QUEEN. I believe it all, Leicester. My faith is in my country! In my people! Nor would their Queen in such an hour be wanting. Elizabeth would lead the van with them to conquer, or with them to fall. (_She walks with a fierce and triumphant air_) Yet, Leicester! Though with thoughts like these my Lion spirit rises to the occasion, there are times when sadness sits brooding o’er me, and in the lone, darkness of my soul, kindred and goblin forms arise, the brood of melancholy to fright my woman weakness. William, Prince of Orange, butchered in his Palace! the loaded pistol! the assassin’s knife! ever at one’s defenceless breast—Ah! Leicester (_she shudders with horror_) ’tis too much to bear! too much! too much! (_she weeps and turns aside with great emotion_, LEICESTER _approaching her with deep sympathy_, _and kneeling_, _kisses her robe_, _to which he timidly ventures to apply his lips_). LEICESTER. My honoured Mistress! My beloved Queen! God, who raised you up His chosen instrument, has hitherto supported, and will preserve you. (_The_ QUEEN _turns abruptly and surprised_). QUEEN. What, Robin! This from thee? Art thou turned Puritan, man? LEICESTER. Of late, my Queen, I have had dreams! Visions of Prophetic import, which seem to touch the times. QUEEN. Dreams! Dreams that touch the times, belong to anxious brains like mine, troublous as my checkered life, with danger and alarm. Thine are of thyself, of love and selfish gain, intrigues with traitor wenches of my Court that pay me hollow homage, and take the pay of France, or Philip, or the Queen of Scots, or even thyself! (_Looking at him piercingly_). LEICESTER, (_attempting to speak_). Oh! My loved Mistress! QUEEN (_interrupting him_), Nay! Nay! Ne’er deny it, Leicester. I watch the games of all, and play my own! (_with a grim smile_). LEICESTER (_earnestly_, _as to repel the insinuation_). My Liege, my thoughts are capable of proof. The vision long hath left my brain, and found material body. Art hath moulded it in jewelled gold, and given it tongue prophetic! Futurity will unfold the truth; but it would be presented to you on the throne. May it please your Majesty to be seated. QUEEN. What mean you, man? Robin! No mummery now, my mood is serious! (LEICESTER _bows solemnly_), Well! Well! I will indulge you. (_She gives him her hand and he leads her to the throne_). LEICESTER. My Liege! It is behind the arras, permit me to introduce it. QUEEN (_impatiently_). Do as thou listest and be quick. (_He goes for the intended present_). There’s something in it, else he’s acting well. What can it be? _He returns with a splendidly gilt and ornamented box_, _lays it down_, _and opening it_, _withdraws a group of statuary of jewelled gold_. _Approaching the throne_, _he kneels on one knee_, _and presents it to the_ QUEEN, _who all the time watches the proceeding with intense interest_, _then takes the present with great surprise and curiosity_.