PAGE

Running in.

Alas, I bear you more bad news, my queen.

The fickle people of the town insult you

Again, as they have done so many times.

Today I witnessed a new travesty

Flung at your royal chapel. Early this morning

I watched, beyond the garden wall, a troupe

Of jolly maskers — Robin and his train

Of morris dancers; Friar Tuck in’s cowl,

The bowmen, Little John, Maid Marian,

Pale as if cut from ivory, the gay lass,

And with the crowd, I followed them, until

They halted — all the jangling bells fell silent —

And there we watched some strange man, threatening,

Haranguing, until he went into a house

Where, at a high window, as if at pulpit,

He once again appeared, to preach his treason

Against you, sovereign Lady.

RIZZIO

From what’s been said,

I recognise the preacher. Knox, my lady,

Who day and night rails from that corner window,

The while the crowd below listens and prays,

Sucking in every word that falls from’s lips,

Expecting miracles. O, it’s Christian doctrine!

One time he pointed here and cried aloud:

“Destroy the nest, and watch the crows fly off!”

As if the Pope himself, he thundered out

Anathemas from that window, and the mob —

They bow before him like he were a saint.

PAGE

The bolder ones, my Queen, thirsty for crime,

Rushed in your chapel, shrieking wildly,

“O pit of papal vipers!” tearing down

The holy images, the candles; setting fire

To all their hands despoiled. And then, dressed up

In priestly robes, that clown of Darnley’s stood

Upon the altar, preaching blasphemy.

The people joined in sinful antiphony,

The while the jester stripped the church of gold.

I drew my sword, despairing and enraged,

And threw myself upon him. That put paid

To his bells’ tinkle! Did I spill his blood?

I don’t know. For soon I was surrounded,

And, pressed against the wall, made to submit.

If not for Bothwell, and the royal guardsmen

Who came to my aid — your page had been no more.

MARY

You hear that, Rizzio? On this lonely throne,

By all abandoned, I’m hated by my people,

The while this Knox insults a woman’s crown,

And boldly! Have I now fallen so low?

He curses me, he jibes — it tears my heart!

Even today I offered prayers for them;

Does my faith differ so from theirs? O, Scotland!

RIZZIO

They’ll stop insulting you, my queen, and soon.

A well-deservéd punishment will fall

Upon those criminals. Allow me, ma’am

To write a rescript. Let the guilty pay

With loss of freedom — or loss of their head.

Take pen in hand, page, write out the command —

The Page sits down with pen and parchment.

Unworthy are they all of clemency;

I’d burn them all to ash upon one pyre.

MARY

You’d slaughter all the people? What wild vengeance!

The people have betrayed me…

PAGE

Writing.

To your name,

Is it your wish I add that of your husband?

Henry? And add to that the title King?

MARY

Yes, as you’ve always done — our names together.

No, wait! What am I doing? Perhaps the people

Have acted in accord with his command?

For, after all, you said his jester led

The mob in their blasphemous rioting?

Set down no King! I, Queen, am sole monarch!

But, Rizzio, what’s your thought? Will he grow wroth,

Insulted with this first sally against him?

The missing title will envenom life

Between us — for I granted him that title

In happier days, and, more than once, the crown

Was placed upon his brow with my own hands.

RIZZIO

My queen! You have an angel’s face, and heart!

Why do you sow blooms in so rank a soil?

In Rome, I’ve watched the sun sink in the Tiber,

Casting its last glance on a cross of gold…

Now, you are like that sun. Your crown now sinks

In the dark waves of this misguided nation,

And only you behold the light of faith.

My lady, crime cries out for punishment

Deserved — as eclipsed virtue: champions —

The sun that sets today, rises tomorrow.

MARY

Faith’s rule is to forgive.

RIZZIO

’Tis God’s to punish;

But you, enthroned, must punish in God’s name.

Indifference smears your name with infamy.

Arouse your lazy ire! The nation looks

To you and sees a lamp no longer burning.

Re-kindle in its heart an ardent flame —

Let it shine forth, and blaze!

To the Page, who has finished writing, and has arisen.

Page, are you finished?

Who leads the watch tonight? Go, call him here.

Exit Page.

Now, let the nation read your verdict plain,

And let the angry thunderbolt of vengeance

Strike down upon the traitors; like the plume

That bobs here on my hat, let them all bow

Before your feet in meek obedience!

Scene 2

MARY

Douglas, a moment’s not passed since I spied

Morton down by the palace gate. Quickly,

Take this command to him, for it requires

The seal of the chancellor.

Douglas takes the paper from the queen, looks it over, and waits.

What’s this?

The virtue of a knight is blind obedience —

Do you deny this to a woman? A queen?

DOUGLAS

A queen? O, no — there’s not a treacherous fibre

In all of Douglas’ frame. But — you’ll forgive me;

What’s on this paper, ma’am, was writ in haste,

At such a sudden moment, and it lacks

The name of Henry, and his title, King —

Whom all the people hold in holy awe;

Whose name was always paired with yours. Perhaps —

Forgive my boldness — you might deign correct

The oversight?

MARY

The queen overlooks nothing

When she commands!

DOUGLAS

With contempt.

And so, from the queen’s lips

I’d be commanded, and dismissed.

MARY

Do it!

DOUGLAS

Ardently.

For God’s sake, please, your Majesty! Recall

This bloody order! Will you have a stream

Of blood lead, like a carpet, to your throne?

A woman’s throne? Who was it set alight

The torch of discord in the palace walls?

Some hidden enemy? Or does the wind

Blow pestilence from France beyond the sea?

This verdict — comes it from some barcarolle

That’s crooned in Venice? Or a Papal hymn

So loud it’s heard in Scotland? Thirst for blood!

What’s to be done? The chancellor — give way,

Remain…

MARY

Enough! Remember this well, Douglas!

I am unharmed by your insulting words,

But you’ve set out on unchivalrous paths.

Look that you not lose spurs or velvet sash.

Should Morton’s trembling hand let fall the seal,

Then that shall lift it, that shakes the commonweal.

I am the queen!

DOUGLAS

Am I to lose my spurs?

You’d merely scrape the gold from them; the iron

Beneath will shine more brightly. They were not

Won by deceit, nor harping, nor by song;

Nor did I find them at this royal footstool.

The fields of Albion can tell you how

I came by them — in clashes, through sleepless nights,

Both mine, and those of noble ancestors —

A long and noble line, and every sword

Of theirs — like mine — served Stuart faithfully.

RIZZIO

Sometimes the sword, and sometimes… the stiletto…

DOUGLAS

You speak, wretch? You’ll declare how Douglas repays

An insult? My spurned ancestors avenged

Themselves upon the Stuarts, upon the court!

Upon whom shall I wreak revenge? Come, puppet, coward,

With all your ringlets and your powdered cheeks;

Here, boy — I toss my gauntlet.

Throws down his glove.

Now, pick...