Qu. Eliz.Hapless man!What cause could prompt, what fiend could urge thee onTo this detested deed? Could I from theeExpect to meet this base return? from thee,To whom I ought to fly with all the confidenceThat 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 queenCan 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 announceMy 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 allayYour 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 faultsWas loyalty misled, and duty in extreme.So jealous was my sanguine heart, so warmAffection's zeal, I could not bear the leastSuspicion 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 thinkMy queen had given her Essex up, a victimTo statesmen's schemes, and wicked policy.Stung by that piercing thought, my madness flewBeyond all bounds, and now, alas! has brought meTo 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 goFor ever from your presence, that you think meGuiltless of all attempts against your throne,And sacred life. Your faithful Essex ne'erCould 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 halfThe 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 stillRegard your life, and labour to preserve it;But cannot screen you from a public trial.With prudence make your best defence; but shouldSeverity her iron jurisdictionExtend too far, and give thee up condemn'dTo 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 pledgeOf mercy; having this, you ne'er shall needAn advocate with me, for whensoe'erYou 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 trustYour 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 downMy spirits with its weight. What can it mean?Suppose he is condemn'd! my royal wordIs plighted for his life; his enemies,No doubt, will censure much.—No matter; let them;I know him honest, and despise their malice.
EnterCountessofRutland.
Rut.Where is the queen? I'll fall before her feetProstrate; implore, besiege her royal heart,And force her to forgive.
Qu. Eliz.What means this phrensy?
Rut.Oh, gracious queen! if ever pity touch'dYour generous breast, let not the cruel axeDestroy 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, spurnMe 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 feelSome portion of my deadly grief, my fellDistraction.—Turn, oh, turn, and see a wife,A tortured wife——
Qu. Eliz.Why am I not obey'd?
Rut.Nay, do not thusAbandon 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 nowDid sorrow settle in my heart its throne.Recall my pledge of safety from his hands,And give him up to death!—But life or deathTo 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.
A Room in the Tower.
EnterRaleighandLieutenantof theTower.
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?
EnterLady 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 subdueMy 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.
EnterEssex.
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 messengerOf 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 knowIf you had aught to offer, that might moveHer royal clemency to spare your life.
Essex.Could any circumstance new lustre addTo my dread sovereign's goodness, 'tis the makingThe 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 trustThee with the dearest secret of my life,'Tis not long since, the queen (who well foresawTo 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 sendIt back again, she'd freely grant whate'erRequest 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 addMy prayers and influence to preserve thy life.
Essex.Oh! take it then—it is the pledge of life!Oh! it is my dear Southampton'sLast, 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 gaveAnd friendship can inspire, I'll urge the queenTo grant you your request.
Essex.Kind Nottingham!Your pious offices shall ever beMy fervent theme; and if my doubtful spanRelenting 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.
The Court.
EnterQueen ElizabethandBurleigh.
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!
EnterLady 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 mindIs in the strangest mood that ever prideOn 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, resentmentBegan to swell his restless haughty mind;And proud disdain provoked him to exclaimAloud, against the partial power of fortune,And faction's rage. I begg'd him to considerHis 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 onceYour proffer'd grace; and scorn'd, he said, a lifeUpon 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 leaningTo 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 lipsWhat hast thou utter'd, wretch, to rouse at onceA whirlwind in my soul, which roots up pity,And destroys my peace!Let him this instant to the block be led.[ExitNottingham.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, forgetMy regal state, and to his face confront him:Confound the audacious villain with my presence,And add new terrors to the uplifted axe.[Exit.
The Tower.
EnterEssexandSouthampton.
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 lieFor 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 tidingsOf pardon to my friend—of life and joy!
EnterLieutenant.
Lieut.I grieve to be the messenger of woe,But must, my lords, entreat you to prepareFor 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 leaveThe 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?
EnterRaleigh.
Ral.To you, my Lord Southampton, from the queen,A pardon comes; your life her mercy spares.
Essex.For ever blest be that indulgent powerWhich saves my friend! This weight ta'en off, my soulShall 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 thouAgree to part, and nature send thee to me!Thou generous soul, farewell!——Live, and be happy!And, oh! may life make largely up to theeWhatever blessing fate has thus cut off,From thy departing friend!
Lieut.My lord, my warrantStrictly 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 keepStern Fate at distance.
Essex.Oh, my friend! we'll meetAgain, 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 careI trust, than either life or fame—my wife!Oh, she will want a friend!Then take her to thy care—do thou pour balmOn her deep-wounded spirit, and let her findMy 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 wordsAre poor—Farewell!—But we shall meet again—embrace in oneEternal 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.
EnterCountessofRutland.
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 endureThe 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 unfoldTo 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 bearA 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 gazeOn that loved form! Alas! I feel my sightGrows 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 stillOf parting talk?Oh, that the friendly hand of Heaven would snatchUs 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 eyeExplores 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 backTo 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 indulgedBeyond what I can warrant by my orders.
Essex.One moment moreAfford 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 yearsOf 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!—EternityDemands me.[ExeuntEssexandLieutenant.
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 discernsImperfect forms and horrid shapes of woe?—The cloud dispels, the shades withdraw, and allMy dreadful fate appears.—Oh! where's my lord?—My life! my Essex! Oh! whither have they ta'en him?
EnterQueen ElizabethandAttendants.
Qu. Eliz.To execution!—Fly with lightning's wing,And save him!Be calm, he shall not die! Rise up—I cameTo 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!
EnterBurleigh.
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!