Joseph Mellish - Mary Stuart (Act 4 Scene 9) lyrics

Enter the EARL OF SHREWSBURY (who enters with great emotion). SHREWSBURY. Hold fast, my queen, they wish to hurry thee; [Seeing DAVISON with the paper. Be firm—or is it then decided?—is it Indeed decided? I behold a paper Of ominous appearance in his hand; Let it not at this moment meet thy eyes, My queen!—— ELIZABETH. Good Shrewsbury! I am constrained—— SHREWSBURY. Who can constrain thee? Thou art Queen of England, Here must thy majesty a**ert its rights: Command those savage voices to be silent, Who take upon themselves to put constraint Upon thy royal will, to rule thy judgment. Fear only, blind conjecture, moves thy people; Thou art thyself beside thyself; thy wrath Is grievously provoked: thou art but mortal, And canst not thus ascend the judgment seat. BURLEIGH. Judgment has long been past. It is not now The time to speak but execute the sentence. KENT (who upon SHREWSBURY'S entry had retired, comes back). The tumult gains apace; there are no means To moderate the people. ELIZABETH (to SHREWSBURY). See, my lord, How they press on. SHREWSBURY. I only ask a respite; A single word traced by thy hand decides The peace, the happiness of all thy life! Thou hast for years considered, let not then A moment ruled by pa**ion hurry thee— But a short respite—recollect thyself! Wait for a moment of tranquillity. BURLEIGH (violently). Wait for it—pause—delay—till flames of fire Consume the realm; until the fifth attempt Of murder be successful! God, indeed, Hath thrice delivered thee; thy late escape Was marvellous, and to expect again A miracle would be to tempt thy God! SHREWSBURY. That God, whose potent hand hath thrice preserved thee, Who lent my aged feeble arm its strength To overcome the madman:—he deserves Thy confidence. I will not raise the voice Of justice now, for now is not the time; Thou canst not hear it in this storm of pa**ion. Yet listen but to this! Thou tremblest now Before this living Mary—tremble rather Before the murdered, the beheaded Mary. She will arise, and quit her grave, will range A fiend of discord, an avenging ghost, Around thy realm, and turn thy people's hearts From their allegiance. For as yet the Britons Hate her, because they fear her; but most surely Will they avenge her when she is no more. They will no more behold the enemy Of their belief, they will but see in her The much-lamented issue of their kings A sacrifice to jealousy and hate. Then quickly shalt thou see the sudden change When thou hast done the bloody deed; then go Through London, seek thy people, which till now Around thee swarmed delighted; thou shalt see Another England, and another people; For then no more the godlike dignity Of justice, which subdued thy subjects' hearts, Will beam around thee. Fear, the dread ally Of tyranny, will shuddering march before thee, And make a wilderness in every street— The last, extremest crime thou hast committed. What head is safe, if the anointed fall? ELIZABETH. Ah! Shrewsbury, you saved my life, you turned The murderous steel aside; why let you not The dagger take its course? then all these broils Would have been ended; then, released from doubt, And free from blame, I should be now at rest In my still, peaceful grave. In very sooth I'm weary of my life, and of my crown. If Heaven decree that one of us two queens Must perish, to secure the other's life— And sure it must be so—why should not I Be she who yields? My people must decide; I give them back the sovereignty they gave. God is my witness that I have not lived For my own sake, but for my people's welfare. If they expect from this false, fawning Stuart, The younger sovereign, more happy days, I will descend with pleasure from the throne, Again repair to Woodstock's quiet bowers, Where once I spent my unambitious youth; Where far removed from all the vanities Of earthly power, I found within myself True majesty. I am not made to rule— A ruler should be made of sterner stuff: My heart is soft and tender. I have governed These many years this kingdom happily, But then I only needed to make happy: Now, comes my first important regal duty, And now I feel how weak a thing I am. BURLEIGH. Now by mine honor, when I hear my queen, My royal liege, speak such unroyal words, I should betray my office, should betray My country, were I longer to be silent. You say you love your people 'bove yourself, Now prove it. Choose not peace for your own heart, And leave your kingdom to the storms of discord. Think on the church. Shall, with this papist queen The ancient superstition be renewed? The monk resume his sway, the Roman legate In pomp march hither; lock our churches up, Dethrone our monarchs? I demand of you The souls of all your subjects—as you now Shall act, they all are saved, or all are lost! Here is no time for mercy;—to promote Your people's welfare is your highest duty. If Shrewsbury has saved your life, then I Will save both you and England—that is more! ELIZABETH. I would be left alone. No consolation, No counsel can be drawn from human aid In this conjecture:—I will lay my doubts Before the Judge of all:—I am resolved To act as He shall teach. Withdraw, my lords. [To DAVISON, who lays the paper on the table. You, sir, remain in waiting—close at hand. [The lords withdraw, SHREWSBURY alone stands for a few moments before the QUEEN, regards her significantly, then withdraws slowly, and with an expression of the deepest anguish.