Elizabeth at this period of her reign was fifty-six years of age. Her face, although exceedingly majestic, shewed the deep furrows of care—the care which is the heir-loom of the diadem; her nose was somewhat hooked; her lips, narrow; her teeth, discoloured. In her ears she wore two enormous pearls with rich drops; and her small crown rested upon a mass of false red hair. Her bosom it was her pleasure to display uncovered (the custom of all English ladies before marriage); on her neck was a necklace of costly jewels. The dress she wore was of white silk, embroidered with enormous pearls, larger than beans. Over this dress she wore a costly mantle of coloured silk, shot with silver threads; and her long train was borne by a marchioness. In addition to all this, she wore, in place of a chain, a magnificent collar of gold and jewels. Her aspect upon the whole was at first sight pleasing; but on a steady view of her countenance, there was to be found the unendurable look of a line of kings. The eye that could gaze down a lion; the fierce glance of the royal Harry, was there; a glance which proclaimed the excitable nature of the Tudor blood.
She remained stationary for a few brief moments as soon as she entered the room, and seemed to comprehend the whole assemblage in one rapid glance. She then advanced, with her bevy of attendant ladies, and, at her pleasure, spoke first to one and then another of the nobles present. To one or two giving her hand to kiss, as a mark of special favour, her favourites (albeit they had already been favoured with a private audience) being every now and then appealed to; whilst the moment her eye detected any person of peculiar note, or not immediately belonging to her circle, she fixed him like a basilisk.
"Ah! Master Spenser," she said, as she stopped near the author of the "Faery Queen," "hast thou received the guerdon I promised thee for thy song yet? We rated Burleigh soundly for disobeying our orders, and bringing forth that jangling rhyme of thine, which touched our honour. Let me see how went it;" and the Queen repeated, with good emphasis and discretion, the words of the poet:
"I was promised on a time.
To have reason for my rhyme:
Since that time until this season,
I have had nor rhyme nor reason."
"The radiant Gloriana," said Spenser, "doth overmuch honour my poor couplet by repeating it; nevertheless the rhyme still hath reason. Of that, our shepherd of the ocean[24] can testify."
"How! Raleigh," said the Queen, "hath not thy friend received the hundred pounds I promised him? This is overbold of Burleigh!" And the eye of the Queen shewed the lioness' glance as she looked around for the offender. Burleigh, however, had anticipated a storm, and sought the lower end of the room; meanwhile Raleigh, who seldom let an opportunity pass for pressing any suit he had to carry, replied that Spenser had as yet received nothing of the promised coin.
"My friend is as unlucky as myself," he said; "for neither hath he received his guerdon, any more than I myself have obtained the grant of lands your gracious bounty half promised."
"Ah!" said the Queen, (who spite of her partiality for the wit, genius, and valour of the adventurous and daring knight, little relished his rapacity). "Ah!" she said, "what, that suit of the fields at Mitcham again? And when will you cease to be a beggar, Raleigh?"
Raleigh saw he had half offended, but his impudence and readiness brought him through. "When your Majesty ceases to be a benefactress," he said, gracefully bowing.