Then from thy chamber bear thee forcibly.
Each living soul must die beneath our hands,
That none remain who might disclose the deed.
Mary. And Drury, Paulet, my two keepers, they
Would sooner spill their latest drop of blood—
Mort. They fall the very first beneath my steel.
Mary. What, Sir!-your uncle? how !
second father!-

your

Mort. Must perish by my hand,—I murder him!—
Mary. O, bloody outrage!

- Mort. We have been absolv'd

Beforehand; I can now commit the utmost ;

I can, I will do so!-

Mary. O dreadful, dreadful !

Mort. And should I be oblig'd to kill the Queen, I've sworn it on the host, it must be done!

Mary. No, Mortimer;-e'er so much blood for meMort. What is the life of all, compar'd to thee, And to my love? The bond which holds the world Together may be loos'd, a second deluge Come rolling on, and swallow all creation! I value nothing more; before I quit

My hold on thee, the world and time be ended!

Mary. [retiring.] God!-Sir, what language, and what looks! they frighten,

They scare me !

Mort. [with unsteady looks, expressive of quiet madness.] Life is but a moment-Death

Is but a moment too. Why! let them drag me
To Tyburn, let them tear me limb from limb,
With red-hot pincers-

[violently approaching her with extended arms.

If I clasp but thee

Within my arms, thou fervently belov'd!

To

Mary. Madman, avaunt!—

Mort. To rest upon this bosom,

press upon this love-expiring mouth

Mary. Leave me, for God's sake, Sir; let me goinMort. He is a madman who neglects to clasp

His happiness in strictest close embrace,

When Heav'n has kindly giv'n it to his arms.

I will deliver you, and though it cost

A thousand lives, I will: but I swear too,

As true as God's in Heav'n, I will possess you!Mary. O! will no God, no angel then protect me? Dread destiny! thou throw'st me, in thy wrath,

From one tremendous terror to the other!
Was I then only born to waken frenzy?
Conspire then hate and love, alike, to fright me?

Mort. Yes, glowing as their hatred is my love; They would behead thee, they would wound this neck,

So dazzling white, with the disgraceful axe !

O! offer to the living god of joy

What thou must sacrifice to bloody hatred!
Inspire thy happy lover with those charms

Which are no more thine own; those golden locks
Are forfeit to the dismal pow'rs of death,
O! use them to entwine thy slave for ever!—

Mary. Alas! alas! what language must I hear! My woe, my suff'rings should be sacred to you, Although my royal brows are so no more.

Mort. The crown is fallen from thy brows, thou
hast

No more of earthly majesty; attempt it,
Raise thy imperial voice, see if a friend,
If a deliverer will rise to save you.

Thy moving form alone remains, the high,

The godlike influence of thy heav'nly beauty;

This bids me venture all, this arms my hand With might, and drives me tow'rds the hangman's axe! Mary. O! who will save me from his raging' madness?

Mort. Service that's bold, demands a bold reward. Why shed their blood the daring?—is not life Life's highest good? a madman, who in vain Casts life away-first will I take my rest, Enjoy my transports on its warmest breast !—

[he presses her violently to his bosom.

Mary. Must I then call for help against the man Who would deliver me !

Mort. Thou'rt not unfeeling,

The world ne'er censur'd thee for frigid rigour;
The fervent pray'r of love can touch thy heart,
Thou blessed'st formerly thy singer, Rizzio,

And suffer'dst Bothwell easily to win thee.
Mary. Presumptuous man!-

Mort. He was indeed thy tyrant,

Thou trembled'st at his rudeness, whilst thou lov'd'st

him;

Well then-if only terror can obtain thee

By the infernal gods!

Mary. Away-you're mad !—

Mort. I'll teach thee then before me too to trembleKen. [entering suddenly.] They're coming-they approach—the Park is fill'd

With men in arms.

Mort. [starting, and catching at his sword.] I will defend you—I—

Mary. O Hannah! save me, save me from his hands,

Where shall I find, poor suff'rer, an asylum ?
O to what saint shall I address my pray'rs?
Force here attacks me, and within is murder!

[she flees toward the house, Kennedy follows her.

Mortimer, Paulet, and Drury rush in, in the greatest consternation-Attendants hasten over the Stage.

Paul. Shut all the portals-draw the bridges upMort. What is the matter, uncle ?—

Paul. Where is the murdress?

Down with her, down into the darkest dungeon!

Mort. What is the matter? What has pass'd