I'm sure I ever shall have cause to rue

That I released you from a Scottish prison. "Twill be a sorry change. Woe is the fate

Of him that bears the double wretchedness

Of exile and captivity.

Mary. Captivity!

Doug. Yes, imprisonment.

Mary. What do you mean?

Doug. "Twill be a prologue,

Mary. To what?

Doug. To a tragedy.

Mary. Speak in plain words.

Doug. She'll treat you as her prisoner at first; And oft you've read, the distance is but small Between a prince's prison and his grave.

Mary. You give advice in aught but courtly style. Your words have shocked me, Douglas; you should have

Some pity on me 'mid this storm of fate:

Your words are lightning gleams, which, while they

shew

The foam-capt rock where ruin's breakers dash,
Scathe and dismantle the poor labouring bark,
And make her quite a helpless piece of wreck.
Doug. Alas, no words I speak can serve to shew
The Queen of England; she is a sunken rock
Beneath a smooth and halcyon seeming bay.

Mary. She would not crown herself with infamy. Doug. A woman and a queen can never want Pretexts. She'll at her manifesto mint,

Stamp the base bullion with the regal die
Of state necessity.

Mary. Do not belie the Queen.

Ham. I would not trust to her;

She envies, hates, and fears your Majesty.

I marked how once,-as Cecil spoke your praise,
She blanched; her eye, retreating 'neath her brow,
Seemed like an arrow peering through a loop-hole,
Drawn back before it flies: Then such a rush
Of blood o'erspread her face, as quite outflamed
Her Berenician locks.

Bern. O, put no trust in such a woman!

Adel. Trust your own countrymen; they love you. Mary. Wilt thou not go with me?

Adel. Can you believe I would not go with you? To think you were a prisoner, and I free, "Twould kill me.---I ne'er will leave you---no; Were this Elizabeth some monster serpent, Hurrying to wreathe its undulating length Around my friend, I'd rush to her embrace, And joy to die in the same venomed folds.

Enter Shepherd.

Shep. I see three horsemen up the river side.

Mary. How near? Come they this way? Look they like friends or foes?

Shep. They were so distant, and they glittered so, I could not guess who they might be.

Mary. How far?

Shep. 'Yond Halbert's bughts.

Bern. That's half a mile or more, an' please your Grace.

I doubt not that they are your friends;

But, please your Highness, go into my cell
Until we know the certainty.

Mary. I am resolved; I will not thus remain
A slave to ever new alarms: I'll brave

The storm, rather than, crouching, tremble thus
Beneath the shelter of a threatening rock.
For England at sunset we depart; 'tis fixed:
My resolution's taken; do not harass me
With vain entreaty. Meantime, good Bernard,
We'll to thy cell; the Queen of Scots must learn
To stoop her uncrowned head.

[Exeunt.

END OF ACT THIRD.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.-Windsor.

Enter ELIZABETH and CECIL.

Cecil. The snare has answered to our wish. I guessed that any sudden change of fortune Would make her turn her thoughts to England. I had prepared accordingly for her reception. Eliz. Is't Lancaster, said you? Is it a place of strength?

Cecil. Of strength to laugh at rescue.

Eliz. I fear we shall be blamed for these harsh

measures.

Cecil. Be blamed for execution of the laws!

Eliz. She's not in chains?-that sure would be too cruel.

Cecil. Perhaps it would.

Eliz. Yet, to prevent escape

Cecil. She's in sure ward.

Eliz. What if we should comply with her request,

And let her visit us? "Twould be a triumph
To see a captive Queen in England's court.
Cecil. That must not be; she'd turn your nobles'
hearts.

O, I have seen her, ere I sowed dispeace
Between her and her people: Every eye
Was bent on her, with looks of love.

She seemed

A beauteous star shot from its sphere, that drew
The constellations in its train: That is

To say, she seemed-she looked

Eliz. And shall I lose by the comparison ?

[Angrily. Cecil. An' please your Majesty to pardon me. Lose! No; though Venus' self were to descend, She'd first feel envy when she looked at you. Eliz. You do not think so.-Is Wingfield come? Cecil. He is at hand.

Eliz. Send him to me.

[Exit CECIL

[Reading a Letter.] "To be banished from my coun

"

try, and from my son

-to be received in a prison, " and welcomed with fetters--Permit me either to

"see your Majesty, or to return to my country and "my son--Languish unpitied and unseen."Unseen! She thinks, that if she were but seen, She would be pitied, aye, and loved besides; She'd draw the constellations in her train.--

Her son! She boasts, too, of her son !---Detested--