University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

Enter Raleigh, and Lieutenant of the Tower.
Raleigh.
Their Peers, with much Indulgence, heard their Plea,
And gave them ample Scope for their Defence;
But nought avail'd, their Crimes were too notorious.
They bore their Sentence with becoming Spirit;
And here's the Royal Mandate for their Deaths.—
The Lady Nottingham!—What brings her hither!

Enter Nottingham.
Nottingham.
Lieutenant, lead me to the Earl of Essex,
I bring a Message to him from the Queen.

Lieutenant.
He's with his Friend the brave Southampton, Madam,
Preparing now for their expected Fate.
But I'll acquaint his Lordship with your Pleasure.

[Ex.
Raleigh.
What means this Message? Does the Queen relent?

Nottingham.
I fear she does: for such a War of Passions,
Such varying Tumults never strove within
Her Breast till now. Sometimes she rails at Essex,
And calls him Villain, Traitor, dooms him dead;
Yet in a Moment turns again to Pity.
At length she sent me to th'ungrateful Earl,
To learn if he could offer aught that might
Induce her Royal Mercy to Forgiveness.
Go you to Court, for Cecil there expects you.
I've promis'd to acquaint him with what passes
'Twixt me and Essex ere I see the Queen.

Raleigh.
Madam, I go.

[Exit.
Nottingham.
Now Vengeance steel my Heart!
Offended Woman, whilst her Pride remains,
To Malice only, and Revenge will bow;
And every Virtue at that Altar sacrifice.
But see, he comes, with manly Sorrow clad.
There was a Time, that Presence cou'd subdue
My Pride, and melt my Heart to gentle Pity.
I then could find no Joy but in his Smiles;
And thought him lovely as the Summer's Bloom:
But all his Beauties now are hateful grown.

Enter Essex.
Essex.
Whether you bring me Death or Life I know not.
But, if strict Friendship and Remembrance past
May aught presage to my afflicted Heart,
Sure Mercy only from those Lips should flow,
And Grace be utter'd by that friendly Tongue.

Nottingham.
My Lord, I'm glad you think me still your Friend.
I come not to upbraid but serve you now;
And pleas'd I am, to be the Messenger
Of such glad Tidings in the Day of Trouble,
As now I bring you. When the Queen had heard
That by the Lords you were condemn'd to die,
She sent me, in her Mercy, here to know,
If you had aught to offer that might move
Her Royal Clemency to spare your Life.

Essex.
Could any Circumstance new Lustre add
To my dread Sovereign's Goodness, 'tis the making
The kind, the generous Nottingham it's Messenger.
O Madam, cou'd my glowing Heart express
Its grateful Sentiments, 'twou'd speak such Language
As Angels utter, when they praise their Maker.

Nottingaam.
'Tis well, my Lord; but there's no Time to spare,
The Queen impatient waits for my Return.

Essex.
My Heart was wishing for some faithful Friend,
And bounteous Heav'n hath sent thee to my Hopes.
Know then, kind Nottingham (for now I'll trust
Thee with the dearest Secret of my Life)
'Tis not long since the Queen (who well foresaw
To what the Malice of my Foes wou'd drive me)
Gave me this Ring, this sacred Pledge of Mercy;
And with it, made a solemn Vow to Heav'n,
That, whensoever I should give or send
It back again, she'd freely grant whate'er
Request I then shou'd make.

Nottingham.
Give, give it me,
My Lord, and let me fly on Friendship's Wings,
To bear it to the Queen, and to it add
My Prayers and Influence to preserve thy Life.

Essex.
O take it then,—it is the Pledge of Life,
The precious Spring that drives my Vital Stream
Around, and keeps my Heart still warm: it is
The Door of Breath, the Hope of Joy, the Shield
Of Friendship.—O it is my dear Southampton's
Last, last remaining Stay, his Thread of Being!
Which more than Worlds I prize.—O take it then,
Take it, thou Guardian Angel of my Life,
And offer up the Incense of thy Pray'r!
O beg, intreat, implore her Majesty,
From public Shame, and ignominious Death,
And from th'obdurate Ax, to save my Friend.

Nottingham.
My Lord, with all the Pow'rs that Nature gave,
And Friendship can inspire, I'll urge the Queen
To grant you your Request.

Essex.
Kind Nottingham,
Your pious Offices shall ever be
My fervent Theme; and if my doubtful Span
Relenting Heav'n should stretch to Years remote,
Each passing Hour shall still remind my Thoughts,
And tell me that I owe my All to thee.
My Friend shall thank you too for lengthen'd Life.
And now I'll fly with Comfort to his Arms,
To let him know the Mercy that you bring.

[Exit.
Nottingham.
Yes, you shall feel my Friendship's Weight fall heavy
Upon your guilty Soul, ungrateful Man!
Your false, disdainful Heart shall pay the Fine
Of Love neglected, and of Beauty scorn'd.

SCENE the Court.
Enter Queen, Burleigh.
Queen.
Ha! is not Nottingham return'd?

Burleigh.
No Madam.

Queen.
Dispatch a speedy Messenger to haste her.
My agitated Heart can find no rest,
So near the Brink of Fate.—Unhappy Man!
Enter Nottingham.
How now, my Nottingham, what News from Essex?
What says the Earl?

Nottingham.
I wish, with all my Soul,
Th'ungrateful Task had been another's Lot,
I dread to tell it.—Lost, ill fated Man!

Queen.
What means this Mystery, this strange Behaviour?
Pronounce—declare at once; what said the Earl?

Nottingham.
Alas, my Queen, I fear to say; his Mind
Is in the strangest Mood, that ever Pride
On blackest Thoughts begot. He scarce wou'd speak.
And when he did, it was with Sullenness,
With hasty Tone, and down-cast Look.

Queen.
Amazing!
Not feel the Terrors of approaching Death!
Nor yet the joyful Dawn of promis'd Life!

Nottingham.
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 provok'd him to exclaim
Aloud, against the partial Power of Fortune,
And Faction's Rage.—I beg'd him to consider
His sad Condition, nor repulse with Scorn,
The only Hand that could preserve him.

Queen.
Ha!
What! said he nothing of a private import?
No Circumstance—no Pledge—no Ring!

Nottingham.
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.

Queen.
Impossible!
Could Essex treat me thus? You basely wrong him,
And wrest his Meaning from the purpos'd Point.
Recall betimes the horrid Words you've utter'd!
Confess, and own the whole you've said was false.

Nottingham.
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;
Accus'd 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.

Queen.
Eternal Silence seal thy venom'd Lips!
What hast thou utter'd, Wretch, to rouze at once
A Whirlwind in my Soul, which roots up Pity,
And destroys my Peace?
Ha! he defies me then! Audacious Traytor!
Let him this Instant to the Block be led.
[Exit Not.
Upbraid me with my fatal Fondness for him!
Ungrateful, barbarous Ruffian! Oh 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 th'audacious Villain with my Presence,
And add new Terrors to th'uplifted Ax.

[Exit.
SCENE the Tower.
Essex and Southampton discovered.
Essex.
O name it not, my Friend shall live, he shall;
I know her royal Mercy, and her Goodness
Will give you back to Life, to length of Days,
And me, to Honour, Loyalty, and Truth.
Death is still distant far.

Southampton,
In Life's first Spring,
Our green Affections grew apace, and prosper'd;
The genial Summer swell'd our joyful Hearts,
To meet and mix each growing fruitful Wish.
We're now embark'd upon that stormy Flood
Where all the Wise and Brave are gone before us,
Ere since the Birth of Time, to meet Eternity.
And what is Death, did we consider right?
Shall we, who sought him in the Paths of Terror,
And fac'd him in the dreadful Walks of War;
Shall we, astonish'd, shrink, like frighted Infants,
And start at Scaffolds, and their gloomy Trappings?

Essex.
Yet still I trust long Years remain of Friendship.—
Let smiling Hope drive Doubt and Fear away,
And Death be banish'd far; where creeping Age,
Disease and Care, invite him to their Dwelling.
I feel Assurance rise within my Breast,
That all will yet be well.

Southampton.
Count not on Hope—
We never can take Leave, my Friend, of Life,
On nobler Terms. Life! what is Life! A Shadow!
Its Date is but th'immediate Breath we draw;
Nor have we Surety for a second Gale.
Ten thousand Accidents in Ambush lie
For the embody'd Dream.
A frail and fickle Tenement it is;
Which like the brittle Glass, that measures Time,
Is often broke, ere half its Sands are run.

Essex.
Such cold Philosophy the Heart disdains;
And Friendship shudders at the moral Tale.
My Friend, the fearful Precipice is past,
And Danger dare not meet us more. Fly swift,
Ye better Angels, waft the welcome Tidings
Of Pardon, to my Friend; of Life and Joy.

Enter Lieutenant.
Lieutenant.
I grieve to be the Messenger of Woe.
But must, my Lords, intreat you to prepare
For instant Death. Here is the royal Mandate
That orders your immediate Execution.

Essex.
Immediate Execution!—What, so sudden!
No Message from the Queen? or Nottingham?

Lieutenant.
None, Sir.

Essex.
Deluded Hopes! O worse than Death!
Perfidious Queen, to make a Mock of Life!
My Friend, my Friend destroy'd! O piercing Thought!
O dismal Chance!—In my Destruction ruin'd!
In my sad Fall undone! Why could not mine,
My Life attone for both; my Blood appease?
Can you, my Friend, forgive me?

Southampton.
Yes, O yes,
My Bosom's better Half, I can. With thee
I'll gladly seek the Coast unknown, and leave
The lessening Mark of irksome Life behind.
With thee, my Friend, 'tis Joy to die! 'tis Glory!
For who wou'd wait the tardy Stroke of Time,
Or cling like Reptiles to the Verge of Being,
When we can bravely leap from Life at once,
And spring triumphant in a Friend's Embrace?

Enter Raleigh.
Raleigh.
To you, my Lord Southampton, from the Queen
A Pardon comes: Your Life her Mercy spares.

Essex.
For ever blest be that indulgent Power
Which saves my Friend. This Weight ta'en off, my Soul
Shall upward spring, and mingle with the Blest.

Southampton.
All-ruling Heavens, can this, can this be just?
Support me, hold, ye straining Heart-strings hold,
And keep my sinking Frame from Dissolution.
O 'tis too much for mortal Strength to bear,
Or Thought to suffer! No, I'll die with thee.
They shall not part us, Essex.

Essex.
Live, O live,
Thou noblest, bravest, best of Men and Friends!
Whilst Life is worth thy Wish, till Time and thou
Agree to part, and Nature send thee to me;
Thou gen'rous Soul, farewel;—live and be happy;
And, Oh, may Life make largely up to thee
Whatever Blessing Fate has thus cut off
From thy departing Friend.

Lieutenant.
My Lord, my Warrant
Strictly forbids to grant a Moment's Time.

Southampton.
Oh must we part for ever!—Cruel Fortune!
Wilt thou then tear him hence?—Severe Divorce!
Let me cling round thy sacred Person still,
Still clasp thee to my Bosom close, and keep
Stern Fate at Distance.

Essex.
O my Friend, we'll meet
Again where Virtue finds a just Reward,
Where factious Malice never more can reach us.
Recall thy Reason, be thyself once more.—
I fear it not.—This hideous Monster, Death,
When seen at Distance, shocks weak Nature's Eye;
But Reason, as it draws more near, defies it.—
I thank thy Sorrows, but cou'd spare 'em now.
I need not bid thee guard my Fame from Wrongs:
And, Oh! a dearer Treasure to thy Care
I trust, than either Life or Fame—my Wife.
Her bitter Sorrows pierce my Soul; for her
My Heart drops Blood!—Oh, she will want a Friend.
Then take her to thy Care; do thou pour Balm
On her deep-wounded Spirit, and let her find
My tender Helps in thee.—I must be gone,
My ever faithful, and my gallant Friend.—
I prithee leave this Woman's Work.—Farewel.—
Take this last, dear Embrace.—Farewel for ever!

Southampton.
My bursting Breast!—I fain would speak, but Words
Are poor.—Farewel!—
But we shall meet again, embrace in one
Eternal Band, which never shall be loos'd.

[Exit.
Essex.
To Death's concluding Stroke, lead on, Lieutenant.
My Wife!—Now Reason, Fortitude, support me;
For now, indeed, comes on my sorest Trial.
Enter Countess of Rutland.
Oh thou last, dear Reserve of Fortune's Malice;
For Fate can add no more!—Oh com'st thou then
In this dread Hour, when all my straining Thoughts
Are struggling in the tenderest Ties of Nature;
Oh com'st thou now t'arrest my parting Soul,
And force it back to Life!

Rutland.
Thou sole Delight,
Thou only Joy which Life cou'd ever give,
Or Death deprive me of, my wedded Lord!
I come, with thee determin'd to endure
The utmost Rigour of our angry Stars,
To join thee, fearless, in the Grasp of Death,
And seek some Dwelling in a World beyond it.

Essex.
Too much, thou Partner of this dismal Hour,
Thy gen'rous Soul wou'd prompt thee to endure;
Nor can thy tender, trembling Heart sustain it.
Long Years of Bliss remain in Store for thee,
And smiling Time his Treasures shall unfold
To bribe thy Stay.

Rutland.
Thou cruel Comforter!
Alas! what's Life! what's hated Life to me?
Can aught beneath this starry Hemisphere,
Which Earth's Extent, and Nature's Wealth can yield,
Which proud Ambition stretches to enjoy,
Or Passion pants or, recompense thy Loss?
Alas, this Universe, this goodly Frame,
Shall all as one continued Curse appear,
And every Object blast when thou art gone.

Essex.
O strain not thus the little Strength I've left,
The weak Support that holds up Life, to bear
A few short Moments more, its Weight of Woe,
Its Loss of thee. O turn away those Eyes,
Nor with that Look melt down my fixt Resolve;
And yet a little longer let me gaze
On that lov'd Form. Alas, I feel my Sight
Grows dim, and Reason from her Throne retire;
For Pity's Sake let go my breaking Heart,
And leave me to my Fate.

Rutland.
Why wilt thou still
Of parting talk; since Life its thousand Gates
Unbars to let us thro' together. Death
Is but a Step that reaches to Eternity.
O that the friendly Hand of Heav'n wou'd snatch
Us both, at once, above the distant Stars!
Where Fortune's venom'd Shafts can never pierce,
Nor cruel Queens destroy!—Nay look not so.

Essex.
The awful Searcher, whose impartial Eye
Explores the Secrets of each human Heart,
And every Thought surveys, can witness for me,
How close thy Image clings around my Soul;
Retards each rising Wish, and draws me back
To Life, entangled by thy lov'd Idea.
When fell Necessity those Ties shall break,
For quickly break they must—when I from Earth
On Faith's white Angel Wings to Heaven shall soar,
Thy lasting Form shall still my Mind possess,
Where Bliss supreme each Faculty o'erwhelms,
And raptur'd Angels glow.—

Lieutenant.
My Lord, the Time
Too far is stretch'd, it now grows late.

Essex.
Lead on.

Rutland.
Stay, stay, my Love, my dearest, dying Lord!
Ah whither wouldst thou go? Ah, do not leave me!
Alas, I'll hasten to attend your Flight;
And Nature gives Consent we should not part.
I feel each Faculty for Fate prepare,
And my quick Soul wou'd fain set out before you.
O precious Pangs!—O dear Distress!—still closer
To thy quick throbbing Heart let mine complain,
And on thy labouring Bosom breathe my last.

[Faints.
Essex.
Thou sinking Excellence! thou matchless Woman!
Shall Fortune rob me of thy dear Embrace,
Or Earth's whole Power, or Death divide us now!
Stay, stay, thou spotless, injur'd Saint, and take—

Lieutenant.
My Lord, already you have been indulg'd
Beyond what I can warrant by my Orders.

Essex.
Oh let me on her dying Bosom fall,
Embrace her spotless Form.—One Moment more
Afford me to my Sorrows.—Oh! look there!—
Cou'd bitter Anguish pierce your Heart, like mine,
You'd pity now the mortal Pangs I feel,
The Throbs that tear my vital Strings away,
And rend my agonizing Soul.—

Lieutenant.
My Lord.

Essex.
But one short Moment more, and I attend.
Ye sacred Ministers, that Virtue guard,
And shield the Righteous in the Paths of Peril,
Restore her back to Life, and lengthen'd Years
Of Joy; dry up her bleeding Sorrows all:
O cancel from her Thoughts this dismal Hour,
And blot my Image from her sad Reembrance.
'Tis done.—
And now, ye trembling Cords of Life give way:
Nature and Time let go your Hold; Eternity
Demands me.

[Exeunt Essex, Lieutenant.
Woman.
She returns to Life, see! help!

Rutland.
Where has my lost benighted Soul been wandring?
What means this Mist that hangs about my Mind?
Thro' which Reflection's painful Eye discerns
Imperfect Forms, and horrid Shapes of Woe.
The Cloud dispels, the Shades withdraw, and all
My dreadful Fate appears.—O where's my Lord?
My Life! my Essex! O whither have they ta'en him?

Enter Queen and Attendants.
Queen.
To Execution! fly with Lightning's Wings,
And save him. Hah! by whose Command was this?
Stop, stop the fatal Blow.—My Fears were true.

Exit one of the Attendants.
Rutland.
Thou saving Angel sent from Heaven! my Queen,
My gracious Queen, be quick!—the bloody Burleigh!
A Moment may destroy him. Stretch thy Arm,
Defend, defend, O snatch him from the Blow!
Preserve my Husband! O Elizabeth,
Look down upon me. Angels move her Heart
To pity, save him, save him, gracious Queen.

Queen.
Be calm, he shall not die. Rise up. I came
To save his Life.

Rutland.
'Tis Mercy's Voice that speaks.
My Essex shall again be mine. My Queen,
My bounteous, gracious Queen has said the Word.
May Troops of Angels guard thy sacred Life,
And, in thy latest Moments, waft thy Soul
To meet that Mercy, in the Realms of Joy,
Which now thy royal Goodness grants to me.

Enter Burleigh.
Burleigh.
Madam, your Orders came, alas! too late.
Ere they arriv'd the Ax had fall'n on Essex.

Rutland.
Ha! dead! What Hell is this that opens round me?
What Fiend art thou that draws the horrid Scene?
Hah Burleigh! bloody Murd'rer, where's my Husband!
O where's my Lord, my Essex?
Destruction seize and Madness rend my Brain.
See, see, they bend him to the fatal Block;
Now now the horrid Ax is lifted high,
It falls, it falls, he bleeds, he bleeds, he dies!

Queen.
Alas, her Sorrows pierce my suffering Heart.

Rutland.
Eternal Discord tear the social World,
And Nature's Laws dissolve! expunge, erase
The hated Marks of Time's engraving Hand,
And every Trace destroy! Arise, Despair,
Assert thy rightful Claim, possess me all!
Bear, bear me to my murther'd Lord, to clasp
His bleeding Body in my dying Arms;
And in the Tomb embrace his dear Remains,
And mingle with his Dust for ever.

[Exit.
Queen.
Hapless Woman!
She shall henceforth be Partner of my Sorrows.
And we'll contend who most shall weep for Essex.
O quick to kill, and ready to destroy,
[To Burleigh.
Cou'd no Pretext be sound, no Cause appear,
To lengthen Mercy out a Moment more,
And stretch the Span of Grace? O cruel Burleigh!
This, this was thy dark Work, unpitying Man!

Burleigh.
My gracious Mistress, blame not thus my Duty,
My firm Obedience to your high Command.
The Laws condemn'd him first to die; nor think
I stood between your Mercy and his Life.
It was the Lady Notingham, not I.
Herself confess'd it all, in wild Despair,
That from your Majesty to Essex sent,
With Terms of proffer'd Grace, she then receiv'd
From his own Hand a fatal Ring, a Pledge,
It seems, of much Importance, which the Earl,
With earnest Suit, and warm Entreaty, begg'd her,
As she would prize his Life, to give your Majesty.
In this she fail'd—in this she murder'd Essex.

Queen.