_Qu. Eliz._ You have obey'd, my lord! you've served me well! My deadly foes are quell'd! and you come home A conqueror! Your country bids you welcome! And I, your queen, applaud!--Triumphant man! What! is it thus that Essex gains his laurels? What! is it thus you've borne my high commission? How durst you disregard your trusted duty, Desert your province, and betray your queen? _Essex._ I came to clear my injured name from guilt, Imputed guilt, and slanderous accusations. My shame was wafted in each passing gale, Each swelling tide came loaded with my wrongs; And echo sounded forth, from faction's voice, The traitor Essex.--Was't not hard, my queen, That, while I stood in danger's dreadful front, Encountering death in every shape of terror, And bleeding for my country--Was't not hard, My mortal enemies at home, like cowards, Should in my absence basely blast my fame? _Qu. Eliz._ It is the godlike attribute of kings, To raise the virtuous, and protect the brave. I was the guardian of your reputation; What malice, or what faction, then, could reach you? My honour was exposed, engaged for yours: But you found reason to dislike my care, And to yourself assumed the wrested office. _Essex._ If aught disloyal in this bosom dwells, If aught of treason lodges in this heart, May I to guilt and lasting shame be wedded, The sport of faction, and the mark of scorn, The world's derision, and my queen's abhorrence. Stand forth the villain, whose envenom'd tongue Would taint my honour, and traduce my name, Or stamp my conduct with a rebel's brand! Lives there a monster in the haunts of men, Dares tear my trophies from their pillar'd base, Eclipse my glory, and disgrace my deeds? _Qu. Eliz._ This ardent language, and this glow of soul, Were nobly graceful in a better cause; Where virtue warrants, and where truth inspires: But injured truth, with brow invincible, Frowns stern reproof upon the false assertion, And contradicts it with the force of facts. From me you have appeal'd, ungrateful man! The laws, not I, must listen to your plea. Go, stand the test severe, abide the trial, And mourn, too late, the bounty you abused. [_Exeunt QUEEN ELIZABETH, SOUTHAMPTON, &c._ _Essex._ Is this the just requital, then, of all My patriot toils, and oft-encounter'd perils, Amidst the inclemencies of camps and climes? Then be it so.----Unmoved and dauntless, let me This shock of adverse fortune firmly stand. _Enter SOUTHAMPTON._ _South._ Alas, my lord! the queen's displeasure kindles With warmth increasing; whilst Lord Burleigh labours T'inflame her wrath, and make it still burn fiercer.