_The_ PRIEST _passes. Enter_ ELIZABETH _and_ SIR WILLIAM CECIL. ELIZABETH. Good counsel yours-- No one in waiting? still, As if the chamberlain were Death himself! The room she sleeps in--is not this the way? No, that way there are voices. Am I too late? Cecil ... God guide me lest I lose the way. [_Exit_ ELIZABETH. CECIL. Many points weather'd, many perilous ones, At last a harbour opens; but therein Sunk rocks--they need fine steering--much it is To be nor mad, nor bigot--have a mind-- Nor let Priests' talk, or dream of worlds to be, Miscolour things about her--sudden touches For him, or him--sunk rocks; no passionate faith-- But--if let be--balance and compromise; Brave, wary, sane to the heart of her--a Tudor School'd by the shadow of death--a Boleyn, too, Glancing across the Tudor--not so well. _Enter_ ALICE. How is the good Queen now? ALICE. Away from Philip. Back in her childhood--prattling to her mother Of her betrothal to the Emperor Charles, And childlike--jealous of him again--and once She thank'd her father sweetly for his book Against that godless German. Ah, those days Were happy. It was never merry world In England, since the Bible came among us. CECIL. And who says that? ALICE. It is a saying among the Catholics. CECIL. It never will be merry world in England, Till all men have their Bible, rich and poor. ALICE. The Queen is dying, or you dare not say it. _Enter_ ELIZABETH. ELIZABETH. The Queen is dead. CECIL. Then here she stands! my homage. ELIZABETH. She knew me, and acknowledged me her heir, Pray'd me to pay her debts, and keep the Faith: Then claspt the cross, and pass'd away in peace. I left her lying still and beautiful, More beautiful than in life. Why would you vex yourself, Poor sister? Sir, I swear I have no heart To be your Queen. To reign is restless fence, Tierce, quart, and trickery. Peace is with the dead. Her life was winter, for her spring was nipt: And she loved much: pray God she be forgiven. CECIL. Peace with the dead, who never were at peace! Yet she loved one so much--I needs must say-- That never English monarch dying left England so little. ELIZABETH. But with Cecil's aid And others, if our person be secured From traitor stabs--we will make England great. _Enter_ PAGET, _and other_ LORDS OF THE COUNCIL, SIR RALPH BAGENHALL, _etc_. LORDS. God save Elizabeth, the Queen of England! BAGENHALL. God save the Crown! the Papacy is no more. PAGET (_aside_). Are we so sure of that? ACCLAMATION. God save the Queen! END OF QUEEN MARY. HAROLD: A DRAMA. TO HIS EXCELLENCY THE RIGHT HON. LORD LYTTON, VICEROY AND GOVERNOR-GENERAL OF INDIA.