, Attendants and Guards. Qu. E. 
Speak Morton, Villain, Traitor to thy Sovereign!  
Yet give me Comfort, and I'll pardon all—  
Where is the Queen? say, is my Sister well?  
Where is she?  Dow. 
Dead ere this upon the Scaffold.  Qu. E. 
Now which will swiftest run to save both Queens?  
Fly fleeter than the rushing thought, and he  
That from the lifted Axe the Dove can save,  
Shall be my King, and I will be his Slave—  
Vanish, a Kingdom's thy Reward.  
Seize on that Fiend, for pitying Heaven at last,  
Has brought to light that he did murder Darnly.  
Bind him in Chains, and in an Iron Cage,  
Let him be sent to Scotland to be tortured.  [Exeunt Morton dragged away. Re-enter Cecil and Davison. Cec. 
Madam, I wish the loss of both our Lives  
Could save the Queen's, or mediate our Offence,  
If you shall think it one; for she is dead.  Qu. E. 
How couldst thou be so false and cursed a Villain?  
What boot the Thunder now, the Bolts of Kings,  [To Davison. 
Which Traitors fear no more than Summers' Hail,  
Else why art thou alive?  
And why died Mary so? But I'm the Cause.  
Tear then these Locks, dig out these cruel Eyes;  
Gape wide the Centre; open Earth and hide me;  
For Hell does yawn, and Heaven denies to take me.  [Falls down on the Floor. 
Give me a Sword, a Dagger, or quick Poison—  
No, fetch the Axe, the horrid Axe, kind Cecil,  
The Axe just reaking with my Sister's Veins,  
And lop this hated Member from my Body,  
This bloody, cruel Hand that signed her Death.  Cec. 
O calm your Bosom, let no rage molest  
Your quiet Spirit in its God like Mansion.  Qu. E. 
Hark how the World proclaims my Guilt already;  
Christians and Pagans, all will now rejoice,  
That the long shining, feared and spotless Reign  
Of famed Elizabeth is set in Night;  
That England's stained, its Maiden Monarch stained,  
Stained, stained, like banished Cain for ever marked,  
Immortally, eternally is stained—  
Remove that Vulture from my Sight, and since  
Death cannot reach him, the Star-Chamber shall,  
Strip him of all his borrowed Plumes, and leave him  
As naked as he came into the World.  Dau. 
Long may you live, till Heaven at last make known  
The Good that I've so ill rewarded, done.  [Exit Davison. Qu. E. 
Adorned with Crowns this Head no more shall sleep,  
But covered o'er with Dust, for ever weep;  
No more on Down, nor Carpets will I rest,  
But in some Wild, or Den of dreadful Beast,  
Where undisturbed by Traitors, Laws, and Power,  
I ne'er shall think of Man, nor Empire more;  
With Wolves and Tigers rather Friendship share;  
For they by far the gentler Monsters are:  
Falsehood from Eve on all her Race descends,  
False Kindred all, false Subjects, and false Friends!  [Exeunt Omnes. 
Finis Actus Quinti.