University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE, the Tower.
CECIL, and Lieutenant of the Tower.
CECIL.
If you regard your present place, or hope
For any future favour, to a moment you will
Observe my orders.

LIEUTENANT.
Most religiously.

Enter NOTTINGHAM.
NOTTINGHAM.
Sir, by her Majesty's command, I bring
A message to my lord of Essex.

LIEUTENANT.
—Madam,
I shall acquaint my lord.

LIEUTENANT.
—How's this, my Nottingham?
To Essex from the Queen, and you the messenger?
Is she not yet resolved?

NOTTINGHAM.
—Not fix'd a moment.
First when she heard the traytor was condemn'd,
She started, and her colour turn'd to milk;
Then blushing, scarlet deep, she strove to hide
Her inward tumult; thank'd the lords his judges,
And bad that execution should be speedy.
But pausing said, upon a farther thought,
She'd wait to hear if yet the criminal
Had aught to offer—Then retir'd, and pass'd
An hour in private—Sent in haste to call me;
Bid me draw near, look'd wistfully upon me,
And will'd me to convey her last of messages,
To ruin'd Essex—Let him know, said she,
I can no longer bar the pressing claims
Of justice on him—Yet if he has reasons
That are of weight to stay his execution,
Let him deliver them by you—Then blush'd;
Breath'd a short sigh, and pressing close my hand,
Enjoin'd me to be secret, and return
With speed and privacy, whatever Essex
Should give in answer.

CECIL.
—Ha! this covert message,
I like it not—Would heaven the deed were done!
Aye then—but now 'tis doubtful working all,
And curs'd suspension.

NOTTINGHAM.
—Cecil, do not fear,
But I shall render a well-pleasing issue
Of this same interview with my beloved!

CECIL.
There rest my hopes; state policy already
Hath spent its shafts, and waits the master stroke
From your superior genius. I will hence
With Raleigh to the Queen, and strive to fix
Her wavering mind.
[Exit Cecil.

NOTTINGHAM.
Come now revenge, thou idol
Of slighted woman!—Come, and steel my breast
Against all sense of pity, or remorse.

Enter ESSEX.
ESSEX.
Fair visitant, to whom may Essex stand
Indebted for this grace?

NOTTINGHAM.
—Chiefly, my lord,
To the Queen's majesty; and some small matter
To one who loving well, tho' most unhappily,
Has not yet learn'd entirely to erase
The fond impression.

ESSEX.
—Your reproof is gentle—
Were Rutland to be born, I must admit
All hearts had then been Nottingham's.

NOTTINGHAM.
—Your pardon—
No more of hearts I pray—but for your friendship,
I will dispute it even with her who claims
Possession of your heart—The Queen, my lord,
Commends the value of her pity to you;
And kindly asks if you have ought to offer
In mitigation of your sentence?

ESSEX.
Nothing.

NOTTINGHAM.
Some light exception, touching law, or form;
Apparent malice in the prosecution;
Error of judgment—but the slightest hinge,
Whereon to hang her mercy.

ESSEX.
—Not the slightest—
Tell her, most fair, and charitable messenger,
My course of tryal has been free and equal;
I stand self-censur'd in my guiltiness:
And mercy—what in mercy may ensue,
Is all her own, unpleaded.

NOTTINGHAM.
—How, my lord,
No more than so? this cannot, must not be.
The appointed time is on you; this short hour
May seal your doom—O let me beg, implore you,
As if for my own life, to use the means
Are left you to preserve yourself, your friend—
Say, have you not a farther plea? you hesitate—
A farther cause for hope?—You have, I know it—
Intrust me with it; by yon heaven I swear,
I will not leave the Queen 'till she has granted
My utmost wish.

ESSEX.
—I have not merited
This kind concern; but yet your generous warmth
Demands my confidence. Behold this signet!
It is a talisman, and bears a charm,
By royal breath infus'd, of pow'r to save
Ev'n from the jaws of death.

NOTTINGHAM.
—O let me catch it
That I may fly—

ESSEX.
Hold, generous fair one! first
Hear my request—present this to the Queen
From dying Essex—Say her dying Essex
Adjures her by the virtue of this ring,
To save his friend, to spare Southampton's life,
And he shall fall content.

NOTTINGHAM.
O stint not thus
The royal bounty—Do not circumscribe
The bounds of mercy—By the same request,
By the same breath, a life more precious far
May be preserv'd—it must—it shall.

ESSEX.
—I dare not
Urge such a suit—Yet if my gracious mistress
Still thinks me worth preserving, I am not.
So weary of the world, but I would take
The boon with grateful heart, and live to thank her.
But O, be sure you urge my other suit;
Save my Southampton's life, let him not fall
A victim to my crimes—Alas! he knows
No guilt, but friendship. So may conscious peace
Sweeten your days, and brighten your last moments.
[Exit Essex.

NOTTINGHAM.
Now he is mine! at least in death my own,
For ever seal'd; tho' not for love's light rapture,
For hatred, full as joyous—deeper far,
And more enduring. Now to take him sudden,
When the full tide returning fraught with hope,
Lifts him elate—To plunge him down at once
To the eternal bottom—This, aye this
Alone can satiate—'Tis the luxury
Of eager-ey'd revenge. The Queen—no matter—
I am prepar'd—be but my vengeance safe,
And for the rest, events are equal all.

Enter the QUEEN.
QUEEN.
Well, my dear Nottingham, hast seen the earl?

NOTTINGHAM.
Madam, I have.

QUEEN.
I could not be at peace within my palace,
For crowds that urg'd petitions in his favour.
Well, and what pass'd?

NOTTINGHAM.
Madam—

QUEEN.
Say—

NOTTINGHAM.
I wish—

QUEEN.
Madam—I wish—What mean'st thou?

NOTTINGHAM.
I wish your majesty had spar'd your servant
This single office.

QUEEN.
Why?—

NOTTINGHAM.
—I had not been
The unwelcome bearer of ungrateful tydings.

QUEEN.
Inform me quick—ungrateful tydings say'st thou?

NOTTINGHAM.
O, on my knees I beg, my royal mistress,
You would enquire no farther.

QUEEN.
Thou dost amaze me!

NOTTINGHAM.
You lately held me for an enemy
To this brave man, and still may think me apt
To misinterpret—

QUEEN.
No, I will believe thee.

NOTTINGHAM.
He's here at hand—Your majesty in person
May now inform yourself—

QUEEN.
No more, I charge you—
Be full, and speedy—Give me up the whole
Of what has pass'd.

NOTTINGHAM.
I must obey you then—
And yet I fear—When first the earl appear'd
He wore a kind of haughty discontent,
That seem'd to mock misfortune; scarce he deign'd
To note that I was present.

QUEEN.
—What, so high?

NOTTINGHAM.
Yet not ungraceful. Greatly I deplor'd
The precipice to which misdeeming error,
Or accident had led him—bid him yet
Not to despond—for much was in the power
Of royal pity—Then I minded him
Of your past favours—All his honours, offices,
Your late support against his powerful foes,
And this last act of your divine compassion,
That would not let him finally be lost,
But sent your special servant to concert
The means of safety to him.

QUEEN.
—Then he did melt.

NOTTINGHAM.
Let me stop here—for sure such height of pride,
In one of less exalted qualities,
Were not to be endur'd—Still as I spoke,
He look'd, and mov'd, and turn'd, and chang'd impatient;
Favours! he cry'd, what favours? posts of danger,
And empty titles for essential service:
Yes—she has well avow'd her grace to Essex,
In all her public scoffs, and open insults,
Laid as a subtle train to fire my temper
To acts obnoxious to the law; and then
Her jury of pack'd peers, and this smooth message
To lull me to the last.

QUEEN.
Hold, Nottingham—
O, he's the most accurs'd for deep ingratitude,
That e'er prov'd false to friendship—Tell me, Nottingham,
I can no longer wait the tedious preface—
Say, did he claim no mercy at our hands?

NOTTINGHAM.
Not any, madam.

QUEEN.
Spoke he of no pledge?
No obligation that I had to save him?

NOTTINGHAM.
No, on my honour.

QUEEN.
—By thy hopes of mercy,
Answer as at the last tremendous bar—
No pledge, no token, sent he not a ring?
Look at me, and reply; did he not send
A ring in answer?

NOTTINGHAM.
You amaze me, madam!
I'm quite to seek in this—What ring? what token?
Had you but told me, had your majesty
Once hinted such a thing, I had requir'd it.

QUEEN.
O, I am choak'd! he pulls his own destruction
In his blind fury on himself.

NOTTINGHAM.
Alas,
Tokens of mercy! he disclaim'd the offer:
He said, he wou'd no more of royal mercy!
Such as was shewn to Rutland, to his wife;
As tho' the British breed of noble bloods,
Were slaves for pride to spurn.

QUEEN.
No more, no more—
I'm all on fire—This fever of the blood,
It thirsts to death!—Who waits?
Enter CECIL and RALEIGH.
My lords,
See speedy execution done on Essex—
I have determined not to quit the Tower,
While he is master of his head—Lord Cecil,
Do you and Raleigh see it done.

[Exeunt Queen and Nottingham.
RALEIGH.
Think you, my lord, how long a woman's will,
Altho' the first, and foremost of her sex,
May hold its purpose?

CECIL.
If a fav'rite point
Mayhap, an hour or so; therefore the half
Shall now suffice us Raleigh—Who attends?
Enter an Officer.
Bid the lieutenant have his pris'ners ready.
[Exit Officer.
Now we may hope for sunny days in England,
When this all-covering cloud is overpast;
Whose greatness did imbibe the beams of majesty,
Nor suffer'd ought to pass but by transmission
Thro' its own radiant skirts.

Enter Lieutenant of the Tower, with ESSEX and SOUTHAMPTON guarded.
CECIL.
My lord of Essex,
We bring an order for your Execution.
I have a christian's hope you stand prepar'd;
For even a portion of the present hour
Must be your last of life.

ESSEX.
Ha! short indeed,
For infinite intendments! 'tis thy will
O heaven! collect me to it: give me strength
To face this king of terrors—fill my breast
With hope, and purest faith, that on the block
I may lye down, as on the plaintless bed
Of sleeping infancy. Thanks, gracious heaven!
I feel my granted prayer; and a new vigour
Springs in my breast!—I now can smile at death.
But oh, my friend! no pardon yet arriv'd!
Can the Queen falsify her word?

SOUTHAMPTON.
Come, Essex—
Let us now leave a lesson to our foes,
How men should die.

ESSEX.
Were I alone to suffer,
I think I should not give them cause to scorn me.
But oh! 'tis here—
A weight of lead on my aspiring spirit,
That I have rent the virtues of Southampton
Untimely from the world.

SOUTHAMPTON.
Be witness heaven!
The dearest wish Southampton's soul could form,
Would be to live for ever with his Essex:
The next, thus join'd to lie in death together.

Enter Lieutenant of the Tower.
LIEUTENANT.
My lord Southampton,
I have a message for your private ear.

SOUTHAMPTON.
Speak out, nor fear to wound me with the tydings:
The worst is death, and that is past already.

LIEUTENANT.
My lord, I must intreat you will withdraw;
Something of moment from her majesty.

[Exeunt Southampton and Lieutenant.
ESSEX.
Cecil, when you approach an hour like this,
You then may learn how low ambition is;
How groundless is the quarrel, which contends
For this vain world—'Till then—'till then and ever,
The foes of Essex have free pardon. Ha!
Enter SOUTHAMTON and Lieutenant.
What new distress? what can this mean? in tears!
Nay then the stroke must be severe indeed,
That shocks the manly firmness of thy soul.
O that the bitter cup were all my own!
What is it, say?

SOUTHAMPTON.
It is—it is—O misery!
'Tis torture—'tis the death contriv'd by tyrants,
It is the spinning of life's lingering thread
To agony unspeakable; it is
The death of friendship, the attempt to rend
Th'eternal bonds of soul and soul asunder.
The Queen hath sent me—

ESSEX.
Warrant of death.

SOUTHAMPTON.
No, worse—

ESSEX.
Can there be worse?

SOUTHAMPTON.
Yes, pardon.

ESSEX.
Catch the sound,
Ye choiring angels, and with hovering wings
Of ever wakeful 'tendance guard my Queen,
Whose mercy at an hour like this has spar'd
The guilt, the life of Essex, in his friend.

SOUTHAMPTON.
No, no, my brother,
We will not part—Southampton does disclaim
Her barbarous mercy—What a joyless wild
This world would be without thee! where alas,
Where should I find the bosom to partake
And double every joy? Where should I find
The tender sympathizing heart to feel,
And lighten ev'ry woe? No more the tongue
Of friendship, sweetest music to the ear!
Should greet my desart sense: no more my hours
In social raptures steal away unmark'd;
Those blessed hours when soul with soul converses,
Transparent, pure, as from their bodies freed.
O Essex, think upon the early ties
That in our tender years join'd our fond hearts;
Think how they grew, how they were twin'd together;
And shall they now be parted? No, my Essex,
In life we have been one, and in our deaths
We will not be divided.

ESSEX.
—There is a cause, a precious cause, my brother,
Thou still must live, to love, to serve, to save him,
All that shall suddenly be left of Essex;
Where yet he lives, much more than to himself,
Thro' every pulse, and trembling chord infus'd
With quick, and dear sensation—Lend thy bosom
To hide one tear that will not be witheld,
Yet here 'tis due from manhood—O my wife!—

SOUTHAMPTON.
I had forgot—Yes, Essex, I will live—
For thy dear sake I'll make a weary pilgrimage,
To guide thy other self thro' all the thorns
And mazes of the world; 'till the wish'd hour
By fate appointed comes, when we shall meet
To part no more.

ESSEX.
Cherish, protect, support her.

SOUTHAMPTON.
Ever, ever.

ESSEX.
Then the great business of the world is over—
You two make all my treasure left on earth;
Comfort each other, we shall meet hereafter
In happier climes—The heaven I have in view
Will not be perfect else—'Till then, farewell.

SOUTHAMPTON.
Whilst I have speech to say—'till then, farewell.
[Exit Southampton.

ESSEX.
Now on, my lords, and execute your office.

[Exeunt Cecil and Raleigh.
Enter RUTLAND and Ladies.
RUTLAND.
Where is he? let me catch him! hold him! save him!
Rush on the stroke that would attempt his life—
Oh Essex, oh my lord—

ESSEX.
—This is too much!
Too much for man!—I hop'd—ah cruel dear;
Were not eternity, and sudden death,
Of weight sufficient to a mortal nature?
And art thou come to reinforce their powers,
And weaken what was left of man about me?

RUTLAND.
The Queen, my love—the queen permits this meeting,
And therefore grants, that we shall part no more.

ESSEX.
What dost thou mean?—Thy looks are wild, and keen;
They pierce my soul—Retire, my angel—do—
Let me prevail, and recollect thy spirits,
But for a moment.

RUTLAND.
'Tis impossible—
High heaven doth know it is impossible—
I cannot leave thee—never will I leave thee,
Sure we may die together—

ESSEX.
My soul's treasure!
It is in vain, the hand of stronger fate
Compels, and we must part.

LIEUTENANT.
My gracious lord,
Your latest minute is at hand—

RUTLAND.
What's this?
An axe! an executioner!—'Tis dreadful!
I'm not prepar'd for this—Is it a dream?
If you have pity, wake me.

ESSEX.
A short absence—
No more—'Tis but to bid one dear farewell,
'Till we do meet to part no more.

RUTLAND.
Ah whither would'st thou?—Think not to escape me—
No barbarous Essex, thou shalt never part me,
I'll cling to thee in death.

ESSEX.
This, this, cuts keen
And deep, beyond the shallow reach of steel;
It is the quick of soul that here is pierc'd!
Haste, haste, in pity as I stand dispatch me—
Is there not one, one hand of friendly mercy,
To lodge a poniard here?—
Quick, drag me to the block—Help me to sunder—
Yet hurt her not—It is in vain—She grasps me
As in the agonies of death—Lost wretch!
And wert thou born to this? Accurs'd the hour
That gave me up to light!—Yet more accurs'd
That hour I once deem'd happiest over all
The world calls happy, to this blessed flower
Tying my baleful influence—Ha! she's going,
Her speechless lip grows livid, and those orbs,
Wane from their peerless lustre—Gently, gently,
Now loose her hold—Support her.—

LIEUTENANT.
Now, my lord,
'Twere best to seize the occasion—The time's past
My orders are—

ESSEX.
Come then, and push me off,
Down the dark void that spreads upon futurity.—
Oh! my lost love!—
O Gem! for which the world were richly sold!
If there's a heaven, can counterpoise thy loss,
It is indeed beyond imagination!
Night comes upon me—When my eyes have ta'en
Their last, last look—The bitterness of death
Is past—And the world now is nothing.

[Exeunt Essex, &c.
Enter QUEEN, NOTTINGHAM, Ladies and Gentlemen, &c.
QUEEN.
Is he then gone?—To! death?—Essex to death!
And by my order?—Now perhaps—This moment—
Haste Nottingham, dispatch—

NOTTINGHAM.
What would your majesty!

QUEEN.
I know not what, I am in horrors, Nottingham,
In horrors worse than death—Does he still live?
Run, bring me word—Yet stay—Can you not save him
Without my bidding? Read it in my heart—
In my distraction read—O, sure the hand
That sav'd him, would be as a blessed angel's
Pou'ring soft balm into my rankling breast.

NOTTINGHAM.
If it shall please your majesty to give
Express commands, I shall obey them streight—
The world will think it strange—But you are Queen.

QUEEN.
Hard-hearted Nottingham! to arm my pride,
My shame, against my mercy.—Ha! what's here?
A sight to strike resentment dead, and rouse
Soft pity even in a barbarous breast—
It is the wife of Essex!
Rise Rutland, come to thy repentant mistress:
See the Queen bends to take thee to her bosom,
And softer thee for ever—Rise.

RUTLAND.
Which way?
Do you not see these circling steeps?—
Not all the fathom lines that have been loos'd
To sound the bottom of the faithless main,
Could reach to draw me hence. Never was dug
A grave so deep as thine!—Help me, kind friend,
Help me to put these little bones together—
These are my messengers to yonder world,
To seek for some kind hand to drop me down,
A little charity.

QUEEN.
Heart-breaking sounds!

RUTLAND.
These were an infant's bones—But hush—Don't tell—
Don't tell the Queen—
An unborn infant's—May be if 'tis known
They'll say I murder'd it—Indeed I did not—
It was the axe—How strange soe'er, 'tis true!
Help me to put them right, and then they'll fly—
For they are light, and not like mine, incumber'd
With limbs of marble, and a heart of lead.

QUEEN.
Alas! her reason is disturb'd; her eyes
Are wild, and absent—Do you know me, Rutland?
Do you not know your Queen?

RUTLAND.
O yes, the Queen!
They say you've power of life, and death—Poor Queen!
They flatter you.—You can take life away,
But can you give it back? No, no, poor Queen.—
Look at these eyes—They are a widow's eyes—
Do you know that?—Perhaps indeed you'll say,
A widow's eyes should weep, and mine are dry;
That's not my fault, tears shou'd come from the heart,
And mine is dead—I feel it cold within me,
Cold as a stone—But yet my brain is hot—
O fye upon this head! it is stark naught;
Beseech your majesty to cut it off,
The bloody axe is ready—Say the word,
(For none can cut off heads without your leave)
And it is done—I humbly thank your highness,
You look a kind consent. I'll but just in
And say a prayer or two.
From my youth upwards I still said my prayers
Before I slept; and this is my last sleep.
Indeed 'tis not thro' fear, nor to gain time—
Not your own soldier could meet death more bravely.
You shall be judge yourself.—We must make haste—
I pray be ready—If we lose no time,
I shall o'ertake and join him on the way.
[Exit Rutland.

QUEEN.
Follow her close, allure her to some chamber
Of privacy; there sooth her frenzy, but
Take care she go not forth. Heaven grant I may not
Require such aid myself! for sure I feel
A strange commotion here.

Enter an Officer.
OFFICER.
May it please your majesty,
The earl, as he address'd him to the block,
Requested but the time to write these lines;
And earnestly conjur'd me to deliver them
Into your royal hands.

QUEEN.
Quick—What is here!—Just heaven! fly, take this signet
Stop execution, fly with eagle's wings—
What art thou?—Of this world.

NOTTINGHAM.
Ha!—I'm discover'd—
Then be it so—Your majesty may spare—

QUEEN.
Stop, stop her yell!—Hence to some dungeon, hence—
Deep sunk from day; in horrid silence there
Let conscience talk to thee, infix its stings,
Awake remorse, and desperate penitence;
And from the torments of thy conscious guilt
May hell be all thy refuge!

[Exit Nottingham, guarded.
Enter CECIL, RALEIGH, &c.
CECIL.
Gracious madam,
I grieve to say your order came too late;
We met the messenger on our return
From seeing the earl fall.

QUEEN.
Cecil, thou do'st not know what thou hast done—
Pronounc'd sentence of death upon thy Queen.
Cecil—I will no more ascend my throne,
The humble floor shall serve me; here I'll sit
With moaping melancholy my companion,
'Till death unmark'd approach, and steal me to my grave.
Cecil—I never more will close these eyes
In sleep, nor taste of food—And Cecil now,
Mark me—You hear Elizabeth's last words.