_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._