Act 5 — Scene II.—THE QUEEN’S PRIVATE CHAMBER.

The Queen walking about in deep thought, with anxious uneasy gestures, and hesitating step, Mrs. Ashley, her waiting woman watching her intently. The Queen stops in front of a marble table, backed by a large steel mirror in which is reflected Leicester’s symbolic present, scarcely less vividly represented in the polished surface on which it reposes.

Queen. Marvellous production! What art thou? How camest thou forth, thus full of fearful meaning, and whence this atmosphere of thought, surrounding thee, arresting attention for thyself, bearing the rapt soul beyond the present, with prophecy sublime and breathing power to tell without a tongue, of coming greatness! Beneath the frenzied eye thou dost assume proportions grand, looming its giant abstract, through dim futurity. No creature of Leicester’s paltry brain art thou. No workman’s unreflecting labour, no design of common art assembled those ideas, above the mortal mind. Conception vast! Some angels prompting through an artist’s skill, fathomless to me. I’ll try the common mind! (She turns to her waiting woman). Ashley, you know how high I hold your tact and judgment, in the subtle, tortuous ways of life, your clear opinion of men and things. How many changes you have seen! a rare experience yours, through the late bloody reigns. Mine has been sad, but you have lived longer.

Mrs. Ashley. Yes, my dear mistress and still of most concern to me, was what concerned your Royal Majesty. They knew well how truly I loved you, when, on your return to Ashridge after your release from Woodstock, you sent for me; and they committed me to the Fleet.

Queen. Ashley, that was a terrible time—rather say, the end of terror. One can bear to recall its memory. It was a trumpery malice, to send my faithful servants to prison. They dared not any longer molest me, personally, for the shadow of Lord Howard fell, like a blight, upon the Court. Even in his absence, his form stalked ever before the eyes of Philip and his Spaniards.

Mrs. Ashley. God bless the noble Howard, the noblest of his name. He is the hero of England.

Queen. God bless him, I say again, Ashley. (Aside). He has not seen this yet. (She lays her hand upon the emblematic device. Then stepping backward a few paces, deeply ponders on it.) I wonder what he will say. But his mind and bent runs in that groove, like Drake, Hawkins, and Killigrew, the Tremaines, all that fighting band. They have the one dominant idea. “England must rule the sea,” and that they can do it. Look well at that Ashley and tell me what your common sense can make of it. (The waiting-woman looks at the figures, then at the Queen scrutinizingly, as if to find out her secret.)

Mrs. Ashley (with hesitation). It is a beautiful thing and means something. More than it seems. It is a riddle for Dr. Dee to read. (Again she looks, with half malice at the Queen, who is too intent to observe her). Belike it is a love present—belike your Majesty is coming to the point at last. (The Queen starting out of her reverie, and looking at her companion sharply).

Queen (impatiently). What point, Ashley? Dost thou understand it? Can’st thou read the future of thy country?

Mrs. Ashley (peering inquisitively at the Queen). Belike your Majesty will now marry the beautiful Earl?

The Queen starts as if electrified—her eye flashing—every feature twitching with disappointment and rage at the unlooked for answer—clenching her hands, and stamping with her feet, she exclaims.

Queen. Blood of my kingly father! What damned wench in the corrupt court. Hirelings and traitors, in his pay, or some one’s else, has got up that foul scandal? And thy old head to prompt it at such a time! Surrounded with treason—threatened with invasion—without Counsel on which I can rely—drifting along on a tempestuous sea, with no other pilot than my own isolated wisdom—my tortured mind sought in glowing visions of the future for comfort, and repose! (she walks about excited, then comes in front of her companion, who trembles for the consequence). Dost thou thus misthink me, woman?—that I will act so unlike myself—so far below majesty—I, that have refused the greatest of princes—as to lower my dignity (then raising herself do a loftier tone) and the crown which my heroic people put on my head because they deemed me worthy to wear it, and to defend their glory and their rights, as to share it with a thing like Leicester? And that thou—thou above all—who hast known me.

Mrs. Ashley (on her knees, in an imploring attitude) My beloved mistress I—I—I only meant it—

Queen (in great agitation). Away! Away—Ashley! Leave me to myself to calm this raging madness.

Mrs. Ashley (clinging to her robe). My beloved mistress! do not drive me from you in anger—It would break my heart (sobbing).

Queen (soothingly raises and kisses her). There then! My faithful Ashley! There! (kissing her again) There now! Leave me for a little and come again. (Exit Mrs. Ashley sobbing. Looking after Mrs. Ashley.) My true, devoted, faithful friend—tried in affliction—that has known my inmost nature, as I thought—and yet, to misthink me thus! Well might the venal creatures of a corrupt court—gnawed by the constant worms.—Envy, malice, and all uncharitableness! (She bursts into tears—sobs convulsively.—Then recovering her pride and dignity, comes forward). No! marriage is not for me. The lily or the gentle violet may take root and bloom in fertile valley and peaceful shade. (fiercely) The oak shall brave the storm! It is the will of God! (She pauses—then firmly continues.) I will fulfil my destiny! Nor throne, nor duty shall be e’er divided. My duty is my country’s—entire—exclusive—none to spare for husband. I consecrate myself to England! No stain shall sully the lustre of the offering. Let foes calumniate, and vipers spit their venom. Providence, that foils the assassin’s knife, will yet unmask the falsehoods! (Walking with proud step and uplifted arm she exclaims with exultation) Time, the revealer, will avenge me! Yes, History! History! thou wilt be just at last! (She pauses in great emotion and excitement.) A lonely orphan—in cruelty and oppression—your generous spirit rose my bulwark.—The roar of an indignant people thundered their resolve that I should be their Queen! That earthquake shook the land! Murder, with axe and poison, slunk back in terror. Perish my name; when I forget my country!—England!—Proud!—Generous!—Brave!—Land of hospitality and freedom!—Thy glory!—Thy happiness be mine!—Thee only will I wed!—Thee only!—Thee only! (exit)

Scene changes.