KTNG DAENLEY. . 
 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 Shelf./? 3 3 ***~. 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
 /*- 
 
4fc 
 
 KING DARNLEY," 
 
 AN 
 
 HISTORICAL TRAGEDY 
 
 BY 
 
 / 
 
 LORNE CAMPBELL. 
 
 1895) xLl % 
 
Copyright, iSqs, 
 By Lorne Campbell. 
 
 I 5 3S-q£~ 
 
KING DARNLEY. 
 
 CAST OF CHARACTERS. 
 
 Elizabeth. Queen of England. 
 
 Mary S'tuart, i^iueen of Scotland. 
 
 Lord Darnley, "'King Darnley." cousin to Queens 
 Mary and Elizabeth. 
 
 Earl Moray, base brother to Mary Stuart, dis- 
 guises as George Douglas and as Hepburn. 
 
 George Douglas, half brother and counterfeit of 
 Moray, who so much resembles Moray that they 
 can scarce be known apart. 
 
 Scottish Noblemen, Duke De Chastallan, Earls 
 Argyle, Huntley, Bothwell, Morton and Caith- 
 ness; Lords Lethington, Ruthven, Lindsay, Mel- 
 ville and others. 
 
 English Cocrtiers, Throckmorton, Sadler, 
 Derry, Essex and Dudley. 
 
 French and Spanish Ambassadors, Young 
 Itentlemen, Maids, Officers, Officials and. 
 Attendants. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. Court of Elizabeth. 
 
 Enter Eliz. , Derry, Essex 
 and Gentlemen. 
 Eliz. This Queen of Scotland, dii she 
 not in childhood 
 
 Wear my arms, and now in years pre- 
 eminent 
 
 Responsible refuse to ratify 
 
 The Berwick Treaty. She so fond of 
 power 
 
 Should wed the Pope, and with him 
 seek the ruling 
 
 Point, of Christendom. Am I not my 
 father's 
 
 Daughter? Daughter to mighty Henry 
 Eighth 
 
 Of England. Is she too my father's 
 issue, 
 
 Does she assume so much, if so, how 
 shall 
 
 She prove my father took the pilgrim- 
 age. 
 
 And so if — how comes her right acces- 
 sion to 
 
 My father's crown. 
 Der. Bear up, bear up 
 
 the spirit 
 
 Of integrity, entice no cowards 
 
 To wearing of 't, that thou art wronged 
 and that 
 
 In thy right, is most apparent. But 
 mark 
 
 The consequence, daws will them diet 
 such carcasses 
 
 As hold such misconceptions, be 
 
 They traitorous English or of truant 
 Scot. 
 War. That they assume your 
 
 arms, they but do as 
 
 Malefactors, provoke the penalty. 
 And there is not a steel in England 
 
 here 
 That would not penetrate in such a 
 
 cause 
 
 Marry be't, if such exist, the penalty. 
 The test o't upon its house and families. 
 
 Eliz. Her ambition is expressed. I 
 
 have it from 
 Most apt authority. Her brother Moray 
 Tells, that he has heard her say 
 That she shall rule my ruin and my 
 
 realm. 
 
 Essex. God forbid, and so shall 
 
 we forbid, 
 We will rise, rise to a man, we will fall 
 Upon her savagely, resurrect the grave, 
 Call spirits back from heaven. And 
 
 there is not 
 In Hell an English heart that would 
 
 not hoot 
 At her. 
 
 [Lords applaud. 
 
 Eliz. Well spoken for a boy, but not 
 More wise. This matter must have 
 
 thought, plain thought. 
 Valor not; that valor oft times o'er 
 
 looks 
 Destruction. She is more formidable 
 
 in 
 Her unmarried state, than all the ene- 
 mies 
 Of Britain. How, if she should wed 
 
 the heir 
 Of Spain? She then might operate 
 
 against us, 
 Christendom. If in France she marry, 
 
 France 
 
KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 Hath facility. Or should she spouse 
 
 the Dane, 
 Or the Norwegian, her power is there 
 New-ominous and against us. We must 
 
 resort 
 To more ascertained means, than chival 
 
 pomp, 
 Poetic pride, to dare and to destruction; 
 We must design! Seem as clustered 
 
 fruit, 
 Enticing in the sun,— but in the juice 
 Of it be poison. Her power must be 
 
 prevented, 
 Her rise reversed— or our vain, idle 
 
 boasts 
 Will turn but to her praise; to do her 
 
 homage. 
 Dudley created Leicester as yesterday. 
 You were made witness, departs this 
 
 day to Scotland, 
 To " woo, but not to wed," that sover- 
 eign, 
 And there so like to banished, shall 
 
 remain 
 Until such time 's her kingdom may 
 
 be brought 
 To insurrect against her. That hawk 
 
 that with 
 The pigeon lights (to make more cer- 
 tain conquest 
 Of his prey), creeps slowly and con- 
 ceals 
 His talons and his bill, until so close 
 To her: she thinking him her mate, that 
 
 he 
 May bar her from escape, and tear the 
 
 flesh 
 From off her bones. How this will be 
 
 accomplished, 
 Leave to me; but if wits will fail; let 
 
 war 
 Be at the time of war. Barb then your 
 
 steeds 
 And I will ride at head of you. My 
 
 Lord 
 Of Leicester comes. 
 
 Enter Lei. 
 
 How fares my Lord 
 
 of Dudley? 
 Lei. Well, your majesty, for the most 
 
 part, well. 
 I hope to find you most exceeding well. 
 Eliz. Well— not" being ill -ill not 
 
 being well, 
 I am in such condition. My Lord, 
 We pray that some sweet reason may 
 
 expostulate between 
 You and your wiser course. 
 We think to advise you into Scotland, 
 
 there 
 To spouse with my good sister, (the 
 
 virtuous widow, 
 
 Be it the truth, if not a maiden in 
 Her youth). 
 
 Lei. Sin 's as the racing steed, 
 
 which when started, runs 
 Head-long to the winning post. 'Tis 
 
 strange, if in 
 Her youth she were not good, that she 
 
 should need 
 In widow-hood. 
 
 [Elizabeth rises from the throne 
 and observes him in awe. 
 
 Eliz. My Lord, I ask you here 
 
 To manifest in presence of my peers 
 Are you resigned to Scotland? Will 
 you go? 
 Lei. As hearts to body most 
 
 inseparable, 
 E'n so am I with thy allegiance func- 
 tioned. 
 Bid me to leap the precipice, and I 
 Will execute 'Soon 's haste will bring 
 
 me thither, 
 Command me into Scotland, and to 
 
 this, 
 Even this, am I loyal. [Kneels. 
 
 Eliz. All hail! my 
 
 Lords. 
 A king, my Lords, a king. We grant 
 
 you leave. 
 In so much I do offend your majesty, 
 If 't please your highness so, we miss 
 
 you for 
 A breathing spell. 
 
 [Exit Leicester in great 
 embarrassmt nt. 
 Derry, go pump water 
 From the new dug well, and fetch it 
 
 me. 
 You comprehend? 
 Der. Tour highness, per- 
 
 fectly. * 
 
 [Exit Der. after Lei. 
 Eliz. Its fluid makes me thirst, 
 
 I must make change, 
 Straight way a change. 
 A Gentleman. Of what well 
 
 speaks jour highness? 
 Eliz. The one if 
 
 found you drown in it, damn you; 
 Have your wits too gone courting? Go! 
 
 Go! each 
 Of you. Dismiss Darnley into Scot- 
 land, 
 So haste, make haste. 
 
 [Exit lords. 
 Eliz. . Unvenerable 
 
 wretch, 
 Have I not made him mighty — evil Lei- 
 cester? 
 I shall uu-make him now, and — create 
 Anew, a lord of Head-less-tord. 
 
Act I.] 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 Enter Leicester and Derry 
 at side of stm/i . 
 
 Lei. I have 
 
 Offended her, and fear her so, do go, 
 But in, good faithful Derry, and make 
 
 amends 
 For me 
 Derrif. Depend on it 
 
 [Exit Lei. 
 Eliz. What did Lei- 
 
 cester say? 
 Der. Extenuates, equivo- 
 
 cates, talks nothing to the purpose, 
 grows haughty, hints ambiguously, 
 assumes majesty, and in such puppet 
 way that I could scarce restrain my 
 blood, that so besought me in the honor 
 of my house to draw at him. 
 Eliz. Go send him here. 
 Der. As by my 
 
 blade I shall 
 Do anything your majesty requires. 
 
 [Kneels and kisses his blade. 
 Eliz. Oh! I would the devil had 
 both thee 
 And him, thou filth of sophistry, as he, 
 Thou mire, thou scamp, thou miscre- 
 ant. Oh! 
 Thou poltroon dog, avaunt, avaunt! 
 Curse him. 
 
 [Exit Derry. 
 
 Curse him; curse him the more than I 
 did love him. 
 
 Enter Lei. and kneels. 
 
 Eliz. Ambitious king. Oh! 
 
 I shall have thee crowned 
 In hell. Thy head upon the tower. 
 
 Though 
 Thy heart be so adamant, as the jewel 
 It contravalues. Yet will I wear 't 
 
 'pon 
 My finger a trinket of my pleasure, lest 
 
 thou 
 Resent me. 
 Lei. As the God liveth I love 
 
 You. There is 
 No virtue in the hearts of children 
 
 else 
 
 Eliz. [Striking him.] Blaspheming 
 
 dog, a curse upon your wiles; 
 Ye imps as men, who wed not us, but 
 
 woo us 
 For the devil. Ye prating, ambling, 
 
 jigging knaves. 
 Oh! It there be hell of fire, 'tis 
 For you, villains of seduction. 
 Lei. Trees 
 
 bring no fruit, no fortunes mul- 
 tiply, 
 
 Tide comes not in, and neither time 
 
 maintains 
 Itself. If true thou sayest it, I 
 Do not thee love, I swear it by the God 
 Of Heaven. 
 Eliz. [Striking him.] Thou damn'st 
 
 thyself. How shalt thou say 
 Unto another? [Strikes him fiercely.'] 
 
 Out caitiff, out, ere 
 I tread upon thee toothless viper. 
 
 What, 
 Bait me? What? Oh! J shall snatch 
 
 from thee thy sight, 
 Tear from thee countenance, thou 
 
 mocking idol, 
 Thou rascally villain, unreputed knave. 
 Murderer! dos't hear? Murderer, 
 
 CURSE,— curse, — curse. 
 
 [Eliz. swoons, Lei. catches 
 her as she falls. 
 
 Lei. My hands are filthy hands, God 
 knows 'tis true, 
 For doing that that thou dids't bid 
 me do. [Kisses her. 
 
 [Curtain fail*. 
 
 Scene II. The same. 
 
 Enter French and Spanish 
 Embassadors. 
 
 French Em. My Lord, I hope I shall 
 
 not you offend, 
 By relating an affair, that to my ears 
 Was blown so late as yesterday. 
 
 Spanish Em. No ear 
 
 Sir, is offended with a feud, 
 If so the tongue would, find another 
 
 topic. 
 For as much runs the world into these 
 
 Christian 
 Days. He who rejects the worthless 
 
 paper, 
 Accepts the condemnation of his neigh- 
 bor, 
 But for my part, as to what you have 
 
 to say, 
 If information I desire — but, 
 If gossip I should be pleased to hear or 
 
 not 
 To hear. 
 French Em. That is a pious teaching, 
 
 my lord, 
 A pious teaching. For where is to be 
 
 found 
 The man, who'd not reject a countless 
 
 coin, yet lend 
 His ear to hear accursed a character. 
 Indeed 'twas ever so, what tills of men 
 Reject, the souls of men be open to 
 
KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 Accept. But as to the matter I refer, 
 
 I do 
 Not gossip, but iustruct you sir. Dud- 
 ley- 
 Created Leicester, is as I am informed, 
 To be ere long the Scottish king, which 
 
 in 
 Effect, will blight the hopes of Phillip, 
 
 King 
 Of Spain whose capital you represent. 
 The game is played too dark for me, 
 
 but as 
 I think this sovereign, she shall be 
 
 loathe 
 At parting with her favorite. 
 
 Spanish Em. We fear; 
 
 But have no fear of him, no drop of 
 
 kings 
 Is into him legitimate; but young 
 Lord Daruley, the Paris of the period, 
 The royal blood of Tudor and of Stuart 
 Is here released. Upon which an- 
 nouncement 
 He mounts his steed, and gallops past 
 
 the wind 
 To Scotland. We fear this consequence 
 May rob Don Carlos of his love. 
 
 Scene III. The court of Queen Mary 
 at Holyrood. Scene in the back- 
 ground. Darnley surrounded by 
 ladies. Upon the stage a group of 
 envious lords. 
 
 Enter Letiiington. Morton 
 addresses him. 
 
 Mort. Note my lord, Lord Darnley, 
 from England, 
 New come down. 
 Leth. They say of him the wit he 
 
 hath, 
 Is in his mouth. 
 
 Mort. And pour 't 
 
 forth, he does 
 Most generous, until alas^ he does 
 Run dry, to crack as baken turf. 
 
 Lindsay. I do 
 
 Not know the man that talks so much, 
 
 and says 
 So little. 
 Argute. Then you would call him 
 
 fool. 
 Leth. So, full 
 
 But not o' sense. 
 Mort. Aye gentlemen too, 
 
 and 
 That he is' arrogant he boasts to claim. 
 [Darnley and ladies are heard 
 to loudly laugh. 
 
 Enter Moray at side. 
 
 Mor. Cease— cease that sound, that 
 
 mimicry, that empty 
 Ha, — ha, — ha. 
 For so the Matterhorn's treacherous 
 
 gorge 
 Doth echo back the foot-steps, ere ye 
 
 fall. 
 That bell— that charms the bride, that 
 
 next proclaims 
 The funeral knell. [More laughter.] So, 
 
 so; keep on, 
 Keep on, with fortune keep, that makes 
 
 men laugh, before 
 They weep as divers do, — so merriment 
 Goes higher up to plunge but deeper 
 
 down. 
 [Continued laughter.] Laugh on, — 
 
 laugh on, as out shall flow, 
 From laughter's tears, the tears of woe, 
 But note my lords, how he does charm 
 
 <the world 
 With all his presence. A braying brash 
 
 at place 
 Of worship holds office less conspicu- 
 ous. 
 How like a snarling cur, twixt strained 
 
 hearing, 
 And the orator. Note; gentlemen, but 
 
 note. 
 Teething babes or prate of maidens 
 
 'tract 
 Nothing so much attention. 
 
 Enter Sadler, English 
 Embassador. 
 
 How now, 
 Sadler? In name of God— Why 
 sent your sovereign 
 
 Here, this popinjay? 
 Sad. He came without 
 
 Our sovereign's consent. 
 Mor. Why sir, — 
 
 your mistress 
 
 Promised to send Lord Dudley down 
 
 To please this queen. No more could 
 come of that. 
 
 That he is not born of a princely strain, 
 
 But this young peacock spreads feath- 
 ers like the fowl. 
 
 Each golden eye looks out a' former 
 king. 
 Sad. What, has he favor found? 
 
 Mor. What, favor? Why? 
 
 By the almighty mark he will be king. 
 
 This queen it seems, hath set on him 
 her heart, 
 
 And all our plans, that as a breed of 
 princes, 
 
 Even walked, are now as beggars ragged 
 
 And refused. We thought as your 
 great sovereign 
 
Act I.] 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 Did instruct to 'volve her in 
 
 Religious wars. Our winds were howl- 
 ing, sir, 
 
 And waves would swallowed her, but 
 here her marriage 
 
 With a Protestant puts into harbor, 
 
 And leaves our seas to roar at where 
 she was. 
 Sad, Be not disconsolate, 
 
 you overcharge, 
 
 Too much him apprehend. He's but a 
 
 boy ' 
 His years are tender, and his sense so 
 
 timid. 
 Too young for wiles that men adopt to 
 
 win , 
 
 The bosom of a woman. He's but our 
 
 subject, 
 Too, and orders I have here to send him 
 
 home. 
 But to mv sacred charge. [Hands him 
 
 a packet.] This packet will 
 Contain ten thousand pounds, with 
 
 which you bribe 
 Lords Caithness and Argyle. Immedi- 
 ately 
 Seek confidence of each, and thereupon 
 Rise open up in arms. We shall seek 
 Provocation of this queen to re-enforce 
 
 you. 
 Be instant and perform. [Hands him 
 
 a letter.] What more there is 
 Of confidence this letter will in part. 
 Mor. May we depend on you? 
 Sad. You may not on your hand 
 depend else. 
 But,— soft, does she still nurse 
 Her bastard claim about my sovereign's 
 throne? 
 Mor. Talks continually of 
 
 nothing else. 
 Sad. Do your duty. 
 
 Mor. Depend 
 
 on me [Aside.]— How plain 
 This fellow reads my mind, yet little 
 
 sees 
 The tool I make of him. And, too, his 
 
 really 
 Royal sovereign, red-headed and 
 Replete, is in me equally deceived. 
 She see me crowned? Not so gener- 
 ous. Too well 
 I know her fabric, by the way 'tis woven. 
 My cloak of state must be of other 
 
 gear. 
 Yet after all her purse I may apply, 
 Her instructions may obey. If it be- 
 hooves 
 Me even so to do. I must 'rouse all 
 Who are to arms available, and yet 
 The royal force will prove so form- 
 idable. 
 I like not well Elizabeth's armies here, 
 
 Still our defeat, would cost us far more 
 
 dear. [Exit. 
 
 [Lord Darnley and the Queen 
 
 approach the billiard table. 
 
 Dar. The breeze that quivered dew 
 
 upon the grass 
 
 Blew nothing soft, as now you've played 
 
 to win, 
 And thunder's crash goes light upon 
 
 the ear, 
 As next, you bank, to win again. 
 
 Mary. Good, 
 
 My lord; but if in my 'fairs I were so 
 
 'customed, 
 That balls o' state would roll them as 
 
 I desire them, 
 To strike the points at issue and recoil 
 To where I would they would abide, I 
 
 would 
 Be great as is my sister queen— Eliza- 
 beth. 
 Government is but a game my lord. 
 
 The states 
 At stake. Rule 's the table, power the 
 
 cue, 
 And men, but billiard balls, and it 
 
 played well, 
 It's played to win, but if ill played, 'tis 
 
 played 
 To ruin. 
 Dar. Why shot you wide? 
 Mary. So Cupid 
 
 sh oots — 
 'Tis said of him. My Cupid shoots thus 
 badly. 
 
 [Looks lovingly at Darnley. 
 He looks bewildered, yet 
 seems to comprehend. 
 Dar. And now's my chance. 
 
 [Mary throws a coin upon the table. 
 Mary. And this your crown, if you 
 Shall win it. 
 
 [Sadler rushes between them 
 and falls on his knees be- 
 fore the Queen. 
 Sad. Great Queen of Scotland, 
 
 My mistress, England's 
 Sovereign, to reassure you of her love, 
 Hath sent me here to greet you with 
 
 this jewel. 
 So rare a one as ever yet was known, 
 And as my sovereign's heart, too in- 
 trinsic in 
 Its value. She bade me state before 
 
 your royal 
 Person, that as spark issues from dis- 
 turbed 
 And ever quenchless fire, so is this gift. 
 It comes from out the flame, so many 
 
 more 
 May issue from. 
 
KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 Mar;/. My rarest treasure. 
 
 [Sadler rising turns fiercely 
 
 upon Darnley. 
 
 Sad. What? You here? Have you 
 
 not heard the mighty voice 
 
 Of England call as if from out the 
 
 grave, 
 For you, for Lennox, and your mother, 
 
 to return? 
 To England — GO, delay if but one mo- 
 ment 
 At your peril. 
 
 Dar. [Aside.']— If I to England go 
 
 The tower awaits me. 
 Mary. Hold,— You are 
 
 but the subject 
 Of a neighbor queen. Not so boister- 
 ous 
 With my guests; more, especially, with 
 
 him, 
 The grand -son of your English king, 
 
 that raised 
 From yeomanry your ancestors. 
 Sad. His 
 
 allegiance 
 Is in England, and England must obey, 
 And madam, I am here that mouth 
 
 that speaks 
 My sovereign's DEMANDS. 
 Mary. His fore- 
 
 fathers 
 Were Scotchmen, and their vast estates 
 
 here, too, 
 Are confiscate. Go tell your mistress, 
 
 sir, 
 From me, that I will give an earldom 
 For him. 
 Sad. My charging is express, that 
 she 
 Shall have Lord Darnley, nothing 
 else. 
 Mary. Will naught 
 Suffice her? 
 Sad. Nothing. 
 
 Mary. Then go, [ Tit roivs 
 
 the jewel] upon 
 Compulsion he will respond; but tell 
 Your mistress I come with him, with 
 
 my 
 Fair nobles and my men. 
 
 Sad. Your high- 
 
 ness, war will little avail you, but rest 
 assured, we prepare to receiv e you. 
 
 | Curtain falls. 
 
 Scene IV. — The Insurrection in the 
 
 Highlands. The Rebel Camp. A 
 
 Pending Battle. Morton on the 
 Stage. 
 
 Enter Lord Rothes and' followers. 
 Lord Rothes. Lord Field Marshal, 
 
 hallo? 
 Morton. Good time, Great Rothes, 
 My blessings and good hopes.. What 
 
 are 
 Your forces here ? 
 Lord R. They are yonder, my 
 
 lord, and with 
 Your sound dictation I will place them. 
 
 How goes 
 The day, and what has set this on or is 't 
 True our sovereign determines to 
 
 trample 
 'Pon our Protestant religion. 
 Morton. Her brother Moray so ex- 
 poses her, 
 And at the very sound of it, we 'rose 
 Precipitous. Her betrothal, also, with 
 Lord Darnley is announced. He is an 
 
 English 
 Officer, said to be skilled in every 
 Art of war, who has been late at Rome 
 And now 'tis past a doubt the Pope 
 
 hath sent 
 Him here, and for a trophy of the 
 
 Scottish 
 Crown he is to conquest over our 
 Reforms. 
 Lord R. And is our out-look well? 
 Morton. It was 
 Far better. Argyle has been too much 
 
 at fault. 
 At Parenwell the Queen's more weak 
 
 array, 
 Rode on our watchful fires, and even as 
 We'd planned to intercept her 
 
 Lord Moray, 
 Flanking from the west, caused them 
 
 to take 
 Easterly course, Argyle failing to 
 Co-operate, she made unhurt escape, 
 Gained Aberfeldy, and there 's re- 
 enforced 
 Into a mighty army. 
 
 Enter Argyle and son. Duke of 
 De Chastallan and others 
 front opposite direction. 
 
 De C. How now my 
 
 Lords 
 And gentlemen, why here? 
 Argyle. To ask our- 
 
 selves 
 The question, for why— for wherefore — 
 Or for what more, I know not, other 
 
 than 
 'Twas put in such a plot. The jeopardy 
 Of Jesus Christ and his religion, 
 Not less, but more, which now, I do not 
 
 at 
 This time recall, and seeming so in fear, 
 That Heaven was resolved upon by she 
 Of Scots I came in the defense, sir, of 
 
Act I.J 
 
 KING DAEXLEY. 
 
 The devil. (The less the nobleman if 
 there 
 
 Be such.) my lord of Moray, and that, 
 to 
 
 Prevent. Why came De Chastallan? 
 De C. If I construe not your ambig- 
 uity, 
 
 The same, my lord. His cunning played 
 so well 
 
 Upon my conscience, and so awful was 
 
 Religious persecution put by him 
 
 That my great soul, as inwards of a 
 world. 
 
 Did thus erupt. 
 
 Enter Keere. 
 
 Keere. Great nobleman. I am 
 
 So much delighted here to meet you 
 all. 
 Argyle. Indeed, and so are all our 
 enemies, 
 Good Keere. 
 
 Keere. As next they will be 
 
 grieved that we 
 Are come. My lords, I deem it here 
 
 and at 
 This time expedient to say that as 
 All things of heart should have a head. 
 
 and 
 Scotland soon without a sovereign will 
 
 be, 
 We, the very pulse of our affairs, 
 Should such enact over us. 
 Argyle. You speak, 
 
 sir, as 
 A prophet, sir, too much a prophet. 
 Keere. My 
 
 noble lord. 
 We do expect, with aid of England now 
 At hand (which pray God speed), to 
 
 hold this day 
 Our sovereign captive. 
 
 Argyle. What's most ex- 
 
 pected least happens, 'tis ever so, a law 
 of nature; and there is nothing cer- 
 tain, sir, but the bad's results, honor's 
 income, and too much exalted, disap- 
 pointment. 
 Keere. I move you gentlemen to 
 
 it— 
 Argyle. To what, 
 Say you? 
 Keere. That in event of our pre- 
 vailing 
 Here, we choose from out our numbers, 
 
 one 
 To rule; and for my part, I would sug- 
 gest 
 Lord Moray to the eminence. 
 
 Argyle. You do 
 
 Forget your-self. 
 De C. Lord Moray though 
 
 praise-worthy 
 
 As a gentleman 's a— 
 
 Argyle. Bastard! 
 
 Keen'. As was 
 
 Great Henry VII, king of England. His 
 
 right 
 Accession made by act of Parliament — 
 
 Argyle. Then should our Parliament 
 create monkeys men, and men to fall to 
 worship them. Mark you, "what God 
 hath joined together, let no man put 
 asunder." Therefore, in what God hath 
 no hand 't were better man put not his 
 finger. [Aside]— Indeed, expecting it, 
 I thought it would have come from 
 some sweet orator, not from this daw, 
 that chatters what it heard. 
 
 De C. Bastards, are for the most 
 part base; not due to Heaven, neither 
 Hell, but to natural distemper of their 
 mothers, as molds impressions make, 
 so are they born; so much impressed 
 with shame, with hatred, and distrust, 
 that naught betokens good of them. 
 
 Enter Moray and escort. 
 
 Argyle. We shall have none base of 
 birth to rule Scotland, neither in other 
 plar^e of favor. 
 
 Moray. Is not thy countess, sir, my 
 illegitimate sister? 
 
 Argyle. So, so, and in so much unfit 
 to be my wife, I am resolved at parting 
 with her. 
 
 Moray. As briers shed their roses, 
 so do the Campbells doff their coun- 
 tesses. 
 Rothes. Pie, fie, my lords, for shame, 
 here in the very 
 Face of fight, such sharp and heated 
 
 discourse. 
 To befall. How shall we hope to con- 
 quer? 
 Will broken ranks prove barricades to 
 
 stop 
 The onslaught of a nation. Shall 
 
 Popery 
 Ride over us, already vanquished, 
 And who will live a victor? Are we 
 
 not rebels, 
 Each of us. and numbered by the foe? 
 Fie, — my lords, make light of it. Make 
 
 very. 
 Very light; be true and loving friends, 
 As ever you have been. 
 
 Argyle. The soul of a friend is not a 
 ship that every sail will fit; there is 
 peculiarity about friendship, it is not 
 best to become too intimate 
 
 De C. Where to my lord? 
 
 Argyle. To Castle Campbell, 
 
 [Exit Ar<;vle and De C. 
 
10 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 Young Argyle. [Snapping his finger 
 in Moray's race.] He that wages 
 war against the Campbells, 
 Needs number enemies, in mother, son 
 and relative. [Exit. 
 
 George Douglas. And so it goes, 
 The best of friends, make up the worst 
 of foes. 
 Moray. [Addressing Morton.] Con- 
 jure with them, my lord. Con- 
 cede, concede, 
 For with them goes the right wing of 
 our army. [Exit Mort. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Servant. A spy upon the ene- 
 
 my's position, 
 But now comes in. 
 
 Enter Spy. 
 
 Spy. My lord, the Queen 
 
 put into Keremore, 
 And was received by that good earl 'pon 
 His knees. Protestants there swarmed 
 
 beneath 
 Her standard, and through the night, 
 
 cries of "The Queen,'' 
 "God save the bonny face" at Acaran 
 Were plainly audible. Her marriage too, 
 With Darnley 's reported. 
 
 Enter Messenger hastily. 
 
 Messenger. My lord, 
 
 Earl Huntley, 
 
 Your arch enemy at head of Aberdeen, 
 
 Rides head-long from the mountains, 
 and joins the Queen 
 
 At Keremore, and as I am informed 
 
 He hath ta'en neither food nor drink, 
 but through 
 
 The night, with drawn blade, impatient 
 rode before 
 
 His watch-fires. 
 Mora//. You are too much enam- 
 
 ored of 
 
 This puppet lord. [Slaps him.] Go, 
 cool your ardor with 
 
 New information. . , 
 
 \Exit Messenger. 
 
 Enter Morton — Servant. 
 
 Servant. My lords, a Highland 
 
 messenger. 
 
 Enter Messenger. Moray 
 rushes hastily to him. 
 
 Moray. Have you, sir, been 
 
 informed, 
 Is Athol's lord with us, in sympathy? 
 Messenger. He joins the Queen, sir, 
 
 with a thousand spear. 
 
 Moray. Has Had- 
 
 dington been called upon? 
 Mes. He has, 
 
 My lord, with no response. 
 Moray. Go then, 
 
 seek aid 
 Of Randclitf and the border chieftains. 
 
 Ser. They, too, 
 My lord, have re-enforced the enemy. 
 
 Enter fourth Messenger in 
 greed haste. 
 
 Mes. My lords, our allies entering 
 Edinborough, 
 
 Are fired upon by Erskine from the 
 tower. 
 
 So hot and hornet-like was the re- 
 ception 
 
 They broke into precipitous retreat. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Ser. Gentlemen; the English general. 
 The Gentlemen. The English! The 
 English. 
 
 Enter Sir Ralph Sadler. 
 
 Moray. How now, Sadler, lead you 
 The squadrons in? 
 
 Sadler. The Queen, my mistress, 
 fearing danger at hands of France and 
 Spain, sends not men, but money to 
 your aid. 
 
 Moray. Your mistress sir. is gen- 
 erous. [Aside.]— And trust-worthy as 
 the devil. 
 
 Sad. How say you uow? 
 
 Moray. Your mistress is generous. 
 
 Sad. Depend on 't and hear the proof 
 of it. She further doth provise, that if 
 prevailed over, you seek refuge with, — 
 her English soil. [Handing him a let- 
 ter.] This letter, sir, to you more pri- 
 vately is sent. 
 
 Enter first Messenger. 
 
 Mes. The Queen's array, at Keremore 
 
 new re-enforced. 
 N5w turn their faces to the rising sun, 
 And are from yonder summit visible. 
 From fair Dunkeld their banners 
 
 frown, 
 To Annelree. The Queen rides hard 
 
 into 
 The van, with Darnley glittering to the 
 
 spear. 
 So hotly plied, by lash and spur, their 
 
 horse 
 Seems if they'd leave the earth, in mad 
 
 career 
 Gentlemen. To England; to England! 
 
Act II. J 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 11 
 
 Moray. Away; away! 
 We give them battle, but another day. 
 [Exit all but Moray 
 and Douglas. 
 [Moray and Douglas exchange 
 
 their disguises. 
 Moray. Go you to England, you per- 
 sonate 
 
 Lord Moray there. That queen will 
 
 call you to 
 Account before embassadors of France 
 And Spain. Do you as previously by 
 
 her 
 Instructed. Be guided by this letter and 
 No more. Go now, I here remain, to 
 
 light this battle with my brain. 
 [ Curtain falls. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I.— Home of George Douglas. 
 Moray disguised as Douglas. 
 
 "Thought! Hath thought a wit? Ay, 
 
 faith, unlimited; 
 And naught hath wit that hath it not. 
 
 Ah! what 
 A brilliant star is pate, to but twinkle 
 
 gi'. 
 If man would in him put to sea, he'd 
 
 • find 
 Him continents, rivers, seas, receding 
 
 skies, 
 Could man but himself, explore." So 
 
 must I jabber, 
 Jostle, prate, and put all thought within 
 My reach, as to assume the man is 
 
 likelier, 
 To assume his garb being not sufficient. 
 And too must 1 say what fits, and do 
 
 what fits, 
 Serve me first, my neighbor after,— if 
 
 ever, 
 As is the conduct of mankind; or vir- 
 tues 
 All assume and none regard. To be 
 Their devil? Think before and after I 
 Do act; to be wise; and too it is that 
 
 the wisest 
 Man o' the world, is not so happy, as 
 The greatest fool in Christendom. 
 
 Kings 
 That envy slumber of their slaves, covet 
 Happiness in what is most despised. 
 And what is happiness? Tis what men 
 
 seek. 
 And all, that any man desires. Con- 
 tentment, 
 And where found? In love, while it 
 
 will last, - 
 In Heaven — in satisfaction whatsoever, 
 And wherever found. Goes 't hand in 
 
 hand 
 With riches? As harmony accompanies 
 Turmoil; Shall it be found at festival? 
 
 Not so, there jealousies attend it. We 
 wed 
 
 Too much our woes to seek it carnally. 
 
 Then, is it a thing of soul? It is. 
 
 Of conscience? Never without con- 
 science. 
 
 And what path do lead to it? Con- 
 science. 
 
 Ah! what it is to be a man! I know 
 
 The course. 'Tis to be a moral man — 
 
 Not womanish; miser not, neither 
 spendthrift; 
 
 Religious, and if not, to be, what relig- 
 ion 
 
 Would make of me,— before Heaven and 
 myself — 
 
 Respectable. To be and ever for to be 
 
 Depended on. Make trust a vow; 
 promise 
 
 What shall be performed not more nor 
 less; break 
 
 No heart. Hear no slander— if obliged 
 to, 
 
 Not repeat. Have dignity, not disre- 
 gard. 
 
 Abstain from what is hurtful to myself 
 
 And to another. Be courteous with all 
 
 But vice. To word, to be a mod'rate 
 modest 
 
 Man; to be a temperate man. Make 
 
 No foes, neither make of these my 
 friends. Do 
 
 As I'd have others do by me, myself 
 
 To be mine own example. Know what 
 is charity; 
 
 Bestow it privately. Want what is 
 reasonable; 
 
 Let houor guide desire; and in my 
 dealings 
 
 And transactions, to do as if stood 
 present, — 
 
 God. Aye, in my case, as in the case 
 of many, 
 
 To be a man 's to be but the reverse 
 
 Of that that I have been. Him of truth , 
 
12 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act IL 
 
 Trust and integrity, by reason governed 
 By conscience guided; though jostled 
 
 in about 
 The world's affairs yet is he there a 
 
 man. 
 The sire, the relative, backpointed— to 
 By many. Be a man, to have respect 
 ( )f men, let scruple damn itself, — and 
 
 even 
 There a man 's respected. Oh! would 
 
 that I 
 Were but so much, a man,— not more, 
 
 nor less, 
 But simply — ■- Ambition hath so 
 
 wrought 
 And twisted me, pruned my virtues, (if 
 
 the like 
 I had) swerved manhood (if such ever I 
 Possessed) made me the wanton wizard 
 
 of 
 My wit; to buff with Fortune's sea,— 
 
 the shark; 
 To frequent life's stream, — the croco- 
 dile; to feud 
 Accompaniment, unknown to harmony; 
 No faith in God nor man; none in my- 
 self; 
 Hated myself and the prosperity 
 Of others. Yesterday the paragon 
 Of men,— to-day despised by every man; 
 My plans, my pomp, no longer flourish- 
 ing. 
 Beaten by women and by fortune that 
 Doth envy me. Paupered and un- 
 
 princely 
 I return, the rebel and the outcast. 
 In mine own dominions, — what I might 
 Have been 's the thing I even was, my 
 
 destiuy: 
 Tis left me to decide. King Darnley 
 
 goes 
 This way, and if unto his ear I do 
 Be suppliant I shall set thither to his 
 
 soul 
 Such train of black and diabolical 
 Distrust about his mistress, as breaks 
 
 the heait 
 Of him and she. Promotion builds me, 
 
 and » ' 
 
 Re-instates my power as new portend- 
 
 able. 
 If foiled, if recognized, or so discovered, 
 I do escape the penalty, 1 
 Shall seek among the Alpine cliffs a 
 
 summit 
 And a gorge; a slip,— a plunge,— the 
 
 world 
 Is profited. Thus may I do one well deed 
 E'er I die. 
 
 Entir Darnley and Rizzio. 
 
 Darn. My king- 
 
 dom sir, goes much 
 
 Beyond the apprehension of my 
 
 thought, — 
 Husbandry to be commended, copious 
 Scenery, pleasing valleys, pitching hills. 
 Waters most salubrious, and— 
 God spare the mark;— but for the pipes, 
 
 Hike 
 The people. Keep horse in readiness 
 
 for the slogan 
 Of a Highlander. 
 Mor. [Throws himself upon the arm 
 
 of Rizzio, and like a wild animal, 
 
 scrutinizing Darnley, addressing. 
 
 Rizzio thus:] My lord, if not so, 
 To say the least, a noble man is Rizzio, 
 How much amiss appointment is that 
 
 men 
 
 Such distribute 
 
 Riz. It is a pity sir. 
 
 Mor. As by my faith it is. Quality 
 
 gets not 
 Well on; too much jealousied is set the 
 
 habit 
 Of a private, whilst offices much hold 
 
 contempt 
 Of it, with chance of fortune that puts 
 
 virtue 
 In the way of power. How too maxim- 
 less 
 Is every possibility; yet, here 
 Is metal for good making; if my sound 
 Faculty perceives not with mischance 
 He shall prove stuff in him, and hold 
 
 an edge 
 With any man. What majesty? What? 
 
 What? 
 What? King? Ye Gods, look at him 
 
 to your spite; 
 Youth not out of him, yet by the Gods 
 Is he a man withal. Shall I not be 
 Presented, signor? 
 
 Riz. How? 
 
 Mor. To the king. 
 
 Riz. As by 
 What title? 
 Mor. He is my nephew; of so 
 
 much you are 
 Informed. Present me in the manner. 
 Riz. [Addressing Darnley. .] My lord, 
 If in 't 1 make no mistake, that he be 
 
 called 
 Aoostulate, your relative and kinsman, 
 George Douglas, son to Douglas the in- 
 triguer. 
 Darn. History points much at 
 
 your sire, as do 
 The English. 
 Mor. [Aside], — So is a man the fin- 
 ger of . 
 His father's scorn, to point to him, and 
 
 ever 
 To be pointed from; yet how shall 
 
 bastards 
 
Act II.] 
 
 KING DARN LEY 
 
 13 
 
 Be for certain known? It is so, 
 
 My liege, yet history hath but hearsay 
 
 for 
 My kindredhood. Dogs, to know their 
 
 fathers. 
 Should have predestiuy o* these and not 
 The vague suspicion of their mothers. 
 
 To be 
 Respectable, 'tis the office of my soul, 
 And so if to be respected, 'twere bet- 
 ter so, 
 Than rated, and rejected, for what my 
 
 father 'd done, 
 Before he 'd done what 's resulted in 
 my birth. 
 Darn. That Nature's dame 
 
 hath tipped thy tougue with some 
 Sparse wit, it matters not thy kindred 
 sir. 
 
 [Shakes hands with him. 
 Mor. Good my liege, thou 'It 
 
 pledge it so in wine. 
 
 [Pours out wirn . 
 
 Good wine improves the spirits, if not 
 
 the spirit. 
 
 Darn. Though as I came I 
 
 drank exhorbitant 
 
 And feel something the paralytic 
 
 symptoms 
 That so attend, yet, I shall not forbear, 
 But drink. Here's to the wits of 
 
 Douglas! 
 How, Rizzio? Shall you bear us so- 
 cially? 
 Riz. I thank your lordship, 
 
 no; being that upon 
 My wits I put my whole dependence. 
 [Darnley drinks. 
 Mor. Alack, 
 My liege, but wits are woes to them 
 
 that have 
 Them much; and by Saint Paul to those 
 
 that lack 
 Of them they are so much the more 
 required. 
 Darn. Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Mor. Thou 'It 
 
 drink again? 
 
 [Both drink. 
 Darn. Thou 'rt a merry wag. 
 
 I like thee. 
 
 Mor. In very sooth my liege, 
 
 Not as the ladies like, but to thyself 
 Becomingly. Thou likest me for my 
 
 wits; 
 They like me for my lack o' wits, as 
 
 faith 
 It is that he that hath the favor of 
 The woman talks not to her, sense but 
 nonsense. 
 Dam. Why, this is remark- 
 
 able? 
 
 Mor. Aye. but it is true. 
 
 True 's the unworthy love would wed 
 Or as goes much love alone to bed. 
 Darn. I did never hear the like. 
 Mor. Thou say 'st it not; the like is 
 everywhere; 
 Love 's despised; and he that despises 
 
 love is loved, 
 And fools that should live, to spite, 
 
 suicide. 
 And too it ever follows that he that 
 
 gets 
 The beating does the talking about how 
 
 it was, 
 And the denying, of that it ever could 
 have been. 
 Dam. I like the sense of 
 
 that; that I have heard 
 More souls are wrecked by love than 
 
 rum; now, that 
 Would say that wine is not as bad as 
 women. 
 Mor. Ha! ha! ha! Good! that is very 
 good. Why, that is remarkable— and 
 whiskey not so bad as men. Wine 's 
 a good soul — sparks no man, divorces 
 none; if left aloue will live alone; if in- 
 troduced to company, gets right in with 
 everyone; its acquaintance, as you like 
 it. will break off in an evening, or go 
 with you to perdition if you let it. A 
 toast! a toast! 
 
 Here 's to the berry, clink a chime, 
 To the favor and the flavor o' the 
 
 wine; 
 (With a frolic and a revel. 
 Though the bottle bear the label 
 Into every drop a devil) were sub- 
 lime. 
 Darn. Why, that is notably a won- 
 drous production. 
 
 M^or. More wondrous than wonder- 
 ful. [Both drink. 
 Dam. Wine is very like a lady as 
 aforesaid — to a man very becoming. 
 
 Mor. Ay, and they would wear what 
 is becoming. 
 
 Dam. Ha! ha!— Bewitching, very be- 
 witching, looks enticing, smiles en- 
 chanting, goes not courting; 
 
 Mor. And stays at home for the pur- 
 pose. 
 
 Darn. Well now there, again. Ha! 
 ha! Like as to love itself, tasted of 
 by prince and peasant; kings drink, 
 get drunk and get sober, just as do 
 other men. 
 
 Mor. Aye, but they do not fall as 
 other men. The couutry holds them 
 up, and what they drink the couutry 
 pays for; and if they stagger the couu- 
 try steadies them, and when they vomit 
 the country throws her mantle o'er 't. 
 
14 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act IL 
 
 Ah! The country is a good friend to 
 the king. [Drinks.] And if they 're 
 lewd, the country looks not; and when 
 they damn, the country cries for mercy. 
 
 [Sings. 
 
 There lives a king ayont the sea, 
 
 P'doodle'I, P'doodle'E. 
 He tastes a gallon at a 'pree, 
 
 P'doodle'I P'doodle'E. 
 
 His bonnie queen he set to sea, 
 
 Her servants, too, to row her wi', 
 
 Then takes a lassie on his knee, 
 
 P'doodleT, P'doodle'E. 
 
 Darn. Why, thou art as blithe 's a 
 moonbeam, bleak 's a mountain, and 
 full o' frisk 's any kitten. This is the 
 most extraordinary rhyming I did ever 
 hear, philosophic, too, and funny. 
 Thou art as full o' melodies as a 
 
 Mor. Pibroch. 
 
 Darn. That same is the most hellish 
 instrument of torture known to me. 
 It murders melody. 
 
 Mor. Alas! my liege, and melody do 
 seem to suffer piteous— a -strangling— 
 such cries o' dying and such moans o' 
 more of it— makes merry anguish, and 
 hanging to be jested at by criminals. 
 
 [Sings. 
 
 " Awa wi' the droons, the chanter 
 and bags, 
 
 And hurt not the drums o' our civ- 
 ilized ears, 
 
 Wi' their wheezin' and schreechin' 
 an' moanin' and hugs, 
 
 O' the blethers.'" 
 
 Darn. Why— you— you are the most 
 exuberant philanthropist in my domin- 
 ions. As— as says Shakespeare of Eng- 
 land, in u that was a more exquisite 
 song than— than the other,"— this goes 
 pleasantly —and all goes very well with 
 the Lord and the Savior of men and — 
 and— and of women, and salvation is a 
 good thing. As— as say— we— English, 
 — the— the — devil faints where, — where 
 men stand up. 
 
 Mor. And so it goes, my liege, the 
 devil hath no show in these days. He 
 is beaten everywhere, out classed and 
 out of countenance.. And faith it is 
 that if so it runs, into another century, 
 he shall be out o' fuel, and there's an 
 end. 
 
 Darn. You are a bred nobleman, as 
 I'm a king, you are. 
 
 Mor. And your kinsman. 
 
 Darn. God bless you v certainly a 
 nobleman, legitimate or 'illegitimate, 
 that matters not. Blood 's blood, blood 
 
 in dogs, blood in horses, blood in any- 
 thing, — blood 's perceptible— blood — 
 blood— blood —blood, I tell you squire, 
 it does take blood to make a man. 
 
 Mor. It is a most necessary part of 
 man; indeed, it is a very absolute in- 
 gredient, for, without blood, a man 
 could not possibly live a minute. 
 
 Darn. Why, sir, a bred horse, — will 
 go on -and on. 
 
 Mor. And that he will, and if his 
 rider be a bred nobleman, there's no 
 stoppin' of them — short of any tavern. 
 Darn. Oh, Heavens above us, but I'm 
 drunk, and you are drunk [puts the 
 bottle to his mouth], and all the wine is 
 drunk; and you 're a gentleman; I wish 
 you speech. Life and speech, why bless, 
 you, here 's my hand on it. Speech is 
 a virtue with the wise; a pity is a wise 
 man dies. 
 Mor. [Aside.] — If now I get the sec- 
 retary out, 
 Who is among our lords unpopular 
 As any cur that would presume a man's 
 Position, I then may introduce 
 With better countenance into this 
 
 drunkard's 
 Brains, the friendship of some villain- 
 ous 
 Report, that somehow complicates her 
 
 stalwart 
 Chastity of Scots (God spare my bad 
 Materials), with this bow-legged inno- 
 cence 
 Of Italy, who at best is but 
 The watchdog of the Pope at large, 
 
 which, got in motion 
 Properly — but too much I speculate, 
 And oft mischance puts twixt the pur- 
 pose and 
 The pointed lance — shall you not set 
 
 adrift 
 This Rizzio? He mars our company, 
 The villain that he is. I like him not, 
 And shall have at him straight. 
 Darn. Why 
 
 Rizzio 's 
 An innocent man! 
 
 Mor. He— is a black devil 
 
 That makes innocence his outer wear. 
 Darn. Rizzio! Go— look to my tang- 
 ibles 
 
 And movables 
 
 Mor. Not to your wife. 
 
 [Exit Rizzio. 
 Say 
 Not so; he so much will dc without 
 
 command. 
 Oh! if I do ever meet the villain any- 
 where, 
 But grant me patent to make mince of 
 him. 
 
Act II.] 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 15 
 
 Dam. [After a long jiause.'] Thou 
 lie'st, as I shall swear it so by 
 
 every 
 God in sacred giving, by every star 
 That glances at the night. This is un- 
 popular— 
 And perverse, — damned as doings of the 
 
 Devil 
 It sobers me, — gives reason back. I 
 
 say, 
 Thou lie'st. 
 Mor. So said a mother of her 
 
 erring 
 Daughter once. Thy humor's good. 
 
 'Tis love 
 Appeals and not thy wit. She 's not a 
 
 mother 
 Who would not curse (and so obscenely 
 
 too) 
 The truth about her child's infirmity, 
 And he is not above the animal 
 That brooks to look— upon the filthy 
 
 witness 
 Of his love. I would deny the truth 
 Of it abont my sweetheart, by Heaven, 
 
 if she 
 Gave birth to twins, if all Hell's clatter 
 
 gates 
 Were open with their tides, I would so 
 
 turn 
 Them back again, deny this hand of 
 
 mine; 
 Call right, left, swear black is white, 
 
 and face 
 The truth as fenders face the flames. 
 
 Love 's 
 A goodly spirit, and he that hath it 
 
 not 's 
 A snake- drawer, a broken reed, a heart- 
 less worm; 
 . Oh! he is as miserable as a missing 
 Murderer, he that hath no love. 
 Darn. 'Tis a 
 
 dream; reality could not 
 So damnable appear; 'tis but the fancy 
 Of a thing created of the drink 
 And not of premises. 
 
 [ Throws the glass. 
 Oh! Curse the 
 
 foul 
 Intoxication of my soul that so 
 Embezzles with the funds of my condi- 
 tion, 
 I have often heard of it; that it do lead 
 To seein' of the serpent and things so 
 
 monstrous 
 And mysterious as harrows out 
 The soul in fright of them. My senses 
 
 fume — 
 'Tis false! 
 Mor. As it is true. 
 Darn. How mean 
 
 you false 
 
 As true? 
 Mor. I mean it false as true. To 
 say 
 That it is true as it is false. But, — 
 Forgive my sin, as by my soul, I spoke 
 Not to offend. I swear 't by the im- 
 mortal 
 Part of me. The mentioning — it breaks 
 My heart to think of it. But we were 
 
 drunk 
 And drunk was bubbled o'er what first 
 
 was on 
 My brain. Forgive, and we will fall to 
 
 something . 
 Slighter. I have a better wine. We'll 
 Sample it, and although you did ex- 
 claim 
 So out against wine harshly, and al- 
 though 
 At times I freely shall confess, we are 
 Dismembered by it altogether, yet 
 It makes us to forget what memory 
 Would destroy us with. But tell me, 
 
 nephew, 
 Candidly, hast thou not never heard 
 This thing before? 
 
 Dam. As upon my honor. 
 
 Mor. "As upon 
 My honor " — that is strange. 
 
 Dam. What? 
 
 Some gossip, 
 Slanderlike talk about the court? 
 Mor. My liege! 
 Darn. With Rizzio, did you 
 
 • say? 
 Mor. My liege, no more 
 
 Of it. Speak pleasantly — some lighter 
 
 topic. 
 W T e are friends and it follows not. 
 
 Dam. Does it not follow, 
 
 Friends are confidants? 
 
 Mor. Ay, too much 
 
 That way, and ever, and they separate, 
 And the confidence is still between 
 them. 
 Darn. 'Tis said, 
 
 He that reposes no confidence is not 
 A friend to any man. 
 
 Mor. Ay, too, and it 
 
 Is said, he that never told a lie 
 Must nine times out o' ten truth deny. 
 Some wine! and we will make good 
 
 pastime 
 Of the present, perchance another will 
 Break confidence, as 't behooves me to 
 
 content 
 My tongue. I once a lady warned and of 
 Her danger and was myself adjured by 
 
 her 
 For that I knew and, too, I spoke so to 
 A man most devilish set upon — and by 
 A woman; and well nigh wore a gallows 
 for 
 
10 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 My pains. Once, too, it happened that 
 
 I did tell 
 A lady that I loved (which makes my 
 
 heart 
 Nigh break to think of it), of devilish 
 Intrigue set at us by one— her rival and 
 Her former friend, and now it is that 
 
 both 
 The rival and myself remain unwed. 
 Darn. I shall know your mind. 
 
 [Wine brought in. 
 Mor. The wine comes! I 
 Sball tell thee nothing. 
 Darn. Then, by the 
 
 God I'll spill 
 Thee out and give thee fighting to de- 
 fend 
 Thyself. 
 
 Mor. I am a Douglas, my olood will 
 Not brook with such temptation. 
 Dam. I am 
 
 a Stuart, 
 And do defy thy blood. 
 Mor. My liege! 
 
 Patience! 
 Be patient! Patience is a peace maker. 
 As anger leads to loss of life and often, 
 Strike not your friend in- any man; a 
 
 man's 
 Friends are a few. They are a rampart, 
 
 which, 
 If torn down, would leave you at the 
 
 mercy 
 Of your enemies. If thou shouldst 
 
 kill me 
 Into hot contested fight, — 'tis not thy 
 way. 
 Darn. It is impossible. Her eyes! 
 No dove's 
 Ever yet were modest. No man of 
 
 travel 
 Known to me has seen the like. 
 
 Mor. If 
 
 Their likeness be not in the dew-drop 
 
 found. 
 'T were in vain to further go in search 
 of it. 
 Darn. They are enchantingly 
 
 lovely; why, every high 
 Authority of the soul stops spellbound, 
 If they look. 
 Mor. And there is no small 
 
 doubt 
 Of that (yet is it not a power that ser- 
 pents 
 Have, wild beasts and birds much 
 
 charm their prey); 
 They are most bewitching wonderful. 
 Darn. But she is fair. 
 Mor.. But fair is 
 
 fickle. 
 Darn. Ay, 
 
 But she is beautiful. 
 
 Mor. As it follows, 
 
 Less beautiful, is more desirable. 
 Have you not observed that she is much 
 
 apart 
 With him? 
 
 Dam. With whom? 
 
 Mor. With Rizzio. 
 
 Darn. Whom? 
 Mor. Your queen. 
 
 Darn. In cor- 
 
 responding, he (her secretary), 
 They shut themselves much privately 
 
 away, 
 But their door's unlocked, yields before 
 
 my hand 
 At any time. 
 
 Mor. Are you always in 
 
 About the Court? 
 
 Darn. I may say seldom. 
 
 Yesterday, riding out to Ayre to visit 
 With a friend; that day, but one, hawk- 
 ing 
 Out at Hamilton, and of the four 
 Days that forewent, three spent at 
 various points — 
 Mor. Does their door 
 
 yield to your hand when you 
 Are hawking out, and riding out? 
 
 Darn. [Aside.] — The like 
 Is said of her of England there, and 
 
 here, 
 Too, it is disregarded. 
 
 [Darnley reflects. 
 
 Mor. Well, now, as by 
 
 My very heart, I believe you 're honest, 
 
 and am 
 Something of a mind to overstep 
 My sense of safety and say a thing 
 (Yet 't is too devilish strange, your 
 
 ignorance) 
 Have you not observed the rascal sec- 
 retary, 
 How much unmannered he 's become, 
 
 how he 
 Will speak to you—" My Lord,''— as if 
 
 commonly 
 To some earl or the like. What insult 
 To your dignity. 
 
 Dam. I have noticed this 
 
 Most prominent in him. 
 Mor. - And, too, as 
 
 you offered 
 Him a glass— an honor to be talked 
 About,— traditional,— he hurled the 
 
 contents 
 To your very face? 
 
 Darn. I observed that too 
 
 Mor. Its a damned kingly sort o' 
 subject that 
 He is! Have you not noted her to blush, 
 If coming suddenly upon them ever? 
 Darn. I once did see her so with 
 stalking unexpected 
 
Act II. ] 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 17 
 
 To her side. She flushed as I have seen 
 The rose and then, so white as Alpine 
 
 drift 
 Became. But now as I remember her, 
 She was so sallow,— sick'd pale, fearful 
 I became that she would swoon from 
 
 such thing 
 As came over her; but 'neath the trem- 
 bling hand 
 Upon the letter-head, were prominent 
 The characters, " His Holiness, the 
 
 Pope." 
 I, rigorous Protestant, did think it that. 
 Mor. How quick of her to so conceal 
 
 the message! 
 Dam. Ay, but she was 
 
 fond of me. 
 Mor. Ay, but that is it; 
 
 so they do — but if not 
 So fond, thou 'rt better fortified. They 
 
 are lustful; 
 They are loving; they are natural, and 
 
 have 
 Been known to fondness most when 
 
 faithless, — but, 
 If shrewish so, or discontented, a man 
 Is ever safe with them from other men. 
 Darn. This is too, a villainous insin- 
 . uation. 
 My heart feels as if some very uncouth 
 Beast bad gotten into it. What of this 
 
 Rizzio? 
 How dare you hint of him? 
 Mor. Now, by 
 
 my soul, 
 I must have confidence of that that I 
 Have sworn in solvency of trust to keep 
 It so, whatever else I may do erringly, 
 I shall not break mine oath with my 
 
 Creator, 
 Not though it be given into holding of 
 
 the Devil. 
 Darn . I swear by God 
 
 to keep your confidence 
 Prom every man. 
 Mor. Well, now, that is 
 
 most fair 
 Indeed, for if it get not out, it is still 
 A secret. A woman's secret! Well, 
 
 now, as by 
 My love, I'm something so disposed 
 
 and will 
 To speak my mind most freely out upon 
 Conditions. First: that you shall swear 
 
 by God 
 And, too, most sacredly upon your 
 
 honor, 
 To breathe not a word I may express 
 
 to you, 
 To any man, to any woman, at any 
 Time, for any cause. 
 
 Darn. I swear. 
 
 [Kisses his blade. 
 
 Mor. Secondly: 
 
 That you will nothing do without— and 
 
 be guided 
 By my plain instructions, that I 
 May better bring you to some certain 
 
 place 
 And at some apt occasion, that your 
 
 own eyes 
 Will show you what is what. 
 
 Darn. It shall be 
 
 done. 
 Mor. Ay, but swear upon this 
 
 blade with thy 
 Pair lips to't, the oath pronounced. 
 Darn. I swear. 
 
 Mor. Third: when his 
 
 guilt (Rizzio's guilt) is fully so 
 Established, and being as I hate him 
 
 for 't, 
 Hating every man for such offense, 
 Grant that I be first to strike him to 
 
 the dead 
 In name of Henry, King of Scotland. 
 
 Darv. It shall 
 Be so, if treason will be found as his 
 Misdeed. 
 Mor. Now last of all, if the love I 
 prove 
 For you (in so much good service too), 
 
 be worthy 
 Of a title, the like your Highness may 
 Bestow on me, yet I demand no such 
 
 thing, 
 Neither shall I say, if so denied, 
 That such thing I should have or I 
 ought to have. 
 Darn. This, too, will be 
 
 considered, and if Rizzio 
 Be found offender, you then are free to 
 
 deal 
 With him, now, not too hastily, speak 
 
 plain, 
 And out. 
 
 Mor. Then, your attention, he hath 
 With him— 
 Darn. Who hath? 
 Mor. Rizzio, — hath 
 
 with him 
 Out Italy, as often shown to me 
 Some " pellets " (there used), in traffic 
 
 of good morals, 
 Or in the circumstance of love that 
 
 otherwise 
 Could not be won), which "pellets" 
 
 dissolved in wine 
 Or other sweet ingredient, and so 
 Delivered, creates a fondness for the 
 
 giver. 
 And, as I am informed by him, it hath 
 
18 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 Such held restraint upon the nerve dis- 
 patch, 
 And on such lines of that communica- 
 tion, 
 As summon moral officers about 
 The blood and brain,— and so, and so 
 
 turned loose 
 The appetites, they being void of all 
 
 restraint 
 Upon them. 
 Darn. Oh! I shall have him 
 
 choked! — 
 Mor. Ay, 
 
 My liege. 
 Dam. Into a space one-half his size. 
 Mor. Well, now, that is better, but 
 stain not your hands 
 With him, I pray you, or have it said 
 
 that lion 
 Ever set upon so foul a rat. 
 I'll his executioner; but first 
 Grant that we be face to face; that I 
 Shall make him to confess himself. 
 
 Darn. Ob ! 
 The mocking monster! But, my lady, 
 
 did 
 You say?— not her? 
 Mor. Why, you aston- 
 
 ish me. 
 Darn. Devoted like to kiss with 
 
 him innocently, — 
 Not yet his victim? 
 
 Mor. You have not 
 
 heard? 
 Darn. As by 
 
 My God, faithless do you mean? Does 
 
 with him 
 Immodestly, with Rizzio,— some slan- 
 derlike 
 Talk about the court! 
 Mor. Why — that is as 
 
 public 
 As a proclamation, were you dumb 
 As yonder pillar-stone, it could not so 
 Have gotten past you. 
 Darn. By my right 
 
 hand, it were 
 So charitable an action to strike your 
 
 rapier 
 In my heart as this. 
 
 Mor. I see, my liege, 
 
 It would not made so terrible a cut. 
 
 [Cries. 
 But thou 't witness to 't, I tried to 
 
 snap 
 The blade of it from its position when 
 You, like Brutus, ran at it. 
 
 Darn. Feel not 
 
 So wounded, boy, 'twas but the hilt that 
 
 • struck thee. 
 The blade was in my 'breast, God bless 
 
 you, 
 Good meaning fellow, as Brutus shc.uld 
 
 Have blessed him Strato. Brutus died 
 to save 
 
 Disgrace. 'T were better too I knew of 
 mine 
 
 Dishonor; I felt some pause here at my 
 heart 
 
 But presently, and now it goes again, 
 
 A sort o' feebleness. — I think it is 
 
 Not broken possibly, or faintness would 
 
 So there continue, don't you think? 
 The villain, 
 
 Remove him, no harm to the lady. 
 Mor. He that lays 
 
 A touch on her dies by my blade, or if 
 
 He make the lily o' her bosom heave, 
 
 He goes with me to the dust, if I must 
 lack 
 
 The life, to know that I did kill him, — 
 and may 
 
 Heaven look on her with no less grati- 
 tude. 
 
 Than she smiles out her eyes at every 
 man, 
 
 Why — she shall be bristled with protec- 
 tion, 
 
 As porcupine before its enemies; 
 
 But this vile cur that bays her lord and 
 
 sleeps with her — 
 
 Darn. Oh God! Oh God! 
 
 [Reels, gropes feebly 
 
 for the entrana . 
 
 [Exit Darxley. 
 
 Mor. Well now, by my soul, 
 
 I must not be so hard on him, or I 
 Will kill him oversoon.— " What a fall- 
 ing off 
 Was there," as said the ghost, and now 
 
 what a coming 
 On is here. Tis but the prelude, too, 
 To what must follow straight upon. He 
 
 loves her! 
 Now that is the most convenient part 
 
 about 
 It all; for, loving her, he can be jeal- 
 ous, 
 Whereas, if he care nothing for her, 
 
 he cares 
 Not if the Devil intervene, to, from, 
 Or which way. How he will flinch at 
 
 every 
 Syllable that sounds against her, yet 
 After all, he shall prove such an ass 
 As to believe me and not her; believe 
 A lie and so regard the truth; love 
 His wife more than his enemy; put 
 More confidence in his enemy than in 
 His wife! Ha! Angel that she should 
 
 be and that she shall be, 
 If my sound craft so set to sea, get but 
 One other sail into the wind. I 
 Must follow him; secure new oaths on 
 him. 
 
Act II.] 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 19 
 
 Have sundry lords say sundry things 
 
 to him; 
 Now, there's my course. My thoughts 
 
 come quickly up. 
 Lethington holds a spite at Rizzio, 
 Who superseded him. Morton fears 
 
 ruin 
 At hands of Darnley, who claims the 
 
 better right 
 To his estate. I must to them each — 
 And fan their fortunes to make hot my 
 
 irons, 
 And if I weld not there together a grap- 
 ple-hook 
 To spale a precipice, the more is my 
 Opinion, I must set on some hubbub 
 In the Court, with Darnley at its front 
 And— so— mid clashing high the arms, 
 
 perchance 
 Some stray stroke touches with the 
 
 Queen, for whose death, 
 The commons hold Lord Darnley 
 
 straight accountable. 
 I must after him repeat my feign, and 
 
 when 
 She will look at him, I must repeat 
 
 again. 
 
 Scene II. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Moray, Lethington and 
 Melville. 
 
 Leth. For days will speak to none, 
 not even to 
 
 His queen, but with such bad humor 
 as lurks 
 
 About his countenance, doth leer at her 
 
 And point to her, — goes about the Court 
 playing 
 
 Hamlet — but yesterday struck breath- 
 less 
 
 Her foppish secretary who happened 
 by. 
 
 And would have killed him outright, 
 
 too, but for 
 The intervention of her lords, calling 
 
 him 
 Adulterer — deceitful— dog— devil, 
 And such terms inappropriate. He is 
 No more sane — why — than any lunatic. 
 Melv. A pity is, my lords, that love 
 
 can not listen — 
 Indeed, her marriage was too much 
 
 opposed 
 With him; and clearly, too, was pointed 
 
 out 
 To her, by Moray, now a fugitive, 
 The frailties of this foppish boy. 
 
 Mor. Now, as 
 
 You speak of Moray, I'm touched. I 
 
 have known 
 
 Him out of childhood— from my in- 
 fancy, — 
 And love him as my life. He 's a noble 
 
 man, 
 As by my soul's sentiment, he is, — 
 Apt statesman, far-seeing as the eagle, 
 
 and never 
 Dove so much protected was as her 
 Sweet majesty — 
 
 Leth. Before she shoo'd him off 
 
 The country. 
 
 Melv. He should be pardoned to 
 
 Return if any man. 
 
 Mor. It so should be 
 
 Suggested to the queen. It would be 
 A well thing for her most ill present. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Enter Darnley. 
 
 Darn. Ah! How much miraculous 
 
 are the things 
 Of life, and for certain who has premises 
 Beyond the grave, who lives, that dying, 
 
 would not 
 Live again, and living, would not die 
 By time. I've seen the rose, far fairer 
 
 than 
 My love, grow from the earth and to 
 
 the earth 
 Bow down its head. The lily kissed by 
 
 morning 
 Dews crushed by rude pilgrimage. Me 
 
 thought 
 It too, great Nature sighed at this, 
 
 and as 
 I leap'd from off my charger there, to 
 
 lift 
 It to my breast, it faded fast, sank down 
 Its head — down — died, uncomely died. 
 And then I sought, in vain sought to 
 
 restore 
 Its purity of white. It still was in 
 My hands, but what was charming was 
 
 forever 
 Gone. My thought was — Mary, then 
 
 Mary— Mary- 
 More lovely, aye, than lily dipped in 
 
 dew. 
 This flower is mine; — her chastity is 
 
 flown. ' 
 As garment stained with blood, so even 
 
 such is character 
 Smeared with dishonor. The one water 
 
 will cleanse 
 But the other, time with all its tides 
 
 will not 
 Wash clean again. She comes! She 
 
 comes! 
 
 Enter Queen Mary. 
 
 Q. Mary. He still 
 Is so! how strange! and, too. suddenly, 
 what is 
 
20 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Upon him come! Pvigh! 'tis nothing— 
 
 his humor. 
 Rascally men give us pain (as they 
 Do say of it), so to make up again. 
 My lord, you are unwell to-day, and for 
 These many days you Ve suffered. 
 [ Carresses him. 
 
 Where is your trouble? 
 In your brain? Your head aches? 
 
 Harry, does 
 
 [JIc looks angrily at her. 
 It ache? Why, Henry, are you changed? 
 
 These eyes, — 
 My jewels were not so rare but yester- 
 day, 
 That now are hot and swollen up as 
 
 balls of fire 
 Too much consume their loveliness, — 
 
 my lord! 
 Oh tell me! Can you tell the awful 
 
 crime 
 I have committed? If you shall say 
 
 I've wronged 
 You of a pin, so much — a wish, or 
 
 slighted 
 One brief moment of your pleasure 
 
 ever, 
 I stand accountable — beholden to you. 
 I. O. U. to pay twice ten thousand 
 Times that same amount, or, if I 've 
 
 kissed 
 You not enough— Harry— or, if too 
 
 much, 
 I shall feel sorry, and content me then 
 To look at you. Why such silence keep? 
 My lord! Words spoken out, if harsh 
 
 words, are 
 A pang, but if reserved to be looked 
 
 from out 
 The eves, they are more painful ever. 
 
 Oh. 
 If I have said or done, or ever thought 
 
 To do [He aims to strike her. 
 
 I defy you 
 
 [^1 pause — kisses him. 
 —with my love. 
 This day but twelve month you were 
 
 Harry Darnley, 
 To-day you are a king, and by promo- 
 tion, 
 The lord of all that you may look upon. 
 Have you no gratitude for things like 
 
 these? 
 Or have I broken your heart— both aud 
 
 mine? 
 
 That I did love A hair! 
 
 \_Find8 a hair upon his shoulder. 
 
 What! 
 
 rascal, do you . 
 Red-heads seek? 
 
 \_Sl"j"< him playfully. 
 'Tis but a hair, yet, 
 
 If into water thrown 't would grow a 
 
 serpent 
 To twine, to twist, to animate, aye. too, 
 If in the dewey sea of love it so 
 Would grow and so prolific would it 
 
 bring forth 
 Reptiles there that all the countless 
 
 venom 
 Of the earth would nothing brook to it. 
 Wolflike doubting, foxlike trusting, 
 
 hissing — 
 Hearing and heinous doting. There, 
 
 thou hair, 
 
 [Throws it in the pre. 
 Better there than in my heart. What 
 
 did you with 
 That hair found on last night with 
 
 rev'ling, or in 
 The wiue that made you drunk? What 
 
 did you with 
 That hair? Or be 't now menagerie of 
 Your thought? 
 
 [Retires to the door. 
 Harry! Lord of Scot- 
 land! Lord 
 Of my life! Come! 
 
 [Darnley follows her, 
 they embrace. Exit. 
 
 Enter Moray. 
 
 Mor. Now there is metal 
 
 By my soul, to stand with Helen and 
 To fall with Troy, that heart of his, 
 
 gulped with 
 Tts blood, at every babble out his angel's 
 Lips, or look from her transcendent 
 
 eye, 
 He's insane to think of it! That lips, 
 
 that eyes 
 Could look so, speak so, out of guilt. 
 Oh! he's mad, damn dangerous, too, 
 
 believing her other 
 Than pure as very Heaven, and I who 
 
 set 
 This [thing about and up and on but 
 
 now 
 To view it in its operation, 
 I, what villain I, to thus descant, 
 Design, dissemble in disguise, as some 
 Foul worm that creeps into and habits 
 
 flowers, 
 Viewed from my habitation and unseen, 
 And so, to be worn a nosegay aud in 
 
 about 
 The breasts of courtly gentlemen, — 
 
 ambitious, — 
 So ambitious as to out these hearts, 
 
 the ■one 
 From out the other, that God hath 
 
 join'd, and too, 
 God worked a miracle to breed the 
 
 likeliest. 
 
Act II.] 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 21 
 
 Knowledge, —that no man hath, that I 
 
 have not 
 So much; to know what is; and what is 
 
 right 
 From wrong. Wise! -prodigious wise, 
 
 and most 
 Profusely perverse. Nature hath thus 
 
 made 
 Of me the true example, a mind without 
 A heart; to prove again that soul hath 
 
 kingdom 
 In the hearts of men. 
 
 Scene III. A Hall in the Castle. 
 
 Enter Moray hastily. 
 
 Mor. He struck her. Ha! well now, 
 by Heaven, but that 
 Was gritty of him, too— 
 
 Enter Melville. 
 
 Good time of 
 day 
 Unto my Lord, and the King his maj- 
 esty? 
 I hope you shall report him better 
 If not well. 
 
 Melv. Well nigh a madman if not 
 
 That altogether. 
 
 M . He does not then, 
 
 you say, 
 Improve? 
 Melv. Struck his queen most sav- 
 agely in 
 The face this very morning. 
 
 Mor. Of all the 
 
 devils 
 That have yet been talked about, now 
 
 as by my God, 
 That was a felon's action. 
 Melv. It was a 
 
 madman's 
 Deed, yet, after all, he seems not mad, 
 Commands high; speaks plausibly 'pon 
 any subject, — 
 Mor. Trades no horses? 
 
 Melv. None as I hear about — 
 Mor. Then, damn'd, but he is wise 
 enough; there's something 
 On his mind. Perchance he later will 
 Disclose, that lips articulate more 
 
 plainly 
 Out than looks. 
 Melv. Has aught been hinted 
 
 of? 
 Mor. Such as I hear but dare not 
 
 speak about. 
 Melv. It shall have heart 
 
 with me, good sir, not tongue. 
 Mor. Then it is this way, as I'm 
 
 told — her intimacy 
 
 Melv. Her inti- 
 
 macy, WITH WHOM? 
 
 Mor. [Whispers in his ear.] With her 
 husband. 
 Foul wag shall you not jest a bit? 
 Melv. Your 
 
 jesting 
 Would be better if in place and not 
 To touch upon such sacred things. 
 Mor. Now, that is so. But, to be 
 more practical, 
 How of her brother Moray, his return? 
 Melv. With such fear as occupied 
 my heart 
 Of her displeasure of 't, I so abandoned 
 It, resigning hope of it. — 
 
 Mor. Is not 
 
 This place exceeding and unpleasant 
 
 warm? 
 Let's to the garden. I like the out-door 
 
 air. 
 It is not so cornered as — a— sermon — or 
 A sin. Thank God for liberty. 
 
 Enter Darnley in a side- chamber. 
 
 Darn. Ah, 
 
 What uncouth and perjured is the 
 
 heart, 
 To let lips kiss what love would not 
 
 make idol of, 
 Lust is this, yet lust and love go hand 
 In hand, for where shall we find one of 
 
 these, 
 The other not, with wedding sacredly? 
 And how the brain teems with damned 
 
 things, that it 
 Would execute through functions car- 
 nally. 
 What servant body is of brain! that 
 
 faith, 
 That hope, that lust, that larceny, each 
 
 virtue 
 Else or vice existing, are each compon- 
 ent 
 And compounded in the fair round 
 
 capsule 
 Of the brain, and how they beautify 
 And how dissemble, feature, face and 
 
 character. 
 How, as lily and the rose, the weed, 
 The nettle, blooming side and side and 
 
 nursed 
 By nature similar. The rose is beauty, 
 Yet, is in the nettle found apothecary, 
 Which, if administered to, will cleanse 
 
 disease, 
 So is the soul so natural as out 
 Of matter shall proceed the actions of 
 The man. Ay, yet, but what is love 
 
 and what 
 Is virtue more that than these men 
 
 rather life 
 Would sacrifice, and what if anything, 
 Is ever so contemptible as one 
 Of these where is the other not. — To do 
 
KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 With him if fair were not so strange, if 
 
 weak 
 Of purpose or impotent I, but firm 
 In this and too as by her complimented, 
 That thereupon she seek deformity 
 Is more the vicious I must resolve 
 
 against her — 
 Resolve, as if set upon by some vora- 
 cious 
 Wolf, who in attack on me, did seize 
 Upon my very entrails— tear her from 
 
 thence, 
 If with her come my vitals forth, stand 
 Before her; stand! as element before 
 The thunderbolt, pierced through, and 
 
 instantly 
 The same to be again. Hate her I 
 
 love — 
 Yet hating her, I love the fonder. Oh 
 Thou damn'd perdliugof my heart that 
 
 cries 
 For her and praises her and thou most 
 
 fouler ' 
 Fancy of my brain, that nurses with 
 The futile fondness of my love. Love, 
 Angel that transforms a beast, lamb 
 That so devoured becomes the monster 
 
 that 
 Did feed on thee, thou that conspires 
 
 this day — 
 With hope to anchor me upon the 
 
 bosom bent 
 Of all perdition. Oh! what miraculous 
 
 clo.ding 
 Of the brain is love, that reason shines 
 
 not in, 
 But kissing peaks strike through the 
 
 veil at what 
 Is man beneath; and yet is sunshine 
 
 there 
 If happiness but look upon the scene. 
 'I he every rose, the every flower, eyes 
 The skies, blue or dark, a million orbits 
 Twinkling, and in a man's bold heart, 
 
 the dews 
 Mount up to these, where swaying 
 
 lilies strike 
 The cheek, and kiss the upturned lips 
 
 again. . , 
 
 Sumptuous as heavens where men seek 
 
 happiness. 
 Less fair Diana, worshipped as the God. 
 [Darnley. while speaking 
 
 sinks to tht floor. 
 \_An apartment adjoining. 
 Enter Queen Mary, Rizzio, Maids, 
 Akqyle and other Gentlemen, also 
 Throckmorton, tht English Em- 
 basiador. 
 Maid. Try, my lady, to forget, 'tis 
 
 but 
 
 His humor that soon must pass. 
 
 Q. Mary. But 
 
 what can be 
 His heed. 
 Gent. He is not mad, we trust, and 
 'twill 
 Not long endure. 
 Arg. There is a leak some- 
 
 how 
 In the heart, that little kindnesses 
 And courtesies will not All to over- 
 flowing. 
 Throckmorton. Your Highness, 'tis 
 said also of sympathy, 
 That children cry for it, and we English 
 
 find it 
 Skillful ever to starve a dog that 's lost 
 Its appetite. 
 Q. Mary. As Knox would say, in 
 augry 
 Moment spoken, a fool is better born 
 A fool than fool of wisdom, for, if a fool 
 We note him presently and pass him by, 
 But, if put on with outward and im- 
 posing 
 Quality, w-e wed with that the other 
 To experience. Oh, is there bitter 
 In another thing that I must now 
 Regret the hour that I did marry, but 
 I loved, and that so foolish in a queen. 
 Maid. You could have spoused the 
 
 King of Denmark. 
 Q. Mary. Ay, truly 
 
 Lords, but is 't not said, who in the 
 
 world 
 Has not at some time looked from what 
 
 they are 
 To what they might have been? 
 
 Throck. Your 
 
 Highness, there is 
 A rule that touches all affliction. 
 Q. Mary. And 
 
 that? 
 Throck. Made the best of— is the 
 
 worst repaired. 
 Q. Mary. That is a sober 
 
 thought— a sober thought. 
 They sad become that sadness look 
 
 upon. 
 And, too, when hope lifts anchor, life 
 
 drjfts but 
 To the wrecking place. Call in my 
 
 minstrels. They lose 
 Their wits that brood where melan- 
 choly sits. 
 Maid. My lady, we have pre- 
 
 pared a sweet diversion, 
 Before you here to be enacted; a brain- 
 less 
 Farce, entitled, " Jealousy of Birds." 
 Q. Mary. Up to this time I had not 
 thought that birds 
 Were ever so, yet it is possible, 
 
Act III.] 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 t 
 
 23 
 
 IE even they prefer a liking. 
 Enter Melville. 
 
 Melville, 
 My faithful counsellor. 
 
 [Melville kneels, kisses h( r hand. 
 Melv. Your majesty, 
 
 It has occurred to me and too, to other, 
 Gentlemen, that, in view of your con- 
 dition, 
 (Which — I pray you pardon me, is some- 
 thing 
 Delicate; and, too, much in danger), 
 
 there being 
 Present none among our nobles to 
 
 guard 
 You privately, none kindred unto you, 
 Therefore, and by such reasoning, 
 
 prompted (I 
 Suggest, if however so denied), the 
 
 pardon 
 Of your brother, Earl Moray, the which 
 
 1 give 
 You time with patience to reflect upon. 
 Q. Mary. It shall be — considered. 
 
 [Exit Melville. 
 [Sweet music. A gong without. 
 Enter bird-dancers from opposite 
 directions ; perform a circuit of 
 the stage and approach the foot- 
 lights. Sing. 
 
 1st Bird. There was held a festival, 
 
 From the sparrow to the gull, 
 In a forest by a river run- 
 ning free, 
 Where sped the merry rills, 
 O'er the pebble pearled hills, 
 Running gubble, wubble, 
 wubble, to the sea. 
 
 2rf Bird. And neath the sun's array 
 Upon that happy day, they 
 
 say 
 That in a quiet way, 
 The robin flirted with the jay. 
 
 1st Bird. And the wren, his prettv wife 
 Was flirting for her life 
 With the big, blue seagull 
 from the sea. 
 
 2d Bird. And the owl was sittin' still 
 Winkin' at the whip-poor- 
 will, 
 An' sort o' studying the rill, 
 As it ran along the hill. 
 
 [Exeunt birds. 
 
 Mary. [Sorrow ftdly.] How like the 
 gay and frivol scenes of France! 
 Lovely France. 
 
 [Rizzio sings "Isle of Beaut g." 
 
 Darn. Hark! what— hark! 
 
 He charms her but with song, 
 
 The silence that precedes what is about 
 
 To come, Oh! thou God, if curses shall 
 
 Be looked for — the impostor Devil — 
 
 such 
 As kills him in a man's mortality, 
 But make him love! and make her 
 
 guilty that 
 He loves. What sound? Hark! Hark! 
 
 Oh, thou 
 Damned criminal of noise, thou creak- 
 ing, guilty 
 Evidence— they are about it— hold, 
 Thou devils, hold. 
 
 [Bursts into the Queen's presence. 
 
 Q. Mary. My lord— 
 
 Darn. Mad! not 
 
 mad. 
 I am unwell to-night. 
 
 [The Queen stoops over him while 
 the nobles stand about and regard 
 him haughtily. 
 
 [Bird- dancers re-enter, and observe 
 him, in attitudes of retreat. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. An Out Door Scene. 
 Enter Moray excitedly. 
 
 Mor. Now, I have him fairly on the 
 
 track again, 
 The words, I put in Morton's mouth, 
 
 got 
 Well home to him, and Lethington is in 
 
 Upoxt the scent. They are my instru- 
 ments, 
 And, too, I have good Ruthven out of 
 
 bed, 
 And pawing at the elements. I must go 
 Excite the other nobles, and, as fruits, 
 Best gathered in their season, so must 
 
 I pick 
 My opportunities off. 'Tis not a little 
 
24 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 Dangerous. I must as a bird— alert, 
 And keep my wings about me, and if 
 
 this 
 Last nest I set upon hatch not out— 
 Ifly- 
 
 Enter Darnley. 
 
 Darn. I find you apt and more a 
 friend 
 Than is my love. 
 
 Mor. Well now, that is 
 
 most well 
 Intended indeed; but that a man's 
 
 love is 
 So much his enemy ever, when he will 
 
 lack 
 A friend in his wife's honor. I there- 
 fore feel 
 Myself less praised than perjured after 
 
 all. 
 But what if anything is said to you? 
 Darn. Lord Lethington hath put an 
 epigram 
 Into mine ear, that seems a year in its 
 Explosion. 
 Mor. Indeed! not Lethington! 
 
 Darn. I did say 't, 
 Lethington. 
 
 Mor. He is so wise 
 
 A man. And lofty headed, honorable; 
 I tho't he would not so look down at it. 
 Darn. Too, and Morton said to me 
 with seeing Rizzio 
 Ride my palfrey (which looked the 
 
 monkey 
 At the penny show), that Italian plebe- 
 ians 
 Rode finer mares than Scottish noble- 
 men, 
 And, as he fixed his look on me, I could 
 Have fallen. You heard him say it, 
 
 too, I noted you, 
 That you something said to him. 
 Mor. I saw 
 
 by his 
 Expression what was on his mind, and 
 
 sought 
 In vain to stay 't on his lips, but out 
 It came pell-mell despite my interfer- 
 ence. 
 Darn. I observed that in your coun- 
 tenance as you something said to him; 
 it was sarcastic, too. 
 
 Mor. Indeed, it was a pious cut of 
 him. Did you seek the crown as yes- 
 terday we talked? 
 
 Darn. That she did grant straight- 
 way. Proclaimed me king from out the 
 horn, thrice at the market place. 
 
 Mm-.. Woman's a cymbal, sweet to 
 sound, but hollow, and it shall have 
 effect on you, as ever it is understood 
 that gifts will humble gratitude. But 
 
 as they say of it, where there is smoke, 
 there is fire always; and, as for my part, 
 I have never seen something come out 
 of nothing in the whole course of my 
 life. 
 
 Dam. There is something in it. 
 
 Mor. Something? my liege. 
 
 Darn. Yes, true; all too true, too, 
 and in her impregnate state. 
 
 Mor. That is the most ugly thing 
 about it all; tho' men be animals, 
 women should not their worst example 
 be. 'Tis the stronger evidence of the 
 drug. 
 
 Darn. I can not longer hold my 
 hands from out his throat. 
 
 Mor. Do not so, the way is made for 
 his departure with my whetstone. 
 
 Dam. Have you informed the Lords 
 Argyle and others? 
 
 Mor. I have not 'pon my virtuous 
 soul, not that; it is unsafe, by heaven, 
 is the truth. The devil gets so much 
 into our clothes in these days that we 
 can scarce get into them ourselves; no 
 room for honest men or honest women. 
 As goes the paradox: If dishonest 
 women were not such falsifiers, a man 
 could believe an honest woman honest; 
 and, too, and in the estimation of the 
 practicalist, that man who is continu- 
 ally humming about his own virtues and 
 crying out against the vices of others, 
 is the very man we ought to keep an 
 eye on in this world. I have not spoken 
 to Argyle, that you must do yourself. 
 
 Dam. I seek them out; when shall 
 we make descent on him? 
 
 Mor. It is not determined. 
 
 Darn. Make 't not later than tonight, 
 or thereupon I do 't myself. 
 
 Mor. Will you not taste with me? 
 
 [Offers flask, Darnley drink* 
 S( vt /■'// draughts. 
 
 Mor. [Aside.]— Drinks like any fish, 
 amphibious, lives in it. 
 
 Darn. This day she pardons Moray 
 to return, and that Moray is a black- 
 hearted, designing scoundrel. 
 
 Mor. And he is nothing better. I 
 
 know him well; he is my mother's son. 
 
 [Exit Darnley. 
 
 Mor. How cracked and broken are 
 
 his sentences, 
 With mixed conglomeration of his 
 
 tho't; 
 How sad, indeed! So wise a boy was 
 
 not 
 In all of his dominions, of and such 
 
 princely 
 Turn, with beauty so unremarkable. 
 
Act III.] 
 
 KING DAENLEY. 
 
 25 
 
 That see him, the sculptors would criti- 
 cise 
 
 Their work, and, if so set 'mong them, 
 the gods 
 
 Would fly from off their stone pedes- 
 tals. 
 
 Such curving lips and keen contest- 
 ing eyes, 
 
 Lost to their beauty, and now, God help 
 him, as 
 
 I noted it, his raven locks are growing 
 fas.tly gray. 
 
 A boy; a boy of twenty, yet, has he 
 
 Many faults withal. Proud to excess, 
 
 And overbearing; wise, knowing it, 
 and of 
 
 The turn to teach the world and not be 
 taught. 
 
 I must have him out the way; 
 
 He hating me, his will may do me harm, 
 
 And as this world is but my wits' hotel, 
 
 I keep him here — to wait upon the bell. 
 \Exit Moray. 
 
 Scene II. 
 Enter Lord Argyle and Son. 
 
 Young Argyle. The villain, as I am 
 informed, hath put a charm on her. 
 
 Arg. Ay, and what part 's assigned 
 to you, about the killing of him? 
 
 Young Argyle. Our guards, and 
 whatsoever else I harness and bring 
 forth in armour. 
 
 Arg. I see it now, you are to harness 
 other men, and by so doing make a 
 halter for yourself. 
 
 Be not rash; 'tis infirmity. 
 
 Guard slanderers as vipers, wear not 
 these about your neck neither permit 
 them into your possession, as they are 
 the enemies of all mankind you unex- 
 cepted. 
 
 Shape not your tongue to those as to 
 repeat them is to assume them, thus 
 you yourself cast off your honors to 
 creep with them into the grass, in very 
 sooth, a serpent. 
 
 Find no distinction 'twixt thieves and 
 liars; the one steals trash, the other 
 truth, and spends the confidence of 
 that that 's richest. 
 
 Engage no pilot of thyself; men are 
 to thine interests blind. They shores 
 are, rocks are, and oft a floating reef; be 
 at the wheel and not the keel; 
 
 And set thee down Argyle like in 
 good state, and watch the dogs of war 
 to be not by these watched. 
 
 Good living is a merry common- 
 
 wealth. Live well; 'tis better than to 
 die ill; 
 
 The hound that hath the hare pur- 
 sues it not, but vaults upon it where 
 pursued. 
 
 Be canny, keen and confident; 
 
 Rather take a thousand marks than 
 lose a thousand men: 
 
 First that it be humanity; secondly, 
 thus thou 'rt rich and save thy tenantry; 
 
 Seek not the past as ruling of the 
 present. 
 
 Men were and are; yet are not to be. 
 Time is a mortar; man 's a builder, and 
 out of these comes each extremity. Thy 
 grandsire's lance so mighty as thy purse, 
 equip thy purse and be thou cap-a-pie. 
 
 Honor dies with honesty (lives with 
 men). Advantage here begins— be not 
 too honorable, 'tis not the age. 
 
 Glory seek not; that glory is a giant 
 bubble, a barren mound, a snow-capped 
 tomb. 
 
 Seek not after glory, for poets die 
 of such. 
 
 Thou need'st must eat elsewhere if 
 thou then wouldst be throned. Ova- 
 tion of humanity! 
 
 Have rather gold of power the price. 
 Be not dependent, 'tis a hospital where 
 men are cured and killed; be not de- 
 pendent for when there thou 'rt subject 
 to disease of every sort, and to so sundry 
 treatment. 
 
 Measure not time, neither by time be 
 measured; 
 
 Procrastination is the thief of fools. 
 
 Be not stolen and out of bed, neither 
 in bed; if either change thy name to 
 donkey, as such must bear the pack of 
 other's pomp and be betime a scav- 
 enger. 
 
 Be not overwise, but wise sufficient; 
 the one brings wisdom, the other folly. 
 Tarry not where idlers prate, as what 
 they know adds nothing to your knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 Be wise! Live wise! and when thou 'rt 
 dead thy wisdom will defend thy char- 
 acter. 
 
 Dispute fools with nothing but thy 
 absence, and counsel with these in such 
 sort. 
 
 In people be not mistaken. Try what 
 you buy. 'tis better that than buy to 
 return. 
 
 Hear friends and flatterers, and 
 distinguish these in truth; 
 
 And be not dupe of flatterers, as 'tis 
 essential that thou should'st — be a man 
 and not a woman; neither artful be as 
 thus thou 'rt feminine; but be virtuous 
 
26 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 to be feminine, and honor women next 
 to worship. 
 
 Be not a viler of her sex and of her 
 sins, as thus thou 'rt a common villain 
 to envied be by hell that thou dost thus 
 outvie hell here on earth. 
 
 Love wrongs woman to excess to 
 prove her downfall. 
 
 Venuses may be and are, yet are only 
 when men make them such 
 
 Be not assassin of thy sister thus, 
 that she do love you. 
 
 Be temperate: that is to say be wise 
 as possible; 
 
 Be temperate with your habits that 
 would need say; be temperate with your 
 enemies; 
 
 Be temperate with your friends. Ab- 
 stain from what is intimacy, the more 
 is less the wise; 
 
 Wise concealment is a virtue. 
 
 Put confidence in yourself first, then 
 your friends; tell these nothing that 
 you'd not have told; 
 
 Find no relief revealing secret things, 
 men have ears like women for this sort; 
 go rather to the forest winds and belch 
 thee forth. 
 
 Prize another's confidence as sacred, 
 it hath sacred claim 'pon your most 
 sacred honor, rather do not have it; 
 
 Duplicity in this makes wisdom cun- 
 ning; a vessel, leaking fluid, receives 
 no wine— be not leaky then of what 
 thou hearest and purge thee to the 
 night, rather than be drunk by its wits. 
 
 Be not a drinker; that drinkers be the 
 germs of drunkards; beware that thou 
 grow not the dionaea thus to drown 
 thy love. 
 
 Be not without love; for as such thou 
 art no longer man but beast. 
 
 Be not overgreat in expectations that 
 thou may'st have greater joy in smaller 
 things, and thus be of contentment 
 blessed. 
 
 And last of all, — have character, for 
 if others have it not, they do the more 
 require of you. 
 
 Enter Moray, Caithness, Morton 
 and ot/u rs. 
 
 Mor. And he calls our nobles such 
 
 barbarians 
 As he has seen remote from anywhere, 
 
 and of 
 Our ladies scoffs at them. He showed 
 
 to me a 
 Rhyme and read it with a sneer, which 
 
 was 
 Translated out Italian thus: 
 
 " Five highest 'M's' 
 That Scotland ne'er condemns 
 
 Did at my chamber knock, 
 And stole from thence the lock. 
 
 I do 
 Not understand what he could meant 
 by that. 
 Caith. Five highest "M's"; the 
 
 Queen's name hath an " M." 
 Mor. Well now by St. Paul, not that, 
 yet God forbid, 
 
 The king do say 
 
 Mort. How! the king? 
 
 Mor. I spoke. 
 Too fast and meant not to betray an- 
 other 
 Confidence. 
 Caith. How terms the king of 
 
 this 
 Vile practice? 
 
 Mor. Says little that he thinks 
 
 and buries 
 All in tho't. 
 Argyle. [Slapping Mor. on shoulder.] 
 A novel feature in 
 The king. Say you the king suspicions, 
 And tell it so in confidence to thee? 
 Mor. My lord, I said nothing that 
 you said, but in 
 Good sooth did say all that you heard. 
 
 Kings 
 And queens gossip not with subjects. 
 
 Long live chaste Henry 
 And his chaste queen. [Aside.] Ere 
 
 Scotland's crown will press 
 My brow my blade must reek with his 
 sustenance. [Exit Mor. 
 
 Eider Lindsay and Ruthven. 
 Li r,d. How now, my lords, has ought 
 been told you of the doings, 
 Her doings? this base and papist liber- 
 tine 
 That rules the realm. Oh, if her (re- 
 ligion) will 
 Not liberate the devil yet, and set 
 Him up in Heaven thro' its indulgences. 
 I am so much a fool; when Pope, and 
 
 priests 
 May clear the conscience of adulterers 
 And murderers, no virtue can be safe 
 Out of a hiding place in all the broad 
 Expanse of this wide world. 
 Arg. Is there 
 
 ascertained 
 Proofs of her imperfections. 
 
 Young Argyle. As we hear 
 
 From every one, no reasonable doubt— 
 
 Enter Parnley. after meeting 
 
 Moray without. 
 Dam. My suspicious locked into my 
 heart and watched 
 
Act III.] 
 
 KING DAKNLEY. 
 
 27 
 
 Carefully into the night; do throw light 
 in 
 
 Mine eyes that blinds me. 
 Ruth. For God's 
 
 sake gentlemen are 
 
 We men at arms; religious 'pon our 
 knees; 
 
 Respectable into the eyes of God and 
 
 Of mankind, yet suffer to exist 
 
 This habit with our queen, that with 
 her, leading 
 
 Fashions will be next worn by 'r daugh- 
 ters and 
 
 Our wives. The shame face of this 
 world, the root 
 
 From which grows every evil up. 
 
 Enter Moray. 
 Lind. It is 
 
 Enough to bring the curses down. 
 
 Mort. We shall 
 Not longer suffer it. 
 
 Mor. Under foot 
 
 With the Italian. 
 
 Darn. Gentlemen, I am 
 
 Your sovereign, and command you, 
 
 each of you, 
 To striae with me the villain Rizzio, 
 dead. 
 Mdr. 'T would make the better 
 
 example if in her very presence 
 It were done. 
 
 Mart. If so executed, 
 
 'T would be a juster judgment upon 
 them both. 
 Ruth. Then follow me. 
 
 [Exit all but Argyle, his 
 son, and Moray. 
 Young Argyle. Shall we 
 
 not accompany them? 
 Arg. Not so 
 
 rash, I like not the business. 
 
 [Exit Argyle and Son. 
 Mor. Now all is well, and if this 
 wind blow softly on 
 With pleasing easiness but for one in- 
 stant 
 More, we shall be under sail and all 
 Aboard, except the captain and his 
 
 mate, 
 Who fall out— about the ridding of the 
 
 rat — 
 But I must to the van and lead the way, 
 For should proud Lindsay see me thus 
 
 delayed, 
 A naked heart would sheath a naked 
 blade. [Exit. 
 
 Scene III. The Queen's Chamber. 
 Queen Mary, Maids and Rizzio. 
 
 Enter Darnley. Embraces Queen 
 and kisses her. Queen returns 
 embrace. 
 
 Queen. Thanks be to God for the 
 reunion of our hearts. 
 
 Enter Ruth., clashing armor. 
 
 Queen. [To Dar.] My Lord, what 
 
 does this mean? Lord Ruthven 
 
 you 
 Too much offend to come into my pres- 
 ence 
 Armed deliberate without the leave 
 
 you should 
 Implore of me. You are not well and 
 
 make, 
 So, a mistake. We duly are informed 
 That yesterday you were upon a sick 
 
 bed, 
 And to-morrow I had planned to visit 
 
 you. 
 You frighten me: will you not suffer, 
 
 sir, 
 To go from hence. I will send a guard 
 
 As your escort 
 
 Ruth. I have my guards 
 
 about me, 
 
 [Clashing armor. 
 And, as for your fears, you may dis- 
 miss them. 
 You are as helpless and protected 's any 
 Babe into its cradle fast asleep; 
 For, if into this world there is a man 
 Who dares to touch with you, he dies 
 
 by me 
 Or I in the attempt. Yes, I was sick 
 As you say sick, sick to dying; but 
 Upon my death-bed seeming as I lay. 
 I there was well enough and strong 
 
 enough 
 To face the devil, or to thrust my rapier 
 At the heart of any rascal in 
 The realm. Fierce enough to face the 
 
 flames 
 That claim the mother and the child. 
 
 To rescue 
 Bold enough, or brave enough to die. 
 Yes, disease was in upon my veins, 
 And had so much contracted these as to 
 Impede my blood from its great course, 
 
 but even 
 There I hurled death from me as I lay 
 ( 'Pon hearing of your plight), and 
 
 begged God 
 For an hour that I might rid the world 
 Of your disease, and as God lives I 
 
 swear, 
 He dies. 
 
 Queen M. Who dies? 
 
 Ruth. Rizzio dies. 
 
 Queen M. Oh! you 
 
28 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 Are mad. What has Rizzio done? 
 [Cries without " A Douglas, a Doug- 
 lax." Clashing of arms. 
 
 Enter Morton at head of Guards, 
 accompanying Moray. Lething- 
 ton, Lind. and others. 
 Riz. Your majesty protect me. 
 
 [Queen places herself between 
 guards and Rizzio. 
 
 Queen M. Stop I say, cowards, cul- 
 prits, hold. 
 
 \_To Gentlemen. 
 
 Stand back, gentlemen, I command you, 
 back, 
 
 Or I shall brand you traitors all and 
 have 
 
 You reft of your fair titles and your 
 lands. 
 
 How dare you to set foot into this 
 chamber, and by 
 
 Whose right, authority, come you here. 
 Mart. Your highness, 
 
 By authority of your husband, Darnley. 
 Queen M. Judas! Is this the mean- 
 ing of your kiss? 
 
 Stand back I say, back each of you— 
 your conduct 
 
 Thus far I excuse, but if one step 
 farther 
 
 Any here shall take, he invokes upon 
 
 His head the vengeance of the law. You 
 dare 
 
 Not to shed blood here in my presence, 
 and there is not 
 
 A man among you, if he will so im- 
 peril 
 
 My condition. Submit this Rizzio 
 
 To trial, and if of whatsoever guilty 
 
 Found if every flower in this land 
 
 Shall peep its head and plead for 
 him, I so 
 
 Reject them all. 
 
 Ruth. My lords, this is plain 
 
 justice, 
 
 And upon our perils v we abide by, it. 
 
 [Moray stabs Rizzio bv( r 
 tin Qm i n's shoulder. 
 
 Mor. This is the blood of the kiug. 
 Look to your lady. 
 [Darn, srix>s Queen M., sht strug- 
 gles, s'woons. Alt stilt) Rizzio "ml 
 drag him from the chamber. Exit. 
 
 [Re-enter Mor.. followed !>;/ Ruth., 
 .M<>u. aims his bladi at Queen 
 M. 's tin n.tt; Ruth?" beats asidt his 
 weapon. 
 
 Ruth. Hold, dog; what villain 
 
 damned art thou. Take that. 
 
 [Stabs at him. 
 Rascal, I shall hack thee into mince. 
 | Exit Mor., Ruth, follows him stag- 
 gering. Ruth, sinks upon <i sofa 
 ami expires. 
 
 Enter Murderers. 
 
 1st M. [Points at Ruth.] There's a- 
 man. 
 
 2<1 M. The man may be awake. 
 
 1st M. Think you wide awake. 
 
 \'il M. Well no, a man is never wide- 
 awake; but like the owl sees after all. 
 Shall we do the business? 
 
 1st M. She is a pretty woman 
 
 2d M. That holds of virtue, less than 
 any a homely one — by the God, but she 
 is sweet— and innocent as I have seen 
 my child in its cradle smiling out its 
 sleep. 
 
 1st M. I wish I had not come 'bout it. 
 
 2d M. But he will kill us if we fail 
 to do 't. 
 
 1st M. Then quickly shoot and I will 
 stab. 
 
 2d M. [Points a pistol.] My nerve's 
 unsteady, shake as any knave. Put 
 yonder cloth upon her face and I can 
 do 't. 
 
 [1st M. puts doth on her 
 face, she awakes. 
 
 Queen M. Who sent you here? 
 
 2d M. Him that will us send to hell, 
 Send we not thee to heaven? 
 
 Queen M. The devil that you serve 
 has no such mission. 
 
 2d M. Not so. that he hath gi'en 't 
 to us. [Aims pistol.] 
 
 Queen M. Hold, ruffian! would you 
 a mother and an infant murder? Be- 
 gone! 
 
 2d M. That I will; that you account 
 me ruffian in my tho't; for had I not 
 tho't, I, ruffian, would have been in ac- 
 tion; but now that I do think, I'm 
 ruffian in reflection. So villain do the 
 deed and I'll be saint and pure, and 
 covet thy existence. '[Exit 2d M. 
 
 1st M. This devil, in reflection, do 
 point my thinking to get him in and 
 get me out; so get thee in that out I 
 get. [Plunges knife in sheath. Exit. 
 
 Scene IV. Scene at foot of stairway. 
 
 Mor. If they will plead with her 
 she '11 charm the hearts out o' their 
 
Act III.] 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 29 
 
 carcasses. Curse them! Do they not 
 dispatch? 
 
 [2d M. runs down stainoay ; 
 Mor. stabs him. 
 
 Enter 1st M. at Ik<i</ of stairs; 
 turns to fly. 
 
 Mor. Hold! I have killed the vil- 
 lain, that he did not execute. Go you 
 about it straight [throics him a bag of 
 gold], and his part also shall be yours. 
 1st M. 1 have no sword. 
 Mor. Then take my blade. 
 [Hands him his sword point first-; 
 murderer reaches for sword; Mor. 
 stabs him, shoots him with 2d M. 
 pistol, stabbing 1st M. knife into 
 2d M. : throws off his disguise ap- 
 pearing in garb of Lord Moray. 
 
 Scene V. The Queen's Chamber again. 
 
 Shouts without. Enter DARNLEY. 
 Morton, Lethington, Lindsay, 
 and others. 
 
 Mori. The city 's up and in a tumult 
 and if 
 We fail to satisfy the Provost we need 
 Must fight our way into escape. 
 
 Enter Provost below, and followers. 
 
 Prov. Third time 
 
 And last, and at this window I demand 
 The presence of the queen, which, if 
 
 denied, 
 I fire the castle thereupon, and in 
 The name of God and my allegiance 
 So perish all within. 
 
 Queen M. I'll speaV to him. 
 
 [Morton hurls her back. 
 Mort. Hold thy peace! If thou shalt 
 make outcry, or breathe 
 One other word above a whisper, I 
 Will stab you to the heart. 
 
 Dam. I silence him. 
 
 Provost of Edinburgh, do you not know 
 That I am king of Scotland? 
 
 Prov. Your 
 
 royal highness, 
 Upon such outcry as has widely spread 
 About the town, touching with your 
 
 safety 
 And the safety of our sovereign, 
 We here assemble to do as you com- 
 mand. 
 Darn. I command you then disperse, 
 also to 
 Report the thing that here you manifest 
 As manifestly false. 
 
 Queen M. Is this my husband 
 
 Speakiny? 
 Prov. I trust, my liege, that no 
 
 offense 
 Unpardonable "s offered you, by this 
 Our prudent action, and hope that her 
 Sweet majesty our sovereign's, repose, 
 Is not disturbed by such loud clamors 
 
 of alarm 
 As has 'roused to a man the city. We 
 
 go at your command, 
 And about the streets disperse the 
 
 gatherings. [Exit. 
 
 Leth. Well done, as 1 have 
 
 seen an ass 
 Do wonderful. [Exit Lords. 
 
 Queen M. O, God of Heaven! what 
 If anything will follow here upon. 
 Before the blow so final that shall stay 
 My life, and with it end my race from 
 
 its 
 Career. Is Bruce in Heaven, Robert 
 
 Bruce, 
 And there beholds to look upon his 
 
 daughter. 
 Last of all his lineage, ay, yet 
 Assumes no shape to come in my de- 
 fense. 
 
 Enter Maid. 
 
 Maid. Huntley and Bothwell are 
 
 in upon the court 
 Below in deadly combat with the 
 guards. 
 Queen M. Bothwell and Huntley 
 are not my friends. 
 
 Enter Both., kneels. 
 Both. Xame but 
 
 that man you would have die. 
 And I will perish him, or he will I. 
 
 [Curtain falls — curtain rises. 
 
 Enter Huntley. 
 Hunt. 'Pon hearing that a dove was 
 
 so assailed 
 By vicious vultures here, we made our 
 
 way 
 Through yonder guard and to the res- 
 cue. And I assure you that there 
 Is not a passion in the Huntley's heart 
 That would not spurn at him if he will 
 
 fail 
 To stay the foremost man of them; and, 
 
 if in 
 This laud, stands up a coward I put not 
 
 down 
 At your command, then call me brag 
 
 and not 
 Till then. [Huntley kneels. 
 
 Queen M. Brave noblemen; but, are 
 
 your forces here? 
 Both. Unfortunate our visit is un- 
 
 martialed. 
 
30 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 Our followers so far remote as Aber- 
 deen, 
 But our horses stand upon the street 
 Impatient and in readiness, 
 
 [ Takes a ropt from about his waist. 
 
 And with 
 This rope to yonder shutter fast, we let 
 You safely down. 
 
 Queen M. But the guards? 
 
 Botli. and Hunt. The 
 
 guards? 
 Queen M. Will stay us. 
 Hunt, and Both. Stay us? 
 
 Both. Huntley. 
 Hunt. Bothwell. 
 
 Both. Fear not, we go below. Their 
 main forces we have passed 'pon enter- 
 ing. They are not a hundred, and 
 there's not a dozen Douglasses among 
 them. They are mostly clustered at 
 the doors and others are about the 
 premises, and such of them as we fall 
 in with we will be upon them, and re- 
 ceive you. 
 
 Queen M. You are as lions, and un- 
 taught by men. 
 Yet lions ever so beset by odious odds, 
 Have fallen 'neath their enemies re- 
 joice. 
 Hunt. And so my father fell and 
 
 my brothers fell. 
 Queen J f. Huntley; oh, 
 
 my injured nobleman 
 And, thou brave Bothwell too, trans- 
 ported by 
 My hands. Where has my heart been 
 
 all these years? 
 From men who suffered ruin and dis- 
 honor's 
 Darts, to kneel to me when most 1 
 
 needed 
 Friends. 
 Both. We blame not innocence, but 
 know 
 The source from which proceeds of- 
 fense. Fear you 
 Descent? 
 
 Queen M. My valiant lord, I nothing 
 fear, 
 But know it is unpopular. There is 
 One prudent course. To the highlands 
 
 go, raise your clans, return 
 With them and I will make you men of 
 men. 
 
 Enter Darnley. 
 
 Dam. What does this intrusion 
 mean? 
 
 Both, The righting of the one begun 
 by you, my lord, which imperils not 
 alone your person, but the life and 
 liberty of her high majesty, our sover- 
 
 eign, and there is not of marriage sir,, 
 a sacred office, which is not intruded 
 by your action; neither a civil one of 
 courtesy that has not been walked upon 
 by every rascal that rebelled with you. 
 They are so many beasts and out of 
 latitude, so many rogues and about the 
 making of the law; so many Jacobs 
 and for your birth-right, they'll give to 
 you a mess of pottage, and as your 
 birth-right sir, is not the crown of 
 Scotland, but your life only, they so 
 must execute; they are a hoard of hell 
 hounds bent 'pon murder and rapine; 
 abandon them; look to your wife, her 
 safety, and your own, for if their con- 
 duct here be taken in account, there is 
 not a man in all of them. 
 
 Darn. Whom shall I say 't their ac- 
 cuser be? 
 
 Both. Tell them Lord Bothwell told 
 it thee. 
 
 [Exit Bothwell and Huntley. 
 
 [Queen M. looking Darxley out of 
 countenance^ meantime enter Mor- 
 ton and conspirators. 
 Mort. We shall abduct her; she must 
 be in a dungeon locked, close 
 guarded, 
 Carried bodily to Leith and there im- 
 mured. 
 Lindsay. The course 
 
 Is perilous, danger lurks in every 
 Avenue. The every street 's a sea 
 Of human life. 
 
 Mort. [To his captain.'] Go you about 
 the town, 
 Seek out the safest route by which we 
 
 may 
 Escape; have horse in readiness and be 
 Anon prepared. 
 
 Capt. I will, my lord. 
 
 [Exit captain. 
 Mort. Meantime 
 
 Gentlemen, let's to the council hall 
 For with this project we shall stand or 
 fall. 
 
 [Exeun t Conspirators. 
 
 [Exit Darnley. 
 
 Queen M. [Following DAkNLE? with 
 
 her eyes.] O, would that thou 
 
 wer't even so a man; 
 
 As thou ait cowardly, but so brave, as 
 
 fierce 
 As false and as thou 'rt very false, but 
 
 half 
 That honorable, heroic and entire, 
 So thou art a man, ay, too, and of 
 Thy beauty but forsaken as even thou 
 Art fair. That venomous things do not 
 deceive 
 
Act III.] 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 31 
 
 The sight, but out their hideous shapes 
 
 look but 
 The thing they are. I would that 
 
 Moray's lord 
 Were here again. Him whom I hated 
 
 that 
 He cursed you; him, who, at our mar- 
 riage raised, 
 Insurrection up against you. 
 
 [Moray enters. 
 Mor. They say: speak o' 
 
 the devil, he '11 appear. 
 Queen M. My lord— 
 
 my brother. 
 
 They embrace, Moray kneels, (and 
 history soys of it, he cries). 
 Mor. I, from my kindred sent 
 
 Have spent these days in dreary soli- 
 tude, 
 
 This world's most wide expanse, so 
 aired by its 
 
 Ineffable surroundings, was to me still 
 
 A dungeon place. Its vapors con- 
 stantly 
 
 Upon me; yet with weeping and with 
 praying 
 
 I was ever with you; but now to know 
 
 Of it,-— this lamentable, this heavy ac- 
 tion, 
 
 This criminal, rebellious and revolting 
 
 Crime here perpetrated, and by your 
 husband 
 
 Boy set on, 'pon hearing, that I thought 
 
 My heart would split, as any thun- 
 der-bolt 
 
 And fly at him. 
 Queen M. For his conduct thus far 
 put to no excuse, 
 
 He is the more in danger, meantime, 
 
 And as I swear by Heaven, to vest in 
 you 
 
 The powers you once enjoyed, I do 
 beseech 
 
 Of you to place some manner of restraint 
 
 Upon these outlaws that accompany 
 with 
 
 My lord. 
 Mor. But there 's, your highness, 
 where my fears 
 
 Arise; they'll not obey me, I, at 
 
 This time am but an outlaw, stripped 
 of all 
 
 Authority. 
 
 Queen M. God knows, too well, all 
 things 
 
 I do will turn but to my shame. Oh, 
 had 
 
 I for you sent an hour but sooner, this 
 
 Could not so have happened. 
 Mor. Your majesty. 
 
 An hour's delay, has turned upon the 
 heads 
 
 Of men their hair to gray. I go— for 
 
 you, 
 To do if aught is in my power to do. 
 [Exit Moray. 
 
 Enter St want hastily. 
 
 Ser. God be merciful, madam, the 
 murderers hold conference in yonder 
 chamber. I overheard; you and your 
 household they plan to carry bodily 
 into captivity. 
 
 Enter Darnley and kneels before 
 the Queen. 
 
 Darn. My heart might break as now 
 I see my fault. 
 This is a damned intrigue for both our 
 
 lives; 
 Each word I speak is loudest hissed by 
 
 men 
 Who yesterday proclaimed me king. 
 
 Queen M. Then seek 
 Some certain means of our escape. 
 
 [Exit Darnley. 
 
 Re-enter Morton and captain. 
 
 Mort. Are horse 
 In readiness? 
 Capt. They are, my lord, and 
 
 hitched 
 About the portico. 
 
 Mort. How 's the watch? 
 
 Are any humans moving? 
 
 Capt. My lord, the 
 
 city 's 
 Hushed; our guards repose upon their 
 
 arms 
 And sentries tread stealthy to and fro. 
 Mort. Go once more about the prem- 
 ises. If all 
 Is well arouse the guard; we seize 
 The household and escape. 
 
 [Queen M. overhears the 
 conversation. 
 [Exit Morton and captain. 
 
 Enter Darnley, fingers upon 
 his /ij'S. 
 
 Darn. The guard 's asleep 
 Their horses stand about the gate- 
 quietly — 
 Each follow me. 
 
 [All exit. A moment interval. 
 Shouting without, sounds of 
 horses' hoofs galloping away. 
 
 Enter Moray and lords upofi the 
 stage in great confusion. 
 
 [Curtain. 
 
32 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 Scene VI. Outside a Cabin near Edin- 
 burgh. Present, Queen Mary, Darn- 
 ley, Arthur Erskine and the queen's 
 maids. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Servant. We must make from this 
 place, the rebel force 
 From Edinburgh high in pursuit of us, 
 Who, by a cause unknown to me passed 
 
 by 
 Us on the left, have yonder there with 
 
 banished 
 Foes from England here returning, met, 
 Joined confederacy, and as an Alpine 
 Avalanche, descend upon us. 
 
 Darn. Our horses 
 
 Graze between us and the foe. 
 
 Queen M. Oh, have 
 
 We as some poor, weak, wounded prey, 
 
 fled from 
 The dogs, but to the fiercer enemy. 
 Darn. We can not now hope to 
 
 escape. 
 Ar. Erskine. With 
 Your Majesty's most fair consent, we 
 
 first 
 Are to be shot at; we collect about 
 You here, and, in God's name, defend 
 
 you to 
 The last. 
 
 Queen M. Erskine brave, if nature had 
 But made you up in body as in spirit, 
 We then might be defended by ycu 
 
 well; 
 But that God man made, and made 
 
 man not so great 's 
 To cope with hica— kneel to God and 
 
 let 
 It be as God requires. 
 
 \_T/i< y kind. Shouting without. 
 Knter Servant. 
 Serv. Thanks be to fortune saved. 
 Queen 31. Saved? 
 
 Serv. Huntley and Bothwell 
 
 Ten thousand spears surge down the 
 
 valley before you. 
 The rebel foe are scattered in retreat, 
 And like cbaff before the wind are car- 
 ried with 
 Their fear. 
 
 [The curtain falls; cheering and 
 rushing of In uses is heard with- 
 out, and the curtain rises "-it// 
 Huntley and Bothwell on their 
 knees before the queen. Moray; 
 enters and also kneels before the 
 queen. Huntley and Bothwell 
 rist and regard "Moray in atti- 
 tudes of defiance. 
 
 Moray. From Edinburgh I am come 
 To kneel here at your mercy. Your 
 
 pardon sent me, 
 Reached me out in England where I lay, 
 Which pardon, same, pro vised to rein- 
 state 
 In favor and in former power your 
 
 most 
 Unworthy brother, I. And this was 
 
 generous 
 Uncalled for, too; for had you said it, I 
 Had come a suppliant, 'pon hearing of 
 The dangers that surrounded you. For 
 
 when 
 Edinburgh I reached in safety 
 Twas there that awful sounds of mur- 
 der filled 
 My soul; those of revolt most terrible, 
 An insurrection, aimed, and as I am 
 Informed, to snatch your crown, which 
 
 threatened 
 You both and your capital, and nigh 
 You lost your life by it. Led, as the 
 
 rebels 
 Misinform me, by your own husband, 
 Darnley. 
 
 [The queen gives Darnley 
 a witht ring look. 
 
 There you promised me, for my assist- 
 ance, 
 (Which I rendered faithfully) 
 
 henceforth, 
 And ever, to protect me. If of the 
 
 mind 
 You still are, let it be, if not proclaim 
 My penalty. 
 
 Queen M. Gentlemen, my brother, 
 Speaks but what is true. His pardon, I 
 Have granted it, and what thereto was 
 
 promised, I 
 Maintain. Rise Earl Moray. 
 
 I foray. So— but let 
 
 It still be further understood, the cause 
 Of my rebellion. To England I 
 Was banished for offense most grevious 
 For 1 did raise an army up against you, 
 Fearing, as I did, your marriage 
 With our cousin. I thus resorted to 
 A strategy, your marriage to prevent, 
 No more. The all of which I now 
 
 confess, 
 Was in me foolish if not wrong; but I 
 Did see, or thought I saw in him, 'mong 
 His better qualities, ambitious look, 
 Intemperance and irreverence, and 
 
 such like 
 Faults, and fearing he might 'tempt to 
 
 gain' 
 Your crown by some improper meth- 
 ods, 1 
 So did act and so confess. 
 
Act HI.] 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 33 
 
 Queen M. My brother, 
 
 You are wise. Lord Darnley speak, 
 
 fori 
 Have thought it; that you did seek, 
 
 and villains did 
 Employ, to murder me, that you your- 
 self 
 Might reign; if this be false, why — your 
 
 conduct, 
 Sir, explain. 
 Darn. God knows of it, the 
 
 charge, I'm innocent. 
 Queen M. What led 
 
 you then to this 
 Extreme? Why did you murder Rizzio? 
 What 's your plea? 
 
 Darn. I'm sworn to 
 
 silence; and 
 I must not say. 
 
 Queen M. [In tears.] Then I should 
 hang you, but 
 I send you free, go — as your penalty 
 Ne'er show your face again to me. 
 
 (Exit Darnley. 
 
 Men are 
 
 Rewarded for their deeds achieved, as, 
 
 for 
 Their crimes, reverses come to them. 
 
 . Thank God 
 An apex in my reign has come where, by 
 The spite of rivalry, Scot's noblest sons 
 No longer suffer. Lord Huntley hence- 
 forth [Huntley kneels. 
 Bearer of my sword of state. Lord 
 Bothwell — [Both, kneels. 
 General of my army. 
 
 [Moray kneels also. 
 Hunt. God aid me to 
 
 Do right 's my prayer. 
 
 Mor. And aid me 
 
 that I right 
 Much wrong, pray I. 
 Both. My heart too full 
 
 for utterance is, 
 Silent with' my breast; but one thing on 
 
 it 
 Well depend, while serving you no 
 
 friend 
 Shall from you go, and harmed by me; 
 
 no foe, 
 Shall leave me to depart. 
 Mor. Amen. 
 
 Queen M. God bless 
 
 You each, and I am happy in confer- 
 ment 
 Of lofty offices 'pon honest men. 
 One only thing disturbs my present 
 
 peace; 
 Long has existed here between you 
 
 peers 
 A hate in each and for the other felt, 
 3 
 
 For at sight one of the other you seem 
 shocked; 
 
 And anger's clouds crowd deep upon 
 the brow; 
 
 Looks sharply flash and point at others' 
 hearts — 
 
 God bless you, brave and good and 
 valiant men; 
 
 But 'gainst resentment, I beseech you, 
 war, 
 
 Once conquered, 'tis a victory achieved, 
 
 Lord Bothwell, take my brother's hand. 
 Both. Ten years 
 
 Are past since Huntley fell. Aristides, 
 
 Truth speaker, the warrior, the gentle- 
 man, 
 
 The acknowledged great where great 
 men sat, 
 
 Statesman noble, father kind, and hus- 
 band 
 
 Gentle; of vice the foe, and virtue's 
 friend, 
 
 And of his seven stalwart sons, this 
 stately 
 
 Youth alone remains, wiped out by 
 treachery 
 
 In one fell stroke, and at the hands of 
 traitors 
 
 Fell. Yet intriguing stopped not here. 
 
 I, too, was implicated with Aaron 
 
 And Lord Huntley mixed into one 
 strange 
 
 And mythical offense, I to Aaron went 
 
 And with great Aaron I surrendered; 
 
 And still with Aaron I was hurled 
 behind 
 
 The dungeon walls; we, innocent, had 
 naught 
 
 To fear, but there, 'pon hearing of our 
 father's 
 
 And our brothers' massacre, (we being 
 
 Married to Lord Huntley's daughters 
 each), 
 
 And learning, too, our 'states were con- 
 fiscate, 
 
 And lastly, and 'pon hearing that our 
 food 
 
 Was poisoned, Lord Aaron sank upon 
 the floor 
 
 Then rose a raving madman, up; and I 
 
 Stole o'er those wasting walls to wan- 
 der in 
 
 A foreign land. Who was the base in- 
 triguer? 
 
 You only, you — and for these things 
 you are 
 
 Responsible. I obey your majesty's 
 
 Command. I will do you sir, no harm. 
 
 [Seizes Moray's hand fiercely 
 and throws it from him. 
 
34 
 
 KING DARNLEY 
 
 | Act IV. 
 
 Queen M. [In tears.} Huntley. 
 
 Hunt. [Staggering about the stage in 
 
 mi suppressed agony.] Time 
 
 past me now returns again, and I 
 
 Am in my father's courtyard where I 
 
 stood 
 Upon that fatal morning; six brothers 
 
 are 
 About me here, with whom in child- 
 hood I have played. 
 Our army 's dispersed; we have sur- 
 rendered, 
 And each we are in conversation held, 
 By southern lords, good fellowship pre- 
 vails. 
 All are convivial. Lord Moray holds 
 My brother Gordon's hand, and, high 
 
 in jest, 
 Convulses him with story and good 
 
 humors. 
 Here orders Moray gave, our hands be 
 
 bound— 
 A form, he says, required. We, 
 Prisoners of war, go south, there to 
 Be liberated— we submit. Our father 
 Scarce the while was missed, we think- 
 ing him 
 At liberty, when suddenly he ghastly 
 And in death, was carried in, and 
 
 there 
 Whilst horror filled our souls, and as if 
 Unwilted by the sight, Lord Moray 
 
 shouted 
 To the guard to seize us. Our friends 
 
 were foes, 
 And we were forced high up upon the 
 scaffold, 
 
 With ropes about our necks; again I 
 
 heard 
 Lord Moray's loud ■ commands, there 
 
 followed by 
 Our brothers 1 loyal shouts, an instant 
 
 more 
 And five brave men were strangled in 
 
 mid-air. 
 My trap had failed, and as I thought the 
 
 God 
 Had willed it so that I one day might be 
 Avenged, and as I gazed into the 
 
 courtyard 
 Down, my misted eyes did dimly look 
 Upon Lord Gordon, eldest of us all, 
 The fierce, the foremost and the brave, 
 
 lie prostrate 
 'Pon a scaffold, the headman's axe 
 
 above 
 Him towering there; then 'pon the 
 
 balcony, 
 So cheerily appeared mv mother, with 
 Our sovereign, — Lord Moray there ac- 
 companied. 
 The headman's axe upon my brother's 
 
 neck 
 Descended — mother fell — I saw no 
 
 more. 
 Queen M. Huntley! Huntley! for- 
 give; brave, injured Huntley! 
 Both. Huntley! 
 Hunt. Oh, awful moment 
 
 greater than 
 My soul. I will do you, sir, no harm. 
 [Kneeling before the queen and ex- 
 tending his hand behind him to 
 Moray, who seizes it abruptly. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. A Court. 
 
 Moray upon stage di&guisedas Hep- 
 burn. In the baclcground Lord 
 Bothwell upon his knees before 
 the quet n. 
 
 Mor. They say of him that he be- 
 lieves in dreams; 
 Superstitious, as it seems; I must 
 Prevail on him through medium of his 
 
 dreams. 
 Her eyes do put to sleep vitality, 
 And dreams the brain to infant want, 
 a charm, 
 
 A trance, that weakens lust itself and 
 
 leaves 
 Scot's fiercest son, Lord Bothwell, 
 
 here 
 To nightly stare the moon from coun- 
 tenance, 
 Gods that draw loyalty from very earth, 
 And melt stone in submission; if they 
 Be Heaven's zeal, Heaven assume 
 
 them. 
 For, thus presumptuous do I aim, to see 
 Their limpen powers on my Lord Both- 
 well now 
 Begun, at no green o't or colic stage, 
 And there to him unseal and read, and 
 if ripe 
 
Act IV. J 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 35 
 
 He be to rottenness to hunk him out, 
 And out of his nobility. That done, 
 And done in good assurance, by feed- 
 ing first 
 His soul's ambitions wi' crowns and 
 
 such 
 Like dainty things, I'll fill him with 
 
 such hope, 
 For she and hate for Darnley, as do 
 
 between 
 They three, break in the board of sound 
 
 and bring 
 Them stringless, tuneless to the ground. 
 [Exit Moray. 
 [The queen hands Both well a 
 parchment, he presses it to his 
 heart, kisses her hand, rises, re- 
 tires, kneels again, kisses his 
 blade. Exit. 
 
 Scene II. A Front Apartment. 
 
 Bothwell enters reading parch- 
 ment. 
 
 Both. Blind — blind — not as a man 
 
 who views 
 Not partially, nor at all, but in that 
 
 sort, 
 That sees well with my eyes, yet noth- 
 ing that 
 I look upon distinctly. Fables — 
 
 castles — 
 Castles. Read with my sight and rear 
 
 these with 
 My sense. Ah, what an anchor there 
 
 is to be found 
 In hope, when hope has love to anchor 
 
 on. 
 The massive iron suspended down by 
 
 chain, 
 Grips to the rock, and holds the great 
 
 ship of 
 A man's condition— nay, but my duty, 
 I must do my duty, and he that does 
 
 that well, 
 No more — has then done all a man 
 
 should do. 
 Why should I fear— what fear? Yet in 
 
 my dreams 
 Strange things appear that would ap- 
 praise me of 
 A pending danger. For as I sleep, a 
 
 serpent 
 Seems about me wont to coil, and as 
 My fancy would have him take shape 
 
 with rattles; 
 A kind I've seen in warmer climate, 
 Hideous ugly, and its fang reported 
 More than others to be fatal. I 
 
 Must be wary — wary, lest some intrigu- 
 ing villain, 
 
 Or as fate may have 't, some unlicensed 
 act by me, 
 
 Committed, cause me to perish — among 
 my servants 
 
 There has lately come a man; one of 
 
 Precious wit and scholarship called 
 Hepburn, 
 
 That being too, my family name, Hep- 
 burn. 
 
 Smart — smart fellow too he is; quick 
 
 Of understanding, and of motion, 
 
 Tends well to business. I suspicion 
 him, 
 
 Ralph Hepburn. 
 Moray. Here my noble lord. 
 
 Both. Come forth. 
 
 Enter Moray. 
 
 His hands are soft, and though he 
 
 makes no showing 
 Of feigned manners or of speech, yet 
 
 there 's about 
 Him that, that looks— esteems the gen- 
 tleman. 
 Who are you? from whence came you? 
 
 and why here? 
 Moray. My lord, I am 
 
 the thing I am, which is 
 A goodly reputation in a man. 
 I am not honest, but have done no 
 
 crime, 
 As veri'bly I do believe, my noble lord, 
 No man's strict honest if he will not 
 
 gain 
 By it, if by equivocations he 
 May win; yet liars I despise, and bring 
 Heaven down to witness — a liar, that I 
 
 am 
 Not, nor have ever been; for as it is 
 With him, that tells a falsehood, he 
 
 must cover 't, 
 Watch over it, and if found out in it, 
 You would not then, believe truth if 
 
 told by him. 
 The simple story that my life affords 
 Is this: Born of humble parentage, 
 Prone wiser to become, I left my early 
 Home, a shepard's habit, if it please 
 You sir, upon the hills of Abei'deen. 
 My father to Lord Ochiltree was most 
 Familiar known— he called at intervals. 
 My mother being beautiful, his grace 
 Was pleased to chat with her, the while 
 
 to dance 
 Me on his knee; but now a strange 
 
 cognizance 
 Here comes in, and, though you shall 
 
 deny me. 
 And think of it as fable, superstitious 
 And light laughing matter, yet its ex- 
 istence 
 
36 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act TV. 
 
 I esteem, as women prize their virtue. 
 'Tis this, my lord, if you will pardon 
 
 me, 
 And thus with me it first began upon: 
 A strange, prophetic dream. One night 
 
 as on 
 My cot I lay, the vision came - a horse, 
 A horse in high career and mostly 
 Unconstrained by one a squire that 
 
 rode 
 On it, ran past me in a street — a street, 
 I knew it well and often had been on it, 
 It being close where sheep were mark 
 
 eted. 
 The beast, a maddened beast, foaming 
 
 and fast flying— 
 Furious, and as it would appear, 
 Sighting ahead, to it some new strange 
 
 obstacle 
 That newly frightened it, swung swiftly 
 
 round; 
 And threw its rider heavily upon the 
 
 pavement, 
 And at the instant, and even as he came 
 In contact with the earth, I felt the 
 
 shock. 
 Intense the pain, and that in my side 
 My bones wex-e broken. Here I awoke 
 
 and thought 
 It all a dream, although so much im 
 
 pressed 
 With it, with thinking it reality, 
 That first I felt my hand about my side 
 And breast, then smiling at my weak- 
 ness, fell 
 To sleep again. Day came, it being 
 
 market 
 Day, with dogs and flocks I to the town 
 Resorted, little thinking of my strange 
 Predestiny; but suddenly, and as 
 We bore upon the spot where, in the 
 
 dream, 
 The night before I stood, behold a steed 
 In frightful and most strained exertion, 
 Foaming like a torrent, and rode as I 
 Had seen him rode, raced in the street 
 
 and up 
 The town where I had seen them' go. 
 
 The horse 
 The same, the man as even he did look, 
 Whiskers sandy, pallor of countenance, 
 With eyes outstarting from their sock- 
 ets; all 
 Was very likeness even to panting of 
 The steed that running, reeled and 
 
 dashed his rider 
 To the pavement — Men went to him, 
 
 and one, 
 A doctor, coming up, pronounced him 
 
 " bruised." 
 I peering on exclaimed, "his ribs are 
 
 broken." 
 
 'Vestigation thereupon was made, 
 
 And what I said was found to be ac- 
 cordingly, 
 
 Though 't passed lightly 'pon the minds 
 of all, 
 
 As men are apt to think, " a boy has 
 spoken," 
 
 And if what he says have meaning 'twas 
 strangely 
 
 Guessed about. Since have I wandered, 
 sir, from place 
 
 To place (as like in the dark, or blind of 
 sight, 
 
 The best of men go stumbling on), yet 
 guided 
 
 By this strange and unseen hand. Last 
 night, 
 
 Or in this early morn, a lion stood 
 
 Before me, an angry lion vehement in 
 
 His rage, and I most" frightfully un- 
 armed, 
 
 Was at his mercy. Here am I so and do 
 
 Your will on me, and if you will devour 
 
 This carcass, you can but liberate the 
 soul 
 
 Imprisoned here. 
 
 Both. Go— return if I 
 
 Will call for you. 
 
 [ Exit Moray. 
 It is strange — 
 strange— very strange. 
 
 If it is true. [Exit Bothwell. 
 
 Re-enter Moray. 
 
 Mor. Ah! imperfect skull 
 
 Of any infant. I have touched the spot 
 
 Where he is tender. How much the 
 sculp turer 
 
 Is every man ; each chisels out his shape; 
 
 Yet where is to be found the seam- 
 less block 
 
 Or perfect workmanship? He now es- 
 teems me. 
 
 In his immoderate — superstitious soul. 
 
 He dreams, as all have dreams, and I 
 have dreamed — 
 
 Nay, but 'tis said of him, he frightens 
 men. 
 
 Things happen as he prophesies; 't may 
 be 
 
 The devil 's with him not with me. 
 He comes. | Exit Moray. 
 
 Re-enter Bothwell. 
 Both. Such things have 
 
 been, 'tis true, aud that which is. 
 Is what has been, and what has been is 
 
 what 
 Is still to be. 'Twas rio uncommon 
 
 thing ' 
 'Mong the ancients, 'tis not improbable 
 To-day. Indeed, myself I have been 
 
 guided 
 
Act IV. J 
 
 KING DAEXLEY. 
 
 37 
 
 But imperfectly by it, and now 
 
 That weighty matters I have here, who 
 
 knows 
 But this fair medium in a man is sent 
 As my interpreter. T is ordained 
 Of me, by all my tribe, that I shall yet 
 Hold sway and vast responsibility 
 Imbibe. .Ralph Hepburn, come forth! 
 
 Re-enter Moray. 
 
 Within this fortnight 
 Prophesy the coming of some strange 
 Unheard event, and tell it me. 
 
 Mor. It shall 
 
 be done. 
 [Moray awe-stricken, retires. Both- 
 well follows him in triumph. 
 Curtain. 
 
 Scene III. Camp in the Highlands. 
 
 Discovered, Earl Huntley, Lords 
 Earley, Lindsay and others. 
 
 Lord Earley. All hail! hail to the 
 prince, the babe we make 
 This pilgrimage to see, the infant born 
 To Mary Stuart that one day will be 
 
 James, 
 Of Scotland, Sixth. All hail ! 
 
 Lord Lindsay. A fair 
 
 Child by my truth if like the father or 
 The mother it will look. 
 
 L. Ear. Good, my lord, 
 
 And may 't have its mother's virtues, 
 
 and 
 Its fathers failings — none of them. 
 
 L. Lind. Well, 
 
 Now by the fault, but that is wishing 
 
 well. 
 Ha! ha! For that would make a man 
 of him. 
 Earl Huntley. Gentlemen, hail! hail 
 to mother queen 
 And future sovereign; and if the God 
 Send down a thunderbolt to punish 
 
 crime, 
 May it descend on him, that would have 
 
 end, 
 The reign of Stuart. 
 Lord*. Huntley, Hunt- 
 
 ley, hail! All hail! 
 Lord Ear. And by St. 
 
 Paul, our coming will 
 Be sweet surprise to them. Xot even 
 
 Bothwell 
 Knows — knows he, my lord. 
 E. Hunt. By all 
 
 means, not. 
 To him no inkling 's gone from me 
 but to 
 
 The contrary; and, gentlemen, may God 
 Excuse my very action, for I 
 Did hint when last I wrote to him that I 
 Was elsewhere going at this time. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Servant. A squire 
 
 That rode this way was thrown from off 
 
 his horse. 
 We find him dazed and holding by the 
 
 bridle 
 Rein, desirous that we bring him in 
 To you. 
 E.Hunt. Do so. [Exit Servant. 
 
 It is a badly omen, 
 Gentlemen. 
 
 L. Ear. I did not know you so 
 Believed in omenry, my lord. 
 
 E. Hunt. Since one 
 
 Thing that has happened, I have be- 
 lieved 
 In anything. [Moray brought in. 
 
 Mor. [Incoherently.] All hail! — 
 
 my bones are broken- 
 Half a dozen. Gentlemen, I greet you, 
 My head and heart and all of me, 
 
 oh! oh! 
 Gentlemen, go you to Fife? I know 
 A doctor, skilled in surgery, I need. 
 E. Hunt. We go to Edinburgh and 
 shall convey 
 You there. 
 
 Mor. You go to Holy rood? 
 
 E. Hunt. Why ask 
 
 you that? 
 Mor. They are aware, sir, 
 
 of your coming. 
 E. Hunt. This cannot be, 
 
 our visit, sir, is secret. 
 Who told you this? 
 Mor. Told — what — say you? 
 
 E. Hunt. Did you 
 
 Not say but now 
 
 Mor. I know not what 
 
 I said. 
 [Aside.] Thus will I dream the thing I 
 
 see. I'll to 
 Lord Bothwell and this prophesy. 
 Gentlemen, grant me leave 
 That I may go apart— and good my 
 
 lords 
 
 [Stares at them and gives « maniac 
 yell. Exit running. 
 E. Hunt. Make after him. 
 L. Ear. He is al- 
 
 ready mounted. 
 L. Lind. [Laughing.] He rides toward 
 
 the highlands. 
 L. Ear. [Laughing.] See— see how 
 now 
 He goes, whips his steed and rides with 
 
 heels 
 Above his head. 
 
38 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 L.Lind. [Laughing.'] Why, the mad- 
 cap doffs his hat 
 And strikes with clenched hands at the 
 atmosphere. [All laugh. 
 
 E.Hunt. [Thoughtfully^ He is the 
 maddest madman I have seen. 
 
 Scene IV. A Room in Holyrood Palace. 
 Enter Bothwell. 
 
 Both. Sincere; no doubt of it, high 
 
 gest'ulates 
 And most excited rails and vessels that 
 Minutely carry blood, rise rushing tor- 
 rents 
 In his countenance. These are signs 
 
 he 's inspired. 
 Intensely and in earnest with what he 
 
 knows 
 Is truth or fanaticism broods upon, 
 Such looks, they are, who counterfeit; 
 
 but in 
 An honest man they are the evidence. 
 He says his vision sees approach of men, 
 Describes minutely each, a group of 
 
 highland 
 Nobles known to me, among whom is 
 My brother by my marriage to his sister, 
 The valiant Huntley; now Huntley 's 
 
 gone 
 In expedition east, and if another 
 Look not as Lord Huntley looks, the 
 
 villain 
 Lies to me, and if a lie I And 
 It told by him he shall be watched, his 
 
 freedom 
 Such as mouse enjoys as captive of 
 Its enemy. For as it is with tellers 
 Of untruths, that man that so offends 
 The ear with strange uncredibility 
 Lies innocently— pity him; 
 But if falsehood will be found and with 
 
 design 
 Accompanied, beware — for such men 
 
 are 
 As serpents, that shed .their coats and 
 
 have 
 About them coils. [Enter servant. 
 
 Servant. A gentleman and 
 
 escort 
 That await without-, implore your leis- 
 ure. 
 Both. The name. 
 Serv. A friend; I am 
 
 no further sir, 
 Instructed. 
 
 | ('In , ring without. 
 
 Enter Huntley and escort. 
 E. Hunt. Hail! gentlemen, hail! hail 
 
 To Bothwell — General — Lion at Arms — 
 Lord Warden 
 
 Of the Marches; and I assure you as 
 
 I am a man that should the Bengal 
 tiger break 
 
 From bondage loose he shall not pass 
 him. 
 L. Lind. Good, 
 
 My lord, and should the English uni- 
 corn 
 
 Come seething down whilst with the 
 tiger you're 
 
 Engaged, call Huntley in, and Scotland 
 may 
 
 Enjoy a double victory. 
 E. Hunt. Why noble 
 
 Friend, so much astonished? Our com- 
 ing 
 
 Does not please you so I fear. 
 Both. In that 
 
 You are mistaken, sir, your presence is 
 
 Most heartily revered. Brave Hunt- 
 ley, here 's 
 
 My hands; and Lindsay, too, came out. 
 Earley, 
 
 I am pleased; gentlemen, delighted 
 
 With you all; believe me, I am happy. 
 E. Hunt. Now, and if you will but 
 think of this 
 
 A call no more, we would behold the 
 prince, 
 
 And later on enjoy you. 
 Both. If 't were your 
 
 sweethearts 
 
 You would see I should contend my 
 equal 
 
 Right to hold you here; but as the" 
 prince 
 
 Our future sovereign you 'd look upon, 
 
 I must excuse you gentlemen, and hope 
 
 Your hasty going will prove a like re- 
 turn, 
 
 While here, one thing only I shall re- 
 quire 
 
 Of each: You lodge with me, and dine 
 with me, 
 
 And nowhere else, if not as guests. 
 All Lords. Hail! 
 
 Hail! a highland welcome; hail to Both- 
 well. 
 
 [Exeunt all except Bothwell. 
 Both, strikes a bell and a ser- 
 vant ' nters. 
 Both. Send Hepburn here. Make 
 haste. [Exit servo n t. 
 
 The hour 's at twelve. 
 Since day I've had a guard on him; im- 
 mured . 
 Him under ground, and if he will lack 
 In premises, or differ with the time, 
 There still is grounds to habit with a 
 doubt, 
 
Act IV.] 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 And yet how strange is all, how very, 
 Very strange. For, as I noted, Hunt- 
 ley's 
 Garment here 'tis torn, as by a twig— 
 The shred of it he spoke, and graphic he 
 Described, as down it hung. 
 
 Enter Moray. 
 were you, even now? 
 
 Where 
 
 Mor. Into the cellar, 
 
 sir^ engaged. 
 Both. When went 
 
 You there? 
 
 Mor. At day. 
 
 Both. You have been 
 
 about 
 The premises since day. 
 
 Mor. Your valet is 
 
 My witness sir I have been there since 
 day. 
 Both. Who else has seen you there 
 That they 
 May testify? 
 Mor. One a common ser- 
 
 vant. 
 Both. His name. 
 
 Mor. MacDonald. 
 
 Both. MacDonald's anything 
 That is not commendable in a man 
 And nothing that can be respected. 
 Mor. Ay my lord. 
 Both. MacDonald, 
 
 was he with you? 
 Mor. MacDonald was 
 
 about the premises — 
 [Aside.] To give me information. 
 
 Both. The talk 
 
 You had with him? What conversa- 
 tion held? 
 Mor. Your valet is my wit- 
 
 ness sir, I did 
 Not speak to him. 
 
 Both. When am I to expect 
 
 The men foretokened in your dream? 
 
 Mor. The men 
 
 Have not they come? The gods are 
 
 liable; 
 The time is past, as on the dial of 
 My brain the hour was pointed to. 
 Both. What hour? 
 
 Mor. The hour of twelve. 
 Both. It may 
 
 been twelve at night. 
 Mor. Twelve at 
 
 day. The dial I looked upon 
 And saw about me daylight in its 
 
 bloom; 
 A bird was caroling sweet, I heard him 
 
 sing, 
 And round about was clamor of the 
 
 town; 
 So vive was all 'twas not a dream. 
 
 Both. Saw you no other thing' 
 
 in sleep? Nothing, 
 Noted, but this same, no more? 
 
 Mor. My lord, once 
 
 To fail 's more prudent than a dozen 
 
 failures. 
 One falsehood is more wise than forty 
 
 lies. 
 If more were seen why mention it. 
 
 My mind 
 Is broken in its charm. For, if in space 
 Before the window of my soul that looks 
 Out in eternity, delusions there 
 Be put to counter me, I lay my trun- 
 cheon 
 Down. 
 Both. God bless you, I am charmed 
 
 with you. 
 Your men are here and gone, and as 
 
 the heavens 
 Throned above this world, trust me. 
 
 For if 
 Exists, and veri'bly I b'lieve 't there is 
 A thing predestiny; it solves the prob- 
 lem 
 Of a living God, a soul in man. 
 And through your medium, it will come 
 
 things apt 
 That will transpire, I am unsensed; my 
 
 reason 
 Is no longer— greater 
 Than the stars and all these elements 
 About infinite space, no longer scoffs 
 At night that with its twinkling can- 
 opy 
 Looks down like dews upon a summer 
 
 morn, 
 Each glistening drop, a world, a moon, 
 
 or some 
 Stupendous comet body, that as a coal, 
 By hand of nature flung 's pitched 
 
 hurling in 
 The furnace of the sun. Predestiny — 
 That prove to me — and as insect that 
 
 beholds 
 A ponderous work of man, or cricket 
 
 that 
 Has loudly rasped, I hie me 'neath a 
 
 straw. 
 I see by your expression more is on 
 Your mind — speak, if more you have 
 
 not at 
 The present, as time develops 't make 't 
 
 known to me. 
 Henceforth, you lie within my chamber 
 
 and hold 
 My inner confidence, at night, at any 
 Time, predestiny unveils betore 
 You aught, report to me, and if buried 
 Under documents of state, or if 
 In midnight slumber I will answer you. 
 Mor. My lord, a strange and curious 
 
 revelation, 
 
40 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 I do not understand came with the 
 other, 
 
 Alter it— but as I think 
 
 It was not real any way. 
 Both. Speak on. 
 
 Mor. Have you got royal blood into 
 your veins 
 
 By which 'tis possible you may ascend 
 
 Up to a throne? 
 Both. Speak on the thing 
 
 revealed 
 
 To you. 
 Mor. The scene approached, such 
 gayety, 
 
 The like before I never looked upon; 
 
 I thought it fantasy, so strange to me 
 
 And so impossible, the palace and 
 
 Its furnishing, the carpets, the hang- 
 ings aud 
 
 The arts upon the walls; and you were 
 there, and seated 
 
 High 'pon edifice of state, a crown 
 
 Was poised upon your brow and in 
 your hands 
 
 A golden sceptre, toyed it with your 
 fingers, 
 
 And still beside you there a goddess 
 was, 
 
 One reason could behold and worship 
 her, 
 
 For more than Venus she was fair. 
 Forehead 
 
 High, and marble, crowned with wavy 
 locks 
 
 O' yellow-brown, — the gold of Ophir, 
 and 
 
 The wine; texture fine, fine tempera- 
 ment, 
 
 Nose, Grecian, cheeks oval'd so and 
 tapering 
 
 Down to chin, wi' lips that curved and 
 curved 
 
 Again, and as I looked at her, 
 
 Her eyes enormous, dark, and luminous, 
 
 ( iivw changeable, from black to brown, 
 from brown 
 
 To blue, then glowed with ambers of 
 the dew, 
 
 And I stood by into- a robe most gor- 
 geous 
 
 Of apparel, a sword was dangling at 
 
 My thigh, and I in careless attitude, 
 
 And something seemed to say 't, as now 
 my mind ■ 
 
 Recalls the dream — I was an Earl. 
 Both. Go! 
 
 [ Exit Moray. 
 
 Queen Mary — 's — court; an earl — most 
 likely thing 
 
 That I should do for him.— My dreams 
 are money, 
 
 Counted coin, and with it currency un- 
 told. 
 
 I shall have joy, 't will prove but so, 
 And with it heaviness of woe. 
 
 Scene V. The Court of Mary. 
 .1 concourse of nobles present. 
 
 Mar //. Oh, if my spirit were but bold 
 
 to night 
 As lions when in combat closed, as 
 
 rivers 
 Fearless where their currents meet, or 
 
 ocean 
 Reckless where its torrent goes — calm 
 As moonlight 'pon the mountain 
 
 scene — still 
 Bleak and cold, I could behold him, 
 
 father 
 Of my child, him who has wronged me 
 
 deep. 
 More deep than ever dispraised love has 
 
 grottoed 
 In a giver's heart, how mocking, mon- 
 strous, 
 Terrible, contemptible — a Catholic 
 
 queen, what! I 
 Immodest with the Pope's detective, I 
 Knowing him; I queenly all my days. 
 The strumpet of a slave, my lord in 
 
 youth 
 So handsome and so capable, loathes me 
 With deformity — God have mercy. 
 Yet that poor dog, if Heaven spare the 
 
 mark, 
 Were more the man than ever was my 
 
 lord. 
 I of belief that God stands by and looks 
 At me, yet swear by God, I'm innocent. 
 Why care I for the scoff of men, I, who 
 Have lived a widow's life here in this 
 
 realm, 
 Watched by intriguers in the midnight 
 
 of 
 My sleep; yet on the horizon of all 
 Those years there is no cloud— if so, 
 
 let it 
 Be pointed at. [The lords applaud. 
 
 Then, as they say of it, I fell 
 Most deep in love-ay— 'twas love, the 
 
 term 
 Will serve, for otherwise we could not 
 
 well 
 Explain why I put by, as Csesar once 
 Put by, a crown to wed a penniless 
 And puppet lord. (Is this the evidence 
 Of woman's love?) I loved him and I 
 
 knew 
 Not why— yet loved him fond, and lov- 
 ing him, 
 I married him. — grew prolific and — 
 Became voluptuous. Oh how mad, how 
 
 shocking, 
 
Act IV.] 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 41 
 
 Shocking, mad he was, for he was jeal- 
 ous, 
 
 And. if madmen are not jealous given, 
 
 The jealous man is but the civil mad- 
 man. 
 
 Lord Erskine. The prince. [Aside. 
 
 [Enter Maid with tht prince. Xoble- 
 iin/i rise whih tfu Maid kneels 
 and presents the child to the queen. 
 
 Mary. Yet, when in this infant's face 
 
 I look, 
 What pity it inspires, how like Darnley. 
 Mama's sweetheart — this cunning 
 
 mouth and smiling 
 Face and eyes, and so impulsive, too. 
 
 Enter Darnley; approaches tht Urn 
 of noblemen; they regard him with 
 no sign of recognition. Darnley 
 staggers to the center of the stage. 
 Mary hesitates, goes t<> him "-it// 
 the <hihl. 
 
 Mar;/. My lord. 
 
 Argyle. [Aside.] He will deny 'tis his. 
 Ear ley. [Aside.] 'Twill break 
 Her "heart if he will say 't. 
 Damlei/. [With uplifted hands.] As 
 the God lives 
 This is my child. 
 
 [As he steps hark to retire Darnley 
 and Mary's eyes meet ; Mary sobs 
 aloud. Exit Darnley. 
 
 Scene VI. 
 
 Another Room in the 
 Palace. 
 
 Both. You say your mind foreshows 
 
 to you, she loves 
 
 Me well. 
 Mor. Indeed. 
 
 Both. And too, implies it so, 
 
 She loves not Darnley. 
 Mor. And that is 
 
 plainly seen 
 About in nature; a woman that loves 
 
 two 
 Loves none, and loves never at all. 
 
 She is 
 Deceived and so deceives herself that 
 
 puts 
 Partitions in her heart. Love 's a thing 
 Strange fashioned after, and much mis- 
 taken worn. 
 Infatuation is its cut; ambition 
 Is oft to 't construed, and too. a ring, 
 A trinket has for it been mistaken; thus 
 Our natures make ridiculous us as 
 
 jewels 
 
 We imitate with paste and glass; but 
 
 that 
 That's love should never find a fault; 
 
 should but one 
 And selfish be of one; one that before 
 The eyes we idolize and feel content 
 To look upon, approve, reverence, and 
 Respect. And so it is with Darnley and 
 The queen — to love 's so much impos- 
 sible. 
 She wise and witty, and he 's a devilish 
 
 fool 
 And never wise. 
 
 Both. Ay, but as you say 
 
 You know him, is he not a learned man? 
 
 Mor. Learned in some things, most 
 
 strangely learned. 
 In others not. 
 
 Speak to him of philosophy, and he 
 Will answer you "go to;"' but should 
 
 you say 
 To him, '• a terrier can best a brash," 
 He will sit him down straightway by 
 
 hours to talk 
 It out of you, with argument and ways 
 
 and means 
 That end not. 
 
 Both. You noted as I held 
 
 With her some talk. Saw you anything, 
 
 a hint 
 Betrayed, by gesture, look or action, 
 
 any- 
 Thing that would hinge a hope on it. 
 
 . Her eyes, 
 I look in them and do not see more of 
 
 her, 
 But seem enchant to gaze in them. Her 
 
 jewels 
 Are none of them rare as these; they 
 
 luster, glow, 
 And gleams rise up o'ervvhelming me, 
 
 and I 
 Am lost in them, in strange enchanted 
 
 space 
 Unfathomed and uncomprehendable, 
 And seeming somehow so prevailed 
 
 upon 
 By some sweet, softened sense, I look 
 Them farther in, and thereupon, all 
 
 nature 
 Animal is from me gone, and weakness 
 And such sweetness comes, that would 
 
 to God 
 It ever could prevail, for I am but 
 A child again, a babe that would be 
 
 cooed 
 Over, and rocked a cradle in— and 
 
 kissed. 
 No longer Bothwell; no longer warrior; 
 No longer chief that would go in a lion's 
 Den. 
 
 Mor. How pure her love for you, to so 
 Enfeeble you, to so prevail over 
 
42 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 The animal per cent, of your great 
 nature, 
 
 Such evidence is mostly rare. 
 Both. Ay, 
 
 But as I had you present to observe, 
 
 Have you not something noted, betray- 
 ing as if 
 
 Me she loves, or cares for Darnley not? 
 
 Something you will speak about. 
 Mor. Speak 
 
 To thee, what her eyes do thee speak 
 at glance. 
 
 Would'st thou ask me, sparrow, to an 
 ocean- flight, 
 
 Or to pluck yon nipple star from na- 
 ture's breast. 
 
 Ah shame of thee, fair lord to waste 
 me at 
 
 Such inconvenience; 'twere easier 
 measured, 
 
 Nature's sun than Mary's love. Ha! ha! 
 
 Thy rose in sooth, thee, bud of fortune, 
 from 
 
 Her thorn would'st thou her pluck 
 unto thy heart, 
 
 A crown. A queen, thee a monarch, 
 her thorn, 
 
 So prominent that doth such chal- 
 lenge. Will 
 
 My lord speak pardon to fair spoken 
 terms? 
 
 He must be culled. 
 
 Both. How culled to liberty? 
 
 Mor. Xay faith to hell— methinks a 
 coward could not 
 
 To heaven go. 
 
 Both. I know the thing you mean. 
 But it must 
 
 Be respectable done. Think you could 
 
 Not so prevail on him as to provoke 
 
 Him to do combat for his life? 
 
 Mor. Phew! 
 
 He would not combat with a cat for fear 
 
 Of losing it — a minion coward as ever 
 
 You have dreamed about. 
 Both. Then what's 
 
 your plot? 
 Mor. I've devilish poor 
 
 brains for such mtriguin' ' 
 
 Business; but what think you of the 
 way? 
 Both. It must be honorable — 
 
 done honorable. 
 
 I would blood shed; and oft these hands 
 have shed it, 
 
 And think it virtue, too, if in defense 
 
 Of houor spilled, or for one's coun- 
 try, if 
 
 It flow. Mark you. with this blade and 
 steady 
 
 Arm in battle I've closed-with fifty odds, 
 
 And fought them to retreat, whilst 
 wounded treacherous 
 
 In my back, and blood ran rapid from 
 My veins— my honor's weak— I would 
 
 kill any 
 Coward, my conscience would permit 
 
 of that, 
 But my great name must not be tar- 
 nished with 
 The deed. I brook not at it, blood, but 
 
 at 
 The spot of it brook. 
 
 Mor. Exactly, and that is 
 
 The very reason why it should be 
 
 avoided — 
 The exposure. That whore sir, is a 
 
 virgin still; 
 That revelling keeps it hid, and marries 
 
 well. 
 Ay, I've seen't too, the better for it. 
 
 Concealment, 
 That is it; concealment is the virtue 
 We preserve, the only virtue left 
 The devil sir, for if preserve we fair 
 Concealment, then, our broken char- 
 acters 
 Do not shock the grace of God in other 
 
 men. 
 The deed, your hands will not be soiled 
 
 with it. 
 Suppose the way: you tell the queen 
 
 Lord Darnley 
 Has unsaid himself again; say he 
 Denies the prince, her child, and speaks 
 
 of her 
 She was a wanton; propose his removal 
 From the realm, by act of parliament 
 Or otherwise, and if approved of by 
 
 silence even 
 Make 't consent to summon to appear 
 Before her, gentlemen of Scotland, 
 
 those 
 Powerful and most prominent. They, 
 
 hating 
 Him, as you say, will assist you. Have 
 
 instituted 
 Previously a bond, and have them to 
 Subscribe their hand to it solemnly 
 
 and each, 
 To remove Lord Darnley — no more, 
 
 thus 
 With the joint consent of queen and 
 
 parliament, 
 We may remove him — from' the coun- 
 try. 
 Both. A rare idea ex* 
 
 ceeding 
 Excellent. It something differs with 
 The truth; but truth it has been, for 
 
 well 'tis known 
 Such thing he said; it is an able and 
 Praiseworthy plot. I will at once 
 
 about it. 
 Keep thou near to me that I may put 
 My hand on thee at any time; thy wit 
 
Act V.] 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 43 
 
 Is much to be commended: I shall need 
 Thee constantly about me, — meantime, 
 
 adieu. 
 Mor. And to thee a due return 
 
 my Lord Both well. [Exit Both. 
 With due respect to thy condition good 
 Friend Moray. Does he think brains 
 
 banks, that upon them 
 He holds checks without deposit; that 
 
 banks 
 
 Do break will prove his worst calamity. 
 For when draw he does upon my wit, 
 I draw him in and out and in, at much 
 Percentage, until his bonds do par 
 
 them to 
 My credit, until his honor's check is 
 
 mine 
 To barter at a princely market; 
 Until his noble life will pay his bloody 
 
 Signature. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. The Castle of Earl Lennox. 
 
 Darnley upon a sick-bed; doctor 
 examining him. Present, Count- 
 ess of Lennox and other*. 
 
 Countess of Len. Poisoned, the king, 
 
 my son, is poisoned. 
 Oh, awful! Awful crimes of men that 
 
 would 
 Make hell to cringe and Herod's hands 
 
 look 
 White again. 
 
 Doctor. Madam, chilliness, heat, 
 Headache, deep-flushed countenance; 
 
 about 
 The body feeling of bruised pain, vom- 
 iting 
 Accompanied; and in the skin red pirn 
 
 pies 
 That appear; these first discernible 
 Ton wrists and forehead, that spread 
 
 about the body 
 And from the palate's visible; hands, 
 
 face 
 And features thus obliterated; with 
 
 odor 
 So offensive that once felt it never 
 Is forgotten, is not of artificial 
 Poisoning signs, but of disease. One 
 In which our science has hut little skill; 
 A malady from which he may or may 
 JVot, as the case may be, recover, called 
 Ariola, more common known as small- 
 pox. 
 Countess. Small-pox! [Screaming. 
 Darnley. [Latiuhiny louder than she 
 
 screams.] Stoop down, Fortuna, 
 
 goddess, stoop that I 
 May kiss the lips that sent me this. 
 
 Live? Why, 
 I have pleaded with the elements 
 And asked the lightning that it strike 
 
 me. Swam 
 Rapids near and walked the precipice 
 
 beside, 
 
 Ta'en fortune at its risk; dared sea and 
 
 tide. 
 Brave mother, what 's my years? 
 Countess. Twenty. 
 
 Dam. And 
 
 My hair is gray. Life— why — I have 
 
 seen men 
 'Steemgold more'n life, yet, dying, they 
 
 would barter 't 
 For an hour. Why, they would cling 
 
 to life 
 When if out that mass of mangled dead 
 Piled by artillery in battle; if 
 Uplifted there a quivering hand were 
 
 seen, 
 I could have had it mine. Ay, every 
 
 flower't 
 Crushed, killed was, I would have been't 
 
 and not 
 The flower in bloom. Sweet, sweet 
 
 Fortuna, loved 
 One of my heart, I knew 't. Thine eyes, 
 Many as the dews, could not have 
 
 'scaped me longer 
 With a tear. One thing, before these 
 
 eyes 
 Will close or lips may seal upon my 
 
 secrets. 
 Haste to her majesty, this circumstance 
 Impart; but call me not her lord. Say 
 That one a dying man thus witnessed, 
 
 and 
 Before the God do swear 't, she "s inno- 
 cent. 
 And say't, too, the foul distemper of 
 His heart that touched her near, is 
 
 broken out 
 In blotches 'pon his face -my name — 
 
 no more. 
 
 [Exit P<i[t< . 
 
 Brave mother 
 I'm content be thou wise; for though 
 
 you miss me, 
 My face, my company; we part, again 
 To meet in Heaven 't may be; perchance 
 
 upon 
 
11 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 Another star. And get thee gone, thou 
 pill making 
 
 Impostor — prescribe not — no com- 
 pound make — 
 
 I'll none of it, mark me. Death! 
 death! — 
 
 Thou Romish Pope, thou king of Chris- 
 tendom 
 
 Or lover that is now but wed, holds no 
 
 Such favor at thy hands, sweet, fair 
 Fort una. 
 
 Goddess, loveliest of them all. 
 
 Scene II. Queen Mary's Parliament. 
 
 Fre$<mt Bothwell, Moray, Leth- 
 ington, Rothes, Caithness, 
 Earley and Balfour <nnl nth, rs. 
 
 Both. My royal sovereign's worthy 
 
 gentlemen. 
 We are your subjects and paramount 
 
 with each is 
 Your sovereignty. Your position we 
 
 insure, 
 Your honor we uphold, your mandate 
 
 we 
 Obey. Why we assemble here 's well j 
 
 known 
 To you, to each of us, and much dis- 
 
 cussed; 
 But what is wise to do, engages with 
 Our pains. I pray you, therefore, hear 
 
 me if 
 My words will prove of argument, if 
 
 not 
 Desist. For within our souls and with 
 
 our conscience, if 
 There is one other rein to guide us, it 
 Is reason, that should not be neglected. 
 
 Your 
 Position we insure, our arms are set 
 Against the ocean, your mandate we 
 
 obey, 
 We rise at your command, and woe is to 
 The foe who has offended you. For 
 
 Highland - ' 
 
 Catholic aud Lowland Protestant 
 Ride ready to your side, as restless 
 
 beadles. 
 View the field, and look but for com- 
 mand. 
 But if your honor we uphold, yet longer 
 Suffer to exist here in this realm a 
 Slanderer who of you speaks misgiv- 
 
 ingly, 
 We do ourselves disgrace, the only 
 
 • course 
 That to my reasoning 's plausible, isi 
 This bond, by each of us subscribed, 
 thereby 
 
 A law becomes, that Darnley shall be 
 
 called 
 Upon to leave the land. If he will go, 
 Tis well, if disobey, the bond implies — 
 Remove him. Discreet Argyle already 
 
 has 
 Subscribed. 
 
 Queen, Mary. What frenzied thought 
 
 new occupies 
 His brain I am much puzzled with. 
 
 He was 
 Of late so penitent, goes clad in crepe, 
 And with sad countenance beholds the 
 
 sports 
 He once participated. 
 
 Lethington. Your majesty, 
 And so I've heard it spoken of, 
 And thought of it he was in mourning 
 
 for 
 His dead offenses. 
 
 Mary. Ah! subtle Lethington, 
 
 I oft hear you speaking in my dreams. 
 
 Leth. [Aside.] And apart from these 
 
 you hear less logic, 't were 
 Better that you dream of Scotland than 
 
 reign 
 It actually. 
 
 Mary. What say you cynic of 
 
 The dream. 
 Leth. [Aside.] 'Twere best thus said. 
 
 The dream 's a nightmare 
 That has Scotland in 't and not her 
 
 queen. [Gentlemen laugh. 
 
 Queen 31. My lord, 
 
 Oft have I heard the dismal pie, 
 
 But ne'er have heard him tune so high 
 
 In tones of laverock. [Lords applaud. 
 
 Leth. Your majesty, 
 
 Your wit puts me before 
 My shadow. But believe me in some 
 
 sort, 
 Were I lion I would not mouse a cat, 
 Neither go where huntsmen are in 
 
 search 
 Of me; but, I am, and what I am that be. 
 The cause by which we here assemble, 
 
 holds 
 Intercourse with each our hearts. 'Tis 
 
 not 
 That we, ourselves, need, as you, be 
 
 offended; 
 But as the General speaks of it, our 
 
 manhood 
 To defend you is so questioned by 
 Our enemies, our loves rode down by 
 
 these, 
 Our pride unhorsed, and those fair 
 
 qualities 
 That most make up the man, are ren- 
 dered most 
 Uncapable. But for my part and in 
 Respect to prudence, in duty to my God,. 
 My sovereign, lastly, and in honor of 
 
Act V.] 
 
 KING DARXLEY. 
 
 45 
 
 My name, I here affix my signature. 
 Caithness. I much approve divorce, 
 that fortune often 
 Joins together those who make life a 
 
 burden. 
 Indeed oft I have thought it, that we 
 
 are in 
 This world condemned for deeds else • 
 
 where committed. 
 My name affixed. [He signs. 
 
 Rothes. Your majesty, for years I've 
 sought to show to you 
 Some certain proofs of my allegiance, 
 And this my opportunity. My name 
 I sign. [ He signs. 
 
 Balfour. In name of law, of morals 
 and of order 
 Affixed is mine. [Signs. 
 
 1st Gent. In duty to our sovereign. 
 
 [Signs. 
 2d Gent. We do honor to ourselves. 
 
 [tag mi. 
 
 3d Gent. We subscribe 
 
 'Neath our superior. [Signs. 
 
 Both-well. And now, your 
 
 grace, 
 
 There here remains for you a place, the 
 
 foremost 
 Of them all, that you may sign. 
 
 Queen M. Tho' queen, I am but 
 woman, and if 'tis wise 
 To love, 'tis womanly to idol man 
 And to revere his will, to be so wise, 
 As he respects, so good as he permits, 
 So virtuous as by him is divined, 
 To o'erlook his blackest crime, respect 
 
 his slightest 
 Wish, to part his hope, his pleasure and 
 His pain; and such is woman if Cupid be 
 Her tutor, for woman so, is taught by 
 
 love. 
 I will not sign. You are my parliament 
 And in your power am 1, but I beseech 
 Of you, you nothing do to cause a 
 
 burden 
 To my heart or bring dishonor down 
 Upon you. 
 
 Leth. Your majesty, 'tis those 
 
 complaints 
 We treat as your physicians. 
 Rothes. My sovereign, protection is 
 the will 
 Of God. That now anew he slanders 
 
 you 
 And that once he has revolted and 
 
 borne to 
 lour bosom, up the point of swords 
 that he 
 
 Again may do 
 
 Both. My gracious 
 
 Queen, offense of one a fool, 
 Has long harrassed you, and though 
 unbearable 
 
 To others it has been, most cheerily 
 You bore with all I'm told; but when 
 
 he led 
 The ruffians to your chamber, I there 
 
 did note 
 A change in you; your eyes no longer 
 
 sparkled 
 As the dew, but fount's did flow- 
 In cessantly; and constantly I feared it 
 With seeing you distracted, that your 
 
 sweet nature 
 Would dissolve and flow forever from 
 Our sight away. What pain, what suf- 
 fering, what 
 Regret; and those of us that looked 
 
 your 
 Sad predicament upon, are not of iron 
 Made, but men of sympathies, that 
 
 can 
 Not longer suffer that we see it so. 
 Here is the pen. 
 
 Leth. Ay, dip't in 
 
 the ink 
 For her. 
 Both. [Dipping pen.} You sign it here. 
 Letlt. Upon this line. 
 
 [Queen Mary unresolved and deeply 
 agitated, with nil observing her in 
 , arnest silt na . 
 
 Enter Mary Beatox. 
 
 Mary Beaton. Your majesty, a mes- 
 senger that ran, 
 But now into the courtyard, from Glas- 
 gow sent. 
 Confusedly asserts to us that young 
 Lord Darn ley, son to Countess of 
 And Earl Lennox, lies dying: at their 
 castle. 
 
 [Mary looks angrily <<t Bothwell. 
 Moray reaches under Bothwell's 
 arm, secures tin bond, conceals if 
 i» /lis breast and <lr<m:s Both. 
 hastily away. 
 
 Queen M. Oh! is it accident? 
 
 Mary Beaton. His 
 
 trouble small-pox. 
 
 Gentlemen. Small-pox! 
 
 Queen M. 'Haste! make haste! Send 
 to him 
 i My physician; he must be hither 
 
 brought, 
 Here to the palace, that I may nurse 
 him. 
 
 Leth. This is madness. 
 
 Rothes. We '11 not 
 
 permit it. 
 
 Balfour. We must protest against it. 
 
 Leth. Why, his disease is foul con- 
 tagious to us all. 
 
40 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 | Act V. 
 
 [Queen Mary weeps bitterly, whili 
 Moray whispers to Bothwell. 
 
 Botli. My sovereign, your life, your 
 
 beauty, our sweetest joys, we can 
 
 Not so imperil these, in yonder cottage, 
 
 Kirk o' Fields, but place him there that 
 
 hourly 
 You may know of his condition. 
 
 Queen M. Then hastily the place pre- 
 pare. 
 For if not here, I nurse him there. 
 
 [ Exit Queen Mary. Nobles stand 
 about in groups. Moray over- 
 joyed, puts the bond in Both- 
 well's hand. Bothweli, regards 
 hi in with frowning dignity. 
 Moray chagrined, boxes low, re- 
 tires, boxes again <ind exits. 
 
 Scene III. Garden of Holyrood Palace. 
 
 Bothwell upon his knees before the 
 Queen. Enter Moray. 
 
 Moray. [Without observing them.] He 
 loves her, ay, more than the devil 
 ever loved — 
 
 A woman's virtue. She cares for him 
 no bit; 
 
 Loves Darnley and it ends, and now 
 among 
 
 These things I make my way. The mur- 
 der — the murder is 
 
 Resolved upon, forthcoming and or- 
 ganic caused 
 
 Queen M. My lord, it was 
 
 your quest, I meet 
 
 You here. What is your pleasure? j 
 [Bothwell hesitates. 
 Time urging 
 
 Me, great general. I must insist 
 
 Upon a speedy interview. 
 
 Both. Your royal 
 
 And majestic highness, I'm but your 
 subject, 
 
 A one who for you has some service 
 done, which 
 
 Meantime, set aside. Think of me 
 pray you, as of the bird that 's ever 
 much 
 
 Admired that does presume to sip its 
 honey 
 
 'Mong flowers within a palace premises, 
 
 For I must be presumptuous. How 
 .ever. 
 
 If my coming be unseason'd 
 
 Or if out of date, the fault is mine 
 There is 
 
 Such consternation here, which 
 whether caused 
 
 By sweetness darted from your eyes to 
 
 me 
 So ever beautiful, or from your lips 
 
 The words that warbling sound, I can- 
 not say. 
 
 But I am strangely obligated 
 
 And in a sort that feels it thus: the life 
 
 A great man lives, the honor he attains, 
 
 The victories achieved by him, the wis- 
 dom 
 
 And the wordings handed down, and 
 deeds 
 
 And actions by him done that church 
 and state 
 
 Comment on, that time, its offspring, 
 
 Looks with reverence at cast of him 
 
 That once did live a man; he, wbile he 
 
 Did live, his body and his property 
 
 Were none too good to lie beneath the 
 feet 
 
 Of her, the woman that he loves. 
 Loving- 
 
 You thus, believe me, I am prompted, 
 and I 
 
 Have thought it, too, you do behold me 
 with 
 
 Some right regard. 
 
 Queen M. In sooth, my lord, 
 
 but love 
 
 Is more than what admires. My love 's 
 a sea 
 
 That rounds my heart, calm and peace- 
 ful with 
 
 Your honor and nobility, but surging 
 
 Tide in love for God and love for Darn- 
 ley. [Exit Mary. 
 Moray. [Aside.] A pith o' sea that 
 wrecks thy bastard ship. 
 
 I must to the rescue. [Advances. 
 
 Buthuell. Curse you, ser- 
 
 pent, your 
 
 Forked tongue hath misled me. 
 Moray. Fie, fie, my lord, 
 
 Your sense, apply your sense, you woo 
 her wrongly 
 
 But a pace, beware of frankness, as 
 
 It wins not never love, and oft hath 
 made 
 
 Two lives unhappy. Cupid 's a lover 
 
 Of the sport that through chance of 
 aim, brings down 
 
 His game, unheeding such as comes to 
 him. 
 
 Is't not ordained by Heaven sir, that 
 she 
 
 Shall be your bride? Would you have 
 love before 
 
 "Tis won already honest, if so you would 
 
 Have what you never may obtain. Love 
 
 Equivocates and lovers feign and lie 
 outlooks and say 
 
Act V.] 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 47 
 
 It is, 'tis not, and so they go and gaze 
 With admiration 'pon a fool, and hear 
 His nonsense, none of it, and laugh to 
 
 him, 
 And give you still a look. Be thou 
 
 wise 
 With her, to love indifferent be, but of 
 Her person more than ever careful, 
 
 and as 
 The mariner marks his course by yon- 
 der star, 
 Be thou guided by the lustre in 
 Her eye. She hates Lord Darnley. 
 
 Both. Ay, but 
 
 The Kirk o' Field, to yonder she hath 
 
 gone 
 To him. 
 
 Moray. Ay, and to nurse him, per- 
 chance "twill save 
 Us powder. Woman 's a secret enemy. 
 
 Have you 
 Not seen worst foes 'mong these, kiss 
 
 other. If you 
 Will observe them not in looks, in 
 
 actions you 
 Will nothing see. She loathes Lord 
 
 Darnley, as 
 A crawling viper; he 'twas that struck 
 
 the fangs 
 Of doubt into her character, and did 
 
 you not observe 
 It in the court —I mentioned it. 'Pon 
 
 hearing 
 Of his plight - the look she flashed at 
 
 you — 
 Such opportunity, and thereupon 
 Prescribed her own physician, and 
 
 orders 
 Gave that he be brought here to the 
 
 palace 
 That she might nurse him, him foul 
 
 with disease; 
 And she so ever careful of complexion; 
 And how bitter she did cry with disap- 
 pointment 
 When foiled in it. 
 
 Both. God speed her action, if by 
 
 The leech 'twere better so if done. 
 Mor. Ay, but 
 
 there lies 
 The point. She hates him now, and, 
 
 hating him, 
 She nurses him; but nursing him, be 
 
 thou "ware, 
 New fevers may arise, as 'tis said of 
 Sick-beds, they have a hellish bad effect 
 At times — that way. The deed your 
 
 hands will not 
 Be soiled with it. The Kirk o' Field, 
 
 Lord Darnley 
 Lies in upper balcony; the powder, 
 The powder we have brought. Convey 
 within 
 
 The queen's chamber beneath, a puff 
 and all 
 
 To Heaven go, except her majesty, 
 
 And you, my lord who go to Heaven, 
 but in 
 
 Another chamber. Did I not see 
 
 It there; but now in her, the true false- 
 hood 
 
 That accomp'nies love. She reads thee 
 well and knows 
 
 That thou wilt do't. Fool— would you 
 that she her implicate? 
 
 Scene IV. House of the Kirk o' Field. 
 
 A garden, a lower and upper apart- 
 ment; moonlight. Darnley upon 
 the bed in upper apartment, the 
 
 Queen <it his .s/(A . 
 
 Darnley. Ay, make yon window 
 
 bare that 1 again 
 May look upon the stars. Indeed, they 
 
 are 
 As eyes that look on us from Heaven 
 
 down 
 And dews about upon the earth are but 
 As tears of joy, for love once broken is 
 Again united. 
 
 Mary. Indeed, my lord, and how 
 
 they gazed into 
 My chamber nightly, you absent, as if 
 
 to ask why is 
 Not Henry there? 
 Darnley. How silver's the 
 
 scene; 
 Yon moon, how gentle is her gaze; 
 How timid, how much unlike the bold- 
 ness of 
 The sun; the maid en, looking, feels her 
 
 love, 
 How similar. 
 
 Mary. And fickle, too, as oft 
 
 A maid may prove. Inconstant moon 
 
 unlike 
 The sun, a course complete, a course 
 
 begun, 
 Subject to change and unresolved, as 
 
 once 
 An oath I swore by it must prove. 
 Darnley. How mean you now? 
 Mary. In France, in such a night, 
 When yet a child, a vow I made, by yon 
 Inconstant moon, to one my favorite 
 
 maid, 
 (My little playmate then), that I would 
 
 with 
 My presence grace her marriage. This 
 
 night she weds 
 Darnley. Why then it must 
 
 be so. 
 
48 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 Mary. And leave my lord 
 
 Upon a sick-bed? I am a wife more 
 worthy. 
 Darnley. The vow. God has your 
 vow. If by the moon, 
 The sun or whatsoever made, 'tis sworn, 
 Your s mi's responsive, 't must be ful- 
 filled or fortune's 
 Fetters are upon you. 
 
 Mary. God help me, is 
 
 Not tliis a right excuse? 
 
 Darnley. Excuse is but 
 
 The garment, with death we leave be- 
 hind a one, 
 Which as I think, before the high trib- 
 unal, 
 We none of us are sheltered with. 
 
 Why, I 
 Have sworn and still am under oath, 
 
 to covering 
 Hide the cause of all my shame, and still 
 I'm constant to it, I was imposed upon 
 By — a y 5 but I must not say. One 
 
 promise 
 Make. 
 
 Mary. That 
 
 Darn. You will go. 
 
 Mary. I will, 
 
 sweet lord, 
 But for one moment and return. 
 
 Dam. An hour, 
 
 Make it. an hour, upon me now I feel 
 Sleep stealing in. Eleven is 't? At 
 
 twelve 
 Return— a kiss— I sleep. If sooner 
 You will come I promise much to be 
 Offended. [Sleeps. 
 
 [Moray enters garden, reconnoiters 
 and retirt s. Mary caresses Darn- 
 ley, retires to the door, hesitates 
 a inl returns to the bedside. Both- 
 well and Moray enter the gar- 
 den dragging bags of powder and 
 enter lower .chamber. Moray 
 draws from his breast a crude 
 fust and places it in the powder. 
 Mor. The cask '^arranged and I will 
 to the watch. 
 [ Unseen by Bothavell, lights tin 
 fuse and hastens to the door, 
 \tands with, one foot upon the 
 threshold. 
 An inch— an inch -a moment fortune 
 
 hold 
 Thy breath, and I'll be king. 
 | BOTHWELL (//'scorers tin smoke and 
 gHaspS tin fust in alarm OS 
 
 Moray rushes upon" him. 
 
 Moray. Why lit you that? 
 
 Both. Twas not I- 
 
 Moray. Then you 
 Did on it step. 
 
 Both. Doth that it light? 
 
 Moray. 'Tis one 
 
 Dispatch. Have a care. This messen- 
 ger's damned 
 Treacherous. 
 
 [ Taking the fuse and laying it down 
 with cure. Meantimt tin Queen, 
 who has several times retired to 
 the door, descends the outer stair, 
 and having passid the oxter door 
 of her chamber, meditatively turns 
 to enter. Moray and Both, ex- 
 tinguish light and hurl tin ///selves 
 against the pill \ tin queen 
 hesitates, retrace* <r steps mid 
 '.'■its. Meantimt ige enters gar- 
 den, sees Both, and Mor.. <ind 
 ascends tin stair to Darnley' s 
 room. 
 
 Both. The gods are willing. 
 
 [Arranging casks. 
 Darnley sings: 
 
 Oh, why so love one another; 
 
 The flowers yield their dews to the 
 
 sun, 
 But the sun goes down; 
 Leaves the flowers at night, 
 And love lingers on till the morn. 
 
 Both. He dreams. 
 
 Moray. No, 't is clamor o' 
 
 disease. 
 Both. Death hath double plot, 
 
 that we and nature 
 Have in him thus contention. 
 
 [Tin i>a<j< attempts to stir 
 Dakxlev ,/>'»//, his stupor. 
 
 Darn. [Laughs deliriously.] Ha! ha! 
 
 ha! fill up, fill up, good fellows, up. 
 
 He doth lose much pleasure that does 
 
 it less— 
 
 Moray. In thy lady's chamber 
 
 there 's o 't here to take 
 
 Thee home; rum's road to hell is 
 
 through yon mire, 
 'Tis this way but a leap. 
 Darnley sings: 
 
 Ho, another let us drink, 
 
 To the bottom let- us sink 
 
 Down, let us down in our glee, 
 
 Poisoning the heart 
 
 As we mentally depart, 
 
 Down to the bottom of our misery. 
 
Act V. ] 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 49 
 
 Both. [Lighting fuse.] Come by yon 
 elm we will hide and there 
 To spy if we be spied. [Exit Both. 
 
 Moray. Fuz— fuz — ye demons as we go 
 Your lord doth wait my lord below. 
 
 [Exit Moray. 
 Page. [To Darnley.] Treason, my 
 
 lord, treason. 
 Damley sings: 
 
 I spoke to the rose 
 
 As it rolled its dewdrop down 
 
 Singing, flower, of the flowers thou 
 
 art fairy; 
 But before me she arose 
 With eyes that called me loun 
 And I cried, all but one, all but 
 
 Mary. 
 
 M ., Queen Mary, 
 i ry of my heart; 
 
 Mai^ , Queen Mary, 
 Shall we ever part. 
 
 j Music, "Powers of the Forest. " 
 Damley sings " Flowers of the Forest." 
 
 " A duel to the border 
 Brought our lads in good order. 
 England, by stealth, for once wins 
 
 the day, 
 Now sighin 1 and moanin' 
 O'er every green lomin 
 For the flowers of the forest are all wed 
 away. 
 
 " Nay mair at the sharin' 
 
 Will lovers be jeerin,' 
 
 Laddies and lassies sae canty and 
 
 gay, 
 But ilkie maid since^y 
 Lamentin' for her dearie, 
 For the flowers of the forest are all wed 
 away. 
 
 " Oh, cruel fortune, 
 
 Why thus cruel sportin,' 
 
 Why dost thou vex us poor sons of 
 
 a day. 
 I've seen Tweed's silver streams 
 Darkened 'neath sunny beams 
 And the flowers of the forest all wed 
 away." 
 
 Page [Crying bitterly.] Treason. 
 Damley. [Laughing deliriously.] 
 
 Merry wives they were and twa 
 And they were clashiu* canty, O, 
 The ta hus they left it, O, 
 And to the others hus they go. 
 
 [Page descends the outside stair, at- 
 tempts the lower door ; Moray as- 
 sails him and he retreats again 
 to Darnley's chamber. 
 4 
 
 Page. [Shaking Damley.] Treason , 
 
 treason, my lord, treason. 
 Darn. [R sing to sitting pasture.] 
 
 Yon rope untie, the rope. 
 Page. What rope, my lord? 
 Dam. The rope about 
 
 My knees, untie. Do you not bee a i ope ? 
 
 Page. God help, 
 He is unwitted. My lord, I see no rope. 
 Dam. Yon rope about my knees 
 made fast, untie. 
 Fool are you mad? 
 
 [Page makes as if to untie a rope, 
 which Darnley assists him in un- 
 winding. 
 
 There take it now. 
 [Handing him the imaginary coil. 
 
 You are 
 A goodly fellow though stupid oft. 
 
 [Sinks upon tin pillow. 
 Page. God help, 
 Oh! oh! to atoms — we shall be blown to 
 
 atoms. 
 [Page makes a second attempt to 
 reach the lower chamber and nar- 
 rowly, escapes back to Darnley, 
 meantime Darnley chants a 
 psalm. Darnley falls into a 
 profound slumber, page in terri- 
 ble fear. Darnley starts in his 
 sleep, sobbing (do ad. Is held in 
 a sitting posture sings, "Queen 
 of my Loving Heart. " 
 
 Oh, how can I leave thee, thou queen 
 of my loving heart. 
 Thou'rt of earth its sunbeams to 
 me, 
 Dawn of the morning, stars of the 
 twilight, 
 Halo of darkness, life, love, lib- 
 erty. 
 
 The laverock whose trill 
 In the morning so shrill 
 Is met by an arrow mischievous of 
 
 fate. 
 The dame and her chipper 
 Are claimed by the viper 
 Who smother their cries in the coils 
 
 of his hate. [Chorus. 
 
 The roe in despair 
 From his dew spangled lair 
 Is staid by the lancer who matches 
 his flight; 
 The doe and her fondling 
 The huntsman are hounding, 
 To tear them asunder in fiendish 
 delight. 
 
50 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 Oh, bow can 1 leave thee, thou queen 
 of my loving heart. 
 Thou'rt of earth its sunbeams to 
 me, 
 Dawn of the morning, stars of the 
 twilight. 
 Halo of darkness, life, love, lib- 
 erty. 
 
 Page. \I» subdued tone.] Treason, 
 
 treason, treason. 
 Darn. [Awaking from his delirium.] 
 What comes? what? hark! 
 This day hath filled with damning 
 
 sounds, with demon 
 Notes of hellish discord. 
 
 Page. Treason, my lord, 
 
 Treason. 
 
 Darn. Treason, how treason? 
 Page. With powder — 
 With powder. Lord Bothwell and ac- 
 complice are 
 Below. Come with me, oh, or we are 
 
 blown 
 To atoms. 
 
 Darn. Has Mary Stuart done this. 
 Oh, thou 
 Iron-clad disappointment, from out thy 
 
 cannon 
 Raking, my soul a battered ship doth 
 
 hole 
 To sinking. 
 
 I Page assists him to window; page 
 leaps down, followed by Darnley, 
 who foils heavily. 
 
 Enter Bothwell and Moray with 
 drawn swords. Page runs out, 
 Moray pursuing him. 
 
 Darn. Hold, noble foe, a par, a par; 
 
 This would be coward of deeds; gie— me 
 
 a blade. 
 
 Both. [Dropping his sword.] Oh God, 
 
 my God, I must, it must, and too, 
 
 Must leave no mark on him. Die, die, 
 
 brave youth, . , 
 
 If death hath power to do so damned a 
 deed. 
 
 [Strangles him. In meditation. 
 Crime is criminal when bathed in gore, 
 But hell could scarce take 't in this way. 
 
 Enter Moray at opposite side, 
 running. 
 
 Caught you 
 The fox? 
 Moray. Sir Reynard, fleet of foot, 
 did me 
 Out-run. 
 Both. I did dispatch, why trifled you? 
 
 Moray. And prithee did I go pace 
 that wondered me, 
 Out- ran the wind, for by my scabbards 
 
 they 
 Did howl. The page leaped out like 
 
 beagled hare. 
 But thy poor invalid could not rise. 
 
 Both. Twas cowardly 
 Done. Your man, where does he hide? 
 
 Moray. If had 
 I known so much I would have hid his 
 tongue. 
 Both. Where lost you him? 
 
 Moray. In yonder end. 
 Both. Our game 's 
 
 Our mirror. We must him break. Saw 
 You others? 
 
 Moray. Methought I heard a sound 
 as 1 
 Did fairly leap yon elm by, in high 
 Pursuit of him; but took 't for Darn- 
 ley's cries. 
 Cried he for mercy? 
 
 Both. My God, of such 
 
 speak not. 
 It doth unman me. Your man— this 
 
 way, his outcry 
 Signals wonder that will about us raise 
 An army. 
 
 [Moray puts his foot upon 
 Darnley's neck. ' 
 Moray. Think you him dead? 
 Both. Hence, 
 
 you could 
 Not that have done had he been living. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Pagt from opposite side. 
 
 Page. Treason, 
 Treason. The king is murdered. 
 
 Bothwell enters running and stabs 
 thepage. Enter Moray running^ 
 puts his foot on page. 
 
 Moray. Damn thy sight 
 That thou didst see. 
 
 [Runs at Bothwell's back. 
 Both, turns. 
 Both. Hold Hepburn. 
 
 Moray. Another, another. 
 
 [Exit Both, running. 
 
 [Aside.] Damn bad opportunity. 
 
 Ho, gie 
 
 Him chase, he to the castle ran— yet has 
 
 My shaft gone home .to them aright. 
 
 First I had 
 Resolved to have Lord Darnley mur- 
 dered by 
 Lord Bothwell and have 't exposed, and 
 now it comes 
 
Act V.J 
 
 KING DARNLEY. 
 
 51 
 
 To me I must have Bothwell married to 
 The queen, which is a devilish strange 
 
 contrivance 
 Sure enough; but, if in effect, 'twill 
 
 serve 
 My turn — but what will bring about 
 
 the marriage? 
 I have in my possession, obtained 
 From one a sorcerer, a mixture, one 
 
 rare 
 Of virtue, as it works a charm. Mildly, 
 Sweetly,, pleasantly, though it weakens 
 
 sense 
 Of duty. It shall be administered. 
 That done, but for me name, a modest 
 
 woman 
 That ever did expose her shame. He 's 
 
 murdered — 
 Him — she marries him— and I must pull 
 The curtain from the scene. 
 
 [Throws off his disguise, displaying 
 the features of Lord Moray, beats 
 upon his shield. 
 
 Treason, ho! 
 
 Treason! treason! ho! The king is 
 
 murdered. 
 Ho! ho! ho! 
 
 Enter Courtiers in alarm. 
 
 Foul deviltry hath leaped 
 
 Hell's gates and is into our very midst. 
 
 Gentlemen. Treason! ho, treason. 
 
 The queen, she comes, the queen. 
 
 Ho! ho! ho! 
 
 Enter the Queen with Bothwell. 
 
 Both. What caused the loud 
 
 alarm ? 
 
 Gentlemen. Murdered, he is mur- 
 dered. 
 
 Queen M. Who's murdered? 
 
 Gentlemen. [Separating.] Darnley. 
 
 Queen M. Oh God! my lord! my God! 
 
 [Swoons a j m n Bothwell's arms; 
 poioder explodes with terrific re- 
 port.