And feels, ev'n now, his trait'rous deeds with pity?
But hence with pity, and the woman's pangs:
Resentment governs, and the queen shall punish."
Bur. Illustrious queen! the traitors all are seiz'd. Their black debates
Were held at Drury House. The dire result
Was this that Essex should alarm the citizens
To open mutiny, and bold rebellion.
Their purpose was to seize your royal palace,
And sacred person; but your faithful people,
As by one mind inform'd, one zeal inspir'd,
Rose up at once, and with their virtue quell'd them. Qu. Eliz. Thanks to their honest, to their loyal hearts!
But say, were any persons else concern'd,
Of high distinction, or of noted rank?
Bur. Yes, madam, many more;
'Mong whom, the bold Southampton foremost stands.
They're now our pris'ners, and are safe secur'd;
But Essex, with Southampton, and the rest
Of greater note, I would not dare dispose of
Without your royal mandate; and they now
Attend without, to know your final pleasure.
Qu. Eliz. Is this the just return of all my care?
My anxious toilsome days, and watchful nights?
Have I sent forth a wish, that went not freighted
With all my people's good? Or, have I life,
Or length of days desir'd, but for their sake?
The public good is all my private care!
Then could I think this grateful isle
Contain'd one traitor's heart? But, least of all,
That Essex' breast should lodge it? Call the mon-
And let me meet this rebel face to face.
Do you withdraw, and wait within our call.
[Exeunt BURLEIGH and NOTTINGHAM.
You see, we dare abide your dang❜rous presence,
Though treason sits within your heart enthron'd,
And on that brow rebellion lours, where once
Such boasted loyalty was said to flourish.
How low the traitor can degrade the soldier!
Guilt glares in conscious dye upon thy cheek,
And inward horror trembles in thine
eye.
How mean is fraud !-How base ingratitude!
Essex. Forbear reproach, thou injur'd majesty,
Nor wound, with piercing looks, a heart already
With anguish torn, and bleeding with remorse.
Your awful looks, alone, are arm'd with death,
And justice gives them terror.
What cause could prompt, what fiend could' urge thee on
To this detested deed? Could I from thee
Expect to meet this base return? from thee,
To whom I ought to fly with all the confidence
That giving bounty ever could inspire,
Or seeming gratitude and worth could promise?
Essex. Alas! I own my crimes, and feel my trea-
They press me down beneath the reach of pity.
Despair alone can shield me from myself.
Qu. Eliz. My pride forbids me to reproach thee
My pity, rather, would relieve thy sorrow.
The people's clamours, and my special safety,
Call loud for justice, and demand your life.
But if forgiveness from an injur'd queen
Can make the few short hours you live more easy,
I give it freely, from my pitying heart;
And wish my willing power could grant thee more.
Essex. Oh, let me prostrate thus before you fall,
My better angel, and my guardian genius!
Permit ine, royal mistress, to announce
My faithful sentiments, my soul's true dictates;
Vouchsafe your Essex but this one request,
This only boon—he'll thank you with his last,
His dying breath, and bless you in his passage.
Qu. Eliz. Rise, my lord!
If aught you have to offer, can allay
Your woes, and reconcile you to your fate,
Proceed; and I with patient ear will listen.
Esser. My real errors, and my seeming crimes,
Would weary mercy, and make goodness poor:
And yet the source of all my greatest faults
Was loyalty misled, and duty in extreme.
So jealous was my sanguine heart, so warm
Affection's zeal, I could not bear the least
Suspicion of my duty to my queen.
This drove me from my high command in Ireland;
This, too, impell'd me to that rude behaviour,
Which justly urg'd the shameful blow I felt;
And this, O fatal rashness! made me think
My queen had given her Essex up, a victim
To statesmen's schemes, and wicked policy.
Stung by that piercing thought, my madness flew
Beyond all bounds, and now, alas! has brought me
To this most shameful fall; and, what's still worse,
My own reproaches, and my queen's displeasure.
Qu. Eliz. Unhappy man! My yielding soul is
touch'd,
And pity pleads thy cause within my breast.
Essex. Say, but, my gracious sovereign, ere I go For ever from your presence, that you think me Guiltless of all attempts against your throne, And sacred life. Your faithful Essex, ne'er Could harbour in his breast so foul a thought, Believe it not, my queen. By Heav'n, I swear, When in my highest pitch of glory rais'd,
The splendid noon of Fortune's brightest sunshine,
Not ages of renown,-could yield me half
The joy, nor make my life so greatly blest,
As saving yours, though for a single hour.
Qu. Eliz. My lord, I would convince you, that I still
Regard your life, and labour to preserve it;
But cannot screen you from a public trial.
With prudence make your best defence: but should
Severity her iron jurisdiction
Extend too far, and give thee
To angry laws, thy queen will not forget thee.
Yet, lest you then should want a faithful friend,
(For friends will fly you in the time of need)
Here, from my finger, take this ring, a pledge
Of mercy; having this, you ne'er shall need
An advocate with me; for whensoe'er
You give, or send it back, by Heav'n, I swear,
As I do hope for mercy on my soul,
That I will grant whatever boon you ask.
Essex. Oh, grace surprising! most amazing goodness!
Words cannot paint the transports of my soul!
Let me receive it on my grateful knees,
At once to thank, and bless the hand that gives it.
Qu. Eliz. Depend, my lord, on this-twixt you
This ring shall be a private mark of faith
Inviolate. Be confident; cheer up;
Dispel each melancholy fear, and trust
Your sovereign's promise-she will ne'er forsake you. Essex. Let Providence dispose my lot as 'twill,
May watchful angels ever guard my queen;
May healing wisdom in her councils reign,
And firm fidelity surround her throne;
May victory her dreaded banners bear,
And joyful conquests crown her soldiers' brow;
Let every bliss be mingled in her cup,
And Heaven, at last, become her great reward.
And yet foreboding tremors shake my heart.
Something sits heavy here, and presses down
My spirits with its weight. What can it mean?
Suppose he is condemn'd! my royal word
Is plighted for his life; his enemies,
No doubt, will censure much.-No matter; let them; I know him honest, and despise their malice.
Enter COUNTESS OF RUTLAND.
Rut. Where is the queen? I'll fall before her feet Prostrate; implore, besiege her royal heart, And force her to forgive.
Qu. Eliz. What means this phrensy?
Rut. Oh, gracious queen! if ever pity touch'd
Your generous breast, let not the cruel axe
Destroy his precious life; preserve my Essex,
My life, my hope, my joy, my all, my husband!
Qu. Eliz. Husband!-What sudden, deadly blow
is this!
Hold up, my soul, nor sink beneath this wound.
You beg a traitor's life!
Rut. Oh, gracious queen!
He ever lov'd-was ever faithful-brave!
If nature dwells about your heart, oh, spurn
Qu. Eliz. Take her away.
Rut. I cannot let you go.
Hold off your hands!-Here on this spot I'll fix-
Here lose all sense. Still let me stretch these arms,
Inexorable queen!-He yet may live.
Oh, give him to my poor, afflicted heart!
One pitying look, to save me from distraction.
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