That likeness of a hare enringed with swords
And of a mermaid crowned with burning eyes
Who drove the hounds off with a two-thonged scourge
That coursed him trembling; and her hand indeed
Is found not slow to smite; a law now lives
Denouncing on his head no less than death
Who shall set up, or seeing shall pluck not down,
Such placards writ: the first soe’er who finds
And leaves the writing that defames her friend
To pass among the people, at her will
Shall lie in bonds; but if this brand herself,
Then must the man that spared it or that set
Die; so the fire-eyed queen of shipwreck sings
Death in their ears who sail this dangerous sea
Whereon the ship reels of our staggering state,
And with the flame shot from her eyes puts out
The light of theirs that were as lightnings turned
On her hare-hearted lover.
THIRD CITIZEN.
Yet they lack
The power with boast or menace to seal up
The lips of poor men; but three days ago
As she rode through the Grassmarket I heard
How from their stalls the women cried on her,
God save your grace! but with this added word
That smote the smile upon her lips to death,
If ye be spotless of the dead king’s blood.
SECOND CITIZEN.
Such words and souls mount nigher God’s ear and eye;
Than theirs who lent this man their hands to slay
And tongues to purge him of their general sin,
He of St. Andrew’s and his under priest,
Bishop of Ross, Leslies and Hamiltons
Whose lips are bloody, and that double soul
Argyle, that steers their faction; and this crew
Masked here as mouthpiece of the loathing land
Must hide the people’s heart and true men’s truth
With craft of prattling prelates; yet such mouths
As are unlocked and locked again with gold
But gape till God shall pluck their tongues out.
FIFTH CITIZEN.
Yea,
Ye hear but this, and have to burn your ears
No hotter news of these men, or what bond
Bears written broad and brave such names as these
Of earls and bishops? this is strange yet, sirs,
That fires my cheek to tell you?
SECOND CITIZEN.
Why, men said
There was a knot that met of these to sup
Shut in with Bothwell’s hackbutters for guard
That drew round Ainslie’s Tavern where they sat
Like a strait hoop of steel to bind them safe
And hold them fast from starting; and some bond
Of these his guests at Bothwell’s prayer subscribed
There was that bound them to him, against all foes
That might impeach him of the crime discharged
By the open court’s acquittal, from this day
To take his part upon them and stand fast
As to their own cause, being made subject all
To slander and suspicion that but grows
Of honour and high credit held with kings:
So much we heard, and found not strange.
FIFTH CITIZEN.
Nay, this
Was but the grace that served their banquet in
Of meats as strong as poison; there ensued
A pledge more mortal of a bond more base;
Considering this time present, how the queen
Stood husbandless, and how the general weal
Might let her not long live so, should her mind
By thought of his true services be moved
To take the earl Bothwell to her loving lord,
They and each man there met of them should plight
His honour, truth, and heart’s fidelity
To advance this marriage with all furtherance given
Of counsel, satisfaction, and good help
As soon as law might give it leave to be,
And as their common enemy should esteem
What man soever of evil will to them
Might seek its hindrance; and to this were set
More than those names ye spake of; be it for fear,
For craft or vantage, none of these fell off
Save Eglinton that slipped for shame away,
And Morton with the secretary, that gave
Their voice yet for this marriage, but would seal
No general bond of service on his side:
Save these, no priest or peer of them but lives
His servant pledged; their hands, tongues, counsels, hearts,
His or not theirs, and all they mansworn men.
THIRD CITIZEN.
I have assurance of a true man’s faith
That word was writ of this confederacy
To the English council from the Laird of Grange,
Desiring knowledge with what ear their queen
Shall take these tidings; and albeit of late
In all our trouble being found slow to help
She hath lost the love here borne her, if her grace
For this late murder will pursue revenge,
She shall win all the hearts of all the best
Again, he says, in Scotland; who should be,
With her good help and favour, swift to take
This vengeance on them, and redeem from fear
Their prince’s life now trembling in the reach
Of hands that slew his father; for our queen
Hath sworn she cares not for her lover’s sake
To lose France, England, and her natural land,
And would go with him to the wild world’s end
Stript to her smock ere leave him.
SECOND CITIZEN.
Has he writ
So much to the English court of her? being ours,
He should let shame keep silence of her shame.
FIRST CITIZEN.
What shame or silence can shut up for shame
That which at noon walks clamorous of itself
And boastful to be naked? They will wed,
Though thunder sound forth sin, and while God speaks
Will kiss in sight of lightning.
FOURTH CITIZEN.
Was there not
Some noise of strife arisen for fault of pay
Among their crew of Bothwell’s villains here
That hold by force of hand the palace gates?
SECOND CITIZEN.
Such rumour was, for certain; and himself
Strode in among the middle mutiny
Like a thieves’ captain, and being braved of them
Caught by the throat one that was lord o’ the brawl
And would have slain but for the throng that cried
And drove upon him shouting, till for fear
He was even fain to stop with promises
Their mouths who clamoured; which to see fulfilled
Needs must he sit no lower than doth a king.
THIRD CITIZEN.
So then the gates are open, and the queen
By leave of these her guards and him their chief
May part in peace for Stirling now to see
Her son in ward there of the castellan?
Where we, God knows, may give him thanks that one
So wise as the earl of Mar and stout of heart
Hath our born king in covert, who might sleep
On that sweet breast that bore him not so safe
As in a hand so honest.
FIRST CITIZEN.
Ay, God help,
There is no surety in such housekeeping
As thunder comes forth of the sky by night
To fall upon and burn it, yet no storm
Save of men�
�s making seen, nor fire in heaven
Save what rose up from under. Verily,
Our good lord Bothwell spake but truth who said
To good James Melville how so strange a thing
On earth was never known of: pity ’tis
He could not come to look upon the corpse
Though Bothwell bade him, seeing it was removed;
It was his hapless chance to find it gone
And in safe keeping of some secret hand
That waited on it living; such things are:
The worse hap his. They say it had no wound;
So if by some mischance, as God forbid,
The prince were reft unluckily of life,
I think he should have none for eye to see
That might read evil.
THIRD CITIZEN.
Who shall ride with her?
SECOND CITIZEN.
Why, no great train, lest being within the walls
She take the child into her hand and give
For better care to Bothwell’s, with the keys
That keep this castle too; but yet I think
His hand nor hers shall put God’s judgment back
That waits to take them triumphing, and turn
To tears their laughter and our grief to joy.
Scene VII. Stirling Castle
The Queen and Huntley
QUEEN.
Will you go back from us?
HUNTLEY.
I like it not;
I do not see how this may be made good.
QUEEN.
There is no flaw but in your fainter heart;
The way is fair and even; I cannot think
What seed is in men’s hearts that brings forth fear
Out of all season. Why are you so sad?
The thing is no more dangerous than it was
When our first plot was laid; nay so much less
By how much these are ours whose names and bonds
Speak on our side inscribed.
HUNTLEY.
Madam, not so;
The earl of Sutherland, whose forfeiture
Your grace but now remitted with mine own,
When we shall meet my brother’s men in arms,
Will die before he yield you to their hands.
QUEEN.
My lord, you have no brother of him now
That was your sister’s husband. I will write
To bid him bring up men enough to outmatch
All that ride with us homeward, and so far
That none the hardiest shall but think on fight.
Three hundred hath your earl? then in his rank
There shall be more than of our company,
That I to spare men’s blood may yield myself.
HUNTLEY.
It is too gross and foolishly devised;
When I spake last with him, he laid on you
The charge to say where we should meet and when,
And what should by contrivance plead for me,
To save my name though you be yielded up
Who ride with me for escort; all this charge
He lays on you, and bids me write again
What you shall say by letter; of himself
He moves not yet; and I beseech you think,
Before you move him, in what enterprise
You put to pledge your honour, that can never
With honour wed him who being wedded man
By force and violent hand hath borne you off;
Nor will my folk endure it, I wot well,
But it must come to trial by hap of fight
With doubt and accident of answering arms;
Where if we fail on our part, then on his
Shall be the blame and bloody note of war
Made on your personal guard; bat if we win
That ride with you as followers, then is he
The most forlorn of men revolted; else,
I shall be called of all that sin on earth
The most unthankful traitor, who being now
But newly of your grace remade your man
Shall yield you up by treason without blows
Into a rebel’s handling; and the lords,
I doubt, when they shall see you in his hold,
Will think not much to unswear their oaths, deny
Their words and hands as given through force or fear,
And signed not of their hearts; I pray, think of it,
And take some other counsel to your mind.
QUEEN.
My lord, if you bear back my word to him,
It shall be this: that seeing I am come so far,
If of his own will he withdraw him not,
For no persuasion nor for death itself
Will I be brought to break my faith with him.
For this you say of them that follow you
And of your fear to bear a thankless name
For my supposed betraying, you should by now
With him have taken counsel of the chance,
And not have thrown it here across my way
Who have no choice to pass not over it,
Seeing I may turn not back for life or death,
For fear or shame or love of any man.
As for the place, he doth not well to cast
On me too even the election; let him choose,
And send me word, with pardon that herein
I tax my lord of too much negligence.
For those your followers whom you most misdoubt,
You shall be wise to weed our train of them
If any wise mean be to draw them forth.
This is my counsel, of a simple wit
And womanish, but not so vile at heart
As to go back for danger from its faith.
I pray you so report of me, and say,
When he shall ask you of my mind again,
No more but this word only; and farewell.
Exit Huntley.
This faint-heart honesty with half a hand
Is falser found at need than falsehood’s self,
And ever was of me more hated. O,
That I might take these hours as in my hand
And men that yet divide us, with one grasp
To gripe them dead and pluck his fang from time
That waits to fasten on us unawares
And make love mortal with the kiss that kills!
A day and night are as a long life’s length
That part the hungering from the perfect hour,
The void from the fulfilling. - Nay, come in.
Enter Mary Beaton and Paris
MARY BEATON.
Here waits my lord of Bothwell’s messenger
To bear your word back of Lord Huntley’s mind.
QUEEN.
Ay, that I found it trustless. Tell my lord
He makes me mad to put his faith in him
And to mistrust that which is wholly his,
Even her true heart to whom he should have sent
Word every day what she should do for him,
And hath done nothing of it. I did say
He should take heed of that false brother-in-law,
Of whom his negligence and heedless faith
Have put us in the danger; on my part
There has lacked nothing toward the work in hand,
And had he not more changed his mind than I
Since I went from him, he should need not now
By stranger’s lips inquire of my resolve.
Say how you see me, and till he send me word
That I will here lie sick, as God he knows
What health I have at heart; would I were dead,
For all I see goes ill; but tell your lord
This was not in his promise that I find,
Nor no such matter; but he lets me see
What power has absence on him, to whose bow
His hand has yet another string than mine.
And look you warn him of thi
s brother-in-law
That he hath babbled of our enterprise
Wherein he puts but forth a heartless hand,
And in what great men’s ears he well may guess
Who knows which most are dangerous; yet methinks
If still we have need to flatter them, so much
Might naturally be pleaded on his part,
That his good service and long amity
Might well deserve his pardon and their love
If past a subject’s duty he put forth,
Not to constrain me but assure himself
Of such place nigh me that no foreign tongue
May by strange counsel hinder my consent
To that whereto he trusts his service shall
Make him one day to attain; with such excuse
Shall he persuade them that he stands compelled
To make pursuit against his enemies:
And he may find fair words at will to say
To Maitland most of all, through whose keen tongue
We hold the rest by the ear; but if at last
The deed of our device mislike him now,
Let him send word and leave not on my head
The blame of all; and if it like him yet,
Say I beseech him for the honour of God
To come with no less force accompanied
Than of three hundred men; rather with more,
For that is all the main part of my care;
Seeing as for Huntley, I assure myself
He in our play shall henceforth bear no part
But of an honest and a fearful man
Whose thought and all his toil of heart it is
To keep the load of treason from his name.
Therefore I would not have my lord in all
Trust or mistrust him, but be circumspect
And take more power unto him.
PARIS.
So shall I say;
Your highness hath no message more for me?
QUEEN.
God wot no time it is for us to change
Tokens and toys of love; yet I would send
For very sorrow something but in sign
That of my heart’s grief I accuse not him
For his cold writing or forgetfulness,
His little memory of me and little care,
And least of all his promise-breach, being now
So far made his that what thing pleases him
Is acceptable to me, and all my thoughts
To his so willingly subdued, that all
That comes of him proceeds of no such root,
Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series) Page 224
