Leaning fondly on the arm of Essex, she led the way, down the adjacent staircase, and through the hall below, to the shore of the river, where the royal barge, with a number of private barges, belonging to the several members of the court, waited her approach. In these conveyances the whole party embarked, and in a short time, being favoured by the tide, arrived at Milbank, and there landed.
The Globe playhouse, where their excursion was to end, was now close at hand, and, by the Queen’s direction, they proceeded thither on foot. The house was already well filled; but two spacious boxes, opening on to the stage, one on either side, had been reserved for the court, and in one of these, to which she was conducted by the Earl of Southampton, the Queen bestowed herself. Her maids of honour stationed themselves on her left hand; and, at her command, the Earls of Southampton, Essex, Leicester, and Sussex, with Sir Walter Raleigh, and one or two others, took their places on her right. The rest of the court, including many ladies, and some few peeresses, were dispersed over the theatre.
The public acclamations excited by the Queen’s appearance had hardly subsided, when the curtain, which hitherto had kept the stage from view, was drawn up, and the performances commenced. The early passages of the play passed off tamely, till the entrance of Cymbeline, the father of the heroine, and king of Britain, and who gave the play its name, drew from all parts of the theatre one burst of applause.
The actor thus welcomed showed a fair augury for his powers in his majestic person. Though not very tall, his figure, whatever quarter it was viewed from, was faultless, and sufficiently high to be commanding. But it was in his countenance that Nature had exhibited her greatest skill. Here one could see, at a mere glance, that he had been cast in Heaven’s most select mould, and was marked out for a wonder. Thought sat on every feature, and his brow, which was lofty and expansive, and chiselled with a singular accuracy, was almost luminous with expression. Corresponding with this appearance, his eyes, when their gaze was once fixed, almost spoke; and, withal, revealed in their beams such a kind and gentle spirit, that they won the heart of every beholder.
Such was the master-genius whose works are to endure through all time, and open to posterity, through every successive age, the loftiest flights of speculation and philosophy. The “poor player,” who looked “every inch a king,” was the immortal, the incomparable Shakspear.
When the cheering called forth by his appearance had subsided, the play proceeded, and, in its progress, was watched by every spectator with the liveliest interest. Occasionally, as some passage of more striking excellence was delivered, even the Queen would relax her dignity to applaud, and the waving of the royal handkerchief would invariably be attended by the plaudits of the whole house.
During the interval between each act, the Earl of Southampton, with a discrimination which did as much honour to his intellect, as his attachment to the poet reflected credit on his heart, pointed out to the Queen more distinctly the various merits and beauties of the play, and, at the same time, commended the bearing of the several actors. The Queen and her courtiers (for the latter had no opinion of their own) generally concurred in his observations; but during the interval between the fourth and fifth acts, he expressed one sentiment which Elizabeth disputed.
“Hath your Highness marked,” he inquired, “how marvellously well Master Shakspear doth enact the king? I dare make a good wager, an’ he were so placed by circumstances, he would play to the same purpose with real sovereigns.”
“There we be at difference,” answered Elizabeth. “Though he have an excellent good judgment, I will venture to maintain, on my part, that ’twould scarce match such a task. What say’st thou, Sir Walter Raleigh?”