allen, are rich in heroes; they but wait
For the example of some potent lord.
Away with feigning--act an open part,
And, like a loyal knight, protect your fair;
Fight a good fight for her! You know you are
Lord of the person of the Queen of England,
Whene'er you will: invite her to your castle,
Oft hath she thither followed you--then show
That you're a man; then speak as master; keep her
Confined till she release the Queen of Scots.

LEICESTER.
I am astonished--I am terrified!
Where would your giddy madness hurry you?
Are you acquainted with this country? Know you
The deeps and shallows of this court? With what
A potent spell this female sceptre binds
And rules men's spirits round her? 'Tis in vain
You seek the heroic energy which once
Was active in this land! it is subdued,
A woman holds it under lock and key,
And every spring of courage is relaxed.
Follow my counsel--venture nothing rashly.
Some one approaches-go----

MORTIMER.
And Mary hopes--
Shall I return to her with empty comfort?

LEICESTER.
Bear her my vows of everlasting love.

MORTIMER.
Bear them yourself! I offered my assistance
As her deliverer, not your messenger.

[Exit.

SCENE IX.

ELIZABETH, LEICESTER.

ELIZABETH.
Say, who was here? I heard the sound of voices.

LEICESTER (turning quickly and perplexed round on hearing the QUEEN).
It was young Mortimer----

ELIZABETH.
How now, my lord:
Why so confused?

LEICESTER (collecting himself).
Your presence is the cause.
Ne'er did I see thy beauty so resplendent,
My sight is dazzled by thy heavenly charms.
Oh!

ELIZABETH.
Whence this sigh?

LEICESTER.
Have I no reason, then,
To sigh? When I behold you in your glory,
I feel anew, with pain unspeakable,
The loss which threatens me.

ELIZABETH.
What loss, my lord?

LEICESTER.
Your heart; your own inestimable self
Soon will you feel yourself within the arms
Of your young ardent husband, highly blessed;
He will possess your heart without a rival.
He is of royal blood, that am not I.
Yet, spite of all the world can say, there lives not
One on this globe who with such fervent zeal
Adores you as the man who loses you.
Anjou hath never seen you, can but love
Your glory and the splendor of your reign;
But I love you, and were you born of all
The peasant maids the poorest, I the first
Of kings, I would descend to your condition,
And lay m