 | The Unhappy Favourite : or the Earl of Essex |  |
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Actus Quintus.
Scœna prima.
Sir Walter Rawleigh with the Queens Guards, The Lieutenant of the Tower.Raw.
Mr. Lieutenant, here expires my Charge;
I receiv'd Orders from Her Majesty,
And the Lord Steward to return the Prisoners
Safe in your Custody, and with you I leave 'em,
With charge to have 'em in a readiness,
For Execution will be very speedy.
Lieut.
I shall Sir.
Enter the Countess of Nottingham.
Raw.
Ha! the Lady Nottingham!
What makes her here?
Nott.
Where is my Lord of Essex?
I am commanded straight to speak with him,
And bring a Message from Her Majesty.
Raw.
Madam,
What News can this strange visit bring?
How faires the Queen? Are her Resolves yet stedfast?
Nott.
No, when she heard that Essex was Condemn'd,
She started and look'd pale, then blushing red,
And said that Execution shou'd be straight,
Then stopt, and said she'd hear first from the Earl:
So she retir'd and past an hour in Thought,
None daring t'interrupt her till in hast
She sent for me, Commanding me to go
And tell my Lord from her, she cou'd resist
No longer her Subjects loud demands for Justice,
And therefore wisht if he had any Reasons
That were of weight to stay his Execution,
That he wou'd send 'em straight by me; then blush'd
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And pray'd me to be secret, and deliver
What Essex shou'd return in answer to her.
Raw.
I know not what she means, but doubt th'Event;—
You can tell best the cause of her disturbance.
I will to Burleigh, and then both of us
Will make Attempts to recollect the Queen.
Exit Rawleigh and Guards.
Nott.
Pray bring me to my Lord.
Lieut.
Madam, I will acquaint him that y'are here.
Exit Lieut.
Nott.
Now Dragons Blood distill through all my veins,
And Gaul instead of Milk swell up my Breasts,
That nothing of the Woman may appear,
But horrid Cruelty, and fierce Revenge—
Enter Essex.
He comes with such a Gallantry and Port,
As if his Miseries were Harbingers,
And Death the State to set his Person out—
Wrongs less than mine, though in a Tyger's Breast,
Might now be reconcil'd to such an Object;
But slighted Love my Sex can ne're forget.
Ess.
Madam, this is a Miracle of Favour,
A double goodness in my Royal Mistress,
T'imploy the fair, the Injur'd Nottingham;
And 'tis no less in you to condescend
To see a wretch like me that has deserv'd
No favour at your hands.
Nott.
No more my Lord, the Queen,
The Gratious Queen commends her Pitty to you,
Pitty by me that owe a great deal more
You know, and wish that I were once your Queen,
To give you what my heart has had so long in store.
Ess.
Then has my Death more Charmes than Life can promise,
Since my Queen pitties me, and you forgive me.
Nott.
Hold good my Lord, that is not all, she sends
To know if you can any thing propose
To mittigate your Doom, and stay your Death,
Which else can be no longer than this Day.
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In your late Tryal, if 'twere fair and legal,
And if y'ave those Exceptions that are real
She'll answer them?
Ess.
Still is my Death more welcome,
And Life wou'd be a burthen to my Soul,
Since I can ne're requite such Royal Goodness
Tell her then, fair and charitable Messenger,
That Essex does acknowledge every Crime,
His Guilt unworthy of such wond'rous Mercy,
Thanks her bright Justice, and the Lords his Judges,
For all was Gratious and Divine like her;
And I have now no Injustice to accuse,
Nor Enemy to blame that was the Cause,
Nor Innocence to save me but the Queen.
Nott.
Ha is this true! How he undoes my Hopes!
[Aside.
And is that all? have you not one Request
To ask, that you can think the Queen will grant you?
Ess.
I have, and humbly 'tis that she wou'd please
To spare my Life; not that I fear to dye,
But in submission to her Heav'nly Justice.
I own my Life a forfeit to her Power,
And therefore ought to beg it of her Mercy.
Nott.
If this be real, my Revenge is lost.
[Aside.
Is there naught else that you rely upon,
Only submitting to the Queens meer Mercy,
And barely asking her so great a Grace?
Have you no other Hopes?
Ess.
Some Hopes I have.
Nott.
What are they, pray my Lord? declare 'em boldly,
For to that only purpose I am sent.
Ess.
Than I am happy, happiest of mankind,
Blest in the rarest mercy of my Queen,
And such a Friend as you, blest in you both;
The Extasie will let me hold no longer—
Behold this Ring the Pasport of my Life;
At last y'ave pull'd the secret from my Heart.
This pretious token—
Amidst my former Triumphs in her favour
She took from off her Finger, and bestow'd
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Of her bright self less failing than an Oracle,
That in what Exigence or State soe're
My Life was in, that time when I gave back,
Or shou'd return this Ring again to her,
She'd then deny me nothing I cou'd ask.
Nott.
O give it me my Lord, and quickly let
Me bear it to the Queen, and ask your Life.
Ess.
Hold generous Madam, I receiv'd it on
[Kneels and gives Nottingham the Ring.
My Knees, and on my Knees I will restore it.
Here take it, but consider what you take:
'Tis the Life, Blood, and very Soul of Essex.
I've heard that by a skillful Artist's Hand,
The Bowels of a Wretch were taken out,
And yet he liv'd; you are that Gallant Artist,
O touch it as you wou'd the Seales of Life,
And give it to my Royal Mistress Hand,
As you wou'd pour my Blood back in its empty Channels,
That gape and thirst like Fishes on the Ouse
When streams run dry, and their own Element
Forsakes 'em; if this shou'd in the least miscarry,
My Life's the purchase that the Queen will have for't.
Nott.
Doubt you my care my Lord? I hope you do not.
Ess.
I will no more suspect my Fate, nor you:
Such Beauty, and such Merits must prevail.
Enter a Gentleman.
Gent.
Th'Earl of Southampton having Leave,
Desires to speak with you my Lord.
Nott.
Repose
Your mind, and take no thought but to be happy;
I'll send you Tidings of a lasting Life.
Ess.
A longer and much happier Life attend
Both my good Queen and you.
Exit Essex.
Nott.
Farewell my Lord—
Yes, a much longer Life than thine I hope,
And if thou chance to dream of such strange things,
Let it be there where lying Poets feign
Elisium is, where Mirtles lovely spread,
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And sweet Arabian Plants delight the smell,
Where pleasant Gardens drest with curious Care
By Lovers Ghosts, shall recreate thy Fancy,
And there perhaps thou soon shalt meet again
With amourous Rutland, for she cannot choose
But be Romantick now, and follow thee—
Enter a Gentlewoman.
Wom.
Madam, the Queen.
Nott.
Ha! that's unlucky—She come to the Tower!
Yet 'tis no matter; see him I am sure
She will not, or at worst will be perswaded.
Enter the Queen.
Queen.
How now dear Nottingham, hast seen the Earl?
I left White-hall, because I cou'd not rest
For Crowds that hollow'd for their Executions,
And others that Petition'd for the Traytors.
Quick, tell me, hast thou done as I commanded?
Nott.
Yes Madam, I have seen, and spoke with him.
Queen.
And what has he said to thee for himself?
Nott.
At my first converse with him I did find him
Not totally despairing, nor complaining;
But yet a haughty melancholly
Appear'd in all his Looks, that shew'd him rather
Like one that had more Care
Of future Life than this.
Queen.
Well, but what said he,
When thou awakest him with the Hopes of Pitty?
Nott.
To my first Question put by your Command,
Which was to know if he were satisfied
In the proceedings of his Lawful Tryal,
He answer'd with a careless Tone and Gesture,
That it was true, and he must needs confess
His Tryal lookt most fair to all the World;
But yet he too well knew,
The Law that made his Actions Treason,
Consulted but with Foes and Circumstances,
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A President, or Cause that might Condemn him,
For if they had the least been read in either,
They wou'd have quickly found his Innocence.
Queen.
Ha!
Nott.
That was but the Prologue, mark what follows.
Queen.
What, durst he be so bold to brand my Justice!
Nott.
I pray'd that he wou'd urge that Sence no more,
But since he was Condemn'd and stood in need
Of Mercy, to implore it of your Majesty,
And beg his Life which you wou'd not deny:
For to that End I said that you were pleas'd
To send me to him, and then told him all,
Nay more than you commanded me to say.
Queen.
What said he then? That alter'd him I hope.
Nott.
No, not at all, but as I've seen a Lyon
That has been play'd withall with gentle stroaks,
Has at the last been jeasted into madness;
So on a sudden started into Passion
The furious Earl, his Eyes grew fiery red,
His words precipitate, and speech disorder'd;
Let the Queen have my Blood said he, 'tis that
She longs for, pour it to my Foes to drink,
As Hunters when the Quarry is run down,
Throw to the Hounds his Intrails for Reward.
I have enough to spare, but by the Heav'ns
I swear, were all my Veins like Rivers full,
And if my Body held a Sea of Blood,
I'de loose it all to the last innocent drop,
Before I'de like a Villain beg my Life.
Queen.
Hold Nottingham, and say th'art not in earnest—
Can this be true, so impudent a Traytor!
Nott.
That's but the Gloss, the Colour of his Treason,
But after he did paint himself to th'Life.
Wou'd the Queen, said he, have me own a Treason,
Impose upon my self a Crime, the Law
Has found me Guilty of by her Command;
And so by asking of my Forfeit Life,
Clear and Proclaim her Justice to the World,
And stain my self for ever; no I'll dye first.
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Enough, I'll hear no more, you wrong him, 'tis
Impossible he shou'd be such a Devil.
Nott.
Madam I've done.
Queen.
I prithee pardon me—
But cou'd he say all this!
Nott.
He did, and more;
But 'tis no matter, 'twill not be believ'd
If I shou'd tell the half of what he utter'd,
How insolent, and how profane he us'd you.
Queen.
You need not, I had rather
Believe it all than put you to the trouble
To tell it o're again, and me to hear it.
(Aside...)
Then I am lost, betray'd by this false Man,
My Courage, Power, my Pitty, all betray'd,
And like that Gyant, Patriarch of the Jews,
Bereft at once both of his sight and strength
By Treacherous Foes, I wander in the dark,
By Essex weakned, and by Essex blinded;
But then as he pray'd that his strength might grow,
At once to be reveng'd on them and dye,
So grant me Heav'n but so much Resolution
To grope my way where I may lay but hold
On whatsoe're this huge Colossus stands,
I'll pull the Scaffold down, tho o're my Head,
And loose my Life to be reveng'd on his— (...Aside.)
Well Nottingham, I have but one word more,
Talkt not this wicked Creature of no Reason,
No Obligation that I had to save
His Life?
Nott.
No, but far worse than I have told you.
Queen.
Sure thou art most unhappy in ill News!
No promise, nor no token did he speak of?
Nott.
Not the least word, and if there are such things,
I do suppose he keeps 'em to himself
For Reasons that I know not.
Queen.
'Tis most false,
He needs must tell thee all, and thou betray'st him.
Nott.
Your Majesty does me wrong—
Queen.
Hear me—
Oh I can hold no longer—Say, sent he
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Nott.
Not any on the forfeit of my Life.
Queen.
Thou lyest—Can Earth produce so vile a Creature!—
Hence from my sight, and see my Face no more—
Yet tarry Nottingham—Come back again.
This may be true, and I am still the Wretch
[Aside.
To blame and to be pitty'd—Prithee pardon me;
Forget my Rage, thy Queen is sorry for't.
Nott.
I wou'd your Majesty in stead of me,
Had sent a Person that you cou'd confide in,
Or else that you wou'd see the Earl your self.
Queen.
Prithee no more; Go to him!
No, but I'll send a Message for his Head.
His Head's the Token that my wrongs require,
And his base blood the stream to quench my Fury.—
Prithee invent: for thou art wondrous witty
At such inventions; teach my feeble malice
How to torment him with a thousand Deaths,
Or what is worse than Death—Speak, my Medea,
And thou wilt then oblige thy Queen for ever.
Nott.
First Sign an Order for his Execution.
Queen.
Say, it is done, but how to torture him!
Nott.
Then as the Lords are carrying to the Block,
Condoleing both their sad Misfortunes,
Which to departing Souls is some delight,
Order a Pardon for Southampton's Life,
It will be worse than Hell to Essex Soul
Where 'tis a going, to see his Friend snatcht from him,
And make him curse his so much Pride and folly
That lost his own Life, in exchange for his.
Queen.
That was well thought on!
Nott.
This is but the least.
The next will be a fatal stroak, a blow indeed,
A thousand Heads to loose is not so dreadful.
Let Rutland see him at the very Moment
Of her Expiring Husband; she will hang
Worse than his Guilt upon him, lure his Mind,
And pull it back to Earth again; double
All the fierce Pangs of thought and Death upon him,
And make his loaded Spirits sink to Hell.
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O th'art the Machiavile of all thy Sex,
Thou bravest, most heroick for Invention!
Come, let's dispatch—
Enter Burleigh, Rawleigh, Lords, Attendants, and Guards,
My Lords, see Execution done on Essex;
But for Southampton, I will pardon him;
His Crimes he may repent of; they were not
So great, but done in friendship to the other.
Act my Commands with speed, that both of us
May straight be out of Torment—My Lord Burleigh,
And you Sir Walter Rawleigh see't perform'd;
I'll not return till you have brought the News.
[Exeunt Queen and Nottingham.
Raw.
I wou'd she were a hundred League froms hence,
Well, and the Crown upon her Head; I fear
She'll not continue in this mind a Moment.
Burl.
Then't shall be done this Moment—Who attends?
Bid the Lieutenant have his Prisoners ready.
Exit Officer.
Now we may hope to see fair Dayes again
In England, when this hov'ring Cloud is vanisht,
Which hung so long betwixt our Royal Sun
And us, but soon will visit us with smiles,
And raise her drooping Subjects Hearts—
Enter the two Earles, the Lieutenant and Guards.
My Lord,
We bring an Order for your Execution,
And hope you are prepar'd; for you must dye
This very hour.
South.
Indeed the time is sudden!—
Ess.
Is Death th'Event of all my flatter'd Hopes!
False Sex, and Queen more perjur'd than them all!—
But dye I will without the least Complaint,
My Soul shall vanish silent as the Dew
Attracted by the Sun from verdent Fields,
And leaves of weeping Flowers—Come my dear Friend,
Partner in Fate, give me thy Body in
These Faithful Armes, and O now let me tell thee
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I have no weight, no heaviness on my Soul,
But that I've lost my dearest Friend his Life.
South.
And I protest by the same Powers Divine,
And to the World, 'tis all my Happiness,
The greatest Bliss my mind yet e're enjoy'd,
Since we must dye my Lord, to dye together.
Burl.
The Queen, my Lord Southampton, has been pleas'd
To grant particular Mercy to your Person;
And has by us sent you a Reprieve from Death,
With Pardon of your Treasons, and commands
You to depart immediately from hence.
South.
O my unguarded Soul! Sure never was
A man with mercy wounded so before.
Ess.
Then I am loose to steer my wandring Voyage,
Like a glad Vessel that has long been crost,
And bound by adverse Winds, at last gets liberty,
And joyfully makes all the Sail she can
To reach its wisht-for Port—Angels protect
The Queen; for her my chiefest Prayers shall be,
That as in time sh'as spar'd my Noble Friend,
And owns his Crimes worth Mercy, may she ne're
Think so of me too late when I am dead—
Again Southampton, let me hold thee fast,
For 'tis my last Embrace.
South.
O be less kind my Friend, or move less Pitty,
Or I shall sink beneath the weight of sadness;
Witness the Joy I have in Life to part
With you; witness these Womans Throbs and Tears;
I weep that I am doom'd to live without you,
And shou'd have smil'd to share the Death of Essex.
Ess.
O spare this tenderness for one that needs it,
For her that I'll commit to all that I
Can claim of my Southampton—O my Wife!
Methinks that very name shou'd stop thy Pitty,
And make thee covetous of all as lost
That is not meant to her—Be a kind Friend
To her as we have been to one another;
Name not the dying Essex to thy Queen
Least it shou'd cost a Tear, nor ne're offend her.
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O stay my Lord, let me have one word more,
One last farewel before the greedy Axe
Shall part my Friend, my only Friend from me,
And Essex from himself—I know not what
Are call'd the Pangs of Death, but sure I am
I feel an Agony that's worse than Death—
Farewell.
Ess.
Why that's well said—Farewell to thee—
Then let us part, just like two Travellors
Take distant Paths, only this difference is,
Thine is the longest, mine the shortest way—
Now let me go—If there's a Throne in Heaven
For the most brave of Men, and best of Friends,
I will bespeak it for Southampton.
South.
And I, while I have Life will hoard thy Memory;
When I am dead, we then shall meet again.
Ess.
Till then Farewell.
South.
Till then Farewell.
Ess.
Now on my Lords, and execute your Office—
[Exit South.
Enter Countess of Essex and Women.
My Wife! Nay then my Stars-will ne're have done.
Malitious Planets-reign, I'll bear it all
To your last drop of Venom on my Head—
Why cruel lovely Creature dost thou come
To add to sorrow if't be possible:
A Figure more lamenting? Why this kindness,
This killing kindness now at such a time.
To add more Woes to thine and my misfortunes
C. Ess.
The Queen my Lord has been so merciful,
Or cruel, name it as you please, to let
Me see my Essex e're he dyes.
Ess.
Has, she,
Then let's improve this very little Time
Our niggard Fate allows us: For w'are owing
To this short space all the dear love we had
In store for many happy promis'd years.
C. Ess.
What hinders then but that we shou'd be happy,
Whilest others live long years, and sip, and tast
Like Niggards of their Loves, we'll take whole Draughts.
Ess.
Then let's embrace in Extasies and Joves,
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That shou'd have serv'd us for our Winter store,
Be lavish, and profuse like wanton Heirs
That wast their whole Estates at once,
For the kind Queen takes care and has ordain'd
That we shall never live to want.
Burl.
My Lord,
Prepare, the very utmost Time's at hand,
And we must straight perform the Queens Command
In leading you to Justice.
C. Ess.
Hold good Lucifer,
Be kind a little, and defer Damnation,
Thou canst not think how I will Worship thee,
No Indian shall adore thee as I will,
Thou shalt have Martyrs, and whole Heccatombs
Of slaughter'd Innocents to suck their Blood,
Widdows Estates, and Orphans without number,
Mannors and Parks more than thy Lust requires,
Till thou shalt dye and leave a Kings Estate
Behind thee.
Ess.
Pr'y thee spare thy pretious Heart,
That fluttering so with Passion in thy Breast,
Has almost bruis'd its tenderness to Death.
C. Ess.
Why ask I him, and think of Pitty there!
From him on whom kind Heav'n has fet a Mark,
A heap of Rubbish at the door to shew
No cleanly Virtue can inhabite there—
Malitious Toad, and which is worse, foul Cecil,
I tell thee Essex soon shall reign in Heav'n,
While thou shalt grovel in the Den of Hell,
Roar like the Damn'd, and tremble to behold him.
Go share Dominions with the Powers of Hell;
For Lucifer himself will ne're dispute
Thy great Desert in wickedness above him,
Nor who's the uglyer Fiend, thy self or he.
Raw.
My Lord, you think not of the Queens Commands,
And can you stand thus unconcern'd, and hear
Your self so much abus'd.
Burl.
Be patient Rawleigh,
The Pain is all her own, and hurts not Cecil,
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Poor ionocent and most unhappy Lady,
I pitty her.
C. Ess.
Why dost thou pitty me!
Nay then I'm faln into a low Estate
Indeed; if Hell compassionates my Miseries,
They must be greater than the Damn'd indure—
I Prithee Pardon me—Ah my lov'd Lord,
My Heart begins to break; let me go with thee,
And see the fatal Blow given to my Essex,
That will be sure to rid me soon of Torments;
And 'twill be kindness in thee—do my Lord,
Then we shall both be quit of pain together.
Ess.
Ah why was I condemn'd to this, What Man
But Essex ever felt a weight like this!
C. Ess.
O we must never part—Support my Head,
My sinking Head, and lay it to the Pulse,
The throbbing Pulse that beats about thy Heart,
'Tis Musick to my Sences—O my Love!
I have no tears left in me that shou'd ease
A wretch that longs for Pitty—I am past
All Pitty, and my poor tormented Heart
And Spirits within are quite consum'd; and Tears
Which is the Balm, the Scorpions blood that cures
The biting pain of sorrow, quite have left me,
And I am now a wretched hopeless Creature,
Full of substantial Misery without
One drop of Remedy.
Ess.
Th'art pale, thy Breath
Grows chill, and like the Morning Air on Roses,
Leaves a cold Dew upon thy redder Lips—
She strives, and holds me like a drowning wretch—
O now my Lords, if pitty ever blest you,
If you were never nurst by Tygers, help me—
Now now, you cruel Heav'ns I plainly see,
'Tis not your Swords, your Axes, nor Diseases,
Which make the Death of Man so fear'd, and painful,
But 'tis such horrid Accidents as these—
She opens her Eyes, which with a waining look,
Like sickly Stars give a faint glimmering Light.
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Where is my Love?
O think not to get loose, for I'm resolv'd
To stick more close to thee than Life; and when
That's going, mine shall run the Race with thine,
And both together reach the happy Goal.—
Ess.
Now I am shock'd, torn up, and rooted all
That's Humane in me—What you merciless Heavens,
What is't that makes poor Man distracted, mad,
Prophane, to curse the Day, himself, the Heav'ns
That made him, but less miseries than mine?
Why, why you Powers do you exact from Man
More than your World, and all that live beside!
The Sea is never calm when Tempests blow,
Tall Woods and Cedars murmur at the Wind,
And when your horrid Earth-quakes cleave the Ground,
The Center Groans, and Nature takes its part,
As if they did design to break your Laws,
And shake your Fetters off; nay your own Heavens,
When Thunders roar, Rebel, the Sun ingages,
And all the Warring Elements resist;
Heav'n, Seas, and Land are suffer'd to contend,
But Man alone is curst if he complain—
Farewell my everlasting Love, 'tis vain,
'Tis all in vain against resistless Fate
That pulls me from thee.
[Gives her a Letter.
Here, give this Paper to the Queen, which when
She reads, perhaps she will be kind to thee.
C. Ess.
Wilt thou not let me go?
I am prepar'd to see the deadly stroke,
And at that time the fatal Axe falls on thee,
It will be sure to cut the twisted Cord
Of both our Lives asunder.
Ess.
We must part—
Thou Miracle of Love, and Virtues all
Farewell, and may thy Essex sad Misfortunes
Be doubl'd all in Blessings on thy Soul—
Still, still thou grasps me like th'Fangs of Death—
Ha! now she faints, and like a Wretch
Striving to climb a steep, and slippery Beach,
With many hard Attempts gets up, and still
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Her eager hold, and sinks beneath her weight—
Support her all—
Burl.
My Lord she will recover;
Pray leave her with her Women, and make use
Of this so kind an Opportunity
To part with her.
Ess.
Cruel hard-hearted Burleigh!
Most Barbarous Cecil.
Burl.
See my Lord,
She soon will come t'her self, and you must leave her—
Haste, away.
Lieut.
Make way there.
Ess.
Look to her Faithful Servants, while she lives
She'll be a tender Mistress to you all—
Come, push me off then, since I must Swim o're,
Why do I stand thus shivering on the Shore!
'Tis but a Breath, and I no more shall think,
Mix with the Sun, or into Attomes shrink:
Lift up thy Eyes no more in search of mine,
Till I am dead, then glad the World with thine—
This kiss (O that it wou'd for for ever last!)
Gives me of Immortallity a Tast—
Farewell,
May all that's past when thou recover'st, seem
Like a glad waking from a fearful Dream.
Exeunt Essex to Execution, Burleigh, Rawleigh, Lieut. and Guards.
Manent Countess of Essex with Women.
Wom.
See, she revives.
C. Ess.
Where is my Essex, where?
Wom.
Alas I fear by this time he's no more.
C. Ess.
Why did you wake me then from such bright Objects?
I saw my Essex mount with Angels wings,
(Whilest I rode on the beauteous Cherubin,)
And took me on 'em, bore me o're the World
Through everlasting Skies, Eternal Light.
Wom.
Be Comforted.
C. Ess.
Sure we're the only Paire
Can boast of such a Pomp of Misery,
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Since the first Couple that knew sorrow first;
Yet they were happy, and for Paradice
Found a new World unskill'd, unfraught with Vice,
No Tyrant to molest 'em, nor no Sword,
All that had Life Obedience did afford;
No Pride but Labour there, and healthful Pains,
Nor Thief to rob them of their honest Gaines:
Ambition now the Plague of ev'ry Thought,
Then was not known, or else was unbegot.
Enter the Queen, Countess of Nottingham, Lords and Attendants.
Queen.
Behold where the poor Rutland lyes, almost
As dead, and low as Essex in his Grave
Can be, and I want but a very little
To be more miserable than 'em both—
Rise, rise unfortunate and mournful Rutland,
I know not what to call thee now, but wish
I could not call thee by the name of Essex—
Rise, and behold thy Queen I say,
That bends to take thee in her Armes.
C. Ess.
O never think to charm me with such sounds,
Such hopes that are too distant from my Soul,
For 'tis but Preaching Heav'n to one that's Damn'd—
O take your pitty back most cruel Queen,
Give it to those that want it for a Cure,
My Griefs are Mortal, Remedies are vain,
And thrown away on such a Wretch as I—
Here is a Paper from my Lord to you
It was his last Request that you would Read it.
Queen.
Giv't me—but oh how much more welcome had
The Ring been in its stead.
[Reads to her self.]
C. Nott.
Ha! I'm betray'd.
[Aside.
Queen.
Hast, see if Execution yet be done,
If not prevent it—Fly with Angels Wings—
[Officer goes out]
Oh thou far worse than Serpent—worse than Woman!
Ah Rutland! here's the cruel cause of both our Woes,
Mark this, and help to Curse her for thy Husband.
76
Madam,
I receive
my Death with the willingness and Submission of a Subject,
and as it is the will of Heaven and of Your Majesty, with this Request
that you wou'd be pleas'd to bestow that Royal Pitty on my Poor
Wife which is deny'd to me, and my last, flying Breath shall bless you.
I have but one Thing to repent of since my Sentence, which is, that I
sent the Ring by Nottingham, fearing it shou'd once put my Queen in
mind of her broken Vow.
Essex.
Repentance, Horrors, Plagues, and deadly Poysons,Worse than a thousand deaths torment thy Soul.
C. Nott.
Madam—
Queen.
Condemn me first to hear the Groans of Ghosts,
The Croaks of Ravens, and the Damn'd in Torments
Just Heaven, 'tis Musick to what thou canst utter;
Begon—Fly to that utmost Verge of Earth,
Where the Globe's bounded with Eternity,
And never more be seen of Humane kind,
Curst with long Life and with a fear to dye,
With thy Guilt ever in thy Memory,
And Essex Ghost be still before thy Eye.
C. Nott.
I do confess—
Queen.
Quick, bear her from my sight, her words are blasting,
Her Eyes are Basilisks, Infection reigns
Where e're she Breathes; go shut her in a Cave,
Or Chain her to some Rock whole Worlds from hence,
The distance is too near; There let her Live
Howling to th'Seas to rid her of her pain,
For she and I must never meet again—
Away with her.
C. Nott,
I go—but have this comfort in my Doom;
I leave you all with greater Plagues at home.
Exit Nott.
Enter Burleigh and Rawleigh.
Burl.
Madam your Orders came too late—
The Earl was Dead—
Queen.
Then I wish thou wer't dead that say'st it,
73
What said he when he came so soon to dye?
Burl.
Indeed his End, made so by woful Casualties,
Was very sad and full of pitty,
But at the Block all Hero he appear'd,
Or else, to give him a more Christian Title,
A Martyr Arm'd with Resolution,
Said little, but did bless your Majesty,
And dy'd full of forgiveness to the World,
As was no doubt his Soul that soon expir'd.
Queen.
Come thou choice Relickt of lamented Essex,
Call me no more by th'name of Queen, but Friend.
When thy dear Husband's Death Reveng'd shall be,
Pitty my Fate, but lay no Guilt on me,
Since 'tis th'Almighty's Pleasure, though severe,
To punish thus his Faithful Regents here,
To lay on Kings his hardest Task of Rule,
And yet has given 'em but a Humane Soul.
The subtle Paths of Traytors hearts to view
Reason's too dark, a hundred Eyes too few;
Yet when by Subjects we have been betray'd,
The blame is ours, their Crimes on us are laid,
And that which makes a Monarchs happiness,
Is not in Reigning well, but with Success.
Exeunt Omnes.
| The Unhappy Favourite : or the Earl of Essex | |