Essex.
“Where are thy friends? Are they with thee?”
Spenser.
“Ah, where indeed? Generous, true-hearted Philip! where art thou? whose presence was unto me peace and safety, whose smile was contentment, and whose praise renown. My lord! I cannot but think of him among still heavier losses; he was my earliest friend, and would have taught me wisdom.”
Essex.
“Pastoral poetry, my dear Spenser, doth not require tears and lamentations. Dry thine eyes; rebuild thine house. The queen and council, I venture to promise thee, will make ample amends for every evil thou hast sustained. What! does that enforce thee to wail yet louder?”
“Pardon me, bear with me, most noble heart! I have lost what no council, no queen, no Essex can restore.”
Essex.
“We will see that! There are other swords, and other arms to wield them, besides a Leicester’s and a Raleigh’s. Others can crush their enemies and serve their friends.”