_Godiva._ [_To herself._] God help them! good kind souls! I hope they will not crowd about me so to-morrow. O Leofric! could my name be forgotten, and yours alone remembered! But perhaps my innocence may save me from reproach; and how many as innocent are in fear and famine! No eye will open on me but fresh from tears. What a young mother for so large a family! Shall my youth harm me? Under God's hand it gives me courage. Ah! when will the morning come? Ah! when will the noon be over? The story of Godiva, at one of whose festivals or fairs I was present in my boyhood, has always much interested me; and I wrote a poem on it, sitting, I remember, by the _square pool_ at Rugby. When I showed it to the friend in whom I had most confidence, he began to scoff at the subject; and, on his reaching the last line, his laughter was loud and immoderate. This conversation has brought both laughter and stanza back to me, and the earnestness with which I entreated and implored my friend _not to tell the lads_, so heart-strickenly and desperately was I ashamed. The verses are these, if any one else should wish another laugh at me: 'In every hour, in every mood, O lady, it is sweet and good To bathe the soul in prayer; And, at the close of such a day, When we have ceased to bless and pray, To dream on thy long hair.' May the peppermint be still growing on the bank in that place! ESSEX AND SPENSER _Essex._ Instantly on hearing of thy arrival from Ireland, I sent a message to thee, good Edmund, that I might learn, from one so judicious and dispassionate as thou art, the real state of things in that distracted country; it having pleased the queen's Majesty to think of appointing me her deputy, in order to bring the rebellious to submission. _Spenser._ Wisely and well considered; but more worthily of her judgment than her affection. May your lordship overcome, as you have ever done, the difficulties and dangers you foresee. _Essex._ We grow weak by striking at random; and knowing that I must strike, and strike heavily, I would fain see exactly where the stroke shall fall. Now what tale have you for us? _Spenser._ Interrogate me, my lord, that I may answer each question distinctly, my mind being in sad confusion at what I have seen and undergone. _Essex._ Give me thy account and opinion of these very affairs as thou leftest them; for I would rather know one part well than all imperfectly; and the violences of which I have heard within the day surpass belief. Why weepest thou, my gentle Spenser? Have the rebels sacked thy house? _Spenser._ They have plundered and utterly destroyed it. _Essex._ I grieve for thee, and will see thee righted. _Spenser._ In this they have little harmed me. _Essex._ How! I have heard it reported that thy grounds are fertile, and thy mansion large and pleasant.