Mary Queen of Scots Page #4

---

It pleases me to see my husband suffer.

His very being has repelled

me for so long now.

But how can a wife

get rid of a husband?

How can I ask you that,

my dear cousin?

I am compelled

to play the dutiful nurse,

surrounded by a fetid smell

that arises not just from his sickness,

but from the wicked thoughts

that plague me.

What are you going to do now?

I don't know.

Careful - the people want

to punish you for what you've done.

I haven't done anything.

Believe ne.

Everything feels so tight!

I'm suffocating.

Some deeds are done

by doing nothing.

Is it such a sin, Rizzio?

I'm pregnant.

I know you must resent

my sudden marriage,

but surely you will appreciate

that a pregnant queen

must he married

to the father of her child.

You cannot imagine

the anger and desperation

I feel to have my new husband blamed

for the murder of my previous one,

but I can declare that we are

innocent a hundred times

and there will still be slanderous

voices condemning us.

You are not leaving too,

my friend?

Urgent business

takes me to France.

Listen, I know my decision to marry

a Protestant displeases you.

But we must remain true to ourselves.

Haven't you taught me that?

Alas, once the wrong gardener

has begun his digging,

there's little that can be done.

To fight them would be madness,

Your Majesty.

They vastly outnumber you.

I have no wish to fight them.

They must submit to the Royal Lion and

there will be peace again in Scotland.

The Lords send you this, Your Majesty.

They are your sworn enemies.

There will be no single combat,

no negotiations, only surrender.

You must send him away.

You have no other option.

One tree may yet be spared.

Still living in the past?

It must be spring,

Rizzio.

No, winter!

I get confused nowadays.

I lose count of the springs

and the winters.

There were too many of them.

Too many places, too.

Am I dead, Rizzio?

Has she killed me already?

No, you are right.

l am actually more alive than she is.

Too much waiting.

When all she had to do would have been

to invite me for an informal audience.

How could she invite you

when you wear that crown?

Oh, it's nothing.

I'll just take it off.

And just look at your hands.

Oh, never mind, I'll just wipe it off.

She can do it! She can chop

off the crown. The hands

For all these years she has

been reluctant to meet me.

She made me hope and yearn

with all her letters and promises to meet.

But she is the crowned sovereign now,

and I am just a poor woman,

without a crown, a country, a people.

I can't bear it any longer

I wish she would kill me.

Two great Queens,

caught in a deadly stalemate.

In an endless purgatory.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes