 | The Earl of Essex |  |
ACT I.
Enter NOTTINGHAM and CECIL:NOTTINGHAM.
Leave me!—Away!
CECIL.
I cannot—No, those starts,
Those deep fetch'd sighs, these changes of complexion
Must have a cause, and I—
NOTTINGHAM.
How dare you, sir?—
'Tis poor, 'tis little in you, thus to pry,
To lurk, and watch me in the hour of weakness.
2
But as the kind physician, who attends
To learn the malady of some lov'd patient,
E'er he adventures to prescribe the cure;
To bring the healing draught, the balm of friendship.
NOTTINGHAM.
Friendship from man! perdition on the sex!
May ev'ry evil, ev'ry pang they bring
To the weak hearts of fond defenceless women,
Return in tenfold mischiefs on their heads!
CECIL.
Are none exempt? Can charity involve
The harmless with the guilty undistinguished?
Shall he who longs to do, or suffer greatly,
To save the dear lov'd object from affliction,
Be as the cruel wretch, who caus'd her care?
NOTTINGHAM.
O Cecil, if indeed you have lov'd truly,
If you have felt the stings of slighted passion,
Of heart torn hope, and raging disappointment;
You then will cast a kindred eye of pity
On the most lost, the most undone of women.
Essex—
CECIL.
—Ha! what of Essex?
NOTTINGHAM.
Read that letter.
CECIL.
—From him?
NOTTINGHAM.
The Traytor—read, and then revenge.
Yet no—the scroll that would reveal my shame,
His triumph—thus I rend to pieces, thus—
As I would tear the heart of the proud writer.
CECIL.
And could the brave, the gentle, gallant Essex,
Could he be this barbarian?
3
—Could I tell you?
Did shame not shut up utterance—but in vain
I send my eyes around to find a friend.
CECIL.
And can you be to seek when Cecil stands
Before you, suing but to be your slave?
Cecil whose strong and self-supported flame
Has brav'd the lasting frost of cold indifference.
O would you condescend to try his service,
What is there he would not attempt?
NOTTINGHAM.
—O Cecil!
If I have seem'd or distant, or averse
To your great merit, and your kind regard,
Think of the cause—He claims your full resentment.
The cruel—The ungrateful—He alone
Engross'd me from the World. When soon to Ireland
His high commission bore him—torn—distracted—
Rack'd by a conflict of opposing Passions,
Strong love at length prevail'd—Hear it not Cecil,
What thought would hide—where memory recoils,
And scarce believes itself—I sent this man—
I sent—O death to modesty!—I did send him—
My vows, myself, my soul a willing slave,
In a fond letter!
CECIL.
—That indeed did merit
A fair return at least.
NOTTINGHAM.
—A fair return!
The proud, inhuman, the insulting villain!
O for a breath, that would at distance blast him!
Fair answer said'st thou? No—by all the powers
Of shame, and rage, that work in slighted woman,
A rude repulse!
4
—And yet you love him still?
NOTTINGHAM.
Love! Cecil, say you, love?
Hate, hate—Within it labours, fell, and deadly.
Know'st thou our sex, and think'st that a woman
Slighted, refus'd, can love? No, no! the milk,
The kindly flow of love is chang'd to gall,
Runs with invenom'd poison thro' my veins,
And like the basilisk's, my baleful eyes
Would shoot swift death, and I could kill with looks.
CECIL.
Know then, the guardians of your injur'd beauty,
Whisper'd e'er this to my prophetick soul
The vengeance due: and high as Essex sits,
The love and glory of admiring England,
He waits but for your voice to doom his fall,
Then sinks to quick perdition.
NOTTINGHAM.
—Down with him,
From his proud height, to the unbottom'd deep;
Altho' the gorge of his wide opening gulph
Should swallow thousands. Yes, if Cecil bids,
Fate signs the mandate: Cecil's breath alone
Informs our councils, and arrays our armies;
Fills out the wide expanse of Britain's sails,
And steers the vessel proudly through the world.
CECIL.
Praise from that mouth is high reward! what more,
What may he hope who vindicates your charms,
And slakes your thirsty soul with noble vengeance?
NOTTINGHAM.
My hand, my heart are his.
CECIL.
—With such reward
In view, what shall I not atchieve? Then know
5
And you shall hear of mischief, such as minds
That soar uncommon flights alone can relish.
NOTTINGHAM.
I go, I fly! O be the moments short,
Till vengeance come to ease my tortur'd soul!
[Exit Nottingham
CECIL
alone.
The fate of Essex leaves my road smooth pav'd
To love, as to ambition—What altho'
Both objects be enforc'd? Reluctance gives
Impatient bliss, and heightens the enjoyment.
Southampton here! The second man on earth
Who stirs my fear, and therefore claims my hatred.
A stately branch he is, ingrafted firm
To the proud stem of our aspiring Essex;
But hew the hostile trunk, and every bough
Partakes the kindred ruin.
Enter SOUTHAMPTON.
CECIL.
Fair morning wait upon the brave Southampton.
SOUTHAMPTON.
Not so, my Lord, there hangs a cloud upon it;
Pregnant with pois'nous vapours, as they say,
Exhal'd from Cecil's breath, to blast the land,
And nip her brightest blossoms.
CECIL.
—Good my lord,
Is mystery the mode? What means your Lordship?
SOUTHAMPTON.
No mystery to Cecil's conscious spirit:
'Tis rumour'd that some dark malignant faction
Are leagu'd with hell, in plotting an impeachment
Of the most loyal heart that England holds,
Our great, our glorious Essex.
6
—I have heard
Somewhat of this, and as I know the earl
Valiant and noble, wish he may find means
To clear the charge of guilt.
SOUTHAMPTON.
—Guilt! said you guilt?
Come shew this monster of your own creation,
The phantom that state wizzards conjure up
Amid the depth of their nocturnal councils,
To make their power look dreadful o'er the land,
And scare our Britons from the side of virtue.
CECIL.
My lord your zeal to this unhappy man,
Has clos'd your eyes to what a nation sees
With clear, unsway'd discernment; his ambition,
His late cabal with rebels, and the storm
Brew'd, and concerted with his Irish colleagues
To wreak the peace, and honour of his country.
SOUTHAMPTON.
Rather concerted in the cabinet,
Where spurious treasons are begot, and taught
To call some pre-appointed victim, father;
As statesmen please to bid, where'er they find
Talents to cross, or virtue to offend them.
CECIL.
Be witness for me that I urge you not
To this rash mood, but rather warn Southampton
To bear himself aloof, sedate, and separate;
Lest he be held a partner of that guilt
Which such attachment warrants.
SOUTHAMPTON.
Patience heaven!
Shall insolence unpunish'd thus presume
To blot the visage of untainted loyalty?
Dare you proclaim a hunting thro' the land,
And point out worth and honour for the quarry?
7
That warms a Briton's breast, by liberty!
There's not a peasant in the train of Essex,
But has a fund of golden honesty,
Beyond what Cecil, and his close cabal,
With all their worth can weigh.
CECIL.
I answer not such railing—Fare you well—
And if you are a friend to bold Southampton
Bid him not cross the way that Cecil walks,
Or look to fall with Essex.
[Exit Cecil.
SOUTHAMPTON.
Fall with Essex!
Statesman 'tis false, he sits above your soaring,
Too high for Cecil with his cumbrous load
Of grov'ling guilt to reach—Yet since he dares
To threat thus openly, the danger's near.
I'll in to council straight, and there perhaps
Their secret machinations may break forth.
Scene draws and discovers the QUEEN, NOTTINGHAM, CECIL and Attendants.
QUEEN.
From Spain, my lords, have you had tydings lately
By any private letters, that import
Their new designs?
CECIL.
Not any, royal madam.
QUEEN.
'Twas rumour'd some time since, that they intended
A second visit, and a new armada;
But the last pacquet from our agent there,
Speaks no such purpose.
8
—No, my glorious mistress,
They're sick, war-surfeited, they yet do pant
From the sore memory of their old encounter.
SOUTHAMPTON.
While time shall travel down from age to age,
Leading white-handed faith, and liberty
To nations yet unborn, oft shall they turn,
And thro' past worlds roll back their grateful eye,
On your distinguish'd day! Wherein the powers
Of darkness were confederate; when Rome
Rose up with all her champions, to impose
Chains on the limbs, and night upon the mind:
Then had the worlds of freedom, and of truth,
Return'd to chaos; but Elizabeth,
Heaven's minister below, sent forth her sons
Of light, and order; her immortal Drake,
Her glorious Essex, and all conquering host
Of freeborn Britons: heaven that day avow'd
His virgin champion, and confirm'd the gift,
Th'eternal gift of liberty to man.
QUEEN.
Yes, my all dear, my still unconquered people!
You have deriv'd a glory on your queen,
That lifts her sex above the conquering chiefs
Of Egypt, or of Macedon: they fought
Imposing slavery, we conferring freedom.
CECIL.
You are too gracious; heaven but make us equal
To the least part of all your wondrous bounties!
So should Tyrone, and wild rebellion, soon
Sink underneath the force of loyalty,
And Britain's host still find a faithful leader.
QUEEN.
Why, Cecil, have you fresh accounts from Ireland?
9
Nothing, my royal mistress, more than usual,
Old ills repeated.
SOUTHAMPTON.
—Now the snake begins
To wind his venom'd train.
QUEEN.
—What ills, good Cecil?
CECIL.
Amazing grace! how willingly your majesty
Forgets the faults committed by a subject.
QUEEN.
That Essex (you would say) so vers'd in conquest,
For once became remiss, and lost a season—
Is not that all?
CECIL.
—And holds close amity
With the most dreadful foe of queen, and country,
The fierce Tyrone; confers in secret with him;
Parlies with traitors, and cabals with rebels,
No friend to Britain present, whence ensue
Scandalous truces, shameful to—
QUEEN.
—Hold, Cecil—
You grow inveterate, 'tis his first offence;
None here can boast perfection: Essex too,
Like us, good statesman, may not want his failings.
I would not be extreme to condemnation,
Nor clear in his excuse. I've therefore sent him
Commands of purpos'd chiding, that enjoin
Quick reparation; never more to bend
His brow unlaurel'd to the coast of Britain.
10
CECIL.
May it please your majesty, your faithful Raleigh,
And others in commission from your Commons,
Attend with their address, and some few bills,
Humbly presented for your people's safety.
QUEEN.
Ay, that's a theme, to which my charmed ear
Could list for ever—Welcome to your queen,
To your true servant welcome! Give me to know
How I may best attain the glorious end
For which alone I wish to live; to feast
Upon that royal luxury of soul,
The peace, the weal, the bliss of my kind people.
RALEIGH.
Immortal health, and never ending joys,
To the imperial majesty of England!
Bright star of Christendom! the virgin light
Which guides our steps to truth, our arms to honour!
Queen of true-hearted Britons! who do wish
The sun should be extinguish'd in his orb,
Ere you their better glory should decline,
And leave your realms in more lamented darkness!
Your parliament in care of these your kingdoms,
(Who live but in your life) present three bills
With humblest suit to pass them into acts
For the dear safety for your throne, and person.
QUEEN.
Let Cecil see what they contain.
CECIL.
—The first
Is for establishing a train'd militia
Thro' every shire; and for a farther levy
Of certain horse, and foot, as a strong guard
11
The second—That two hundred thousand pounds
Be rais'd in part for payment of those troops,
Farther to be dispos'd of as our sovereign
In her dear pleasure shall appoint.
QUEEN.
—How poor
Were thanks to such a people! but be sure
For you I'll prove a thrifty usurer;
And every talent trusted to your queen,
Shall be return'd with fivefold interest
Of love, and due beneficence.—Proceed.
CECIL.
The third consists of several articles
Expressive of your subjects just abhorrence
Of plots, and treas'nous practices—concluding
With a submissive prayer, most humbly offer'd
For the impeaching Robert earl of Essex.
QUEEN.
Who dares impeach him? whence this insolence
Without my privity? Am I awake?
Say, am I England's queen? do you know me, Nottingham?
NOTTINGHAM.
You are our queen, our royal mistress?
QUEEN.
—No!
'Tis false, a waxen pageant, set aloft
For statesmen's hands to mould, and move at will.
How was I lull'd! Ha! Rebels! well ye warn
Of plots, and treasonous practices—Ye smooth ones,
Who, like hyæna, make your sly approaches,
By whine, and cringe—then leap with quick surprize,
And rend your feeder. Come, what would you farther?
'Tis yours to dictate, my imperial masters!
At your command I'll drench my innocence
In the most brave and loyal blood of England;
12
Even from the heart of Britain. You my masters!
Shall rule unrival'd then, and your ambition
Be prop'd by guardians like unto yourselves;
Fools for your senate, knaves for every office,
And cowards for commanders.
SOUTHAMPTON.
—Horrid plot!
Most wicked combination! what shall guard
The throne or kingdom, when their fences thus
Are sapt in secret, or confessedly
Assail'd in open day? when even your Essex,
That glorious man, by whose undaunted courage
The cowards that impeach him live in safety;
When he must fall to make a public breach,
Where mask'd ambition may encroach on majesty,
And treasons gain free entrance.
QUEEN.
That I have lov'd thee, Britain—O how truly!
With such a love! too much of that—But had I,
Had I the spirit of my father Harry,
I had array'd my majesty in terrors,
And thence deriv'd respect; held the rein hard,
And the lash active; then you had known your ruler;
Yes, ye petitioners for blood! you then
Should have been glutted, even with the blood
Of your own crew, untill the gorged stream
Had choak'd your faction.
CECIL.
—First, and best of monarchs,
Vex nor your royal heart; not all our lives
Are worth the least emotion, that may give
Your sovereign mind disturbance.
QUEEN.
—O 'tis plain
I've reign'd too long; their hunger is variety:
They've ta'en a jewish surfeit of their sweets,
13
Their pleasures be fulfill'd—Thou pageant sceptre,
Thou banisher of truth, that do'st invite
The bow of flattery, and the smile of falshood;
Thus do I hurl thee to thy worshipers,
And am myself alone—
[Throws away the sceptre.
RALEIGH.
O queen ador'd, rever'd to adoration!
Lo! to the dust beneath your dread rebuke,
All aw'd, and humbl'd, your repentant subjects
Fall prostrate for forgiveness.
QUEEN.
—Dare not then
To dictate to me farther; I'm a Briton—
I was born free as you, and know my priviledge.
Henceforward you shall find that I'm your queen,
The guardian and protectress of my subjects;
And not your instrument to crush my people:
No passive engine for cabals to ply,
No tool for faction—I shall henceforth seek
For other lights to truth; for righteous monarchs,
Justly to judge, with their own eyes should see;
To rule o'er freemen, should themselves be free.
[Exeunt.
The END of the FIRST ACT.
| The Earl of Essex | |