BLTC Press Titles

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The Count of Monte Cristo

Alexandre Dumas

Further Adventures of an Irish R. M.

Edith Somerville and Martin Ross

Esoteric Buddhism

A. P. Sinnett

The Revolt of the Netherlands

Friedrich Schiller

The historical tragedy of Mary queen of Scots

by Orville Ward Owen


Enter Queen Elizabeth in disguise; hides behind statue.

Queen Mary. Better were it this woman Elizabeth

And, noble lord, I prithee join with me
In my attempts, and I, in marriage will
Confer myself on you, if you, my lord,
Will accept me. I am young, and apt, and fair
As is the youngest maid ; and of descent
As good as this old fox : be pitiful

Dear lord, and grant my suit. The child that shall descend
From the true fountain of our marriage,
Will then be heir unto the lines of France,
Scotland and England.

L. L. But your own son doth wear the crown of

Q. M. What though he do? By act of Parliament,

5. "The servant bringeth the poor soul (with a small number of friends) to my father's house, where my father doth greet her and bid her into supper; then he sends to the Queen and she hies her in all post there, and, like a cunning and professed tyrant, she (after her custom) comes soft into my father's house, and maskt by one of the statues placed in the room, hears my lord dissemble with her grace. This banquet did prove as ominous to Mary, as Progene's to the adulterous Thracian king, that fed upon the substance of his child; for his foxship led her into blindness with base thoughts. The savour of the celestial food of love, on which my lord fed her, caused her to beg relief of him. Said she:—

We will blot him out. Sir, when the Scottish lords,

Did break their oaths to me, and drave me hence,

(For by their consent, and for his sake,

I was made to yield the crown and fly,)

My love did turn to hate: therefore, my lord,

'Tis but reason that I yield you my hand:

You shall have all.

L. L. But if your title to the crown be weak,
As may appear by your son's good success,
Then were I loath to link myself with you.
James now doth live in Scotland at his ease,
And the houses of York and Lancaster
Uphold the arm of Queen Elizabeth;
On neither law nor right rests your estate;
You are an exile, and so must you stay
Until your son is brought within your power.
By this alliance what shall I win?

Q. M. Aye, good my lord, they have through
Bestow'd the kingdom on my abortive son.
But I tell thee, I will requite it on them;
If that thy friends will pawn their swords for me
And my enfranchisement, demand thy fill.
If thou wilt marry me, as man and wife
Being two, are one in love, so we'll combine
In one the French, English and Scottish realms:
I swear to thee, that thou shalt be the king
Of these kingdoms; then unsheathe thy sword,
And give just sentence on this bastard Queen,
Who in the regal throne of England sits,
Which, in God's name, my lord, we will ascend.
Choose thou for thy bride, a loving handmaid

For thy desires, and not the old bastard daughter
Of that harlot-strumpet, Anne Bullen.
What sayeth my sweet lord? 6

(elizabeth, with a cry comes forth.)

Q. E. Doth Scotland make your Majesty our judge?

Q. M. Alas! I am undone; it is the Queen!

Q. E. Nay, answer us what thou hast said of us.7 Why! how new, Queen? What is the matter now? By th' rood, thou didst speak vilely of us, even now, But we'll proclaim thee, out of hand, our sovereign, And thou shalt reign; and thy son and heirs may claim

our realm.
Thou hast disinherited thine only son
But thou shalt yet have children by my lord;
To him we'll yield obedience, as to a king:
Why should we not? Pray, pardon us sweet Earl;
Thy grace, like good Pierce of Exton,
(Who with the king's blood stain'd the king's own land,)
Can rid this fair and spotless innocence
Of her foul foe.

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