The island queens, or, The death of Mary, Queen of Scotland a tragedy : publish'd only in defence of the author and the play, against some mistaken censures, occasion'd by its being prohibited the stage / by Jo. Banks.

ACTUS TERTIUS. Scena prima. (Book 3)

Morton. Davison.

Mor.

NOw famous Davison, 'tis in your Power, To be the Genius of your threaten'd Nation, And the Protector of your Crown and Laws; A glorious Merit offers to espouse you, And make your Name in Englands Cause renown'd. Your Mistress must not see the Queen of Scotland; This you must study to prevent; for 'tis To give a Dagger to a Lunatick. How do's she hold her Yesterdays Resolve?

Dav.

Just as I fear'd; for in her Bed-Chamber Early this Morn, I found the Duke of Norfolk Upon his Knees, petitioning for the Queen. At first she started, with her Eyes shot Flames, And bid him in a fury strait be gon; Then with an elevated Tone, she cry'd, What, must I ne're be kneel'd to but for her? All Kness, all Hearts must bend to her alone, Whilst I, alas, like the dull slavish Beast

That bore the Goddess Image on his Back, Am worship'd only but for her.

Mor.

Said rarely!

Dav.

Then on a suddain call'd him back again, Blotting a Tear that fell in spite of her, And bid him go to the distrest, poor Queen, And bear a Token to her, Giving a Ring, and with it many a Sigh. Tell her, said she, tho' Jealousies of State Forbid that we shou'd meet, yet many days, Nay, many hours I am not sure to live, Unless I see her quickly, and embrace her.

Mor.

Then all my Fears again return.

Dav.

The Duke Rise from the Ground exalted and expir'd, Leaving the Queen with Burleigh and my self; But soon, on us presuming to advise her, She thunder'd as the Gods on the rash Giants, And made us feel what 'twas to war with Heaven. Then in a Rage, she darted from her Closet, And threw the Door so hard with such a Flounce, (As I have seen her Father Harry do) That made us tremble.

Mor.

What wou'd you advise?

Dav.

I know not, for she wearies her Attendants, And fain wou'd shake e'm off; survey's each Chamber, And measures ev'ry Gallery in her House An hundred times, as if she meant to take A View, and by the Model build the like. I know the Cause, and tho' her Spirit's proud, And wou'd not stoop to see the Scottish Queen, Yet she feeks all occasions out to meet her, And therefore loyters like a Miser's Ghost About the Treasure that it lov'd on Earth.

Mor.

This mighty Duke must be lop'd low, or fall, His Branches are too spreading and too high, Under whose Tops our Queen securely lyes, And mocks the just avenging storms of Heav'n. He thinks he's clear'd from all Accounts of Guilt, But I have that will set him in Arrear,

Ne're to be paid, and ne're to be forgiven. I'le to the Duke.

[Exit Morton.

Dav.

And I'le go seek the Queen—

As Davison is going out, enter Gifford and meets him.

What art thou that has haunted me so long? Thou look'st as if thou mean'st to draw my Picture. I saw thee in the Presence of the Queen, Which, when I left, thou follow'dst me, And still survey'st me with a curious Eye. What woud'st thou with me? say, what art?

Giff.

A Man. And what indeed is rare in such a Place, A Miracle at Court, an honest Man. I am a Priest.

Dav.

How dar'st thou peep thy Head within these Walls? I'le have thee seiz'd.

Giff.

Thou'dst better, if 'twere possible, The Guardian Angel of thy Mistress seize. I'me hir'd to kill the Queen.

Dav.

O monstrous Villain!

Giff.

I am no Villain, but a Scourge to Villains. I have the Instrument of Fate about me.

Dav.

O horrid! most unheard of Impudence! Durst thou tell this to me that am her Servant?

Giff.

Because you are, therefore I sought you out, And came not here to act it, but reveal it. Hell cou'd not rest and know it.

Dav.

Thou say'st well. What dire Companions in this Tragedy Hast thou? who set you on?

Giff.

O they are mighty! Nor was the Queen alone t'have felt the Blow.

Dav.

Is not the Queen of Scotland in the Plot? Speak as thy Virtue prompts thee, and the Throne, Thy Innocence, and Heav'n be all thy Guard.

Giff.

I know that for Her sake this was contriv'd; But dare not think that she's consenting to it.

Dav.

Wer't thou alone to act this monstrous Treason?

Giff.

No, five bold Villains more besides my self, (Curst that my Name shou'd e're be read for one) All made of Nature's ruffest, fiercest Mould, Have enter'd in a damn'd Association, (Start Heav'n, and all Divinity to hear) To kill the Queen! to murther Majesty! Their several Instruments of Death, in sport They made the Guilt of Chance. One had a Sword Fell to his share; the second chose a Gun, The third a Pistol; Poyson had the fourth; The fifth had Water for the Deed, who was, If all the rest had fail'd t'have sunk her Barge, Rowing some Evening, as her Custom is, From Greenwich; and this Dagger was my Lot.

[Shews a Dagger.

Dav.

Thou'st gain'd a glorious, and immortal Credit.

Giff.

I can produce what will amaze you worse. No Necromancer ever shew'd the Face Of a suspected Stealer in a Glass, As I the lively Figures of these Monsters, In glorious ostentation of the Deed, Painted on Tablets set in Gold, with Babington High in the midst, and in his threatning Hand Grasping the Weapon that shou'd kill the Queen, And underneath this horrid Sentence writ, Hi mihi sunt Comites quos ipsa pericula ducunt.

Dav.

O Villain! didst thou ever see Queen Mary?

Giff.

Never, but have her Letters to the Pope, To the Confederates, and to Babington.

Dav.

To Babington! say, does she write to him?

Giff.

To him—I am th'intrusted Messenger.

Dav.

Do'st know them to be hers? Who gave 'em you?

Giff.

Her Secretary Curl.

Dav.

But are you sure they are the Queens own Hand?

Giff.

Her Hand I know not, but her Name is to 'em. To me they're first deliver'd to convey; And henceforth as they come into my hands, To you I'le give 'em.

Dav.

Do so, which I'le open, And cause them to be neatly counterfeited, Then send the false, and keep the true ones by me—

But hold, we are perceiv'd; come, follow me, And when time serves, I'le bring thee to the Queen.

[Exeunt.

Enter Queen Mary, young Dowglas, and Women at the other Door. Dowglas spies Davison and Gifford.

Qu. M.

Shew me the unfrequented'st Gallery To walk in; for we have not chang'd our State; We only have a little larger Prison.

Dow.

Ha!

Qu. M.

What do's all the Genius of his Queen? Why this Disorder? wherefore didst thou start?

Dow.

Saw you that Fellow Madam?

Qu. M.

Yes, why ask'st thou?

Dow.

I know not, but a suddain Horror seiz'd me At that Mans sight, as if he were some Fiend. Was not that Davison and he together In private talk?—Ah Madam, Davison A Spy of Quality, and Legier here Of Plots against your sacred Innocence. By your unspotted Soul! just such a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 (Pray Heav'n he's not the same) I ofte•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 With Navus during your Imprisonment. O my prophetick Heart warns and foretells me, There's mischief gangring in our scarce clos'd Wounds.

Qu. M.

Thou need'st not fear, for my kind Sisters Love, And my own Innocence shall conquer all That Hell and Furies can invent against me.

Dow.

What mean these drops? O Heav'ns! what means this shaking? Young Prophets never wept nor trembl'd so, For Pity, when they told the Fate of Kingdoms. Ah brightest Star that e're adorn'd the World! Take, take young Dowgla's Counsel and retire; O shun this barbarous Place, and fly this Moment.

Qu. M.

What dost thou mean?

Dow.

I know not, but am pull'd By some strange Destiny that seems to you As if Irav'd, but blest were you 'twere madness. Last Night no sooner was I laid to rest, But just three drops of Blood fell from my Nose,

And stain'd my Pillow, which I found this Morning, And wonder'd at.

Qu. M.

That rather does betoken Some mischief to thy self.

Dow.

Perhaps to Cowards, Who prize their own base Lives, but to the Brave 'Tis always fatal to the Friend they love. Mark further. I was scarcely fall'n asleep, But You were represented to my Fancy, Deck'd like a Bride with Norfolk in you Hand: The amorous Duke shot Smiles with ev'ry Word, Whilst you return'd e'm with more piercing Darts; But strait it seem'd to Lighten, and a Peal Of dreadful Thunder rent you from each other, Whilst from the Cieling painted o're like Heaven, Methought I saw the furious Queen of England Like angry Iuno mounted on a Cloud, Light on a Throne, at which dread Sight you vanisht.

Qu. M.

These are but starts of an o'rewatchful soul, Which always represent to us asleep, What most we fear, or wish when w'are awake.

Dow.

Ah my best mistress! on my knees I beg you, Tho' the brave Duke be as renown'd as any That e're the antient Gréeks pickt out for Gods; Tho' never Man so rival'd all his Sex, And left e'm bare of Virtues like himself; Yet for your precious Life's sake that's more worth Than thousand Dukes, break off your Marriage with him.

Qu. M.

My little Guardian Angel, thou dost rouze And beat a War within my Breasts, between The Interest of my Love and Preservation; Thou knowst 'twas long consulted, and at last Concluded best for my uncertain State. Leicester and Cecil, both of 'em have promis'd, With Morton too, to gain the Queens Consent.

Dow.

There's Morton in it, therefore go no farther.

Qu. M.

Thou wou'dst not have me wed the gallant Duke, Yet thou wou'dst have me fly; where shall I fly? I dare not go to Scotland, That lays wait To catch me in a hundred Snares of Death;

And into France, I will not, must not go; For then my Sister may with reason say, I went for Aid to drive her from her Throne; Besides, with sad Experience oft we find, France seldom to a banisht Prince is kind.

Dow.

See where he is, just in the moment Heav'n! As if ill Fate against it self were kind, And comes to warn you that you might avoid it.

Qu. M.

What shall I do? say Heav'n; for lo I stand Like one that in a Desart seeks his way, Sees several Paths, yet doubting of the right, Stands in a maze, and fears to venture upon any.

Enter to them Norfolk and Morton.

Norf.

What! what in tears, thou mourning Excellence! Shed not that precious Balm in vain, but spare it To heal the world when Nature is a dying, And Chaos shall be threatned once again. O save those Pearls to buy large Empires for us, And when w'ave liv'd to the old Patilarchs Age, To purchase twice as many years of Heaven.

Mor.

Weep you when Love and joyful Hyment wait To banish Grief for ever from your Breast!

Qu. M.

Morton, I will proceed no further in this Marriage. My Lord, I fear it will be fatal to us.

Norf.

What do I hear!

Qu. M.

By all my hopes I dare not. Most generous Norfolk! to your virtuous Love I ow my Freedom, and what's more, my Life, And Marys Heart is but the least return That she can make; but if that Heart proves fatal, A wretched Load to curse with woes the Taker, And sink the Noble Vessel that does hold it, Then Charity forbids me be so cruel— Think I deny you for your own dear safety, Think I deny my self—Run, fly, forsake me, Seek not for shelter in a falling Tower, But leave me to be wretched here alone.

Norf.

Shou'd all the Fiends break loose to bar my way, And were that Marble Roof of Heav'n descending To crush me and my Hopes▪ I'de fly this moment, And perish with my Love, but I'de enjoy her. Give me this trembling Hand, the fairest Lilly Set in the loveliest Garden of the World▪ Purer and whiter than the Virgin Snow. If 'tis a Sin to blot it with a Tear, O cou'd it speak. 'twou'd expiate the Crime, And say my soul does want a rougher Language, To chide my Alban Queen.

Qu. M.

Cease Norfolk, cease; By all your hopes of happiness I charm you. Your better Genius, not my own foretells me, This deed will be the ruine of your Fortunes, If not your Life; first break it to the Queen, Gain her Consent.

Mor.

That is already done; Leicester long since implor'd her Royal Leave; She knows it, and in not forbidding it, Her Silence must be taken for a Grant.

Qu. M.

Delay it but a Day, and let me go My self, if Blushes will not quite confound me, And ask the Queen.

Mor.

You still create fresh Hazards, And still forget the Queen denies to see you; Besides, that were to wake some new surmise Of State; perhaps she'l then demur on the Request, And call your Foes to Council, which when done, And past prevention, she'l not blame the Deed.

Norf.

O gallant Morton! let me thank thee thus,

[Embraces Morton.

More pitiful than weeping Virgins are, And kind as interceding Angels thou.

Mor.

Go quickly then, and tye this sacred Knot Due to your Int'rest, due to both your Loves; Elizabeth shall jealous be no more, Nor fearful then that any foreign Prince Shou'd thereby joyn his Kingdom to your Right, And claim your lawful Title to her Crown.

Go instantly, how e're she seems to frown, She'l smile within her heart to hear 'tis done.

Norf.

By all your Woes now fled, my Service past, And more, by all your precious Vows I beg you.

Qu. M.

Why do you hold me? where d'ye hurry me, To be your Fate, to be your Enemy?

Norf.

Remember, O remember Fothering ay! Remember what it heard, and eccho's still, Your oft repeated Vows, and Norfolk's Groans.

Qu. M.

Some pitying Angel from above, behold, Fly swift, and point the Path that I must follow.

Mor.

Away, the Sun sets forth like a gay Brideman With you.

Qu. M.

Come then, conduct me since I must. And now Ambition, Empire, All be gon, I leave you with your heavy Weight a Crown, And if I err, bright Register above, Mark with forgiveness, all my fault was Love.

Mor.

Curst Accident; the Queen's approaching hither.

Qu. M.

What is't you say? O bear me from her sight. My Joy and Fear like two huge Giants fight. Hope bids me fly, my trembling heart forbids, But who can Love and Reason both obey?— Do what you will with me,—away, away.

Enter Queen Elizabeth, Cecil, Davison, Lords and Atten∣dants. Queen Elizabeth sees Norfolk and Queen Mary go out at the other Side.

Qu. E.

Ha! see my Lords! I dare not trust my Sight. Is not that Norfolk, so officious with The Queen?

Cec.

May't please your Majesty, it is,

Qu. E.

Bid him return—

[Davison calls the Duke back. Queen Mary comes back with him.

See, she comes with him too. My Lord, how dare you take her by the Hand? Nay, talk with an Offender 'gainst your Queen! And slight thus plain my positive Commands. Bold Duke! If I am Queen, you then shall know,

Thoud'st better thrust thy Hands into the Flame, Or took a Lyon by the Paw.

Qu. M.

Alas!

[Queen Mary makes up at some distance to Queen Elizabeth.

Let not the Noble Duke for Me be blam'd, Nor bear a Weight so dreadful as your Anger, When I am thought by You the chief Transgressor. He only met a poor afflicted Wretch, Lost in a Wild, and put her in her Way; For here I wander to my self unknown, Know few, and taken notice of by none.

Qu. E.

She has a glorious Form! By those bright Constellations o're our Heads, Which Story tells where charming Women once, There is not half such Beauty in those Orbs, Nor Majesty in Heav'n—Think you my Lords, That she appears so beautiful as fam'd? What dull and sottish Fancies have my Women! I ne're was set so ill together in My Life—Look but on her; and yet methinks She is beholden to her Sable Dress, As, through a Jetty Sky Stars glitter most.

Cec.

'Tis no dispraise to th' Beauty of the Queen, To say Yours Rival's Hers, and all the Sex.

Qu. E.

Nay, now you grosly flatter me, Old Man. 'Tis long of such mean Sycophants as you, That Princes are so wretched, ne're to know The Errours of their Persons, nor their Minds.

Qu. M.

What, not a Word! Am I not worth one word? Now Heav'n! I dare you now to do your worst, You cannot curse me now more if you wou'd.

Qu. E.

Assist me now my Courage, Pity, all Stand by my Soul; how shall I bear it now?

Qu. M.

Nor yet a Look! not one kind Look upon me? No Token that I once was Scotlands Queen!

Qu. E.

Hear this obdurate Cecil, Davison! Ye Seed of Rocks, you Brood of Wolves and Tigers! Y'ave made me a worse Monster than your selves, That when I'de look on her, she aws my Sight, Like a loath'd Fiend, I dare not see the Light.

Qu. M.

Cou'd Angels think our Meeting shou'd be thus! Thus Mary and Elizabeth shou'd greet! So do the Christians and the Pagans treat, The brave Plantagenet with th' Ottomon, The golden Eagle with the Silver Crescent, But never thus the White Cross with the Red.

Norf.

This needs must charm, were she more fell than Woman.

Qu. M.

The friendly Ocean, when the world was made, Took care to joyn our Countries close together, And shall not we our Loves and tender Hearts? We whom one happy loving Island holds, Of the same Sex, the same blest Faith embrace; And one rich Blood travels through both our Veins. Shou'd we thus meet, and at a distance talk?

Qu. E.

Support me Cecil, for I sink with shame.

Qu. M.

The beauteous Margaret, your Royal Aunt, Whose right and lawful Grand-daughter I am, Met not my Grand-father, the valiant Iames, With such a scornful and revengeful Brow; For if she had, I never had been born, And you not known the hated Queen of Scotland.

Qu. E.

Heav'ns lift me from this place where I am rooted; On Wings of Angels bear me to her Arms.

Qu. M.

What ever contrary Effect it works In your hard Breast, I'me sure that part of you That is in mine, torments me to get forth; Bounds upward, and leaps outward to embrace you; My whole Blood starts—

Qu. E.

And mine can hold no longer— My Sister! Oh—

[Queen Elizabeth runs and embraces her.

Qu. M.

Can this be real?

Qu. E.

Ah turn not from me, lest you force me now To sink into the Earth low as my Crimes, Deeper than Hell, whereto that Cruelty Is fled, that parted us so long asunder— Throw thy lov'd Arms as I do mine about thee, And never feel less Joy than I do now. Oh, 'Tis too great, it is unspeakable! Cleave to my Breast, for I want words to tell.

Qu. M.

Then farewel hence all Miseries and Wrongs, Forgiveness now and Pleasures fill my Breast. Mine were not half so great when I espous'd, And threw these Arms about young Francis Neck, And laid me down the Queen of half the World. I feel the Blood of our glad Ancestors, The Spirit of every brave Plantagenet, Glow through my Cheeks, and start up to my Lips, To parley with, to wonder at, to kiss Their Royal Brothers hovering upon thine. I rave, I am distracted with the Joy; It is too great; for sence, I faint, I dye.

Qu. E.

Look down you Powers, take notice how I love her, Worship this Token as glad Saints receive Angels when sent Embassadors from Heaven.

Qu. M.

O let me go, let ravisht Mary go; Give my wild Joy some breath, some Room to walk in, Or I shall burst into ten thousand Attoms, As many pieces as y'ave murthering Charms— Here, take me, kill, or quickly carry me Back to the dreadful Prison from whence I came; A thousand years of pain is not enough For this one moment of Seraphick joy; That she is kind, and thinks me innocent! Sound Heav'n, me innocent! that one word's more Than Tongue can speak, or all e're said before.

Qu. E.

Ah Royal Mary! urge no more my Guilt, But blot it from thy Breast, as I from mine— Down on your Knees all that regard my Frowns;

[To her At∣tendants.

Behold your Queens; both Scotch and English hear; Let my dread Voice far as the Winds be heard, From Silver Thames to Golden Tweed proclaim, With harmony of Drums and Trumpets sound, Not her, nor me alone, not One, but both, Sound Mary and Elizabeth your Queens.

Qu. M.

O be less kind, least Heav'n shou'd snatch my Joys, And hoard 'em up for Deities themselves; For they're too great for Mortal sence to bear. Here I'le not change my happy State to be

Greater than Caesar, Philips mad-brain'd Son, Or sweating Atlas with the Globe upon him.

Qu. E.

I do her wrong to keep her from new Joys. Each moment shall beget, each hour bring forth Fresh Pleasures and rich Welcomes to delight her. Prepare her Table, deck her Bed of State; Let her Apartment shine with golden Arras, Richer than e're was wrought in Persian Loom. Strew Perfumes in her Way, sweeter than Incense, Rare as the Sun sucks ev'ry Morning up, And sweet as is the Breath upon her Lips. Soft Musick sound when e're she wakes or sleeps, Musick as sweet, harmonious, and as still As does this soft and gentle Bosom fill.

Norf.

See the Queen's Orders instantly obey'd.

Qu. E.

Thus let us go with hand in hand combin'd, The White Cross with the Red thus ever joyn'd. England with Scotland shall no longer jar, Nor Albany with Albion no more War; But thus we'l live, and walk thus ev'ry day, Till from the Verge of Life we drop away. So have I seen two Streams with eager pace, Hasten to meet, and lovingly embrace; Making one Current as we make one Soul, Till Arm in Arm they in the Ocean roll.

[Exeunt Omnes.

Finis Actus Tertii.