Part 9 (1/2)

PAULET.

My lord, Take the pretext away which buoys it up, And you shall see this proud defiance fail That very moment. I must say, my lord, Irregularities have been allowed In these proceedings; Babington and Ballard Should have been brought, with her two secretaries, Before her, face to face.

BURLEIGH.

No, Paulet, no.

That was not to be risked; her influence Upon the human heart is too supreme; Too strong the female empire of her tears.

Her secretary, Curl, if brought before her, And called upon to speak the weighty word On which her life depends, would straight shrink back And fearfully revoke his own confession.

PAULET.

Then England's enemies will fill the world With evil rumors; and the formal pomp Of these proceedings to the minds of all Will only signalize an act of outrage.

BURLEIGH.

That is the greatest torment of our queen, [That she can never 'scape the blame. Oh G.o.d!]

Had but this lovely mischief died before She set her faithless foot on English ground.

PAULET.

Amen, say I!

BURLEIGH.

Had sickness but consumed her!

PAULET.

England had been secured from such misfortune.

BURLEIGH.

And yet, if she had died in nature's course, The world would still have called us murderers.

PAULET.

'Tis true, the world will think, despite of us, Whate'er it list.

BURLEIGH.

Yet could it not be proved?

And it would make less noise.

PAULET.

Why, let it make What noise it may. It is not clamorous blame, 'Tis righteous censure only which can wound.

BURLEIGH.

We know that holy justice cannot 'scape The voice of censure; and the public cry Is ever on the side of the unhappy: Envy pursues the laurelled conqueror; The sword of justice, which adorns the man, Is hateful in a woman's hand; the world Will give no credit to a woman's justice If woman be the victim. Vain that wo, The judges, spoke what conscience dictated; She has the royal privilege of mercy; She must exert it: 'twere not to be borne, Should she let justice take its full career.

PAULET.

And therefore----

BURLEIGH.

Therefore should she live? Oh, no, She must not live; it must not be. 'Tis this, Even this, my friend, which so disturbs the queen, And scares all slumber from her couch; I read Her soul's distracting contest in her eyes: She fears to speak her wishes, yet her looks, Her silent looks, significantly ask, ”Is there not one amongst my many servants To save me from this sad alternative?

Either to tremble in eternal fear Upon my throne, or else to sacrifice A queen of my own kindred on the block?”

PAULET.