And were it so, my lord--though I deny it-- But e'en suppose it were so: I am kept Imprisoned here against all laws of nations. I came not into England sword in hand; I came a suppliant; and at the hands Of my imperial kinswoman I claimed The sacred rights of hospitality, When power seized upon me, and prepared To rivet fetters where I hoped protection. Say, is my conscience bound, then, to this realm? What are the duties that I owe to England? I should but exercise a sacred right, Derived from sad necessity, if I Warred with these bonds, encountered might with might, Roused and incited every state in Europe For my protection to unite in arms. Whatever in a rightful war is just And loyal, 'tis my right to exercise: Murder alone, the secret, bloody deed, My conscience and my pride alike forbid. Murder would stain me, would dishonor me: Dishonor me, my lord, but not condemn me, Nor subject me to England's courts of law: For 'tis not justice, but mere violence, Which is the question 'tween myself and England. BURLEIGH (significantly). Talk not, my lady, of the dreadful right Of power: 'tis seldom on the prisoner's side.

Mary Stuart Monologue from Mary Stuart: A Tragedy

Rehearse Mary Stuart's monologue