ACT THE FOURTH.
SCENE I.
The Palace.
Enter Queen Elizabeth and Nottingham.
Qu. Eliz. Not taken yet?
Not. No, madam: for the Earl
Of Essex, leagued with desperate friends, made strong
And obstinate resistance; till, at length,
O'erpower'd by numbers, and increasing force,
He fled for shelter to a small retreat,
A summer-house, upon the Thames; resolved
To perish, rather than submit to power.
Qu. Eliz. Oh, where shall majesty bestow its favours,
Since Essex has a traitor proved to me,
Whose arm hath raised him up to power and greatness;
Whose heart has shared in all his splendid triumphs,
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.
Enter Burleigh.
Bur. Illustrious queen! the traitors all are seized.
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 inspired,
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 prisoners, and are safe secured;
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 desired, 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 monster,
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 dangerous presence,
Though treason sits within your heart enthroned,
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 injured 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.
Qu. Eliz. Hapless man!
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 treasons;
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 more;
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 injured 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 me, 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.
Essex. 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 urged 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 heaven, I swear,
When in my highest pitch of glory raised,—
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 up condemn'd
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 heaven, 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 and me,
This ring shall be a private mark of faith
[Gives the ring.
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.
[Exit.
Qu. Eliz. 'Tis done;
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 loved—was ever faithful—brave!
If nature dwells about your heart, oh, spurn
Me not!—My lord! my love! my husband bleeds!
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.
Qu. Eliz. I'll hear no more. I'm tortured—take her hence.
Rut. Nay, force me not away.—Inhuman wretches!
Oh, mercy, mercy!—Then to thee, good Heaven,
(My queen, my cruel queen, denies to hear me!)
To thee, for mercy bend.
Melt down her bosom's frozen sense, to feel
Some portion of my deadly grief, my fell
Distraction.—Turn, oh, turn, and see a wife,
A tortured wife——
Qu. Eliz. Why am I not obey'd?
Rut. Nay, do not thus
Abandon me to fell despair. Just Heaven,
That sees my sorrows, will avenge the wrong,
This cruel wrong—this barbarous tyranny.
[Forced off.
Qu. Eliz. Wedded to Rutland! Most unhappy pair!
And, oh, ill-fated queen! Never till now
Did sorrow settle in my heart its throne.
Recall my pledge of safety from his hands,
And give him up to death!—But life or death
To me is equal now.
Unhappy state, where peace shall never come!
One fatal moment has confirm'd my doom—
Turn'd all my comfort to intestine strife,
And fill'd with mortal pangs my future life!
[Exit.
ACT THE FIFTH.
SCENE I.
A Room in the Tower.
Enter Raleigh and Lieutenant of the Tower.
Ral. Their peers, with much indulgence, heard their plea,
And gave them ample scope for their defence;
But naught avail'd—their crimes were too notorious.
They bore their sentence with becoming spirit;
And here's the royal mandate for their deaths.—
The Lady Nottingham! What brings her hither?
Enter Lady Nottingham.
Not. Lieutenant, lead me to the Earl of Essex,
I bring a message to him from the queen.
Lieut. He's with his friend, the brave Southampton, madam,
Preparing now for his expected fate.
But I'll acquaint his lordship with your pleasure.
[Exit.
Ral. What means this message? Does the queen relent?
Not. I fear she does;
Go you to court, for Cecil there expects you.
I've promised to acquaint him with what passes
'Twixt me and Essex, ere I see the queen.
Ral. Madam, I go.
[Exit.
Not. Now, vengeance, steel my heart!
Offended woman, whilst her pride remains,
To malice only, and revenge, will bow;
And every virtue at that altar sacrifice.
But see, he comes, with manly sorrow clad.
There was a time, that presence could subdue
My pride, and melt my heart to gentle pity.
I then could find no joy but in his smiles,
And thought him lovely as the summer's bloom;
But all his beauties are now hateful grown.
Enter Essex.
Essex. Whether you bring me death, or life, I know not.
But, if strict friendship, and remembrance past,
May aught presage to my afflicted heart,
Sure mercy only from those lips should flow,
And grace be utter'd from that friendly tongue.
Not. My lord, I'm glad you think me still your friend.
I come not to upbraid, but serve you now;
And pleased I am to be the messenger
Of such glad tidings, in the day of trouble,
As I now bring you. When the queen had heard,
That by the lords you were condemn'd to die,
She sent me, in her mercy, here to know
If you had aught to offer, that might move
Her royal clemency to spare your life.
Essex. Could any circumstance new lustre add
To my dread sovereign's goodness, 'tis the making
The kind, the generous Nottingham its messenger.
Not. 'Tis well, my lord; but there's no time to spare—
The queen impatient waits for my return.
Essex. My heart was wishing for some faithful friend,
And bounteous Heaven hath sent thee to my hopes.
Know then, kind Nottingham, for now I'll trust
Thee with the dearest secret of my life,
'Tis not long since, the queen (who well foresaw
To what the malice of my foes would drive me)
Gave me this ring, this sacred pledge of mercy;
And with it made a solemn vow to Heaven,
That, whensoever I should give, or send
It back again, she'd freely grant whate'er
Request I then should make.
Not. Give, give it me,
My lord! and let me fly, on friendship's wings,
To bear it to the queen, and to it add
My prayers and influence to preserve thy life.
Essex. Oh! take it then—it is the pledge of life!
Oh! it is my dear Southampton's
Last, last remaining stay! his thread of being,
Which more than worlds I prize!—Oh, take it, then;
Take it, thou guardian angel of my life,
And offer up the incense of my prayer!
Oh, beg, entreat, implore her majesty,
From public shame, and ignominious death,
And from the obdurate axe, to save my friend.
Not. My lord, with all the powers that nature gave
And friendship can inspire, I'll urge the queen
To grant you your request.
Essex. Kind Nottingham!
Your pious offices shall ever be
My fervent theme; and if my doubtful span
Relenting Heaven should stretch to years remote,
Each passing hour shall still remind my thoughts,
And tell me, that I owe my all to thee:
My friend shall thank you too for lengthen'd life.
And now I fly with comfort to his arms,
To let him know the mercy that you bring.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The Court.
Enter Queen Elizabeth and Burleigh.
Qu. Eliz. Ha! is not Nottingham return'd?
Bur. No, madam.
Qu. Eliz. Dispatch a speedy messenger to haste her.—
My agitated heart can find no rest.
So near the brink of fate—-unhappy man!
Enter Lady Nottingham.
How now, my Nottingham—what news from Essex?
What says the earl?
Not. I wish, with all my soul,
The ungrateful task had been another's lot.
I dread to tell it—lost, ill-fated man!
Qu. Eliz. What means this mystery, this strange behaviour?
Pronounce—declare at once; what said the earl?
Not. Alas, my queen! I fear to say; his mind
Is in the strangest mood that ever pride
On blackest thoughts begot.——He scarce would speak;
And when he did, it was with sullenness,
With hasty tone, and downcast look.
Qu. Eliz. Amazing!
Not feel the terrors of approaching death!
Nor yet the joyful dawn of promised life!
Not. He rather seem'd insensible to both,
And with a cold indifference heard your offer;
Till warming up, by slow degrees, resentment
Began to swell his restless haughty mind;
And proud disdain provoked him to exclaim
Aloud, against the partial power of fortune,
And faction's rage. I begg'd him to consider
His sad condition; nor repulse, with scorn,
The only hand that could preserve him.
Qu. Eliz. Ha!
What!—Said he nothing of a private import?
No circumstance—no pledge—no ring?
Not. None, madam!
But, with contemptuous front, disclaim'd at once
Your proffer'd grace; and scorn'd, he said, a life
Upon such terms bestow'd.
Qu. Eliz. Impossible!
Could Essex treat me thus?—You basely wrong him,
And wrest his meaning from the purposed point.
Recall betimes the horrid words you've utter'd:
Confess, and own the whole you've said was false.
Not. Madam, by truth, and duty, both compell'd,
Against the pleadings of my pitying soul,
I must declare (Heaven knows with what reluctance),
That never pride insulted mercy more.
He ran o'er all the dangers he had past;
His mighty deeds; his service to the state;
Accused your majesty of partial leaning
To favourite lords, to whom he falls a sacrifice;
Appeals to justice, and to future times,
How much he feels from proud oppression's arm:
Nay, something too he darkly hinted at,
Of jealous disappointment, and revenge.
Qu. Eliz. Eternal silence seal thy venom'd lips
What hast thou utter'd, wretch, to rouse at once
A whirlwind in my soul, which roots up pity,
And destroys my peace!
Let him this instant to the block be led.
[Exit Nottingham.
Upbraid me with my fatal fondness for him!
Ungrateful, barbarous ruffian! O, Elizabeth!
Remember now thy long-establish'd fame,
Thy envy'd glory, and thy father's spirit.
Accuse me of injustice too, and cruelty!—
Yes, I'll this instant to the Tower, forget
My regal state, and to his face confront him:
Confound the audacious villain with my presence,
And add new terrors to the uplifted axe.
[Exit.
SCENE III.
The Tower.
Enter Essex and Southampton.
Essex. Oh, name it not! my friend shall live—he shall!
I know her royal mercy, and her goodness,
Will give you back to life, to length of days,
And me to honour, loyalty, and truth.
Death is still distant far.
South. In life's first spring,
Our green affections grew apace and prosper'd;
The genial summer swell'd our joyful hearts,
To meet and mix each growing fruitful wish.
We're now embark'd upon that stormy flood,
Where all the wise and brave are gone before us,
E'er since the birth of time, to meet eternity.
And what is death, did we consider right?
Shall we, who sought him in the paths of terror,
And faced him in the dreadful walks of war,
Shall we astonish'd shrink, like frighted infants,
And start at scaffolds, and their gloomy trappings?
Essex. Yet, still I trust long years remain of friendship.
Let smiling hope drive doubt and fear away,
And death be banish'd far; where creeping age,
Disease, and care, invite him to their dwelling.
I feel assurance rise within my breast,
That all will yet be well.
South. Count not on hope—
We never can take leave, my friend, of life,
On nobler terms. Life! what is life? A shadow!
Its date is but the immediate breath we draw;
Nor have we surety for a second gale;
Ten thousand accidents in ambush lie
For the embody'd dream.
A frail and fickle tenement it is,
Which, like the brittle glass that measures time,
Is often broke, ere half its sands are run.
Essex. Such cold philosophy the heart disdains,
And friendship shudders at the moral tale.
My friend, the fearful precipice is past,
And danger dare not meet us more. Fly swift,
Ye better angels, waft the welcome tidings
Of pardon to my friend—of life and joy!
Enter Lieutenant.
Lieut. I grieve to be the messenger of woe,
But must, my lords, entreat you to prepare
For instant death. Here is the royal mandate,
That orders your immediate execution.
Essex. Immediate execution! what, so sudden?—
No message from the queen, or Nottingham!
Lieut. None, sir.
Essex. Deluded hopes! Oh, worse than death!
Perfidious queen! to make a mock of life!
My friend—my friend destroy'd! Why could not mine—
My life atone for both—my blood appease?
Can you, my friend, forgive me?
South. Yes, oh yes,
My bosom's better half, I can.—With thee,
I'll gladly seek the coast unknown, and leave
The lessening mark of irksome life behind.
With thee, my friend, 'tis joy to die!—'tis glory!
For who would wait the tardy stroke of time?
Or cling like reptiles to the verge of being,
When we can bravely leap from life at once,
And spring, triumphant, in a friend's embrace?
Enter Raleigh.
Ral. To you, my Lord Southampton, from the queen,
A pardon comes; your life her mercy spares.
Essex. For ever blest be that indulgent power
Which saves my friend! This weight ta'en off, my soul
Shall upward spring, and mingle with the bless'd.
South. All-ruling Heavens! can this—can this be just?
Support me! hold, ye straining heart-strings, hold,
And keep my sinking frame from dissolution!
Oh, 'tis too much for mortal strength to bear,
Or thought to suffer!—No, I'll die with thee!
They shall not part us, Essex!
Essex. Live, oh, live!
Thou noblest, bravest, best of men and friends!
Whilst life is worth thy wish—till time and thou
Agree to part, and nature send thee to me!
Thou generous soul, farewell!——Live, and be happy!
And, oh! may life make largely up to thee
Whatever blessing fate has thus cut off,
From thy departing friend!
Lieut. My lord, my warrant
Strictly forbids to grant a moment's time.
South. Oh, must we part for ever? Cruel fortune!
Wilt thou then tear him hence?—Severe divorce!
Let me cling round thy sacred person still,—
Still clasp thee to my bosom close, and keep
Stern Fate at distance.
Essex. Oh, my friend! we'll meet
Again, where virtue finds a just reward!
Where factious malice never more can reach us!
I need not bid thee guard my fame from wrongs:
And, oh! a dearer treasure to thy care
I trust, than either life or fame—my wife!
Oh, she will want a friend!
Then take her to thy care—do thou pour balm
On her deep-wounded spirit, and let her find
My tender helps in thee!—I must be gone,
My ever faithful, and my gallant friend!
I pr'ythee, leave this woman's work.—Farewell!
Take this last, dear embrace—Farewell for ever!
South. My bursting breast! I fain would speak, but words
Are poor—Farewell!—
But we shall meet again—embrace in one
Eternal band, which never shall be loosed.
[Exit.
Essex. To death's concluding stroke, lead on, Lieutenant.—
My wife!—Now reason, fortitude, support me!
For now, indeed, comes on my sorest trial.
Enter Countess of Rutland.
Oh, thou last, dear reserve of fortune's malice!
For fate can add no more,—
Oh, com'st thou now to arrest my parting soul,
And force it back to life?
Rut. Thou sole delight—
Thou only joy which life could ever give,
Or death deprive me of—my wedded lord!
I come, with thee, determined to endure
The utmost rigour of our angry stars!
To join thee, fearless, in the grasp of death,
And seek some dwelling in a world beyond it!
Essex. Too much, thou partner of this dismal hour,
Thy gen'rous soul would prompt thee to endure!
Nor can thy tender, trembling, heart sustain it.
Long years of bliss remain in store for thee;
And smiling time his treasures shall unfold
To bribe thy stay!
Rut. Thou cruel comforter!
Alas! what's life—what's hated life to me?
Alas, this universe, this goodly frame,
Shall all as one continued curse appear,
And every object blast, when thou art gone.
Essex. Oh, strain not thus the little strength I've left,
The weak support that holds up life! to bear
A few short moments more, its weight of woe,
Its loss of thee! Oh, turn away those eyes!
Nor with that look melt down my fix'd resolve!
And yet a little longer let me gaze
On that loved form! Alas! I feel my sight
Grows dim, and reason from her throne retires:
For pity's sake, let go my breaking heart,
And leave me to my fate!
Rut. Why wilt thou still
Of parting talk?
Oh, that the friendly hand of Heaven would snatch
Us both at once, above the distant stars,
Where fortune's venom'd shafts can never pierce,
Nor cruel queens destroy!
Essex. The awful Searcher, whose impartial eye
Explores the secrets of each human heart,
And every thought surveys, can witness for me,
How close thy image clings around my soul!
Retards each rising wish, and draws me back
To life, entangled by that loved idea!
Lieut. My lord,
It now grows late.
Essex. Lead on.
Rut. Stay, stay, my love! my dearest, dying lord!
Ah! whither wouldst thou go? Ah, do not leave me!
[Faints.
Essex. Thou sinking excellence! thou matchless woman!
Shall fortune rob me of thy dear embrace,
Or earth's whole power, or death divide us now?
Stay, stay, thou spotless, injured saint!
Lieut. My lord, already you have been indulged
Beyond what I can warrant by my orders.
Essex. One moment more
Afford me to my sorrows—Oh, look there!
Could bitter anguish pierce your heart, like mine,
You'd pity now the mortal pangs I feel,
The throbs that tear my vital strings away,
And rend my agonizing soul.
Lieut. My lord——
Essex. But one short moment, and I will attend.
Ye sacred ministers, that virtue guard,
And shield the righteous in the paths of peril,
Restore her back to life, and lengthen'd years
Of joy! dry up her bleeding sorrows all!
Oh, cancel from her thoughts this dismal hour,
And blot my image from her sad remembrance!
'Tis done.—
And now, ye trembling cords of life, give way!
Nature and time, let go your hold!—Eternity
Demands me.
[Exeunt Essex and Lieutenant.
Rut. Where has my lost, benighted soul been wand'ring?—
What means this mist, that hangs about my mind,
Through which reflection's painful eye discerns
Imperfect forms and horrid shapes of woe?—
The cloud dispels, the shades withdraw, and all
My dreadful fate appears.—Oh! where's my lord?—
My life! my Essex! Oh! whither have they ta'en him?
Enter Queen Elizabeth and Attendants.
Qu. Eliz. To execution!—Fly with lightning's wing,
And save him!
Be calm, he shall not die! Rise up—I came
To save his life.
Rut. 'Tis mercy's voice that speaks!—
My Essex shall again be mine! My queen,
My bounteous, gracious queen, has said the word!
May troops of angels guard thy sacred life!
And, in thy latest moments, waft thy soul,
To meet that mercy in the realms of joy,
Which, now, thy royal goodness grants to me!
Enter Burleigh.
Bur. Madam, your orders came, alas! too late.
Ere they arrived, the axe had fallen on Essex.
Rut. Ha! dead! What hell is this, that opens round me?
What fiend art thou, that draws the horrid scene?
Ah! Burleigh! bloody murd'rer! where's my husband?
Oh! where's my lord, my Essex?
Destruction seize, and madness rend my brain!
See,—see they bend him to the fatal block!
Now—now the horrid axe is lifted high—
It falls—it falls!—he bleeds—he bleeds! he dies!
Qu. Eliz. Alas! her sorrows pierce my suffering heart!
Rut. Eternal discord tear the social world,
And nature's laws dissolve! expunge—erase
The hated marks of Time's engraving hand,
And every trace destroy! Arise, Despair!
Assert thy rightful claim—possess me all!
Bear, bear me to my murder'd lord—to clasp
His bleeding body in my dying arms!
And, in the tomb, embrace his dear remains,
And mingle with his dust—for ever!
[Exit.
Qu. Eliz. Hapless woman!
She shall henceforth be partner of my sorrows,
And we'll contend who most shall weep for Essex.
Oh, quick to kill, and ready to destroy!
[To Burleigh.
Could no pretext be found—no cause appear,
To lengthen mercy out a moment more,
And stretch the span of grace?—Oh, cruel Burleigh!
This, this was thy dark work, unpitying man!
Bur. My gracious mistress, blame not thus my duty,
My firm obedience to your high command.
The laws condemn'd him first to die; nor think
I stood between your mercy and his life.
It was the Lady Nottingham, not I.
Herself confess'd it all, in wild despair,
That, from your majesty to Essex sent
With terms of proffer'd grace, she then received,
From his own hand, a fatal ring, a pledge,
It seems, of much importance, which the earl,
With earnest suit, and warm entreaty, begg'd her,
As she would prize his life, to give your majesty;
In this she fail'd—In this she murder'd Essex.
Qu. Eliz. Oh, barbarous woman!
Surrounded still by treachery and fraud!
What bloody deed is this!—Thou injured Essex!
My fame is soil'd to all succeeding times;
But Heaven alone can view my breaking heart—
Then let its will be done.
From hence, let proud, resisting mortals know
The arm parental, and the indulgent blow.
To Heaven's corrective rod submissive bend;
Adore its wisdom, on its power depend;
Whilst ruling justice guides eternal sway,
Let nature tremble, and let man obey.
[Exeunt.
THE END.
Transcriber's Note: The following typographical errors present in the original edition have been corrected.
In Act II, Scene I, missing periods were added after "Her majesty to milder thoughts" and "The force of love".
In Act III, Scene II, "pure affectio ;" was changed to "pure affection;", and "' Tis clear" was changed to "'Tis clear".
In Act IV, Scene I, "Vouchfafe your Essex" was changed to "Vouchsafe your Essex", and a missing comma was added after "avenge the wrong".
In Act V, Scene I, "Each pasing hour" was changed to "Each passing hour".
In Act V, Scene III, the dialogue tag "Qd. Eliz." was changed to "Qu. Eliz." in the line beginning "To execution!--Fly with lightning's wing", and "'Tis mercys voice" was changed to "'Tis mercy's voice".