The angry spot left the Queen's brow. She smiled and shook her head. "Thou art an accomplished courtier," she said, as she passed on, "but thou gettest not the Mitcham meadows of us yet notwithstanding."
"What mutterest thou, Tarleton?" she continued sharply, to one of the attendant clowns or comedians, whom she frequently admitted to her presence.
"I mutter nothing that I will not stand to, Madona," said Tarleton; "and that which your Majesty calls muttering, was but an assurance to my gossip, Raleigh, of all he requires, Raleigh hath but to open his mouth, and the tid bits from your royal table are sure to be cast into it."
"So!" said the Queen, rather angrily.
"Yes," returned the bold jester, "Look but on my lord there—he of the dark eye and olive complexion. By my fay, he hath swollen to such a huge bulk in the sunshine of your royal eye, that anon we shall all be overwhelmed!"
This sally of Tarleton's against the Earl of Leicester was received with a titter of applause, and Burleigh, who had indeed tutored the poor jester, greatly enjoyed it.
Elizabeth saw the feeling, and affecting to hear it with unconcern, turned to another of the court fools. "Well, Pace," she said, "and now I suppose we shall hear from you also of our faults."
"What is the use of speaking of that which all the town is talking of?" growled Pace.
Although the Queen permitted considerable license to men of this class, she was more deeply offended than she chose to shew, and passed on without another word. A few moments afterwards, however, both Pace and Tarleton were observed, at a hint from one of the gentlemen-at-arms, to quit the presence.
"Ah, Bacon," said the Queen to her ample-browed Lord Keeper, "we are sorry to see thee still suffering from the old enemy, the gout. Remain not standing here, my lord; go sit thee down. We make use of your good head, not your bad legs!"