can witness for me,
How close thy image clings around my soul!
Retards each rising wish, and draws me back
To life, entangled by that loved idea!

_Lieut._ My lord,
It now grows late.

_Essex._ Lead on.

_Rut._ Stay, stay, my love! my dearest, dying lord!
Ah! whither wouldst thou go? Ah, do not leave me! [_Faints._

_Essex._ Thou sinking excellence! thou matchless woman!
Shall fortune rob me of thy dear embrace,
Or earth's whole power, or death divide us now?
Stay, stay, thou spotless, injured saint!

_Lieut._ My lord, already you have been indulged
Beyond what I can warrant by my orders.

_Essex._ One moment more
Afford me to my sorrows--Oh, look there!
Could bitter anguish pierce your heart, like mine,
You'd pity now the mortal pangs I feel,
The throbs that tear my vital strings away,
And rend my agonizing soul.

_Lieut._ My lord----

_Essex._ But one short moment, and I will attend.
Ye sacred ministers, that virtue guard,
And shield the righteous in the paths of peril,
Restore her back to life, and lengthen'd years
Of joy! dry up her bleeding sorrows all!
Oh, cancel from her thoughts this dismal hour,
And blot my image from her sad remembrance!
'Tis done.--
And now, ye trembling cords of life, give way!
Nature and time, let go your hold!--Eternity
Demands me. [_Exeunt ESSEX and LIEUTENANT._

_Rut._ Where has my lost, benighted soul been wand'ring?--
What means this mist, that hangs about my mind,
Through which reflection's painful eye discerns
Imperfect forms and horrid shapes of woe?--
The cloud dispels, the shades withdraw, and all
My dreadful fate appears.--Oh! where's my lord?--
My life! my Essex! Oh! whither have they ta'en him?

_Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and ATTENDANTS._

_Qu. Eliz._ To execution!--Fly with lightning's wing,
And save him!
Be calm, he shall not die! Rise up--I came
To save his life.

_Rut._ 'Tis mercy's voice that speaks!--
My Essex shall again be mine! My queen,
My bounteous, gracious queen, has said the word!
May troops of angels guard thy sacred life!
And, in thy latest moments, waft thy soul,
To meet that mercy in the realms of joy,
Which, now, thy royal goodness grants to me!

_Enter BURLEIGH._

_Bur._ Madam, your orders came, alas! too late.
Ere they arrived, the axe had fallen on Essex.

_Rut._ Ha! dead! What hell is this, that opens round me?
What fiend art thou, that draws the horrid scene?
Ah! Burleigh! bl