A notable instance of this occurred during the famous trial of Sir Walter Raleigh. Sir Edward Coke, who was then Attorney-General, conducted the case on behalf of the Crown, and expressed himself with such energy against the prisoner, that Lord Cecil at length interfered and desired him to be more patient. Much offended, Coke at once sat down, and preserved an angry silence. At length the Commissioners were compelled to entreat him to continue his address. For some time he refused; then suddenly rising, with a power and skill that electrified all present, he recapitulated the charges. So powerful were his words, so lucid were his arguments, that it was evident from that moment that the prisoner's doom was sealed. The scene that day in the Court at Winchester, where the trial took place, must have been alike impressive and sorrowful. The handsome, gallant Sir Walter Raleigh, the quondam favourite of the Queen, for years the popular hero of the nation, now worn and bent by age and many troubles, is standing at the bar, to be tried for his life, accused of treason against his Sovereign and against his country. Brave he has ever been, brave he is now, and the noble face, though pale and haggard, is stern and composed. Unmoved in look or action, he listens attentively to the words of one who is urging the Judges, with all the might of burning eloquence, to pronounce him worthy of death. Perchance for one moment a gleam of hope may have entered the prisoner's breast when he heard Lord Cecil speak, but if so, it must have been speedily dispelled when the Attorney-General addressed the Court. Spare in form, exquisitely neat in dress, passionate in action and emphasis, the fiery and searching eye of the great lawyer seems to scan alike the thoughts as well as the faces of those on whom he looks. And his voice, deep yet penetrating, has a ring that stirs men's hearts, and brings conviction in its very accents. With terrible minuteness, and with crushing legal skill, he states every circumstance that can tell against the accused, and each powerfully-worded sentence that fell from the lips of the Counsel for the Crown must, to the friends of the unhappy man, have been as another nail driven into the coffin that awaited him. Long ere that famous speech was ended, hope and suspense must have been over for the prisoner. The evidence against him had been slender, but Coke's eloquence prevailed. Sir Walter was found guilty, and condemned to death. For a month he lay in prison, daily expecting his execution. Then he was reprieved, and sent to the Tower, where he remained a prisoner for sixteen long years.