I'm now no more the fav'rite child of fortune:
My enemies have caught me in the toil,
And life has nothing worth my wish but thee.
Rut. Delusive dream of fancied 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?

I dreaded Cecil's malice, and my heart,
Longing to see thee, with impatience listen'd
To its own alarms; and prudence sunk beneath
The force of love.

Essex. Forbear, my only comfort;

Oh, tell me not of danger, death, and Burleigh;
Let every star shed down its mortal bane
On my unshelter'd head: whilst thus I fold-
Thee in my raptur'd arms; I'll brave them all,
Defy my fate, and meet its utmost rigour.

Rut. Alas, my lord! consider where we are.
Oh, 'tis the queen's apartment;

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 greatness call;
Where happiness invite-that wish of all:
With sweet content enjoy each blissful hour,
Beyond the smiles of fraud, or frowns of power.

[Exeunt.

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter BURLEIGH and LADY NOTTINGHAM. Not. My lord, I've sought you out with much impatience.

You've had an audience of the queen: what follow'd?
Bur. Soon as I told her, Essex had refus'd
To yield his dignities, and staff of office,
Against her high command, pronounc'd by me,
She seem'd depriv'd of reason for a moment;
Her working mind betray'd contending passions;
She paus'd, like thunder in some kindling cloud,
The instant burst with dreadful fury forth:
"And has th' ungrateful wretch defy'd my mandate ?
The proud, audacious traitor, scorn'd my power?
He dares not, sure?-He dies-the villain dies !"
I instantly withdrew,

But soon was countermanded, and desir'd
To bring the Earl of Essex to her presence.
I like it not; and much I fear, she'll stand
Between this high offender and the laws.
Not. Is Essex then secur'd?

Bur. Madam, he is;

And now comes guarded to the court.

Enter GENTLEMAN.

Gent. Madam, the queen

Is in her closet, and desires to see you.

[Exit.

Not. I attend her.

Bur. She wants, no doubt, to be advis'd by you. Improve this fair occasion, urge it home;

Not. I know her foible. Essex long has had
An interest in her heart, which nothing can
O'erturn, except his own ungovern'd spirit:
It is, indeed, the instrument by which
We work, and cannot fail, if rightly us'd.

Bur. Madam, the queen expects you instantly.
I must withdraw, and wait the earl's arrival.

SCENE II.

[Exeunt severally.

The Queen's Closet.

QUEEN ELIZABETH discovered.

Qu. Eliz. Ill-fated, wretched man! perverse and obstinate!

He counterworks my grace, and courts destruction.
He gives his deadly foes the dagger to

Destroy him, and defeats my friendly purpose,
Which would, by seeming to abandon, save him.
Nor will he keep the mask of prudence on

A moment's space.-What! must I bear this scorn!
No: let me all the monarch re-assume;
Exert my power, and be myself again.-
Oh, ill-performing, disobedient, heart!-
Why shrink'st thou, fearful, from thy own resolve?
Enter LADY NOTTINGHAM.

Thou com'st in time; I'm much disturb'd, abus'd,
My Nottingham, and would complain to thee

Of insolence, neglect, and high contempt.
Essex presum❜d to dictate laws within

My palace gates. How say'st thou, Nottingham?
Not. Surely, my gracious queen, it cannot be!
His heat and passion never could impel him
To take so bold a step, to such rash guilt:
Methinks his very honour should prevent it.

Qu. Eliz. This haughty man has wanton'd with my

grace,

Abus'd my bounty, and despis'd my favours.

Not. His conduct has, I fear, been too unguarded: His hasty temper knows not where to stop. Ambition is the spur of all his actions, Which often drives him o'er his duty's limits; (At least his enemies would have it so.)

But malice, madam, seldom judges right.

Qu. Eliz. Oh, Nottingham! his pride is past enduring;

This insolent, audacious man, forgets

His honour and allegiance;—and refus'd
To render up his staff of office, here,

Beneath my very eye.

Not. Presumptuous man!

Your faithful subjects will resent this pride,
This insolence, this treason to their queen;
They must, my gracious sovereign.-'Tis not safe
To shield him longer from their just resentment.
Then give him up to justice and the laws.

Qu. Eliz. You seem well pleas'd to urge severity. Offended majesty but seldom wants

Such sharp advisers-Yet no attribute
So well befits the exalted seat supreme,
And pow'rs disposing hand, as clemency.
Each crime must from its quality be judg'd;
And pity there should interpose, where malice
Is not the aggressor.

Not. Madam. my sentiments were well intended; Justice, not malice, mov'd my honest zeal.

My words were echoes of the public voice,
Which daily rises, with repeated cries

Of high complaint against this haughty lord.
I pity, from my heart, his rash attempts,
And much esteem the man.

Qu. Eliz. Go, Nottingham,

My mind's disturb'd, and send me Rutland hither. [Exit LADY NOTTINGHAM.

O vain distinction of exalted state!

No rank ascends above the reach of care,
Nor dignity can shield a queen from woe.
Despotic nature's stronger sceptre rules,
And pain and passion in her right prevails.
Oh, the unpity'd lot, severe condition,
Of solitary, sad, dejected, grandeur!
Alone condemn'd to bear th' unsocial throb
Of heartfelt anguish, and corroding grief;
Depriv'd of what, within his homely shed,
The poorest peasant in affliction finds,
The kind, condoling, comfort of a dear
Partaking friend.

Enter LADY RUTLAND.

Rutland, I want thy timely

Counsel. I'm importun'd, and urg'd to punish-
But justice, sometimes, has a cruel sound,
Essex has,

No doubt, provok'd my anger, and the laws;
His haughty conduct calls for sharp reproof,
And just correction. Yet I think him guiltless
Of studied treasons, or design'd rebellion.
Then, tell me, Rutland, what the world reports,
What censure says of his unruly deeds.

Rut. The world, with envy's eye, beholds his merit:

Madam, 'tis malice all, and false report.

I know his noble heart, 'tis fill'd with honour:
No trait'rous taint has touch'd his generous soul;