light of day.

PAULET.
The day will shine upon it, doubt it not.]

MARY.
Despatch is here the fashion. Is it meant
The murderer shall surprise me, like the judges?

PAULET.
Still entertain that thought and he will find you
Better prepared to meet your fate than they did.

MARY (after a pause).
Sir, nothing can surprise me which a court
Inspired by Burleigh's hate and Hatton's zeal,
Howe'er unjust, may venture to pronounce:
But I have yet to learn how far the queen
Will dare in execution of the sentence.

PAULET.
The sovereigns of England have no fear
But for their conscience and their parliament.
What justice hath decreed her fearless hand
Will execute before the assembled world.

SCENE III.

The same. MORTIMER enters, and without paying attention
to the QUEEN, addresses PAULET.

MORTIMER.
Uncle, you're sought for.

[He retires in the same manner. The QUEEN remarks it, and
turns towards PAULET, who is about to follow him.

MARY.
Sir, one favor more
If you have aught to say to me--from you
I can bear much--I reverence your gray hairs;
But cannot bear that young man's insolence;
Spare me in future his unmannered rudeness.

PAULET.
I prize him most for that which makes you hate him
He is not, truly, one of those poor fools
Who melt before a woman's treacherous tears.
He has seen much--has been to Rheims and Paris,
And brings us back his true old English heart.
Lady, your cunning arts are lost on him.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

MARY, KENNEDY.

KENNEDY.
And dare the ruffian venture to your face
Such language! Oh, 'tis hard--'tis past endurance.

MARY (lost in reflection).
In the fair moments of our former splendor
We lent to flatterers a too willing ear;--
It is but just, good Hannah, we should now
Be forced to hear the bitter voice of censure.

KENNEDY.
So downcast, so depressed, my dearest lady!
You, who before so gay, so full of hope,
Were used to comfort me in my distress;
More gracious were the task to check your mirth
Than chide your heavy sadness.

MARY.
Well I know him--
It is the bleeding Darnley's royal shade,
Rising in anger from his darksome grave
And never will he make his peace with me
Until the measures of my woes be full.

KENNEDY.
What thoughts are these--

MARY.
Thou may'st forget it, Hannah;
But I've a faithful memory--'tis this day
Another wretched anniversary
Of that regretted