d, amazed, and unprepared,
Without an advocate, from memory,
Before their unexampled court, to answer
Their weighty charges, artfully arranged.
They came like ghosts,--like ghosts they disappeared,
And since that day all mouths are closed to me.
In vain I seek to construe from your looks
Which hath prevailed--my cause's innocence
And my friends' zeal--or my foes' cursed counsel.
Oh, break this silence! let me know the worst;
What have I still to fear, and what to hope.

PAULET.
Close your accounts with heaven.

MARY.
From heaven I hope
For mercy, sir; and from my earthly judges
I hope, and still expect, the strictest justice.

PAULET.
Justice, depend upon it, will be done you.

MARY.
Is the suit ended, sir?

PAULET.
I cannot tell.

MARY.
Am I condemned?

PAULET.
I cannot answer, lady.

MARY.
[Sir, a good work fears not the 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