University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

Enter Burleigh and Raleigh.
Burleigh.
Essex arriv'd! Confusion to my Hopes!
His Presence will destroy me with the Queen.
I much suspect he had some private Notice,
Perhaps, a punctual Order to return.
He lurks too near her Heart.—What's to be done?
Prepare the Witnesses with Speed; apprize
The Lady Nottingham.—Southampton's Pride,
And Rutland's too, will lift the Crest again.
But fly, my Raleigh, send me Nottingham.
[Exit Ral.
We must alarm the Queen with new Commotions
In many Parts of her Dominions rais'd:
All this, and more, must now be pass'd for Truth.
This sudden Blow has struck me to the Soul;
'Tis gone too far, he dies—proud Essex now,
Or Cecil falls. Now is th'important Crisis—
Keep up thy usual Strength; my better Genius,
Direct my Steps to crush my mortal Foe.

Enter Queen and Raleigh.
Queen.
It cannot be!—Return'd without my Leave!
Against my strict Command!—Impossible!

Raleigh.
Madam, the Earl is now at Court, and begs
An Audience of your Majesty.

Queen.
Amazing!
What! break his Trust! desert his high Command!
Forsake his Post, and disobey his Queen!
'Tis false—invented all.—You wish it so.

Burleigh.
Madam, I wish some other Rumours false.
Reports, I fear, of great Concern to you.

Queen.
What Rumours, what Reports? Your Frown wou'd much
Denote: your Preface seems important—Speak.

Burleigh.
Some new Commotions are of late sprung up
In Ireland, where the West is all in Arms,
And moves with hasty March to join Tyrone,
And all his Northern Clans. A dreadful Power!
Nay more, we have Advices from the Borders
Of sudden Risings, near the Banks of Tweed!
'Tis thought, to favour an Attempt from Scotland.
Mean while, Tyrone embarks six thousand Men
To land at Milford, and to march where Essex
Shall join them with his Friends.

Queen.
In League with James!
And plotting with Tyrone! It cannot be.
His very Pride disdains such Perfidy.
But is not Essex here without my Leave!
Against my strict Command! that, that's Rebellion.
The rest, if true, or false, it matters not.
What's to be done?—admit him to my Presence?
No, no—my Dignity, my Pride forbid it.
Ungrateful Man, approach me not; rise, rise
Resentment, and support my Soul! Disdain,
Do thou assist me.—Yes, it shall be so.

Burleigh.
I see she muses deep; her Mind works upwards,
And paints it's struggling Efforts in her Face.
Tyrone's Invasion wakes her Fear and Anger,
And all her Soul is one continued Storm.

Queen.
For once my Pride shall stoop; and I will see
This rash, audacious, this once favour'd Man;
But treat him as his daring Crimes deserve.

Enter Southampton.
Southampton
kneeling.
Permit me, Madam, to approach you thus;
Thus lowly to present the humble Suit
Of the much injur'd, faithful, Earl of Essex:
Who dares not, unpermitted, meet your Presence.
He begs, most gracious Queen, to fall before
Your royal Feet, to clear him to his Sovereign,
Whom, next to Heav'n, he wishes most to please.
Let Faction load him with her labouring Hand,
His Innocence shall rise against the Weight,
If but his gracious Mistress deign to smile.

Queen.
Let him appear.
[Exit South.
Now to thy trying Task,
My Soul! put forth, exert thy utmost Strength,
Nor let an injur'd Queen be tame.—Lye still,
My Heart! I cannot listen to thee now.

Enter Essex and Southampton.
Essex.
Forgive, thou, injur'd Majesty, thou best
Of Queens, this seeming Disobedience. See,
I bend submissive in your royal Presence,
With Soul as penitent, as if before
Th'all-searching Eye of Heav'n. But, Oh, that Frown!
My Queen's Resentment wounds my inmost Spirit,
Strikes me like Death, and pierces thro' my Heart.

Queen.
You have obey'd, my Lord! you've serv'd me well!
My deadly Foes are quell'd! and you come home
A Conqueror! your Country bids you welcome!
And I, your Queen, applaud!—Triumphant Man!
What! is it thus that Essex gains his Laurels?
And is it thus you've borne my high Commission?
How durst you disregard your trusted Duty,
Desert your Province, and betray your Queen?

Essex.
I came to clear my injur'd Name from Guilt,
Imputed Guilt, and slanderous Accusations.
My Shame was wafted in each passing Gale,
Each swelling Tide came loaded with my Wrongs;
And Echo sounded forth, from Faction's Voice,
The Traytor Essex.—Was't not hard, my Queen,
That whilst I stood in Danger's dreadful Front,
Encountering Death in every shape of Terror,
And bleeding for my Country?—Was't not hard,
My mortal Enemies at home, like Cowards,
Shou'd in my Absence basely blast my Fame?

Queen.
It is the Godlike Attribute of Kings
To raise the Virtuous, and protect the Brave.
I was the Guardian of your Reputation,
What Malice, or what Faction then cou'd reach you?
My Honour was expos'd, engag'd for your's:
But you found Reason to dislike my Care,
And to yourself assum'd the wrested Office.

Essex.
If aught disloyal in this Bosom dwells,
If aught of Treason lodges in this Heart,
May I to Guilt and lasting Shame be wedded,
The Sport of Faction, and the Mark of Scorn;
The World's Derision, and my Queen's Abhorrence.
Stand forth the Villain, whose invenom'd Tongue
Would taint my Honour, and traduce my Name,
Or stamp my Conduct with a Rebel's Brand!
Lives there a Monster in the Haunts of Men
Dares tear my Trophies from their pillar'd Base,
Eclipse my Glory and disgrace my Deeds?

Queen.
This ardent Language, and this glow of Soul,
Were nobly graceful in a better Cause;
Where Virtue warrants, and where Truth inspires.
But injur'd Truth with Brow invincible
Frowns stern Reproof upon the false Assertion,
And contradicts it with the Force of Facts.
From me you have appeal'd, ungrateful Man;
The Laws, not I, must listen to your Plea.
Go stand the Test severe, abide the Tryal,
And mourn too late the Bounty you abus'd

Exit Queen, Southampton, &c.
Essex.
Is this the just Requital, then, of all
My Patriot-Toils and oft-encounter'd Perils,
Amidst th'Inclemencies of Camps and Climes?
Then be it so.—Unmov'd and dauntless, let me
This Shock of adverse Fortune firmly stand.
But yet, methinks, 'tis somewhat sudden too.
My Greatness, now depriv'd of each Support,
Which bore so long its envy'd Weight aloft,
Must quick to ruin fall, and crush my Hopes.

Enter Southampton.
Southampton.
Alas, my Lord, the Queen's Displeasure kindles
With Warmth increasing, whilst Lord Burleigh labours
T'inflame her Wrath, and make it still burn fiercer.

Essex.
I scorn the Blaze of Courts, the Pomp of Kings;
I give them to the Winds and lighter Vanity:
Too long they've robb'd me of substantial Bliss,
Of solid Happiness, and true Enjoyment.
But lead me to my mourning Love, alas!
She sinks beneath oppressing Ills, she fades,
She dies for my afflicting Pangs, and seeks
Me sorrowing in the Walks of Woe.—Distraction!
O lead me to her, to my Soul's Desire.

Southampton.
Let Caution guide you in this dangerous Step.
Consider well, my Lord, the Consequence—
For should the Queen (forbid it Heaven!) discover
Your private Loves, your plighted Hands, no Power
On Earth could step between you and Destruction.
Lock up this Secret from the prying World.

Enter Burleigh.
Burleigh.
My Lord of Essex, 'tis the Queen's Command
That you forthwith resign your Staff of Office;
And, further, she confines you to your Palace.

Essex.
Welcome, my Fate; let Fortune do her utmost;
I know the worst, and will confront her Malice,
And bravely bear the unexpected Blow.

Burleigh.
The Queen, my Lord, demands your quick Compliance.

Essex.
Go then, thou gladsome Messenger of Ill,
And, joyful, feast thy fierce rapacious Soul
With Essex' sudden and accomplish'd Fall.
The trampled Coarse of all his envy'd Greatness,
Lies prostrate now, beneath thy savage Feet;
But still th'exalted Spirit mounts above thee.
Go, tell the Queen thy own detested Story;
Full in her Sight disclose the snaky Labyrinths,
And lurking Snares you plant in Virtue's Path,
To catch Integrity's unguarded Step.

Burleigh.
How ill repaid are public Toils and Cares,
Where active Honesty with Station join'd,
Incurs but Calumny, and foul Reproach!
Your Country has impeach'd, your Queen accus'd you;
To these address your best Defence, and clear
Your question'd Conduct from disloyal Guilt.
What Answer to the Queen shall I return?

Essex.
My Staff of Office I from her receiv'd,
And will to her, and her alone, resign it.

Burleigh.
This bold Refusal will incense the Queen;
This Arrogance will make your Guilt the stronger.

[Exit.
Southampton.
Sustain, my noble Friend, thy wonted Greatness;
Collect thy Fortitude, and summon all
Thy Soul, to bear with Strength this crushing Weight,
Which falls severe upon thee; whilst my Friendship
Shall lend a helping Hand, and share the Burthen.
I'll hence with Speed, and to the Queen repair,
And all the Power of warmest Words employ
To gain you yet one Audience more, and bring
Her Majesty to milder Thoughts. Farewel.

[Exit.
Essex.
As newly wak'd from all my Dreams of Glory,
Those gilded Visions of deceitful Joys,
I stand confounded at th'unlook'd-for Change,
And scarcely feel this Thunder-bolt of Fate.
The painted Clouds, which bore my Hopes aloft,
Alas, are vanish'd now to yielding Air,
And I am fallen indeed!—
How weak is Reason, when Affection pleads?
How hard to turn the fond deluded Heart
From flatt'ring Toys, which sooth'd it's Vanity?
The laurell'd Trophy and the loud Applause,
The Victor's Triumph, and the People's Gaze,
The high-hung Banner, and recording Gold,
Subdue me still, still cling around my Heart,
And pull my Reason down.

Enter Rutland.
Rutland.
O let me fly
To clasp, embrace, the Lord of my Desires!
My Soul's Delight, my utmost Joy, my Husband!
I feel once more his panting Bosom beat,
Once more I hold him in my eager Arms,
Behold his Face, and lose my Soul in Rapture.

Essex.
Transporting Bliss! my richest, dearest Treasure!
My mourning Turtle! my long absent Peace!
O come yet nearer, nearer to my Heart!
My raptur'd Soul springs forward to receive thee:
Thou Heav'n on Earth, thou Balm of all my Woe!

Rutland.
O shall I credit then each ravish'd Sense?
Has pitying Heaven consented to my Prayer?
It has, it has, my Essex is return'd!
But Language poorly speaks the Joys I feel;
Let Passion paint, and Looks express my Soul.

Essex.
With thee, my sweetest Comfort, I'll retire
From splendid Palaces, and glittering Throngs,
To live embosom'd in the Shades of Joy;
Where sweet Content extends her friendly Arms,
And gives increasing Love a lasting Welcome.
With thee I'll timely fly from proud Oppression,
Forget our Sorrows, and be bless'd for ever.

Rutland.
O let us hence, beyond the Reach of Power;
Where Fortune's Hand shall never part us more.
In this calm State of Innocence and Joy,
I'll press thee to my throbbing Bosom close.
Ambition's Voice shall call in vain; the World,
The thankless World, shall never claim thee more,
And all thy Bus'ness shall be Love and me.

Essex.
The Queen, incens'd at my Return, abandons me
To Cecil's Malice, and the Rage of Faction.
I'm now no more the favourite Child of Fortune:
My Enemies have caught me in the Toil,
And Life has nothing worth my Wish but thee.

Rutland.
Delusive Dream of fancy'd Happiness!
And has my fatal Fondness then destroy'd thee!
Oh! have I lur'd thee to the deadly Snare
Thy cruel Foes have laid? Oh! have I put
Thy Life in Peril? My officious Tears
Would needs inform thee of their wicked Schemes.
I dreaded Cecil's Malice, and my Heart,
Longing to see thee with Impatience, listen'd
To it's own Alarms; and Prudence sunk beneath
The Force of Love.

Essex.
Forbear, my only Comfort;
O tell me not of Danger, Death, and Burleigh,
Let every Star shed down it's mortal Bane
On my unshelter'd Head: Whilst thus I fold
Thee in my raptur'd Arms; I'll brave 'em all,
Defy my Fate, and meet it's utmost Rigour.

Rutland.
Alas! my Lord, consider where we are.
Oh! 'tis the Queen's Apartment; Death is here:
I came to thee through Peril's ambush'd Path,
And every Danger risqu'd for thy Embrace.
Each precious Moment is by Fate beset,
And Time stands trembling whilst we thus confer.

Essex.
Then let us hence from this detested Place;
My rescu'd Soul disdains the House of Greatness,
Where humble Honesty can find no Shelter.
From hence we'll fly, where Love and Virtue call,
Where Happiness invites,—that Wish of all;
With sweet Content enjoy each blissful Hour,
Beyond the Smiles of Fraud, or Frowns of Power.