SCENE II.

The Court.

Enter Queen Elizabeth and Burleigh.

Qu. Eliz. Ha! is not Nottingham return'd?

Bur. No, madam.

Qu. Eliz. Dispatch a speedy messenger to haste her.— My agitated heart can find no rest. So near the brink of fate—-unhappy man!

Enter Lady Nottingham.

How now, my Nottingham—what news from Essex? What says the earl?

Not. I wish, with all my soul, The ungrateful task had been another's lot. I dread to tell it—lost, ill-fated man!

Qu. Eliz. What means this mystery, this strange behaviour? Pronounce—declare at once; what said the earl?

Not. Alas, my queen! I fear to say; his mind Is in the strangest mood that ever pride On blackest thoughts begot.——He scarce would speak; And when he did, it was with sullenness, With hasty tone, and downcast look.

Qu. Eliz. Amazing! Not feel the terrors of approaching death! Nor yet the joyful dawn of promised life!

Not. He rather seem'd insensible to both, And with a cold indifference heard your offer; Till warming up, by slow degrees, resentment Began to swell his restless haughty mind; And proud disdain provoked him to exclaim Aloud, against the partial power of fortune, And faction's rage. I begg'd him to consider His sad condition; nor repulse, with scorn, The only hand that could preserve him.

Qu. Eliz. Ha! What!—Said he nothing of a private import? No circumstance—no pledge—no ring?

Not. None, madam! But, with contemptuous front, disclaim'd at once Your proffer'd grace; and scorn'd, he said, a life Upon such terms bestow'd.

Qu. Eliz. Impossible! Could Essex treat me thus?—You basely wrong him, And wrest his meaning from the purposed point. Recall betimes the horrid words you've utter'd: Confess, and own the whole you've said was false.

Not. Madam, by truth, and duty, both compell'd, Against the pleadings of my pitying soul, I must declare (Heaven knows with what reluctance), That never pride insulted mercy more. He ran o'er all the dangers he had past; His mighty deeds; his service to the state; Accused your majesty of partial leaning To favourite lords, to whom he falls a sacrifice; Appeals to justice, and to future times, How much he feels from proud oppression's arm: Nay, something too he darkly hinted at, Of jealous disappointment, and revenge.

Qu. Eliz. Eternal silence seal thy venom'd lips What hast thou utter'd, wretch, to rouse at once A whirlwind in my soul, which roots up pity, And destroys my peace! Let him this instant to the block be led. [Exit Nottingham. Upbraid me with my fatal fondness for him! Ungrateful, barbarous ruffian! O, Elizabeth! Remember now thy long-establish'd fame, Thy envy'd glory, and thy father's spirit. Accuse me of injustice too, and cruelty!— Yes, I'll this instant to the Tower, forget My regal state, and to his face confront him: Confound the audacious villain with my presence, And add new terrors to the uplifted axe. [Exit.