Press me no further now, Count Bellievre. It is not now a time, I must repeat, To kindle here the joyful marriage torch. The heavens lower black and heavy o'er this land; And weeds of mourning would become me better Than the magnificence of bridal robes. A fatal blow is aimed against my heart; A blow which threatens to oppress my house. (BELLIEVRE: We only ask your majesty to promise Your royal hand when brighter days shall come.) Monarchs are but the slaves of their condition; They dare not hear the dictates of their hearts; My wish was ever to remain unmarried, And I had placed my greatest pride in this, That men hereafter on my tomb might read, "Here rests the virgin queen." But my good subjects Are not content that this should be: they think, E'en now they often think upon the time When I shall be no more. 'Tis not enough That blessings now are showered upon this land; They ask a sacrifice for future welfare, And I must offer up my liberty, My virgin liberty, my greatest good, To satisfy my people. Thus they'd force A lord and master on me. 'Tis by this I see that I am nothing but a woman In their regard; and yet methought that I Had governed like a man, and like a king. Well wot I that it is not serving God To quit the laws of nature; and that those Who here have ruled before me merit praise, That they have oped the cloister gates, and given Thousands of victims of ill-taught devotion Back to the duties of humanity. But yet a queen who hath not spent her days In fruitless, idle contemplation; who, Without murmur, indefatigably Performs the hardest of all duties; she Should be exempted from that natural law Which doth ordain one half of human kind Shall ever be subservient to the other.

Elizabeth Monologue from Mary Stuart: A Tragedy

Rehearse Elizabeth's monologue