_Qu. Eliz._ Amazing! What! break his trust! desert his high command, Forsake his post, and disobey his queen! 'Tis false--invented all.--You wish it so. _Bur._ Madam, I wish some other rumours false; Reports, I fear, of great concern to you. _Qu. Eliz._ What rumours? what reports? your frown would much Denote: your preface seems important.--Speak. _Bur._ Some new commotions are of late sprung up In Ireland, where the west is all in arms, And moves with hasty march to join Tyrone, And all his northern clans. A dreadful power! Nay, more; we have advices from the borders, Of sudden risings, near the banks of Tweed; 'Tis thought to favour an attempt from Scotland. Meanwhile, Tyrone embarks six thousand men To land at Milford, and to march where Essex Shall join them with his friends. _Qu. Eliz._ (_Apart._) In league with James! And plotting with Tyrone! It cannot be. His very pride disdains such perfidy. But is not Essex here without my leave! Against my strict command! that, that's rebellion. The rest, if true, or false, it matters not. What's to be done?--admit him to my presence? No, no--my dignity, my pride forbid it. Ungrateful man, approach me not; rise, rise, Resentment, and support my soul! Disdain, Do thou assist me--Yes, it shall be so. _Bur._ I see she muses deep; Tyrone's invasion wakes her fear and anger, And all her soul is one continued storm. _Qu. Eliz._ For once my pride shall stoop; and I will see This rash, audacious, this once favour'd man; But treat him as his daring crimes deserve. _Enter SOUTHAMPTON._ _South._ [_Kneeling._] Permit me, madam, to approach you thus; Thus lowly to present the humble suit Of the much-injured, faithful Earl of Essex, Who dares not, unpermitted, meet your presence. He begs, most gracious queen, to fall before Your royal feet, to clear him to his sovereign, Whom, next to heaven, he wishes most to please. Let faction load him with her labouring hand, His innocence shall rise against the weight, If but his gracious mistress deign to smile. _Qu. Eliz._ Let him appear. [_Exit SOUTHAMPTON._ Now to thy trying task, My soul! Put forth, exert thy utmost strength, Nor let an injured queen be tame.--Lie still, My heart, I cannot listen to thee now. _Enter ESSEX and SOUTHAMPTON._ _Essex._ Forgive, thou injured majesty, thou best Of Queens, this seeming disobedience. See, I bend submissive in your royal presence, With soul as penitent, as if before The all-searching eye of Heaven. But, oh, that frown! My queen's resentment wounds my inmost spirit, Strikes me like death, and pierces through my heart.