 | The Earl of Essex |  |
1
ACT I.
SCENE, an Antichamber in the Palace.Enter Burleigh and Raleigh.
Burleigh.
The Bill, at length, has pass'd opposing Numbers,
Whilst Crowds seditious clamour'd round the senate,
And headlong Faction urg'd its Force within.
Raleigh.
It has, my Lord.—The wish'd-for Day is come,
When this proud Idol of the People's Hearts
Shall now no more be worshipp'd.—Essex falls.
My Lord, the Minute's near that shall unravel
The mystic Schemes of this aspiring Man.
Now Fortune, with officious Hand, invites us
To her, and opens wide the Gates of Greatness,
2
I see, my Lord, our utmost Wish accomplish'd!
I see great Cecil shine without a Rival,
And England bless him as her Guardian Saint.
Such potent Instruments I have prepar'd
As shall, with speed, o'erturn this hated Man,
And dash him down, by Proof invincible.
Burleigh.
His Day of Glory now is set in Night,
And all my anxious Hopes, at last, are crown'd.
Those Proofs against him, Raleigh—
Raleigh.
All arriv'd.
Burleigh.
Arriv'd! how? when?
Raleigh.
This very Hour, my Lord:
Nay more, a Person comes, of high Distinction,
To prove some secret Treaties made by Essex,
With Scotland's Monarch, and the proud Tyrone.
Burleigh.
How say'st? to prove 'em?
Raleigh.
Ay, my Lord, and back'd
With Circumstances of a stronger Nature.
It now appears his Secretary Cuff,
With Blunt and Lee were deep concern'd in this
Destructive Scheme, contriv'd to raise this Lord,
And ruin Cecil, O it is a subtil,
A deep-laid Mischief, by the Earl contriv'd,
In Hour malignant, to o'erturn the State,
And (Horror to conceive!) dethrone the Queen.
Burleigh.
These gladsome Tidings fly beyond my Hopes!
The Queen will listen now, will now believe,
And trust the Counsel of her faithful Burleigh.
Let this most lucky Circumstance be kept
3
Dispose 'em well, till kind Occasion call
Their Office forth, lest prying Craft mean while
May tamper with their Thoughts, and change their Minds:
Let them, like Batteries conceal'd, appear
At once, both to surprize and to destroy.
Raleigh.
This sudden Shock, my Lord, this weighty Stroke
Must press him headlong down to deep Destruction:
Indignant Fate marks out this dreaded Man,
And Fortune now has left him.
Burleigh.
Thank the Changeling!
His servile Faction soon will stand aghast,
And sink, at distance, from his threat'ning Fall.
Raleigh.
His headstrong Friend, the bold Southampton too,
Now finds his rash Endeavours all defeated;
And storms at thee and the impeaching Commons.
Burleigh.
Let him rave on, and rage.—The Lion in
The Toils entangled, wastes his Strength, and roars
In vain; his Efforts but amuse me now.—
Raleigh.
What Triumphs in my Soul shall reign, to see
This sanguine and o'erbearing Man brought down
Beneath my Envy; nay, below my Scorn.
How young Ambition swells my rising Hopes!
'Tis Heaven, O Cecil, calls, thro' England's Voice,
And Justice, bending from above, invites us.
Enter Gentleman.
Gentleman.
My Lord, the Lady Nottingham desires
With much Impatience to attend your Lordship.
4
What may the Purport of her Bus'ness be!
Her tender Wishes are to Essex ty'd
In Love's soft Fetters, and endearing Bands:
For him, each melting Thought awakes Desire,
And all her Soul is lavish'd on that Lord.—
This unexpected Visit much surprizes me!
What can it mean? She would not come to pry
And pick out Tales for Essex's Ear!—Why let her;
I'm arm'd secure against her Arts and Cunning.
Besides, her Errand comes too late; for now
Her Minion's doom'd to fall.—Conduct her in:
[Exit Gent.
And you, my Raleigh, watch Southampton's Steps;
With Care observe each Movement of his Friends;
Let no Advantage on that Side be lost.
[Exit Ral.
Southampton's Essex' second Self; he shares
His headlong Councils, and adopts his Schemes;
His daring Heart, and bold, ungovern'd Tongue,
Are both enlisted in the rash Designs
Of this proud Lord, nor knows a Will but his.
A Limb, so fix'd, must with the Body fall.
Enter Lady Nottingham.
Nottingham.
Thrice hail to rescu'd England's guiding Genius!
His Country's Guardian, and his Queen's Defence.
Great Burleigh, thou whose Patriot Bosom beats
With Albion's Glory, and Eliza's Fame;
Who shield'st her Person, and support'st her Throne;
For thee, what fervent Thanks, what offer'd Vows,
Do prostrate Millions pay!
Burleigh.
Bright Excellence,
This fair Applause too highly over-rates,
To much extols the low Deserts of Cecil.
5
What Praises are too high for Patriot-Worth;
Or what Applause exceeds the Price of Virtue?
My Lord, Conviction has at last subdu'd me,
And I am Honour's Proselyte;—too long
My erring Heart pursu'd the Ways of Faction;
I own myself t'have been your bitt'rest Foe,
And join'd with Essex in each foul Attempt
To blast your Honour, and traduce your Fame.
Burleigh.
Tho' ne'er my wishing Heart could call you Friend,
Yet Honour and Esteem I always bore you;
And never meant, but with Respect to serve you.
It grieves me, Madam, to have thus offended,
Where most my Wishes labour'd to oblige.
Nottingham.
I know your Honour and your Virtues well;
Your public Plans, design'd for England's Good,
And all your private Merit's Weight.—But, Oh,
How blind is Reason in the Maze of Passion!
I sought your Ruin, labour'd for your Fall.
But if Repentance may attone for Guilt,
Or Self-reproach for sharpest Penance pass;
No mortal Breast e'er felt more Woe than mine,
And Burleigh now may rank me for his Friend.
Burleigh.
That such a Worth of Soul should be abus'd!
Could I accuse my Heart but of a Thought
To do you Wrong? If any Purpose ever
Against your Welfare in my Soul arose,
That look'd with Malice on your shining Merit,
Your matchless Beauty, or your brighter Virtues;
Then let me live despis'd, a Proverb made
To every passing Slave; nay more, the Scorn
And trampl'd Footstool of the Man I hate.
6
It is enough, my Lord, I know it well,
And feel rekindling Virtue warm my Breast;
Honour and Gratitude their Force resume
Within my Heart, and every Wish is your's.
O Cecil, Cecil, what a Foe hast thou,
A deadly Foe, whilst hated Essex lives.
Burleigh.
I know it well, but can assign no Cause.
Nottingham.
Ambition's restless Hand has wound his Thoughts
Too high for England's Welfare; nay, the Queen
Scarce sits in Safety on her Throne while he,
Th'audacious Essex, freely treads at large,
And breathes the common Air. Ambition is
The only God he serves, to whom he'd sacrifice
His Honour, Country, Friends, and every Tye
Of Truth, and Bond of Nature; nay, his Love.
Burleigh.
I find this Bus'ness works as I would have it.
[Aside.
The Man that in his public Duty fails,
On private Virtues will disdainful tread,
As Steps to raise him to some higher Purpose;
In vain each softer Wish would plead with him,
No tender Movement in his Soul prevails,
And mighty Love, who rules all Nature else,
Must follow here in proud Ambition's Train.
Nottingham.
Pronounce it not, my Soul abhors the Sound,
Like Death.—O Cecil, will you kindly lend
Some Pity to a Wretch like me!
Burleigh.
Command,
Madam; my Power and Will are yours. I feel
Your Wrongs, I feel the base Returns you've met
From this ungrateful and disloyal Man,
Tho' oft your Goodness screen'd him from Reproof;
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Accept my Service, and employ my Power.
Nottingham.
Will Cecil's friendly Ear vouchsafe to bend
It's great Attention to a Woman's Wrongs,
Whose Pride and Shame, Resentment and Despair,
Rise up in raging Anarchy at once,
To tear with ceaseless Pangs my tortur'd Soul?
Words are unequal to the Woes I feel,
And Language lessens what my Heart endures.
Passion repuls'd with Scorn, and proud Disdain,
Recoils indignant on my shrinking Soul,
Beats back my vital Springs, and crushes Life.
Burleigh.
Madam, your Wrongs, I must confess, are great;
Yet still, I fear, you know not half his Falshood.
Who, that had Eyes to look on Beauty? Who,
That had a Heart to feel that Beauty's Power?
Who, but the false, perfidious Essex, cou'd
Prefer to Nottingham a Rutland's Charms?
Start not.—By Heav'n I tell you nought but Truth,
What I can prove, past doubt; that he receiv'd
The Lady Rutland's Hand, in sacred Wedlock,
The very Night before his setting out
For Ireland.
Nottingham.
O may quick Destruction seize 'em!
May Furies blast, and Hell destroy their Peace!
May all their Nights—
Burleigh.
I pray have Patience, Madam,
Restrain a while your Rage, Curses are vain.
But there's a surer Method to destroy him;
And if you'll join with me, 'tis done: he falls.
8
Ha! say'st thou, Burleigh! speak, my Genius, speak;
Be quick as Vengeance' self to tell me how.
Burleigh.
You must have heard the Commons have impeach'd him,
And we have Proofs sufficient for his Ruin.
But then the Queen—you know how fair he stands
In her Esteem; and Rutland too, his Wife,
Hath full Possession of the Royal Ear.
What then avail Impeachments or the Law's
Severest Condemnation, while the Queen
May snatch him from th'uplifted Hand of Justice.
Here then, my Nottingham, begins thy Task.
Try ev'ry Art t'incense the Queen against him,
Then step between her and the Lady Rutland,
Let not her Fondness find the least Access
To the Queen's Heart to counterwork our Purpose.
Observe Southampton too, with jealous Eye;
Prevent, as much as possible his Suit:
For well I know he will not fail to try
His Eloquence on the Behalf of Essex.
Nottingham.
It shall be done; his Doom is fix'd; he dies.
O 'twas a precious Thought! I never knew
Such Heart-felt Satisfaction!—Essex dies,
And Rutland, in her Turn, shall learn to weep.
The Time is precious; I'll about it streight.
Come Vengeance, come, assist me now to breathe
Thy venom'd Spirit in the Royal Ear.
Exit Nottingham.
Burleigh.
There spoke the very Genius of the Sex.
A disappointed Woman sets no Bounds
To her Revenge. Her Temper's form'd to serve me.
9
Raleigh.
The Lord Southampton with ungovern'd Rage,
Resents aloud his disappointed Measures:
I met him in the outward Court; he seeks
In haste your Lordship, and forgetting Forms,
Pursues me hither, and demands to see you.
Burleigh.
Raleigh, 'tis well—Withdraw—Attend the Queen;
Leave me to deal with this o'erbearing Man.
[Ex. Ral.
Enter Southampton.
Southampton.
Where is the Man, whom Virtue calls her Friend?
I give you Joy, my Lord!—Your quenchless Fury
At length prevails,—and now your Malice triumphs:
You've hunted Honour to the Toil of Faction,
And view his Struggles with malicious Joy.
Burleigh.
What means my Lord?
Southampton.
O Fraud! shall valiant Essex
Be made a Sacrifice to your Ambition?
Oh it smells foul indeed, of rankest Malice
And the vile Statesman's Craft.—You dare not sure
Thus bid Defiance to each Shew of Worth,
Each Claim of Honour: dare not injure thus
Your suffering Country in her bravest Son?
Burleigh.
But why should stern Reproach her angry Brow
Let fall on me? Am I alone the Cause
That gives this working Humour Strength? Do I
Instruct the public Voice to warp his Actions?
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And every curious Eye may mark the Beam.
Southampton.
The specious Shield which private Malice bears,
Is ever blazon'd with some public Good;
Behind that artful Fence, sculk low, conceal'd,
The bloody Purpose, and the poison'd Shaft;
Ambition there, and Envy, nestle close;
From thence, they take their fatal Aim unseen;
And honest Merit is the destin'd Mark.
Burleigh.
Your warm distemper'd zeal puts rashly by
The cool directing Hand of wholesome Reason.
No Imputation foul shall rest on me;
My honest Purposes defy aloud
The slander-spreading Tongue of busy Faction,
To cast its Venom on my fair Report,
Or tell Posterity, Thus Cecil did.
My Country's Welfare, and my Queen's Comma
Have ever been my guiding Stars thro' Life,
My sure Direction still.—To these I now
Appeal;—from these no doubt this Lord's Misconduct
Hath widely stray'd, and Reason, not reviling,
Must now befriend his Cause.
Southampton.
How ill had Providence
Dispos'd the suffering World's opprest Affairs,
Had sacred Right's eternal Rule, been left
To crafty Politicians' partial Sway?
Then Power and Pride wou'd stretch th'enormous Grasp,
And call their arbitrary Portion, Justice:
Ambition's Arm, by Av'rice urg'd, wou'd pluck
The Core of Honesty from Virtue's Heart,
And plant Deceit, and Rancour in its Stead:
Falshood wou'd trample then on Truth and Honour,
And Envy poison sweet Benevolence.
11
And well befits some Statesmen's righteous Rule!
Out, out upon such base and bloody Doings!
The Term of Being is not worth the Sin;
No human Bosom can endure its Dart.
Then put this cruel Purpose from thee far,
Nor let the Blood of Essex whelm thy Soul.
Burleigh.
'Tis well, my Lord! your Words no Comment need;
No doubt, they've well explain'd your honest Meaning:
'Tis clear and full.—To Parts, like yours, Discretion
Wou'd be a Clog, and Caution but Incumbrance.
Yet mark me well, my Lord, the clinging Ivy
With th'Oak may rise, but with it too must fall.
Southampton.
Thy empty Threats, ambitious Man, hurt not
The Breast of Truth. Fair Innocence, and Faith,
Those Strangers to thy practis'd Heart, shall shield
My Honour, and preserve my Friend.—In vain,
Thy Malice, with unequal Arm, shall strive
To tear th'applauded Wreath from Essex' Brow;
His honest Laurel, held aloft by Fame,
Above thy blasting reach, shall safely flourish,
And bloom immortal to the latest Times:
Whilst thou, amidst thy tangling Snares involv'd,
Shalt sink confounded, and unpitied fall.
Burleigh.
Rail on, proud Lord, and give thy Choler vent:
It wastes itself in vain; the Queen shall judge
Between us in this warm Debate. To her
I now repair, and in her royal Presence
You may approve your Innocence and Faith.
Perhaps you'll meet me there.—Till then, farewel.
[Exit.
Southampton.
Confusion wait thy Steps, thou cruel Monster:
12
By crafty Faction and tyrannic Power!
His sinking Trophies, and his falling Fame,
Oppress my very Soul. I'll to the Queen,
Lay all their Envy open to her View,
Confront their Malice and preserve my Friend.
[Exit.
The Queen discovered sitting on her Throne.
Raleigh, Lords, and Attendants.
Queen.
Without consulting me! presumptuous Man!
Who governs here?—What! am not I your Queen
You dar'd not, were he present, take this Step.
Raleigh.
Dread Sovereign, your ever faithful Commons
Have, in their Gratitude, and Love for you,
Preferr'd this salutary Bill against him.
Enter Burleigh.
Queen.
You, my Lord Burleigh, must have known of this.
The Commons here impeach the Earl of Essex
Of practicing against the State and me.
Methinks I might be trusted with the Secret.
Speak, for I know it well, 'twas thy Contrivance.
Ha! was it not? You dare not say it was not.
Burleigh.
I own my Judgment did concur with theirs.
His Crimes, I fear, will justify the Charge,
And vindicate their Loyalty and mine.
Queen.
Ha! tell not me your smooth, deceitful Story!
I know your Projects, and your close Cabals.
13
And use my Scepter as the Rod of Faction:
But Henry's Daughter claims a nobler Soul.
I'll nurse no party, but will reign o'er all,
And my sole Rule shall be to bless my People:
Who serves them best has still my highest Favour;
This Essex ever did.
Enter Southampton.
Behold, Southampton,
What a base Portrait's here! The faithful Essex
Here drawn at large, associating with Rebels
To spoil his Country, and dethrone his Queen.
Southampton.
It is not like.—By Heav'n the Hand of Envy
Drew these false Lines, distorted far from Truth
And Honour, and unlike my noble Friend
As Light to Shade, or Hell to highest Heav'n.
Then suffer not, thou best of Queens, this Lord,
This valiant Lord, to fall a Sacrifice
To Treachery and base Designs; who now
Engages Death in all his horrid Shapes,
Amidst a hardy race inur'd to Danger:
But let him, face to face, this Charge encounter,
And every Falshood, like his Foes, shall fly.
Queen.
To me you seem to recommend strict Justice,
In all her Pomp of Power. But are you sure
No subtil Vice conceal'd assumes her Garb?
Take heed, that Malice does not wear the Mask,
Nor Envy deck her in the borrow'd Guise.
Rancour has often darken'd Reason's Eye,
And Judgment winks, when Passion holds the Scale.
Impeach the very Man to whom I owe
My brightest Rays of Glory! Look to it, Lords,
14
Let honest Means alone secure your Footing.
Raleigh and you withdraw, and wait our Leisure.
[Exeunt Ral. and South.
Lord Burleigh, stay; we must with you have farther
Conf'rence.—I see this base Contrivance plain.
Your Jealousy and Pride, your Envy of
His shining Merit, brought this Bill to Light.
But mark me, as you prize our high regard,
And Favour, I command you to suppress it:
Let not our Name and Power be embarrass'd
In your perplexing Schemes. 'Twas you began,
And therefore you must end it.
Burleigh.
I obey.
Yet humbly would intreat you to consider
How new, unpopular, this Step must be,
To stand between your Parliament's Enquiry
And this offending Lord.—We have such Proofs—
Queen.
Reserve your Proofs to a more proper Season,
And let them then appear. But once again
We charge you on your Duty and Allegiance,
To stop this vile Proceeding; and to wait
Till Essex can defend himself in Person.
If then your Accusations are of Force,
The Laws, and my Consent, no doubt, are open.
He has my strict Command, with Menace mix'd,
To end effectually this hated War,
Ere he presume to quit the Irish Coast.
Burleigh.
Madam my Duty now compels me to—
Queen.
No more! see that my Orders be obey'd.
[Exit Bur.
Essex a Traytor!—it can never be—
His grateful and his honest Soul disdains it.—
15
But then he's firmly anchor'd in his Duty:
Tho' stormy passions toss him to and fro.
Can he prove false? so high advanc'd, so honour'd,
So near my Favour—and—I fear, so near
My Heart!—Impossible.—This Burleigh hates him,
And, as his Rival, therefore would destroy him:
But he shall find his narrow Schemes defeated.
In vain their fraudful Efforts shall combine,
To shake my settled Soul, my firm Design;
Resolv'd to lift bright Virtue's Palm on high,
Support her Grandeur, and her Foes defy.
[Exit.
| The Earl of Essex | |