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 THE 
 
 TRAGICAL HISTORIE 
 
 OF OUR LATE BROTHER 
 
 Robert, Earl of Essex 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 HAMLET, RICHARD III, OTHELLO, 
 AS YOU LIKE IT, ETC. 
 
 AND OF THE NEWLY DISCOVERED TRAGEDY, 
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. 
 
 DECIPHERED 
 
 FROM THE WORKS OF 
 
 SIR FRANCIS BACON, 
 
 BY 
 
 ORVILLE W. OWEN, M. D. 
 
 DETROIT, MICH. 
 HOWARD PUBLISHING COMPANY, 
 
 LONDON 
 
 GAY & BIRD, 5, CHANDOS 6TREET.
 
 Copyright, 1895, 
 By ORVILLE W. OWEN. 
 
 Entered at Stationer's Hall, 
 London. 
 
 All Rights Reserved.
 
 n 
 
 PUBLISHERS NOTE. 
 
 The present volume, "The Tragical History of Our Late 
 Brother, Earl of Essex," is published separately, out of its 
 consecutive order, being complete in itself, and of the most 
 thrilling interest and historical value, that it may be the 
 earlier enjoyed as one of the marvels of literature, in advance 
 of its appearance as a part of the later books of the series of 
 Sir Francis Bacon's Cipher Writings. 
 
 Like its immediate predecessor, " The Tragedy of Mary 
 Queen of Scots," it has been deciphered from the Shakespeare 
 Plays, and other works of Bacon, by means of the Cipher 
 system, discovered by Doctor Owen, through which the hidden 
 histories are being brought to light. 
 
 In the first book of the " Cipher Story," issued in October, 
 1893, was the astounding statement that the great Chancillor 
 was the son of Queen Elizabeth and Robert Dudley, Earl of 
 Leicester ; and that Robert, Earl of Essex, was his brother. 
 Corroboration of this is found in the recently published British 
 "Dictionary of National Biography," Vol. 16, page 114, under 
 the heading " Dudley : — 
 
 " Whatever were the Queen's relations with Dudley before his wife's 
 death, they became, closer after. It was reported that she was formally 
 betrothed to him, and that she had secretly married him in Lord Pem- 
 broke's house, and that she was a mother already.'" — January, 1560-1. 
 
 "In 1562 the reports that Elizabeth had children by Dudley were 
 revived. One Robert Brooks, of Devizes, was sent to prison for publish- 
 ing the slander, and seven years later a man named Marsham, of 
 Norwich, was punished for the same offence." 
 
 This Tragedy confirms the statement. 
 
 The Comedy referred to in the Prologue is now being 
 
 translated. 
 
 "The players that come forth, will to the life present 
 The pliant men that we as masks employ : 
 An excellent device to tell the plot, 
 And all our cipher practice to display." 
 
 HOWARD PUBLISHING CO. 
 
 March, 1895. 
 
 p~ trm^ic^ r~ jQ
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The work of deciphering the literature, in which the Cipher 
 of Sir Francis Bacon is found, reveals details of English history 
 of wonderful interest, which only a participant in the events 
 could record. Inwrought into this literature was hidden the 
 " Tragedy of Mary Queen of Scots," embracing Mary's attempts 
 to gain the English crown, her trial, and her tragic end, written 
 as a Play. This was published in December, 1894, and has been 
 pronounced a masterpiece. Portions of it were found in every 
 play attributed to Shakespeare, and in the writings of Spenser, 
 Peele, Greene, Marlow, Burton, and Francis Bacon. Although 
 a remarkable production, it is believed to be the first of Bacon's 
 writings of historical drama in Cipher, and it is chiefly drawn 
 from the earlier works and plays, before they were re-written and 
 enlarged in 1608-17-23, incorporating later histories, and mat- 
 ters of profound philosophical significance. 
 
 This " Tragedy of Essex," obtained from the same sources, 
 is a later production, and bears the impress of greater skill, more 
 experience, and far more intense personal feeling. In it are 
 interwoven most important passages of Bacon's own life. It 
 explains Bacon's participation in the trial and conviction of 
 Essex, who had been his benefactor, and the seeming ingratitude 
 which lias so long been thought a blot upon the fame of the 
 Lord High Chancillor. It was a life for a life ! Essex was 
 foredoomed to death. The Queen sought excuse in law for the 
 deed ; her commands were imperative : — 
 
 Queen.* * Robert Essex was 
 A worthy officer i' th' wars, but insolent, 
 O'er-come with pride, ambitious past all thinking, 
 Self-loving, and affecting one sole throne. 
 Without assistance.
 
 Francis Bacon. O, I think not so. * * 
 
 Q. Villain ! I'll set a point against thy breast. 
 If thou dost not use most dear employment 
 In what I further shall intend to do, 
 By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint, 
 And strew a hungry churchyard with thy limbs : 
 The time and my intents are savage wild, 
 More fierce and more inexorable far, 
 Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea. 
 Put not another sin upon my head, 
 By urging me to fury. O, begone ! * * 
 
 F. B. To revenge is no valor, but to bear. * * 
 To be in anger, is impiety. 
 
 Q. But who is born that is not angry? 
 Weigh but the crime with this. 
 
 Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer'd blows ; 
 Strength match'd with strength, and power confronted power 
 Both are alike, and both alike we like: 
 One must prove greatest. 
 
 F. B. Believe this, Madam, 
 No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, 
 Not the King's crown, nor the deputed sword, 
 The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, 
 Becomes them with one half so good a grace 
 As mercy does. * * 
 
 Q. I was not born to die on Essex' sword ! 
 * * In the name o' th' people, 
 And in the power of us their Queen, we 
 Will push destruction and perpetual shame 
 Out of the weak door of our fainting land. 
 See, here in bloody lines we have set down 
 And what is written shall be executed ; 
 Your brother is to die, as his offences 
 Are accounted to the law. 
 
 F. B. your Grace, 
 Are not you then as cruel as the sentence? 
 I know no law, Madam, that answering 
 One foul wrong, lives but to act another. 
 
 Q. Be satisfied ; 
 Your treacherous brother dies ; be content. 
 
 F. B. Oh, it is excellent, your Majesty, 
 To have a giant's strength : but it is tyrannous 
 To use it like a giant. 
 
 Q. Peace, peace sir, peace. 
 Were I not the better part made of mercy, 
 I should not seek an absent argument 
 Of my revenge, thou present, thou traitor. 
 * * Look to it, thou villain, 
 
 Thy life's dependent on thy brother's death. 
 Let our instruction to thee be thy guide, 
 Under penalty of thine own false head. 
 
 F. B. I do partly understand your meaning. 
 
 Q. Why then, go get thee home, thou fragment vile. 
 Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know 
 'Tis death for death, a brother for a brother: 
 Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure ; 
 Like doth quit like, and measure still for measure.
 
 The Prologue. 
 
 Scattered through the Shakespeare Plays are some of the 
 most beautiful thoughts and poetic conceptions, which have 
 become familiar household words. But they are fragmentary, 
 and interpolated with, and surrounded by, irrelevant and incon- 
 gruous matters, neither suggesting them, or by them suggested.. 
 The appearance of a ghost in Hamlet is inconsistent with 
 
 The undiscovered country, from whose borne 
 No traveller returns. 
 
 The Cipher gathers these fragments together in proper sequence,. 
 in the Prologue to this Tragedy of Essex, where they take the 
 form of a soliloquy, embodying the deepest philosophy concern- 
 ing things natural and spiritual, temporal and eternal. It is a 
 retrospect, and a wail of remorse, as well as a speculation as to 
 the future state. This wonderful Prologue can only be measured 
 from the point of view of its author, Francis Bacon. Lost in 
 reminiscence and contemplation, he weighs that destiny which 
 has been beyond his control, 
 
 Which hath the primal curse upon it, a brother's murder. 
 
 To the Seven Ages of Man, so well known as an epitome of 
 human life, the Cipher adds another, which rounds out and fin- 
 ishes the story with the " exit," from human view, of all that is 
 mortal. 
 
 Last scene of all 
 
 That ends this strange eventful history, 
 
 The old man dies ; and on the shoulders of his brethren 
 
 To the heavy knolled bells is borne, 
 
 Tn love and sacred pity, through the gates 
 
 Of the holy edifice of stone, where all in white 
 
 The goodly vicar meets them and doth say: — 
 
 " I am the resurrection and the life ;" 
 
 And then doth mount the pulpit stairs and doth begin: — 
 
 "0 Lord have mercy on us wretched sinners!" 
 
 The people answering cry as with one voice: — 
 
 •' O Lord have mercy on us wretched sinners!" 
 
 Then through the narrow winding church-way paths, 
 
 With weary task foredone, under the shade 
 
 Of melancholy boughs, gently set down 
 
 Their venerable burden, and from the presence 
 
 Of the sun they lower him into the tomb, 
 
 To sleep, perchance to dream ; aye, there's th' rub, 
 
 For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come, 
 
 "When we have shufn'd off this mortal coil,
 
 Must give us pause. To die, to sleep, to dream 
 No more ; and by a sleep, to say we end 
 The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks 
 That flesh is heir to, is a consummation 
 Devoutly to be wish'd. For in our graves, 
 After life's fitful fever, one sleeps well. 
 
 ********* 
 
 But for our conscience then, we'ld rear our hand 
 
 And play the Koman fool and die on our own sword : 
 
 We, with three inches of this obedient steel, 
 
 No better than the earth ourselves could make. 
 
 O what a sleep were this, if 'twere perpetual ! 
 
 But there's a prohibition so divine 
 
 Against self-slaughter, in the Holy Scripture, 
 
 It cravens our weak hand and doth return 
 
 The SAvord obedient to the scabbard. 
 
 The decipherer can understand perhaps better than another, 
 the feeling that the translated text lacks some of the qualities 
 called Shakespearean. The Plays are full of ambiguous incon- 
 gruities and obscure allusions that have the charm of mystery, 
 and excite wonder at the genius, that from such distant and 
 widely scattered sources could draw its inspiration. The 
 commentators have failed to explain them. When, however 
 these expressions are segregated, and rounded out by the 
 additions which the Cipher brings from the other works, they 
 become smooth, reasonable, and historically accurate, and the 
 great thoughts of that great constructive genius, the author 
 of them all, are presented in their primal form. 
 
 ORVILLE W. OWEN. 
 
 Detroit, February, 1895.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONJE. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth, 
 
 Earl of Essex, 
 
 Francis Bacon, 
 
 Secretary Cecil, 
 
 Chief Justice, 
 
 Lord Chamberlain, 
 
 Lord High Admiral, 
 
 Lord Keeper, 
 
 Comptroller, 
 
 Earl of Worcester, 
 
 Earl of Lincoln, 
 
 Earl of Southampton, 
 
 Earl of Rutland, 
 
 Gray, 
 
 Pembroke, 
 
 Derby, 
 
 Oxford, 
 
 Blount, 
 
 Raleigh, 
 
 Court ladies, judges, peers, 
 
 Bishop of Winchester, 
 Lords and Gentlemen, 
 
 Huntsman, 
 
 Forester, 
 
 Falconer, 
 
 First Jailor, 
 
 Second Jailor, 
 
 Porter, 
 
 Messenger, 
 
 Page, 
 
 Captain, 
 
 Guard, 
 
 Soldiers. 
 
 Lady Essex and Child, 
 First Lady, 
 Second Lady, 
 Maid, 
 
 lawyers, citizens, servants, etc.
 
 afye Cragtcal f?tstorte of our Hate 
 23rott}er, (Earl of €ssex. 
 
 
 
 
 [Prologue.] 
 Sir: — 
 
 This wide and universal theatre, the world, 
 Presents more woeful pageants than the scene 
 Wherein we play the orator. When we are born, 
 We cry that we are come to this great stage 
 Of fools, and do beguile ourselves with antique fage 
 Like to comedians : for all the world's a stage, 
 And all the men and women merely players; 
 They have their exits and their entrances, 
 And one man in his time plays many parts, 
 His acts being eight ages. At first the infant, 
 Mewling, and puking in the nurse's arms, 
 Then, the whining school-boy with his satchel 
 And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
 Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, 
 Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad 
 Made to his mistress' eye-brow. Then, a soldier, 
 Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, 
 Seeking the bubble reputation 
 
 Even in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justice, 
 In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd, 
 With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, 
 Full of wise saws, and modern instances, 
 And so he plays his part. The sixt age shifts 
 Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
 
 
 2 The Tragical History of 
 . 
 
 With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side, 
 
 His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide 
 
 For his shrunk shanke, and his big manly voice, 
 
 Turning again towards childish treble, pipes 
 
 And whistles in his sound. The scene doth change 
 
 To second childishness, and mere oblivion, 
 
 Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. 
 
 Last scene of all 
 
 That ends this strange eventful history, 
 
 The old man dies ; and on the shoulders of his brethren 
 
 To the heavy knolled bells is borne, 
 
 In love and sacred pity, through the gates 
 
 Of the holy edifice of stone, where all in white 
 
 The goodly vicar meets them and doth say : — 
 
 " I am the resurrection and the life ; " 
 
 And then doth mount the pulpit stairs and doth begin :— 
 
 " O Lord have mercy on us wretched sinners ! " 
 
 The people answering cry as with one voice : — 
 
 " O Lord have mercy on us wretched sinners ! " 
 
 Then through the narrow winding church-way paths, 
 
 With weary task foredone, under the shade 
 
 Of melancholy boughs, gently set down 
 
 Their venerable burden, and from the presence 
 
 Of the sun they lower him into the tomb, 
 
 To sleep, perchance, to dream ; aye, there's th' rub, 
 
 For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come, 
 
 When we have shuffl'd off this mortal coil, 
 
 Musi uive us pause. To die, to sleep, to dream 
 
 No moro; and by a sleep, to say we end 
 
 The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks 
 
 That flesh is heir to, is a consummation 
 
 Devoutly to be wish'd. For in our graves,
 
 1 ' J 
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 
 
 After life's fitful fever, one sleeps well. / A ' 
 Aye better to be with the dead, whom we our peace 
 To gain have sent to peace, than eat our meals in fear 
 And sleep in the affliction of terrible dreams 
 That shake us nightly. O the torture of the mind 
 That doth lie in restless extasie, the subject 
 Of its watch, dread murder and doleful death ! 
 Blood hath been shed ere now, i' th 1 olden time 
 Ere human statute purg'd the general weal : 
 Aye, and since too, murders have been perform'd 
 Too terrible for the ear. The time has been, yi^€* ■')!! 
 
 That when the brains were out the man would die, 
 And there an end : But now they rise again 
 With twenty mortal murders at their crowns, 
 And push us from our stools. Then as present fears 
 Are less than horrible imaginings, 
 To die, to sleep, to dream, to wake no more, 
 And tenderly to lie deep in our graves 
 Under the prettiest daisied-plot that our good friends 
 Can find, may drive us yet to render up 
 This hopeless life, which drawn on with torture, 
 We have liv'd from day to day, through fear 
 That the straight narrow path to death, was damn'd. 
 i To be, or not to be, then, that's the question : ^ 
 
 Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer 
 The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, 
 Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
 And by opposing end them. There's the respect 
 That makes calamity of so long life ; 
 
 For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, fr' 
 
 The oppressor's wrong, the poor man's contumely, 
 The pangs of dispris'd love, the law's delay,
 
 The Tragical History of 
 
 The insolence of office, and the spurns 
 
 That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 
 
 When he himself might his quietus make 
 
 With a bare bodkin ? Who would these fardles bear, 
 
 To grunt and sweat under a weary life, 
 
 But that the dread of something after death, 
 
 The undiscovered country, from whose bourn 
 
 No traveller returns, puzzles the will, 
 
 And makes us rather bear those ills we have, 
 
 Then fly to others that we know not of? 
 
 Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all, 
 
 And thus the native hue of resolution 
 
 Is sicklied o'er, with the pale cast of thought, 
 
 And enterprises of great pith and moment, 
 
 With this regard their currents turn away, 
 
 And lose the name of action. 
 
 But for our conscience then, we'ld rear our hand 
 
 And play the Roman fool and die on our own sword : 
 
 We, with three inches of this obedient steel, 
 
 No better than the earth ourselves could make. 
 
 O what a sleep were this, if 'twere jysrpetual ! 
 
 But there's a prohibition so divine 
 
 Against self-slaughter, in the Holy Scripture, 
 
 It cravens our weak hand and doth return 
 
 The sword obedient to the scabbard. 
 
 For to be clapp'd in hell, with strange and several noises 
 
 Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains, 
 
 And more diversity of sounds all horrible, 
 
 Makes us irresolute : why do we yield 
 
 To this suggestion, whose so horrid image 
 
 Doth unfix our hair, and make our seated heart 
 
 Knock at our ribs against the use of nature?
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 5 
 
 Because, O my dear lord, our offense is rank : 
 
 It smells to heaven : it hath the primal curse upon 't, 
 
 A brother's murder. \ And sir, to our grief, 
 
 Though our compell'd sins stand more for number 
 
 Than accompt, we look upon him nightly ; 
 
 But in this Cipher we will free ourselves. 
 
 Here can we smile, and murder while we smile, 
 
 And wet our cheeks with artificial tears, 
 
 And frame our face to all occasions. 
 
 We'll drown more sailors than the mermaids shall, 
 
 We'll slay more gazers than the Basilisk, 
 
 We'll play the orator as well as Nestor, 
 
 Deceive more slyly than Ulysses could, 
 
 And like a Synon take another Troy ; 
 
 We will add colours to the cameleon, 
 
 Change shapes with Proteus for advantages, 
 
 And set murtherous Machievill to school. 
 
 Pronouncing still, like players on the stage, 
 
 We will unmask as strange abuse in this, 
 
 As ever offer'd foul play in a state. 
 
 Our song hath not been play'd on ivory harp 
 
 With silver string, thy senses to allure, 
 
 But noble verse and tragic scene, and act, 
 
 We have employed here. Thus we recount 
 
 Our famous tale in sobbing notes and sighs, 
 
 And with bubbling tears and much ado 
 
 Rehearse these tragedies. 
 
 M 
 And when our younger brother's play is done, 
 
 We'll play a comedy, my lord, wherein 
 
 The players that come forth, will to the life present 
 
 The pliant men that we as masks employ: 
 
 An excellent device to tell the plot,
 
 6 The Tragical History of 
 
 And all our cipher practice to display. 
 
 A dire induction this to us would prove, 
 
 If the good truth were known, that thus we mask 
 
 Our younger brother's noble life and death ; 
 
 And how that bitter, black and wicked wretch, 
 
 With mortal hatred and aspiring mind, 
 
 By secret treason robb'd him of his life. 
 
 If it should hap at time unseasonable, 
 
 This ancient tale should be again new told, 
 
 Then would we be undone. Thou swor'st once, 
 
 That whiles the warm life played in these veins, 
 
 Thou would'st not speak. With admonition double, treble, 
 
 We pray thee swear continuance awhile, 
 
 Else verily we shall be hang'd for it ; 
 
 And on the scaffold as a stage, my lord, 
 
 Extempore we'd have a tragic play, 
 
 Where the chief actor's part we would present. 
 
 Should we such prologue to a tragic scene rehearse, 
 
 The very torrent, tempest and whirlwind 
 
 Of our discordant passion, would move storms 
 
 Of tears in the great wav'ring multitude. 
 
 ' Twould a good play to our spectators prove. 
 
 For we would drown the stage with sighs and tears, 
 
 And cleave the gener'l ear with horrid speech , 
 
 Make mad the guilty and appall the free; 
 
 Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed 
 
 The very faculty of eyes and ears. 
 
 Yet God in heaven make thee free of it, 
 
 When we are clad with immortality, 
 
 For thou shall reap an honour sevenfold, 
 
 And deck with shining stars and novel lamps 
 
 The flaming heaven huge. The Curtain's drawn. Beein.
 
 £Lf]c (Tragical historic of our Hate 
 Brother, (Earl of <Zssex. 
 
 IN FIVE ACTS. 
 
 Actus Primus. Scena Prima. 
 
 Horns wind and Trumpets sound. Enter Queen Elizabeth 
 
 bearing her huntspear bravely in her hand, with her 
 
 hounds, greyhounds, and dogs. The Huntsman, 
 
 Forester, Falconer, and Court in presence. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender 
 well my hounds; 
 Brach Merriman, the poor cur is imbost; 
 And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd Brach. 
 Saw't thou not how Silver made it good 
 At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault? 
 
 * 
 
 I would not lose the dog for twenty pound. 
 
 Huntsman. Why, Belman is as good, my Queen ; 
 He cried upon it at the merest loss, 
 And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent ; 
 Trust me, I take him for the better dog. 
 
 Q. Thou art a fool ! if Echo were as fleet, 
 I would esteem him worth a dozen such; 
 But sup them well and look unto them all ; 
 To-morrow I intend to hunt again. 
 
 Hunt. I will your majesty. 
 
 Q. I love to hear the music of my hounds, 
 Uncoupled in the western valley deep ; 
 
 (7)
 
 8 The Tragical History of 
 
 Or up on th' mountain's top mark th' musical 
 
 Confusion of hounds and echo in conjunction: 
 
 Never did I hear such gallant chiding 
 
 As when in a wood to-day, they bayed the bear; 
 
 For besides the groves, the skies, the fountains, 
 
 Ev'ry region near seem'd all one mutual cry. 
 
 I never heard so musical a discord, 
 
 Such sweet thunder as the hounds performed. 
 
 My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, 
 
 So slew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung 
 
 With ears that sweep away the morning dew ; 
 
 Crook-kneed and dew-lapt, like Thessalian bulls, 
 
 Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells,, 
 
 Each under each ; a cry more tunable 
 
 Was never hallowed to, nor cheered with horns. 
 
 But I am weary ; give me leave awhile : 
 
 Girl, reach me a chair, — so, now a footstool : 
 
 Fie, my bones ache! what a jaunt have I had ! 
 
 I am so out of breath ; I would'st thou had'st my bones ; 
 
 I am dead, alack! yet now girl, methinks 
 
 I feel a little ease. Here puppy, here ; 
 
 It goes hard when a servant plays the cur 
 
 With one; look thou, puppy, I brought thee up, 
 
 Sav'd thee from fearful death by drowning, 
 
 When three or four of thy blind brothers and sisters 
 
 Went to it. I have taught thee precisely, 
 
 Yet thou hadst no more wit than to take fault; 
 
 'tis a foul Ihiug when a cur cannot keep scent : 
 But to dally thus with thee is not a fit toy; 
 
 Go find ^ome other playfellow; greedy pleasures 
 Thou thinkesf more upon than good labour; 
 
 1 am aweary of thee. In the brook
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 
 
 Thou fool, I'll have thee drown'd. But who comes here ? 
 
 Page. Your majesty, here comes {Enter Page.) 
 
 The noble Earl of Essex and of Ewe, 
 And good Master Francis Bacon with him. 
 
 Q. ominous ! they come to kill my hart. 
 
 (Enter Essex and Bacon.) 
 How now, my Lord of Essex; thou haunt'st me; 
 One hour, one minute, one quiet breath of rest 
 Thou dost not let me have. Every one knows 
 I am as tormented by thee, my lord, 
 And Master Bacon there behind thee, sir, 
 As thou wert two of Friar Bacon's devils. 
 Leave me good gentlemen ; ladies farewell. [Exit train.') 
 Now, good my lord, what news? 
 
 Earl of Essex. Your majesty, this is the news at full; 
 I am advised that through treachery, 
 All your northern Irish castles are yielded up 
 Unto the rebel earl ; and upon his faction, 
 In arms are all your sothern gentlemen. 
 I play the torturer by small, and small, 
 To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken. 
 
 Q. Beshrew thee! thou hast said enough, my lord; 
 That villain Irish earl, I'll be his death! 
 He, like Actaeon peeping through the grove. 
 Shall by the angry goddess be transform'd, 
 And running in the likeness of an hart, 
 By yelping hounds pull'd down and seen to die: 
 I will hunt this cursed solitary, 
 And make the sword and target, my fell hounds 
 To pull down this untamed Irish beast. 
 Cold and rheumatic is the evening air 
 So for to-night, my lord, leave me. Farewell. (Exeunt.)
 
 10 The Tragical History of 
 
 Actus Primus. Scena Secunda. 
 
 (Room in the Palace.) 
 Enter Queen Elizabeth and the Lord Chamberlain. 
 
 Queen. Lord Chamberlain, hath the Lord Admiral 
 Come yet? 
 
 LorcT Chamberlain. Nay, an't please your majesty. 
 
 Q. I bade him come at twelve ; I pray thee sir, 
 How goes the time ? I have not heard the clock ; 
 I tak't 'tis later ? 
 
 L. C. Nay, and't please your majesty. 
 
 Q. What sir, not yet twelve ? God grant us patience ; 
 May God confound such times that drum us from our sport : 
 (Enter Essex, Admiral and Secretary Cecil.) 
 Ha ! who knocks ? Welcome, my Lord of Essex ; 
 AVelcome, Master Secretary Cecil ; 
 Welcome my lords to you all : Chamberlain, 
 Give leave awhile, we must talk in secret. 
 
 ( Exit Ch amber lain. ) 
 Lord Earl, that great Alcides of Ireland, 
 Earl Patrick of Tyrone, the thrice villain, 
 Hath by a stratagem most delicate, 
 Cruelly slain our soldiers. The forces 
 That marched forth against him, were by him 
 Compelled to give battle unawares: 
 We had the worst : of thirty thousand men 
 There scap'd not full five thousand from the field, 
 And these with ;ill celerity were pursued 
 Into Cork, whose Lord Mayor craves us aid 
 To defend the city from the rebels.
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 11 
 
 Under the command of our good kinsman, 
 Sir William, who is a valiant captain, 
 We have concluded at once to transport, 
 With all speed possible unto Ireland, 
 Our forces. He should well enough be able, 
 With expert soldiers twenty thousand strong, 
 To scatter, as a flight of birds, the wild, 
 Untamed Irish Kernes, and likewise to 
 Rattle fast away that great swarm of bees. 
 
 Es. Will your grace send this fellow to Ireland 
 As governor? You know, in reversion, 
 ' Twas promised to Master George Carew ; 
 Aye, and besides, indeed your royal grace, 
 If that you would shake off the slavish yoke, 
 Imp out your country's broken Irish wing, 
 Redeem from breaking pawn the blemish'd crown, 
 That the Cecils, father and son, have pawn'd, 
 Wipe off the dust that hides your sceptre's gilt, 
 And make high majesty look like itself. 
 
 Sec. Cecil. My lord, your honor knows my great father 
 Hath no store of gold ; then be certain, sir, 
 Of what you do say here, least injustice 
 Prove violence, in the which three great ones suffer; 
 The Queen, yourself, and my noble father. 
 
 Es. Thy father hath the English realm in farm ; 
 The Queen's grown bankrupt like a broken man, 
 Reproach and dissolution hangeth over her, 
 For Burleigh, like a sponge, doth drain her dry. 
 I hope I shall, sir, do nobody wrong 
 To speak what I do truly think of thee. 
 Deserve I blame for my mind imparting 
 Unto her majesty? Is it not true
 
 12 The Tragical History of 
 
 Thy great-great-great-grandfather was a Jew, 
 
 And in all likelihood, a usurer? 
 
 Art thou not his son's son's son, thou deformed dog ? 
 
 Sec. Thou call'st me a dog before thou hast a cause, 
 But since I am a dog, beware my phangs ! 
 Thou art no friend to God, or to the Queen. 
 
 Es. Hold thy peace ! 
 Thy father hath not money for these Irish wars 
 ( His burthenous taxations notwithstanding) 
 But by robbing of the Queen's majesty. 
 
 Q. My lord, 
 We may not, nor we will not suffer this — 
 
 Es. This torment to the crown, this crafty knave is 
 sick — 
 
 Q. I think his understanding is bereft ! 
 My lord Earl, dost thou know who speaks to thee? 
 
 Es. Now put it, heaven, in his physician's mind, 
 To help him to his grave immediately: 
 The lining of his coffers shall make coats 
 To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars. 
 
 Q. Thou fool! dost thou hear, thou saucy lackey? 
 Ha ! under this habit play'st thou the knave with me ? 
 Thou would'st play a king's part, would'st thou, thou fool? 
 Thou speakest like an asse and actest like a clown. 
 Take thou that ! — {Gives him a box on the ear.) 
 
 Es. Gods me ! 
 Am I nothing but the composition 
 Of a knave, beggar, coward, fool, pander, 
 And the son and heir of a mungrell bitch, 
 That in public thus thou strik'st me, madam? 
 Though I lose my head by telling thee, know 
 Tliv dead father durst not, without warrant
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. lo 
 
 Thus have struck me ! For this box of the ear, 
 Iiude princess, I will dearly requite thee. 
 God-a-mercy ! 
 
 Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, 
 Blood and revenge are hammering in my brain 
 To do some fatal execution, Queen, on thee. 
 
 Q. Thou ill advised man, peace, thou knave, peace ! 
 
 Es. Thou mayest be a queen that checks the world, 
 But trust me, Queen, I fear thee not a whit ! 
 My evil nature thou hast now awak'd. 
 
 (Essays to draw his sword.) 
 
 Lord Admiral. Stay, my lord earl, stay ! lay down 
 your weapon ! 
 Mark you, 'tis expressly against the law 
 To thus lay violent hands upon your sword. 
 
 Es. Shall I endure villainy? despiteful, 
 Intolerable wrongs ? may this be borne ? 
 Nor hair, nor age, nor sex, nor honour shall 
 Shape unto privilege this deadly mock ! 
 Away I say! 
 
 Q. My Lord High Admiral, 
 Stand thou back; let me talk to him one word. 
 I will slay thee unless thou do submit ! 
 Thou fool ! break off thy speech, thou insolent ! 
 More than my hand I will give unto thee : 
 Sirrah, I'll let thee understand I yet am Queen. 
 
 Es. I do defy thee ! 
 
 Q. Call in our soldiers. 
 
 L. Ad. Pray heaven, Lord Robert, away, away ! 
 
 Es. I will go when I please. Tush ! I tell you 
 I fear not this termagant king in petticoats ! 
 
 Q. What! darest thou look a lion in the face?
 
 14 The Tragical History of 
 
 My lord avoid, or by my soul, I vow 
 I will have thee whipped to very rags : 
 To tatters will I tear thee : yea, I will 
 Whip thee, till like a boy, thou cringe and whine 
 Aloud for mercy. (All in a chafe, cursing and swear- 
 
 ing, the earl breaks away.) 
 Alas, poor boy, so dry he is for sway 
 That he pursues my life with deadly hate. 
 Yet do I not despair of my young lion ! 
 How bravely did he brave me in my seat! 
 Methought he bore him here as doth a lion 
 In a wild herd of neat, or as a bear 
 Encompass'd round with dogs, who having pinch'd 
 A few and made them cry, the rest stand all aloof 
 And bark at him. Soft, sirs, comes he not back ? 
 
 Sec. He hath gone, my Queen. 
 
 Q. Follow thou the earl, my lord ! I pray thee 
 Go seek him, I would speak unto him here. 
 
 ( Exeunt. ) 
 
 Actus Primus. Scena Tertia. 
 
 Cecil, Solus. 
 
 Cecil. 'I beseech you follow him, my good lord:' 
 I'll not budge an inch ; let him come to me, 
 This grave adviser of the common weal, 
 This prudent counsellor unto the Queen, 
 Whose wit is busied with his mistress' heart, 
 This thrice- honourable Earl of Essex!
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 15 
 
 Ha ! must I do reverence unto him, 
 And bear disgrace with patience ? I do bear 
 Such mortal love unto his great goodness, 
 That out of holy pity, he shall be 
 Absolved with an axe. Soft, here he comes ! 
 
 (Miter Essex.) 
 Lord Earl, pardon this my interruption ; 
 I, by attorney, greet thee from the Queen. 
 The hearts of princes kiss obedience, 
 So much they love it, but to stubborn spirits, 
 They swell and grow as terrible as storms. 
 She says thou speak'st brave words, swear'st brave oaths, 
 And break'st them bravely, quite traverse athwart 
 Her heart, like as a young puny filter, 
 Who strongly spurs his horse but on one side, 
 And breaks his staff like to a noble goose, 
 And art so choleric and so testy 
 That no man may speak with thee, and therefore, 
 Thou must from the court, take a short farewell. 
 
 Es. Well sir, least being missed, here is a box ; 
 I had it from the Queen ; it is precious, 
 And I pray you carry it unto her, 
 And wear it in your black, false heart, for 'tis 
 A joint burden laid, sir, upon us both ; 
 Take it along with you! (Strikes him.) 
 
 Ce. By heaven, my lord, thy tears shall wash away 
 This cold, congealed blood that glues my lips, 
 And will not let me speak. 
 
 Es. Oh, I thank thee for so good counsel, sir ! 
 But were the sum of these that I should pay, 
 Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them all 
 To make this tender on thy wicked lips.
 
 16 The Tragical History of 
 
 But learn of us that thou, for punishment, 
 Shalt melt in showers and sorrowful drops ; 
 A tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss, 
 Thou shalt receive from me. Now run away, 
 And wash thy blood-stain'd face. 
 
 {Exit Essex.) 
 Ce. I'll make this cruelty known unto the Queen. 
 
 ( Exeunt. I 
 
 Actus Primus. Scena Quarta. 
 
 (Room in the Palace.) 
 Queen and Cecil. 
 
 Queen. What means the scorn of this untoward knave ? 
 Had he none else to make a stale but me? 
 Then none but 1 shall turn his jest to sorrow: 
 I am the one that rais'd him to his stale, 
 And I'll be chief to bring him down again. 
 Pray you begone, away! 
 
 {Exit Cecil.) 
 Pity me Clod : 
 My thoughts are humbled unto Thy great will. 
 
 heaven! of life I am aweary: 
 
 1 that never weep, now melt with woe, 
 That my ungracious son doth hate me so. 
 
 ( Exeunt. )
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 17 
 
 Actus Primus. Scena Quinta. 
 
 (Room in Essex House.) 
 Enter my Lord Essex and his Wife.. 
 
 Lady Essex. My lord, all men's eyes are upon you 
 now : 
 Your rash and sudden choler at the Queen 
 At the very instant this conspiracy 
 Is working, was foolish : it was fatal 
 To break forth and pick a quarrel, first 
 With Cynthia, and then with Tambourlaine. 
 
 Essex. Go on, go on! thou canst not speak too much: 
 I have deserv'd all tongues to talk their bitterest. 
 Alas ! I have shew'd too much the rashness 
 Of a woman. 
 
 L. Es. And thou wert best look to 't : 
 For if thou dost him any slight disgrace, 
 Or if he do not mightily on thee 
 Grace himself, he will practice against thee 
 By poison, and trap thee by some treacherous 
 Device, and will never leave thee, my lord, 
 ' Till by some indirect means or other, 
 He hath ta'en thy life. 
 
 Es. Aye, 'tis so, indeed. 
 Yet by my father's badge, old Nevil's crest, 
 (The rampant bear chain'd to tha ragged staff) 
 I'll astonish all these fell, lurking curs, 
 With the very shaking of my chains ; 
 As on a mountain top the cedar shows, 
 That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm,
 
 18 The Tragical History of 
 
 Til hold my head aloft, and even thus 
 I'll quell the rebel and his 'complices. 
 
 L. Es. Dear lord, with patience hear me. 
 
 Es. Talk thy tongue weary : love's counsellor 
 Should fill the bores of hearing to th' smothering 
 Of the sense. Therefore speak, love ; thou would'st say ? — 
 
 L. Es. I do not know, my lord, what I would say ; 
 Yet were it not better to die with mocks, 
 Than in a ditch to have thy head struck off? 
 O did'st thou never hear that things ill got 
 Had ever bad success ? 
 
 Es. Full well hast thou played the orator, 
 Inferring arguments of mighty force ; 
 Meantime, I'll send for my brother, Bacon, 
 And 'till he comes, I'll leave unquestioned 
 Matters of needful value ; so farewell. {Exeunt.) 
 
 Actus Primus. Scena Sexta. 
 
 Room in Essex House. 
 Enter Francis Bacon and the Earl of Essex. 
 
 Francis Bacon. Brother, to fall from heaven unto 
 hell, 
 To be cubbed up upon a sudden, 
 Will kill you. How perplexed will you be. 
 Remember, Robert Duke of Normandy, 
 Imprisoned, pined away with grief. 
 That generous captain, great Jugurtha,
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 19 
 
 When brought to Rome and there imprisoned, 
 
 Through anguish of his soul, of melancholy died. 
 
 What then, my brother, shall become of you 
 
 If you shall chance in this to catch a fall ? 
 
 It is my duty thus to counsel you : 
 
 When I was sick you gave me bitter pills, 
 
 And I must minister the like to you. 
 
 Where is your army, sir; from whence comes it? 
 
 O tell me, then, tell me how you do hope 
 
 To battle with the Queen, and play the thief 
 
 With England's golden crown? 
 
 Essex. ' Tis unworthy to brag what I have done, 
 Or what will do, to line this enterprise, 
 But you shall know this strong right hand of mine 
 Can pluck the diadem from her faint hand, 
 And wring the awful scepter from her fist, 
 Were she as famous and as bold in war, 
 As she is fam'd for misbegotten rage. 
 Where is your ancient courage ? You were us'd 
 To say extremitie was the trier of spirits ; 
 That common chances, common men could bear : 
 But now, my brother, unto me you read 
 Cold, sickly and damned terms of honour. 
 If you pretend no title to the crown, 
 And will not now proclaim yourself our king, 
 Upon the maiden virtue of the crown, 
 I'll do a rape. And brother, if in peace 
 She does not just and lineal entrance 
 To our own permit, I doubt not but I 
 Unto reason shall soon persuade her grace. 
 
 F. B. Peace, peace, peace ! 
 Your strong hand and strength, my lord, shall help you
 
 20 The Tragical History of 
 
 To ascend to heaven. Have I disclaim'd 
 My land, legitimation, name and all, 
 Cut off the sequence of posterity, 
 And made myself a subject unto you ? 
 Am I not yet the rightful Prince of Wales ? 
 
 Es. Well, let your heirs (God if thy will be so) 
 Enrich the time to come with smooth-fac'd peace, 
 With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days. 
 England long was mad, and scarr'd the brother 
 With the brother's sword ; the sire, with the son's ; 
 All this divided York and Lancaster. 
 
 now, let not our dear, loving England * 
 Be again divided in a dire division : 
 
 Therefore, dear brother, live and be a king, 
 
 And may a hopeful branch spring from your loins 
 
 To call you father, and enjoy the crown 
 
 Until the rafters of the earth be rent 
 
 From off the poles. Our cares shall be alike 
 
 In this, and you and I will live and die 
 
 Together. 
 
 F. B. Thanks, my gentle lord, for your fair promise. 
 
 1 am right sorry, but I must from hence 
 Least being missed, I be suspected : 
 
 So brother, I will say no more ; farewell. 
 
 {Exit Bacon. 
 Essex, solus. 
 There spake my brother ! there my father's grave 
 Did utter forth a voice ! my dear brother, 
 When all other engines fail, flies away. 
 I thought at least he would have said to me, 
 ' Be you our king,' — aye, by my faith, did I. 
 I know well that he will not forsake me,
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 21 
 
 Yet, since he is the eldest son o' th' Queen, 
 
 I will watch him with most careful, tender 
 
 Observation, for I fear some ambush : 
 
 Men build their evils on the graves of men. 
 
 I would I were sole child unto the Queen — 
 
 Why should she live to fill the world with words ! 
 
 I cannot love her, nor will strive to do 't, 
 
 But 111 use means to make my brother king : 
 
 Yet as he, Francis, has neither claimed it, 
 
 Or deserved it, — he cannot have it ! 
 
 His highness, '■Francis First,' shall repose him 
 
 At the tower ; fair, or not fair I will 
 
 Consign my gracious brother thereunto. 
 
 Yes, he must die ; he is much too noble 
 
 To conserve a life in base appliances ; 
 
 He hath in him such a mind of honour 
 
 Hell never make an assay 'gainst the Queen ; 
 
 Were there twenty brothers betwixt the crown 
 
 And me, I would make it mine. How am I 
 
 To calm the tempest whirling in the court? 
 
 Let me see — marry, thus — to Ireland 
 
 Will I go : on that coast, my blazing star 
 
 Must like a shining meteor appear; 
 
 Then, by the Lord, my vagrant ensign first 
 
 Upon th' Irish horizon 111 display, 
 
 And so to save myself I will away. 
 
 (Exeunt.)
 
 22 The Tragical History of 
 
 Actus Secundus. Scena Prima. 
 
 {Room in the Palace.) 
 Queen Elizabeth and Lords. 
 
 Queen. All speak praise of him, and the bleared sights 
 Are spectacled to see him pass along ; 
 The kitchen malkin pins her richest lockram 
 1 Bout her reechie neck, clamboring the walls 
 To eye him. The stalls, the bulks, the windows 
 Are smother'd up, leads filled, and ridges horsed 
 With variable complexions, all 'greeing 
 In earnestness to see him. The nobles 
 Do press among the popular common throng, 
 And puff to win the vulgar station. 
 Yea, even our veiled dames commit for him, 
 The native white and damask red within 
 Their nicely gawded cheeks, unto the war 
 And wanton spoil o' Phoebus' burning kisses. 
 To purge his humours ill, and cool his hopes, 
 Unto Ireland he shall at once be sent, 
 And there enforc'd to make on the wild Irish 
 Rebels a wild chase. He's too affable, 
 Too fair-spoken, and doth use strange sweetness 
 And blandishments of words; he must away. 
 A brace of draymen did God-speed him well, 
 And had the tribute of his supple knee 
 With, k thanks my countrymen, my loving friends,' 
 As were our England in reversion his 
 And he our subject's next degree in hope. 
 Eow now! what's the matter, Lord Chamberlain?
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 23 
 
 Lord Chamberlain. My lord is here. 
 
 Q. Go fetch him hither, go ! 
 
 ( Enter Essex. ) 
 My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you 
 My matter is so rash. 
 
 Essex. Hail to your grace : 
 I pray you, what is your pleasure, madam? 
 
 Q. You must away to Ireland, my lord Earl ; 
 The uncivil Kernes of Ireland are in arms, 
 And temper clay with blood of Englishmen. 
 To Ireland will you lead a band of men, 
 Collected choicely, from each county some, 
 And try your hap against the Irishmen. 
 
 Es. I humbly thank your most royal highness ; 
 I am glad of this, for now, gracious Queen, 
 I shall have reason to show the love and duty 
 That I bear you, with a franker spirit. 
 
 Q. Stand all aloof but Essex ; draw you near, 
 Come hither. O league yourself with me, 
 1 Till I have pleas'd my discontented peers, 
 Then no longer Earl of Essex, and of Ewe, 
 But, Duke of York. The next degree shall be 
 England's royal throne, for King of England 
 Shall you be proclaim'd in every borough ; 
 And he that throws not up his cap for joy, 
 Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head : 
 Therefore my good lord, fortify your hopes. 
 
 Es. O you do mock me. My princely brother 
 Francis, your quandam son, tells me flatly 
 He is the only rightful Prince of Wales. 
 
 Q. The proud jack! 'tis true, if it comes to that, 
 He is Prince of Wales. But my dear lord,
 
 24 The Tragical History of 
 
 For England's good, I'll order take to keep 
 
 Him from the diadem ; only this my 
 
 Poor wretched soul torments ; whether 
 
 I will or no, you must depart to be 
 
 Governor of Ireland, and there abide 
 
 Till fortune once more calls vou home again. 
 
 Here, take my picture, and let me wear thine. 
 
 Es. I humbly thank your majesty; 
 Towards Ireland to-morrow I will go. 
 
 Q. So be it, for it cannot be but you 
 Will beat th' usurping rebels down to hell, 
 And come into your kingdom ; so farewell. 
 
 {Exeunt.) 
 
 Actus Secunclus. Scena Secunda. 
 
 (Room in Essex House.) 
 Lord Essex, solus. 
 
 Now Essex, now or never, steel thy fearful thoughts 
 And change misdoubt to resolution ; 
 Be that thou hop'st to be, or what thou art, 
 Resign to death ; it is not worth th' enjoying : 
 Let pale-fac'd fear keep with the mean-born man, 
 And find no harbour in a royal heart. 
 
 Faster than spring-time showers, comes thought on thought. 
 And not a thought but thinks on dignity. 
 My brain, more busy than the labouring spider, 
 Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies. 
 Well nobles, well ! 'tis politicly done,
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 25 
 
 To send me packing with an host of men : 
 
 I fear me, you but warm the starved snake, 
 
 Who cherish'd in your breast, will sting your heart. 
 
 ' Twas men I lack'd, and you will give them me ; 
 
 I take it kindly : yet be well assur'd, 
 
 You put sharp weapons in a mad-man's hands. 
 
 Whiles I, in Ireland nourish a mighty band, 
 
 I will stir up in England some black storm, 
 
 Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven, — or hell : 
 
 And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage, 
 
 Until the golden circuit on my head, 
 
 Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams, 
 
 Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw. 
 
 I will not trust my mother, nor her oaths ; 
 
 But I will claim the crown by open war": 
 
 I'll meet her in the field, and in the end 
 
 I'll sieze the land, and by my lawful right 
 
 I will be king, — or die ! I am resolv'd 
 
 Either to be restored to my blood, 
 
 Or make my will th' advantage of my good. 
 
 Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland : 
 
 Expedient manage must be made of them, 
 
 Ere further leisure yield them further means 
 
 For their advantage, and our kingdom's loss. 
 
 And, for my coffers with too great a court 
 
 And liberal largess are grown fomewhat light, — 
 
 What ho! {Enter Captain.) 
 
 Captain, go you unto the Queen, 
 And bid her send me presently a thousand pound. 
 Hold ! take my ring ; away ! till you return 
 I'll rest me here ; be secret and away, 
 To part the blessings of this happy day. (Exeunt.)
 
 26 The Tragical History of 
 
 Actus Secundus. Scena Tertia. 
 
 {Street in London.) 
 Earl of Essex and Francis Bacon. 
 
 Francis Bacon. Brother, be of good cheer ; I warrant 
 you 
 We will all play our parts whiles you're away. 
 'Tis by all conjecture likely, that the Queen 
 Will unto Nature very quickly yield, 
 And call you home again. While you're away, 
 Do me the favour to dilate at full, 
 What God may please to send to you, my lord, 
 And what hostages to Fortune you have given. 
 
 Essex. I will, if 'twill pleasure you, let you know 
 What doth befall me : this on mine Honour, 
 I will perform with a most Christian care. 
 I truly will deliver and discourse 
 The sum of all. Leaving this, by my troth, 
 I fear me that damnable, both-sides rogue 
 Whom I did chastise, by some trick of state, 
 Will stand "twixt me and my mother, the Queen, 
 And Sir Walter will on my downfall rise 
 To honour. 
 
 F. B. Faith sir, you need to fear him ; 
 A crow he is, e'en a' th' s;ime foul nest, 
 Not altogether so great as is the first 
 Tn goodness, but greater a great deal in evil. 
 Though he excels Robert for a coward, 
 Yrl is Robert reputed one o' th' very best 
 That is, in cowardice. When we were boys,
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 27 
 
 In a retreat he would out-run a lackey ; 
 
 Marry, in coming on he had the cramp. 
 
 And I know that they will backbite you sir ; 
 
 They plainly have avowed to do you wrong. 
 
 Renowned, rich and happy men, they hate, 
 
 And do repine at their felicity, 
 
 And would be glad you met with some mischance. 
 
 Es. Candied be they, and melt ere they molest. 
 But soft, I pray you, — we have lost our troop ; 
 By their trumpets, you may know they are gone 
 A contrary way. Come, come, let's follow. 
 
 F. B. Here must I say farewell to you, my lord; 
 May God preserve your health, and grant you Fortune's good. 
 
 Es. Commend me to my wife ; farewell ; adieu. 
 
 (Exit Essex.) 
 Bacon, solus. 
 
 Ah ! what now rests but that I spend my time 
 With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows, 
 Such as befit the pleasure of the court : 
 And let not my looks put on my purposes, 
 But look fresh and merrily to everyone, 
 And bear it as our English actors do, 
 Till I be decked in my lawful rights 
 That now I see another stalled in. 
 • w Pale jealousy, child of insatiate love, 
 Of heart-sick thoughts, of melancholy bred, 
 A hell tormenting fear, no hell can move 
 As discontent, with deadly poison fed." 
 Well, he is gone, and with him go these thoughts, 
 For deep malice too deep incision makes ; 
 Forget, forgive, conclude and be agreed, 
 As doctors say, this is no time to bleed. {Exeunt.)
 
 28 The Tragical History of 
 
 Actus Tertius. Scena Prima. 
 
 (Audience Room in the Palace.) 
 Queen Elizabeth and Lords. 
 
 Queen. Why dost thou quiver, man ? 
 
 Cecil. Please it your grace to be advertised, 
 The great Earl is newly come from Ireland, 
 And with a puissant and a mighty power 
 Of Gallow-glasses, and stout Kernes, 
 Is marching hitherward in proud array, 
 And still proclaimeth as he comes along, 
 His arms are only to remove from thee 
 Thy counsellors, whom he doth traitors term : 
 Calls them false caterpillars, and intends their death. 
 
 Q. Good angels preserve me ! this be sudden ! 
 Does he think I, his some-time queen, be dead ? 
 Or to be a king and win a world's new crown 
 Musi I lose life and here be stricken down? 
 We'll withdraw awhile, and in the early morn 
 Provide us with some good messenger, who 
 Shall our purpose bring to him ; so farewell. 
 My heart is heavy and mine age is weak. 
 Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak. 
 
 ( Exeunt. ) 
 
 Actus Tertius. Scena Secunda. 
 
 (Chamber of the Queen.) 
 
 Ladies of the Bed-chamber. Enter Queen in her Night 
 
 Robe, with a Candle in her Hand. 
 
 First Lady. Lo ! here she comes ; this is her very guise.
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 29 
 
 Upon my life fast asleep. Observe her. 
 
 Second Lady. Merciful heaven ! how came she by 
 that light ? 
 
 F. L. Why it stood by her ; continually 
 She has light by her, it is her command. 
 See, her eyes are open. 
 
 S. L. Aye, but their sense are shut ; 
 Look ! how she rubs her hands ; what is it she does now ? 
 
 F. L. Washing her hands. To seem thus is with her 
 An accustom'd action. I have known her 
 To continue in this a quarter of an hour. 
 Hark ! she speaks ; set you down what comes from her. 
 
 Queen. What noise is that? ha! who calls Elizabeth? 
 Bid every noise be still ! peace ! yet again ! — 
 Who is it in the press that calls on me ? 
 I hear a tongue shriller than all the music 
 Cry to me. Speak ! I am turn'd to hear : 
 Were he a king of velvet I would talk with him. 
 O agony of death ! O wash his wounds 
 And bid him come to take his last farewell ! 
 O God ! hark ! see, see ! O heavens forfend ! 
 Nay, stare not masters, — know ye not I am 
 A mother mocked with two fair babes ? 
 Nay, too long have I liv'd, when as my son 
 Thinks to abridge my days. Go seek him out ■ 
 Is he so hasty that he doth suppose 
 My sleep my death ? In God's name what art thou ? 
 Fell banning hag, enchantress, hold thy tongue ! 
 A plaguing mischief light on him, and thee. 
 My soul is heavy and I fain would sleep. 
 
 F. L. Let us withdraw into the other room. 
 
 S. L. Speak low, she wakes.
 
 30 The Tragical History of 
 
 Q. Leicester is dead ! Mary is dead ! 
 God's secret judgment ! I did dream to-night 
 The Earl was dumb, and could not speak a word. 
 
 I have lov'd thee well, many a time 
 
 Have danc'd thee on my knee, sung thee asleep, 
 And made my loving breast thy pillow soft. 
 Dead, dead, I know thou art ! This night hath been 
 So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, 
 That as I am a faithful Christian queen, 
 
 1 would not spend another such a night, 
 Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days, 
 So full of dismal terror was the time. 
 
 This house is haunted with such fearful ghosts, 
 
 Spirits of the dead, who again may walk 
 
 And tell their secrets base to those asleep ; 
 
 My mother unto me this night appear'd, 
 
 And did cry out kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill ! 
 
 Methought the Earl then 'gan to rage and rail, 
 
 Cursing himself and God, and damning deep ; 
 
 Then saw I fast the red blood rayl adown, 
 
 From head to foot and all his body steep. 
 
 O it is monstrous, monstrous ! my dear son 
 
 In the ground is bedded, and I'll seek him 
 
 Deeper than ere plummet sounded, and I'll 
 
 Lie with him there. (Starts to leave the room.) 
 
 F. L. Come back, come back your highness ; 
 Come, go unto your bed ; come, come ; so, so. 
 
 Q. I'll not to bed to-night ! let me alone. 
 No no, I warrant thee I will not go ; 
 Canst thou tell me how long I have been here ?. 
 
 F. L. Certainly I can. 
 
 Q. By what, I pray '(■ Wilt thou laugh me asleep ?
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 31 
 
 pity me, but do not speak to me ; 
 
 Lead me to my chamber ; 'tis now near day 
 
 And I will stir about, Go thou to bed. 
 
 F. L. God save your grace ; it grieves me to see thee 
 Standing like one, as it were in a trance. 
 
 Q. I have dreamt 
 Of bloody turbulence ; and this whole night 
 Has nothing been but shapes, and forms of slaughter. 
 
 F. L. O 'tis too true that thou hast something dreamt. 
 
 Q. Sweet, kneel thou down by me, — thy hands hold 
 up — 
 Fall all together, and for mercy kneel : 
 Consort with me in loud and dear petition. 
 
 ( They kneel and pray. ) 
 
 God, look and behold ! timeless cruel death 
 Doth now stretch out his ugly sable wings 
 To carry my amazed soul to heaven. 
 
 Thou knowest, God, that I am old, and past 
 All comforts here but holy prayers to Thee, 
 And that my task will soon performed be : 
 And, O my Lord, my end must be despair 
 Unless I be relieved thus by prayer 
 Which so pierces heaven, that it assaults 
 Mercy itself, and frees me from all faults. 
 Lord, thou dost know that all the fellowship 
 
 1 now do hold with worldly men and earth, 
 Is only miserable wretchedness. 
 
 Direct me by Thy will, O Holy King, 
 
 That by Thy help and aid, I may again 
 
 Give my heart peace, sleep to my nights ; amen. 
 
 F. L. Will't please your grace to go along -with us? 
 Come, you look paler and paler, dear Queen :
 
 32 The Tragical History of 
 
 Pray go with us unto your bed, and there 
 Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber. 
 
 Q. Come then, come, and be thou not disturbed 
 By my infirmity. I'll to my bed 
 And there repose till golden day doth break ; 
 So good night. 
 
 Ladies. Your good grace, we wish you peace. 
 
 ( Exeunt. ) 
 
 Actus Tertius. Scena Tertia. 
 
 (Outer Chamber of the Queen.) 
 Ladies of the Bed Chamber. 
 
 First Lady. What noise is that ! didst thou not hear 
 a noise? 
 
 Second Lady. I heard no noise. 
 
 F. L. Hark ! Twice have the trumpets sounded ! 
 Marry, what's he that now is here at door ? 
 Stand ! in the princess' name, O stand ! sir, stand ! 
 
 {Enter Essex.) 
 
 Essex. Peace I prithee, peace ; I am Essex' Earl. 
 
 F. L. Have a care, my lord ; you will wake the Queen 
 Who is disposed to sleep. 
 
 Es. Hence, hence, away ! 
 
 F. L. My lord, you are unjust, and more than so : 
 You pass not here, lord ; I'll keep this door safe. 
 
 (Stands in front of the door.) 
 
 Es. If she be up, I'll speak with her : if not, 
 Let her lie still, and dream : by your leave, — hoa!
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 33 
 
 I know her women are about her ; what, 
 What ! barr'st thou me my way ! 
 
 Queen. Hoa! come hither! 
 Who i' th' second chamber so wildly talks ? 
 
 F. L. Your grace, 'tis the noble Earl of Essex. 
 
 Q. Let him approach ; call in my gentlewomen. 
 
 F. L. Gentlewomen, her royal highness calls. 
 My good lord Earl, the Queen would speak with you. 
 
 [Enter Essex and Gentlewomen.} 
 
 Q. Ah, my good lord Robert, give me your hand ; 
 Come here ; stand by me. 
 
 Es. O your majesty, 
 If I had had time to have new liveries made, 
 I would have bestowed the thousand pounds 
 I borrowed of thee. 
 
 Q. 'Tis no matter; 
 This poor show doth better; this doth infer 
 The zeal thou hast to see me. 
 
 Es. It doth so ; 
 It shows my earnestness in affection. 
 
 Q. It doth so. 
 
 Es. My devotion — 
 
 Q. It doth, it doth, it doth. 
 
 En. As it were, to ride day and night, and not 
 To deliberate, not to remember, 
 Not to have patience to shift me even — 
 
 Q. It is most certain. 
 
 Es. But to stand, O Queen, 
 Travel-stained and sweating with desire 
 To see thee, and thinking of nothing else, 
 Aye, putting all affairs in oblivion, 
 As if there were nothing else to be done
 
 34 The Tragical History of 
 
 But to see thee. 
 
 Q. Bless thee, my blessed boy. 
 
 Es. I would not change this oddly suited hue, 
 Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle Queen. 
 Dare I open my mind to thee, Queen, 
 And discourse a matter of some moment"? 
 Dare I presume what audacity wants, 
 And bashfulness forbids ? 
 
 Q. My sweet prince, speak ; say on. 
 
 Es. Madam, there is no simple man that sees 
 This jarring discord of our nobility, 
 This should'ring of each other in the court, 
 This factious bandying of their favourites, 
 But says it does presage some ill event. 
 When black envy breeds unkind division, 
 There comes the ruin, there begins confusion. 
 
 Q. Tush ! that's but fancy, let it rest. 
 Other affairs must now be managed. 
 Draw near ; wear thou this chain about thy neck, 
 Then, sir, withdraw, and in an hour return. 
 
 Es. Though kind and loving thou hast always been, 
 Thy gentle words do comfort me this day ; 
 With griefs allayed, with sorrows eased, 
 I willing go but to return; farewell. (Exit Essex.) 
 
 Q. Unpin my night-gown here ; prithee, dispatch. 
 
 F. L. Your grace, shall I go fetch your silver wool ? 
 
 Q. No, I'll wear my silk garb mingled with gold. 
 
 F. L. Well troth, I think your other rebato 
 Were better. 
 
 Q. No, I pray thee, good Meg ; I'll wear this. 
 
 F. L. By my troth, your grace, it is not so good ; 
 It is too costly to wear every day.
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 35 
 
 Q. Thou art a fool ; I will wear none but this. 
 
 F. L. O your grace, I beseech you pardon me ; 
 I was born to speak all mirth and no matter. 
 
 Q. Your silence most offends me ; to be merry 
 Best becomes you, for out of question, girl, 
 You were born in a very merry hour. 
 
 F. L. Sure your highness ; my mother cried, and then 
 A star daunc'd, and under that was I born. 
 I like this new tire excellently well, 
 If the hair were a single thought browner ; 
 And i' faith, your gown's a most rare fashion ; 
 I saw the Duchess of Milan's new gown 
 That they praise so. 
 
 Q. O that exceeds they say. 
 
 F. L. By my troth's but a night-gown in respect 
 Of yours ; 'tis cloth a gold and cuts and lac'd 
 With silver, set with pearles down sleeves, side sleeves, 
 And skirts, round underborn with a bluish 
 Tinsel, but for a fine, quaint, and graceful, 
 Excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't. 
 
 Q. God give me grace to wear it, for my heart 
 Is exceeding heavy. When thou hast done this chore, 
 I'll give thee leave to play. Give me my robe, 
 Now, rubies and diamonds, now, my gloves, 
 And mind sweet heart, array my curled hair, 
 And on my head put my cap ; now, my shoes. 
 My lord shall find us in a rich wardrobe 
 When he doth come. No, no perfume, I pray. 
 
 F. L. These gloves are a most excellent perfume. 
 
 Q. Look who comes here ! belike it is the Earl ; 
 Stand all aside ; now show I like a Queen. 
 
 (Fnter Essex.)
 
 36 The Tragical History of 
 
 I trow, he shines like to the morning sun, 
 And doth perfume the chamber as he comes. 
 My gentle lord, I wish thee joy : come here 
 And hang thou in my arms, like loving fruit. 
 
 (Queen embraces him.) 
 
 Es. By my soul, till the tree doth die I will. 
 
 Q. My noble lord Earl, how brook'st thou the air 
 After thy late tossing on th' breaking seas ? 
 
 Es. O madam, I thought myself in heaven ; 
 And did salute the dear earth with my hand, 
 As a long parted mother with her child, 
 Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles, in meeting ; 
 So weeping, smiling, I did greet the earth, 
 And with my hands did favor it ; oh I 
 Did like it well, and did weep for joy 
 To stand upon thy kingdom once again. 
 
 Q. But, my lord, fain would I hear of Ireland : 
 Upon pretexts incompetent and false, 
 All of that land, IT know, is up in arms. 
 
 Es. Madam, the wild Irish are incult dogs, 
 Subtle, barbarous, uncivil beggars, 
 Naked, bare legg'd, and ugly to behold ; 
 Idle wenches and knaves. And they have turn'd 
 A paradise into a wilderness. 
 Than a woman, they far more fickle are, 
 And be full of jealousy, and novelty. 
 Brought up unto no calling, in a word, 
 They are compelled to beg, steal, or fight, 
 And then to be hang'd for such fight or theft. 
 
 Q. From you, my lord, their vices dissolute 
 No blazon needs : they already too well 
 Are known in every hamlet, village, town
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 37 
 
 And city. But what good qualities ha' they? 
 
 Es. Your grace, they are for murders capable. 
 They all confess there's daggers in men's smiles, 
 And that the near in blood, the nearer bloody. 
 Ireland is a black soil, wherein mushrooms 
 Like upstart weeds, do in a night spring up : 
 Yet to their leaders and eager men o' war, 
 They are all most worthy in affection. 
 Neither in fierceness nor in courage 
 Do the Irish fail, for our English troops, 
 Their chieftains will assail in furious tight, 
 Though their men be naked, and only armYl 
 With darts and skeines. Their earl, courageously 
 With swarms of wild Irish Kernes, once came down 
 And battle joined with me ; but his men 
 Being almost naked, soon groaning lay 
 Within the English pale, who though but few, 
 Upon their host so bravely did perform, 
 1 Twas an execution rather than a light. 
 This furious slaughter of them, to the rest 
 Was a great discouragement, insomuch, 
 That their mightiest died upon the place ; 
 And, by bloody slaughter, I there impawn'd 
 Their chiefs, for surety to your royal grace. 
 Please you, madam, this is the sum of all. 
 Now by your love, I am induc'd to speak, 
 And I do hope your grace forgets not how 
 You promised (unless I be deceiv'd) 
 The dukedom o' great York to me ; I claim it 
 Of your majesty. 
 
 Q. How comes it yours, sir? 
 
 Es. Your highness, have you forgot your covenant ?
 
 38 The Tragical History of 
 
 Q. Praise be given, sir, to your remembrance. 
 Your plainness and your shortness, please us well. 
 But we'll debate awhile by what safe means 
 Our debt may be to you repaid ; we will 
 About it speedily, so trusty son, 
 I pray you like a loving child, away, 
 And this business, privately, to-night 
 We'll pass upon ; now, my dear lord, farewell. 
 
 Es. Your royal pleasure shall be done ; farewell. 
 
 [Exit Essex.) 
 
 Q. Who comes? [Knock.) 
 
 F. L. Madam, Master Secretary. 
 
 [Enter Cecil.) 
 
 Q. Welcome, sir ; what is amiss ? 
 
 Cecil. Marry, this : 
 In time of storm for safety to ourselves 
 Every good loyal subject to the crown 
 Ought allegiance owe, unto your grace : 
 The gates that to rebellion open stand, 
 Should be shut, least your royal crown be lost. 
 Of my good lord's coming were you forewarn'd ? 
 
 Q. Why, what need? thou mak'st wondrous much 
 of this. 
 
 Ce. Never was monarch better fear'd, and lov'd, 
 Than is your majesty, and those subjects 
 That sit under the sweet shade of your true 
 ( rovernment, do serve you, gracious madam, 
 Willi hearts create of duty and of zeal. 
 There be but one I think, that does not so. 
 
 Q. God bless him ; every man speaks well of him, 
 Every man presents him, seeks, and sues him 
 For his love, his favour, and protection.
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 39 
 
 i 
 
 All but you, his worship serve and honour. 
 
 Ce. There is a plot to rid the realm of thee. 
 This blot pernicious hath sworn, your majesty, 
 With his hand he'll take thee in, 
 And thy head displace, and set it on th' gates. 
 
 Q. What sir ! what ! how dares thy harsh rude tongue 
 Sound this unpleasing news to us ? 
 
 Ce. Oh Queen, 
 Every tongue that speaks, brings but this news. 
 
 Q. No no, we know your drift, yet be it so 
 ' Tis but the common cry of curs, whose breath 
 AVe hate, as reek of rotten fens ; 
 Whose love we prize, as the dead carcasses 
 Of unburied men that corrupt our air. 
 He's your enemy. 
 
 Ce. Hear me speak a word ; 
 Those which do fly before the battle ends 
 May even in their wives and children's sight, 
 Be hang'd up for example at their doors. 
 Therefore, when my lord from Ireland tied, 
 And bore with him so many gentlemen 
 An infinite distance from action's seat, 
 The very nerves of this our state require 
 That he, madam, should not new create his fault 
 And at random run. Gracious sovereign, 
 It is not honesty in me to speak 
 What I have seen and known, but observe him, 
 And his own course will denote him so 
 That unto your grace I may save my speech : 
 Mark how he continues — 
 
 Q. Alas, alas, say on. 
 I am sorry that I am so deceiv'd in him.
 
 40 The Tragical History of 
 
 Ce. Then give me leave, that I his cool conceit 
 May check; I beseech your grace, that I may 
 Tell him his eager and excited chase 
 After your Highness' crown and worthy title, 
 Is an injury. 
 
 Q. Spare us account, sir, 
 Of our sweet son's conceit ; remember sir, 
 How youngly he began to serve his country, 
 How long he hath continued, and what stock 
 He springs of. 
 
 Ce. Aye, madam, but when thou hear'st 
 That armed powers are marching hitherward, 
 And thy son, as a gracious conqueror 
 Straight to Westminster goes, there to be crown'd ; 
 When limbs are lopt, and intrails spread about ; 
 And when, your grace, night-walking heralds trudge 
 Betwixt thee and the new king; when thou art 
 Unto my lord a humble suppliant, 
 Look not to be pitied. By heaven, Queen, 
 Thou art not safe. I do beseech your grace, 
 This present day secure this jealous man ; 
 Upon my feeble knee I beg this boon 
 With tears not lightly shed. 
 
 Q. If it is true, 
 There is no joy, no comfort, no sweetness, 
 Nor no pleasure more, in this world for me ; 
 For not out of error, but of malice 
 Hath my son come back ; he was not misled ; 
 He thought harm to me : I like it not. 
 
 Ce. That it be true, I do engage my life. 
 
 Q. I must believe, sir, you think so, and will 
 For sealing the injuries of tongues
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 
 
 41 
 
 Within the court and kingdom, grant to you 
 A warrant that the gentle earl, my son, 
 May as a private man, be humble brought 
 Before the counsel. Look you, sir, 
 In his truth's assurance fixed fast I rest: 
 Yet I blame him that he uncall'd return'd; 
 His bad success and his suspicious course 
 Will tie him to rebuke ; he is quite lost. 
 From deep disgrace I cannot save him now. 
 Oh Lord, my boy, my Robert, my fair son, 
 My life, my joy, my food, my all the world, 
 My widow-comfort, and my sorrow's cure, 
 By flight is lost, and all his honour stain'd. 
 Call for the music in the other room, 
 Then go your ways ; begone. 
 Ce. Madam, farewell. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 Actus Tertius. Scena Quarta. 
 
 (Room in the Palace.) 
 Essex, Bacon, Lords and Gentlemen. 
 
 Essex. How now, what news with thee? 
 Francis Bacon. Bad, my lord Earl ; 
 Let me intreat thee hie away to France. 
 
 Es. How, me? I stand on fire. Come to the matter. 
 F. B. All too soon I shall, unless thou would'st grieve 
 
 quickly. 
 Es. Thou torture me to leave unspoken that —
 
 42 The Tragical History of 
 
 F. B. Which to be spoke would torture thee, my lord ; 
 Yonder deform'd dog — 
 
 Es. Wherefore ey'st him so ? 
 
 F. B. I'll tell thee, sir, in private, if thou please 
 To give me hearing. 
 
 Es. Aye, with all my heart, 
 And lend my best attention ; come nearer, 
 Say in mine ear, good brother, what it is. 
 
 F. B. The Queen hath given to him a warrant 
 For thy arrest. 
 
 Es. What's that ? Fie, brother, fie ! 
 How the world is chang'd with you ; know you not 
 What all the town doth know ? For two hours, sir, 
 I did talk unto the Queen. 
 
 F. B. Most likely : 
 Then the secretary came to Elizabeth, 
 Told her you were a traifOr unto the crown, 
 And 'gainst her life did make conspiracies 
 Continual. Whereupon, the amazedQueen, 
 Quite besotted with his speeches base, 
 Did give him warrant to arrest you, sir. 
 See, my lord, through the chamber, here she comes. 
 
 (Fnter Quee?i.) 
 
 Queen. Ha ! deem'st thou us of base and light esteem ? 
 Why stand thou sir? what are we sir? nay sir, 
 What art thou? Tut! we know thee sir, though thou 
 Know not us. Thou art a bad servant sir, 
 Deny it if thou canst. Ha ! if thou deny'st it 
 Twenty times, thou liest, and we will turn 
 Thy falsehood to thy heart, where it was forg'd. 
 For thee sir, we are a match, in despite, 
 Of all mischance, and all thy 'complices.
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 4-'! 
 
 Es. Alas, in what have I offended thee? 
 Why speak'st thou thus to me? What cause, madam, 
 Hath my behaviour to thy displeasure, 
 That thus thou dost proceed to put me off? 
 I ne'er hurt thee! do me right and justice. 
 
 Queen, thy pleasure is my near offence, 
 And all my treason. Certes, all the harm 
 
 1 ever did to thee, was in the wish my lot 
 Were plac'd in such felicity as thine. 
 Villain-like, he lies that traitor names me : 
 And I will maintain my truth and honour firmly 
 On him, on thee, who not ? that in this kind 
 Dares to term me a traitor to thy grace. 
 
 Q. My lord, now you grow too hot, 
 
 Es. Oh madam — 
 
 Q. Sir, dare not to speak one syllable more. 
 Withdraw unto your home, my noble Earl ; 
 Admit no messenger, receive no token, 
 Neglect not my words, I'll call my council 
 In the morn to question thee ; now away. 
 
 {Exit Queen.) 
 
 F. B. What .man! ne'er pull your hat upon your 
 brows ; 
 Give sorrow words ; the grief that does not speak, 
 Whispers the o'er fraught heart and bids it break. 
 
 Es. Go too, go too, brother, I dare not speak. 
 
 F. B. You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should. 
 
 Es. Nay, good sir, neither to you nor any one, 
 Having no witness to confirm my speech. 
 Let me take leave of you ; so fare you well. 
 
 F. B. Why do you speak so faintly, are you well ? 
 
 t 
 
 Es. No, by my troth, I am exceeding ill,
 
 44 The Tragical History of 
 
 I have upon my forehead here, a pain. 
 
 F. B. Why that's with grieving ; 'twill away again : 
 Let me but bind it hard, it will be well 
 Within this hour; hie thee to bed; farewell. 
 
 ( Exeunt. ) 
 
 Actus Quartus. Seen a Prima. 
 
 (Council Chamber in the Palace.) 
 Queen and Essex. 
 
 Queen. My lord Earl, 
 I have, and most unwillingly, of late 
 Heard many grievous, I do say my lord, 
 Grievous complaints of you, which being consider'd 
 Have mov'd us and our council, that you shall 
 This morning come before us, where I know 
 You cannot with such freedom purge yourself, 
 But that, till further trial in those charges 
 Which will require your answer, you must take 
 Your patience to you, and be well contented 
 To make here this day all needful defence. 
 It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness 
 Would come against you. 
 
 Essex. I humbly thank your highness, 
 And am right glad to catch this good occasion 
 Most thoroughly to be winnowed, where my chaff 
 And corn shall fly assunder, for I know 
 There's none stands under more calumnious tongues 
 Than I myself, poor man. {Kneels.)
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 45 
 
 Q. Stand up Essex, 
 Thy truth and integrity is rooted 
 In us thy friend. Give me thy hand, stand up, 
 Prithee let's walk. Now by my Holy Dame, 
 What manner of man are you ? My lord, I look'd 
 You would have given me your petition, that 
 I should have ta'en some pains to bring together 
 Yourself and your accusers, and to have heard you 
 Without indurance further. 
 
 Es. Most dread Queen, 
 The good I stand on, is my truth and honesty ; 
 If they shall fail me, then mine enemies 
 Will triumph o'er my person, which I weigh not 
 Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing, 
 What can be said against me ? 
 
 Q. Know you not 
 How your state stands i 1 th' world, with the whole world? 
 Your enemies are many and not small ; their j>ractices 
 Must bear the same proportion, and not ever 
 The justice and the truth o' th' question carries 
 The dew o 1 th' verdict with it. But if sir, 
 You be put in bondage, appeal to us, 
 And deliver us this ring, that downward 
 Hath succeeded from heir to heir, some four 
 Or five descents since th' first father wore it. 
 Are you content? 
 
 Es. Madam, I am content. 
 
 Q. Then get you gone, sir, and do as I have bid you. 
 
 [Exit Essex.) 
 It was a most mad fantastical trick in him 
 From Ireland to steal home like to a thief. 
 I wish him well, but lest I now would have
 
 46 The Tragical History of 
 
 My palaces possessed, my cities sack'd, 
 
 And their sky threatening; towers razed, 
 
 And made smooth fields, I must full angry wise 
 
 Draw forth the fatal weapon of the law, 
 
 And so myself, and the whole state defend. 
 
 Ho there ! is it not two o' th' clock ? 
 
 Let the lords assemble. 
 
 {Enter lords.) 
 My lords, welcome. 
 
 I will not stay, lest you touch not upon 
 These matters to their utmost bounds. Farewell. 
 
 (Exit Queen.) 
 Cecil." My lords of the council, and noble peers, 
 You know the fiery quality of the Earl, 
 How unremovable and fixt he is 
 In his own course, and as ye are, my lords, 
 The special watchmen of our English weal, 
 Let me persuade ye all to join your hearts 
 In love and amity, and in honour 
 Of the commonweal, stay my Lord Robert 
 In his moody, discontented fury. 
 I do assure ye it grieves me to speak 
 Of that, that doth make my lord Earl 
 A forfeit to the law, but as ye know, 
 Civil dissension is a vip'rous worm 
 That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth, 
 And we are not safe, if we yield our right 
 To deal with him and his near ambition. 
 Oh, what a scandal to the crown it was, 
 For my lord to take swift treacherous flight, 
 And by himself, like to a disguis'd squire, 
 To return and rush on a sudden, in
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 47 
 
 Upon her majesty, who was not clad 
 
 In needful vestiments, nor meet habiliments, 
 
 But naked, sleeping lay. He cared not, 
 
 But in haughty hardiness, without rest, 
 
 He his hand did rear, and forced his way 
 
 Through her women, who counsell'd him to forbear. 
 
 Kage lent him shame, and led on by his will 
 
 He made a stale of the proud Queen, whose youth 
 
 And freshness wrinkles Apollo's, — a pearl 
 
 Whose price hath launched above a thousand ships, 
 
 And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants. Therefore, lords, 
 
 Let him now certain punishment receive, 
 
 And say at once if I maintain the truth — 
 
 Great lords and gentlemen, what means this silence ? 
 
 Dare no man answer in a case of truth ? 
 
 L. Oxford. Faith, I have been a truant in the law, 
 And never yet could frame my will to it, 
 And therefore frame the law unto my will. 
 Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch, 
 Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth, 
 Between two blades, which bears the better temper, 
 Between two horses, which doth bear him best, 
 Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye, 
 I have perhaps, some shallow spirit of judgment : 
 But in these nice, sharp quillets of the law, 
 Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw. 
 
 Ce. What means this ? Hoa ! who waits there ? Call 
 in the Earl. 
 
 (Enter the Earl.) 
 
 Es. My lords, what is your pleasure with me ? 
 
 Ce. My lord Earl, 
 You have of late, to your notorious shame,
 
 48 The Tragical History of 
 
 Against your holy oath, like a traitor 
 
 To the name of God, lied from your command, 
 
 And secretly and alone returned 
 
 From Ireland. First, what hath brought you back 
 
 Before you were recalled ? And second, 
 
 Why did you, like a testy, choleric, 
 
 Hare-brain'd, rash, furious and violent fool, 
 
 Being warned, approach her majesty 
 
 As upon her bed she lay? Now, my lord, 
 
 By this writ you are bound to answer us. 
 
 Speak, sir, or your silence on the instant 
 
 Is our warrant for your condemnation. 
 
 Es. My lords, knowing that I do speak before 
 Persons both wise and grave, I fear no harm. 
 I earnestly desire naught but justice. 
 If 't could by art be done, I truly would, 
 That my actions might like unto a picture, 
 Be painted in a glass, that our great Queen 
 Might face to face, and eye to eye, behold 
 My honest mind and truth. Now good my lords, 
 By that fair sun that shows above the earth. 
 With my rapier's point, I'll defiance send 
 To any man that doth me traitor call. 
 Ne'er yet have I been traitor to her grace. 
 Had I been governed by ill desires, 
 By length'ning my return from Ireland 
 I might, with goodly host of armed men 
 Have cross'd the wild Irish seas. My lords, 
 Think what a chance, had I but trained up, 
 ( By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams) 
 Those most miserable of men to fight. 
 If I be subtle, false and treacherous,
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 49 
 
 When th' Queen, her anointed body did commit 
 Unto my care, why sirs, from forth your reach 
 Did I not destroy her? Attend me, lords, — 
 I came in peace, mildness, prayer and love, 
 To seek out the proud, insulting, haughty 
 Villains, cowards, dogs, and of their feather 
 Many more proud birds, that have foully wrought 
 The easy melting Queen, like wax, against 
 My name and fame. Sirs, sirs ! it cannot be 
 You think I fled from fear ? Ha ! Lord Gray, 
 Pembroke, Derby, my lords, what do you say ? 
 
 L. Gray. I know not what, sir, may have brought you 
 back, 
 But this I must say unto you, my lord, 
 You do her gracious majesty offence, 
 To curse, rayl and strive against those powers 
 That she, our loving sovereign, invests 
 Her council with. 
 
 Eh. Plague of your council ! 
 You sent me deputy to Ireland, 
 Par from succour, from the Queen, and from all 
 That might have mercy had on my poor faults : 
 And if those came short, you, my lords, I know 
 Served me a many false-hearted turnes. 
 Had I not come so quickly back, T faith, 
 I quickly should through you, have lost my head. 
 
 L. G. Speak not so loud. 
 
 Es. Give pardon to my speech. 
 
 Ce. Hear me a word, you speak too bitterly — 
 
 Es. I cry thee mercy, thou deformed dog : 
 There is my purse to cure that blow of mine. 
 
 (Throivs him his purse.)
 
 50 The Tragical History of 
 
 Ce. So! 
 
 L. G. For shame, sir. 
 
 Es. A plague upon him. dog ! 
 
 L. G. My lords, let us put an end to this ; come, 
 Let him retire, whiles the council doth consult. 
 
 {Knter a messenger.) 
 
 Messenger. Her majesty doth call for you, my lords, 
 And for your grace. 
 
 Ce. We wait upon her grace. 
 Come, will you go with me, my good Lord Gray ? 
 
 L. G. I wait upon you sir. 
 
 Ce. Then let's away. 
 
 ( Exeunt. ) 
 
 Actus Quartus. Scena Secunda. 
 
 (Outer Chamber of the Palace.) 
 Guard, Enter Essex. 
 
 Essex. All fast ! Sure you know me sir ? 
 Guard. Yes my lord, 
 But yet I cannot help you. 
 Es. Why, why ? 
 G. Your grace must wait till you be called for. 
 
 (Enter Lord Chamberlain, Bishop of 
 Winchester, and Lords.) 
 L. Chamberlain. Hear the Queen's pleasure. My 
 Lord of Essex, 
 She commands you to close confine yourself
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 51 
 
 m 
 
 To York-House, until you do hear further 
 From her Highness. 
 
 Es. Where's your commission, lords ? 
 Words cannot carry authority so weighty. 
 
 L. C. Who dares to cross them, bearing the Queen's will 
 From her mouth expressly unto you, sir. 
 
 Es. Till I find more than will, or words to do it, 
 (I mean your malice) know, officious lords, 
 I dare, and must deny it. Now I feel 
 Of what coarse mettle ye are moulded, envy. 
 How eagerly ye follow my disgrace 
 As if it fed ye, and how sleek and wanton 
 Ye appear in everything may bring my ruin. 
 Follow your envious courses, men of malice ; 
 Ye have Christian warrant for 'em, and no doubt 
 In time will find their fit rewards. My lords, 
 I will not wish ye half my miseries. 
 I have more charity. But say I warn'd ye ; 
 Take heed, for heaven's sake take heed, lest at once 
 The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye. 
 
 L. C. My lord, this is a mere distraction. 
 Your rage mistakes us. 
 
 Es. Laughed at, scorned — 
 
 L. C. Thou art a proud traitor, lord. 
 
 Es. Proud lord, thou liest : 
 Within these forty hours, thou sir, durst better 
 Have burnt that tongue of thine than said so. 
 
 Bishop of Winchester. Oh, how this discord doth afflict 
 my soul. 
 Oh, if you love me as you say you do, 
 Come, my lords, come, let us make haste and go. 
 
 {Exeunt.)
 
 52 The Tragical History of 
 
 Actus Quartus. Scena Tertia. 
 
 (Room in Essex House.) 
 The Earl and Francis Bacon. 
 
 Essex. But be thou mild, and blush not at my shame, 
 Nor stir at nothing, till the axe of death 
 Hang over thee, as sure it shortly will : 
 For Cecil — he that can do all in all 
 With her, that hateth thee and hates us all, 
 And Gray, and impious Raleigh, that false dog — 
 Have all lym'd bushes to betray thy wings, 
 And fly thou how thou canst, they'll tangle thee. 
 But fear not thou, until thy foot be snar'd, 
 Nor never seek prevention of thy foes. 
 
 Francis Bacon. Ah now, forbear ; thou aimest all awry. 
 I must offend before I be attainted. 
 And had I twenty times so many foes, 
 And each of them had twenty times their power, 
 All these could not procure me any scath, 
 So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless. 
 Are my chests fill'd up with extorted gold ? 
 Is my apparel sumptuous to behold ? 
 Whom have I injur'd that they seek my death? 
 These hands are free from guiltless bloodshedding, 
 This breast from harboring foul deceitful thoughts. 
 I scorn their worthless threats. 
 
 Es. Say'st thou me so ? 
 
 F. B. It is enough : every man knows 'tis true. 
 I have a heart as little apt as yours, 
 And yet a brain, that leads my use of anger 
 To better Vantage. Pray be counselled :
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 58 
 
 Your greatest help is quiet, gentle sir. 
 
 I pray you sort your heart to patience : 
 
 These few days' wonder will be quickly worn. 
 
 Come, you have bin too rough, something too rough ; 
 
 You must return to her grace, and mend. 
 
 I say to you as I was said to : away, 
 
 You know the very rode into her kindness 
 
 And cannot lose your way. Would you had heard 
 
 Her speak of you, as I did, my dear lord : 
 
 I was mov'd withal. 
 
 Es. I dare be sworn thou wert. 
 And yet my scandal was not wip'd away, 
 But I in danger for the breach of law. 
 
 F. B. Yet sir, it is no little thing to make 
 Mine eyes so sweat compassion. 
 
 Es. I warrant 
 You cried bitterly, my good Francis. 
 But yet, I cannot choose but laugh, to think 
 Such a perfect gyber for the table 
 As thou art, sir, should have cried in my stead. 
 
 F. B. She praised you above compare, my lord. 
 
 Es. Enough of this ; I pray thee, hold thy peace. 
 Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. 
 
 F. B. O God ! 
 You shall not be the grave of your own deserving. 
 
 Es. Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word : 
 Pray now no more. God bye you ; fare you well. 
 
 [Exit Essex.) 
 
 F. B. O save him Christ, from his ambition foul, 
 For with conceit of his own merit upblown " 
 He now doth think to overthrow the crown, 
 And he will die, unless by Thee put down. {Exeunt.)
 
 54 The Tragical History of 
 
 Actus Quartus. Scena Quarto, . 
 
 {Lobby of the Palace.) 
 Queen and Francis Bacon. 
 
 Francis Bacon. I beseech you, madam, 
 If you think fit, or that it may be done, 
 Give me advantage of some brief discourse 
 With your majesty alone. 
 
 Queen. Pray you come, 
 I will bestow you where you shall have time 
 To speak your bosom freely. Sir, the garden here 
 Is convenient. 
 
 F. B. I am much bound to you. 
 
 ( Queen and Bacon enter garden.} 
 I do beseech your Grace to pardon my lord Earl. 
 
 Q. Plead you to me, fair sir, for this traitor ? 
 I would not spare my brother in this case, 
 If he should scorn me so apparently. 
 
 F. B. How ! traitor ? what mean'st thou ? tell me, 
 madam, 
 Doth any one accuse him for a traitor ? 
 
 Q. Traitor ! — aye. In my lord Earl's government, 
 When deputy to Ireland, he was 
 Led by none, no, scarcely by his own laws, 
 And in the suppressing and punishing 
 Of treasons, he had sir, very strange kind 
 Of large and unexpected pardons, where 
 Severe executions should have been made, 
 For the better quitting of those troables — 
 
 F. B. He hath been your faithful servant, madam,
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 55 
 
 And I dare lay mine honour he will so remain. 
 I would he were here. 
 
 Q. Yea, I warrant you. 
 Yet, mark you now sir, it is not well done 
 To take the tales out of my mouth. 
 
 F. B. Your Grace, 
 Under your good correction, by my troth, 
 I will speak my conscience of the Earl. 
 If he would curry with Master Robert, 
 (Who doth seek my poor brother's life) why then, 
 I o'er-ween to think, he would have no harm. 
 
 Q. Think you so ? are you never, sir, to be 
 Without your tricks ? I'll tell you what I think : 
 My son would be my sovereign, and my lord. 
 But I will watch him tame, and I will find 
 Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed 
 Within the centre. Aye, that I will sir. 
 
 F. B. My gracious Madam, I pray you spare him ; 
 I entreat you on my knees. [Kneels down.) 
 
 Q. Forbear sir. 
 Why have his banish'd and forbidden legs 
 Dar'd once to touch a dust of England's ground, 
 But that he would himself be England's king? 
 How London did pour forth her citizens, 
 The mayor and all his brethren in best sort, 
 Like to the senators of th' antique Rome, 
 With the plebeians swarming at their heels, 
 Went forth to fetch their conq'ring Caesar in, 
 As though he were from Ireland coming. 
 Rebellion bringing broached on his sword. 
 Did'st thou not behold the dumb men throng to see him, 
 And the blind to hear him speak? Matrons flung gloves,
 
 56 The Tragical History of 
 
 Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs, 
 Upon him as he pass'd. The nobles bended 
 As to Jove's statue, and the commons made 
 A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts. 
 
 F. B. Gracious Empress, I never saw the like, 
 But yet we rather shall be blest, if he 
 Kemember a kinder value of the people, 
 Than he hath hereto priz'd them at. 
 
 Q. Peace ! peace ! 
 I would you rather had been silent, sir ; 
 An Irish sea is not so turbulent 
 And raging, as is my son. 
 
 (Noise and tumult within. Enter page.) 
 Look who comes ; 
 What's the matter, boy? Speak! What tumult's this? 
 
 Page. O the Earl ! the Earl ! he hath revolted. 
 
 F. B. I dare warrant it is but an uproar 
 Begun through malice of my brother's state. 
 Madam, here comes a messenger. 
 
 ( Enter messenger. ) 
 
 Q. What news ? 
 
 Messenger. Such news, Madam, as grieves me to report. 
 To get the crown from thee and take the court, 
 My lord, the Earl, hath dire rebellion rais'd ; 
 London's rude slaves and disaffected men, 
 With many unrough youths that even now 
 Protest their first manhood, unite their force 
 To his, and in open rebellion rude, 
 With flaming mouths roar fire and devastation. 
 
 Q. Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear 
 Thou lily liver'd boy; death of my soul, 
 Those linen cheeks of thine are counsellors
 
 Our Late Brother, End of Essex, 
 
 To fear. What! whey-face, what! art thou afear'd? 
 Fear not, domestic broils clean overblow themselves. 
 Methinks I am a prophet new inspir'd, 
 And thus inspired, do foretell of him 
 His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last, 
 For violent fires soon burn out themselves ; 
 jSmall showers last long, but sudden storms are short ; 
 He tires betimes, that spurs too fast betimes ; 
 With eager feeding, food doth choke the feeder ; 
 Sound drums and trumpets, and the Earl will fly. 
 God be thanked ; here Master Robert comes, 
 And closely at his heels follow my lords : 
 
 ( Enter Cecil and Lords. ) 
 God-den unto your worships ; what's the news ? 
 
 Cecil. Your Majesty, the latest news we hear, 
 Is that the angry trumpet sounds alarm, 
 And dead men's cries do fill the empty air. 
 
 Q. Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betimes. 
 Before the wound do grow uncurable, 
 For being green, there is great hope of help : 
 A breach that craves a quick expedient stop. 
 What counsel give you in this weighty cause? 
 
 Ce. That some be sent unto this fire-brand's house,. 
 To pacify and settle the base multitude. 
 
 Q. excellent device. But who will go? 
 
 Lord Chief Justice. I will, your grace. 
 
 Earl of Worcester. And I. 
 
 Comptroller. And I. 
 
 Q. I thank you, noble lords ; go speedily 
 And learn the truth of this uncivil broil. 
 Enquire me first why he hath enrolled, 
 Like to a scurvy knave, this martial strength.
 
 58 The Tragical History of 
 
 Tell him I'll take him down, and he were twice 
 
 Lustier than he is ; in brief, my lords, 
 
 Learn this great traitor's craft, power and means. 
 
 Good Uncle, help to order several powers 
 
 To London, or where'er these traitors are ; 
 
 They shall not live within this world I swear, 
 
 But I will have them, if I once know where. 
 
 ( Exeunt. ) 
 
 Actus Quartus. Scena Quinta. 
 
 {Gate in Front of Essex House.) 
 Enter Lords. 
 
 Earl of Worcester. Who keeps the gate here ? hoa ! 
 Where is the Earl ? 
 
 Porter. What shall I say you are ? 
 
 E. W. Tell thou the Earl 
 That the Chief Justice doth attend him here. 
 
 Por. I will do so ; please you my lords, enter. 
 
 ( Tlie lords enter the court. ) 
 
 Soldier. A prize, a prize! here's the Lord Chief Jus- 
 tice. 
 Ah thou fool, thou Surge, nay thou buckram lord, 
 Now art thou, noble sir, within point-blank 
 Of our jurisdiction. Be it known, sir, 
 Unto thee by this most regal presence, 
 Even the presence of my Lord Robert, 
 That he is the beesome, that now must sweep 
 The court clean of all such filth as thou art.
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 59 
 
 Chief Justice. Insolent villains! 
 
 Sol. Kill, kill, kill, kill him ! 
 
 Essex. Hold, hold, hold, hold ! peace, hoa ! no outrage, 
 peace ! 
 The man is noble and his fame folds in 
 This orb o' th 1 earth ; his least offence to us 
 Shall have judicious hearing. 
 
 C. J. My lord Earl, 
 I bring you tidings of the Princess' doom. 
 
 Es. What less than doomsday, is the Princess' doom ? 
 Look you, my lords, you will but waste your words ; 
 I have under me, and will march away 
 With such a multitude of armed men, 
 As all the world shall tremble at their view. 
 For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air? 
 And what makes robbers bold, but too much lenity ? 
 With scoffs and scorns and contumelious taunts 
 They have made me a public spectacle, 
 The scare-crow that frights our children. My lords, 
 In this troublous time what is to be done? 
 Shall we go throw away our coats of steel? 
 Or shall we on the helmets of our foes, 
 Achieve new honours with revengeful arms, 
 And make good our rights by force? 
 
 C. J. My lord Earl, 
 You look but on the outside of this work. 
 
 Es. Outside or inside, I will not return 
 ' Till my attempt so much be glorified, 
 As to my ample hope was promised, 
 To outlook conquest and to win renown, 
 Even in the jaws of danger and of death. 
 Know you not that her Highness doth intend
 
 60 The Tragical History of 
 
 To raze, blemish, and obscure my fair fame ? 
 
 Hath she not marked me for death, and for the grave ? 
 
 But to this I will not submit, I trow, 
 
 Or be inferior to the proudest peer. 
 
 Ill either make her Gracious Majesty 
 
 Remove the people vile, who, muddied thick, 
 
 Are towards me unwholesome in their thoughts, 
 
 Or sack this country with a mutiny. 
 
 Blood and destruction shall be so in use, 
 
 And dreadful objects so familiar, 
 
 That mothers shall but smile, when they behold 
 
 Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war. 
 
 All pity chok'd with custom of fell deeds, 
 
 And Typhon's spirit raging for revenge, 
 
 With Ate by his side, come hot from hell, 
 
 Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice 
 
 Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war. 
 
 C. J. My lord, we know your grace to be a man 
 Just and upright, and for your royal birth 
 Inferior to none but to her Majesty. 
 But I beseech you, do not cry havoc 
 Where you should but hunt with modest warrant. 
 
 Es. Sir, sir, peace ! 
 
 E. W. Hear me speak. 
 
 Es. Speak briefly then, 
 For we are peremptory to dispatch. 
 
 E. W. These things indeed you have articulated, 
 Proclaim'd at market crosses, read in churches, 
 To face the garment of rebellion 
 Willi some fine colour, that may please the eye 
 Of fickle changelings, and poor discontents 
 AVI i ich gape, and rub the elbow at the news
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 61 
 
 Of hurly-burly innovation : 
 
 And never yet did insurrection want 
 
 Such water-colours to impaint his cause, 
 
 Nor moody beggars, starving for a time, 
 
 Or pell-mell havoc and confusion. 
 
 See here these movers that do prize their hours 
 
 As a crack'd drachme ! Cushions, leaden spoons, 
 
 Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would 
 
 Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves 
 
 Ere yet the fight be done will all pack up. 
 
 With such a commodity of warm slaves 
 
 As had as leave hear t\\" devil as a drum, 
 
 Such as fear tli' report of a caliver 
 
 Worse than a struck-fool, or a hurt wild-duck, 
 
 Such toasts and butter, with hearts in their bellies 
 
 No bigger than pin's heads, do you think, sir, 
 
 To fetch off victory ? You are deceiv'd. 
 
 Es. I pray you all, tell me what they deserve, 
 That do conspire my death with devilish plots 
 Of damned witchcraft ? and that have prevailed 
 Upon my body with their hellish charms ? 
 
 Comptroller. You fur your gloves with reason ; here 
 are your reasons : 
 You know an enemy intends you harm, 
 You know a sword employ'd is perilous, 
 And reason flies the object of all harm 
 And in disaster ends, which breaks, my lord, 
 The sides of royalty, and almost appears — 
 
 C. J. Not almost appears, it doth appear. 
 
 Compt. Oh passing traitor, perjur'd and unjust — 
 
 Es. Cease, arrogant Comptroller; 
 Why do you proclaim us traitors all ?
 
 62 The Tragical History of 
 
 
 Compt. Who finds the heifer dead, and bleeding fresh, 
 And sees fast-by a butcher with an axe, 
 But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter? 
 Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest, 
 But may imagine how the bird was dead 
 Although the kyte soar with unbloodied beak? 
 Even so suspicious is this tragedy. 
 
 Es. But I am made a prologue to this play, 
 And thousands more, that yet suspect no peril, 
 Will not conclude this plotted tragedy. 
 Edgerton's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice, 
 And Popham's cloudy brow his stormy hate; 
 Sharp Worcester unburdens with his tongue, 
 The envious load that lies upon his heart ; 
 The dogg'd Cecil, that reaches at the moon, 
 Whose over-weening arm I have pluck'd back, 
 By false accuse doth level at my life. 
 
 C. J. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind, 
 The thief doth fear each bush an officer. 
 
 Es. The bird that hath been limed in a bush, 
 With trembling wines misdoubteth every bush. 
 
 E. W. Come, come, the cause. If arguing makes us 
 sweat, 
 The proof of it will turn to redder drops : 
 Look ! I draw a sword against conspirators ; 
 When think you that the sword goes up again ? 
 
 Southampton. Never, my lord, till another Caesar 
 Have added slaughter to the swords of traitors. 
 
 Es. Anger and wrathful fury stops my speech. 
 
 Rutland. Why are you mov'd? be patient, my lord, 
 And see what we your counsellors have done. 
 My lords, now let us all be resolute
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 63- 
 
 And either have our wills or lose our lives. 
 
 G. J. Meet you for this, proud overbearing peers % 
 What scene of death hath Roscius now to act? 
 
 Es. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves ; we must confer. 
 
 C. J. So flies the wreakless shepherd from the wolf; 
 So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece, 
 And next his throat, unto the butcher's knife. 
 
 Es. Dick Smith, and Salisbury, lay hands on them. 
 
 C. J. Villains forbear, we are th' Queen's councillors. 
 
 Soldiers. And therefore do we what we are com- 
 manded. 
 
 C. J. Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth. 
 
 Es. Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a 
 word ! 
 Lead them away, give them good watch ; away. 
 
 (Exit soldiers with councillors.} 
 My countrymen — 
 
 Soldiers. Peace, silence, Essex speaks. 
 
 Es. For me, the ransom of my bold attempt 
 Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face, 
 But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt, 
 The least of you shall share his part thereof. 
 But who comes here ? 
 
 (Enter messenger.} 
 It is our messenger. 
 How now, how now ; what say the citizens ? 
 
 Messenger. The citizens are mum, say not a word. 
 I bid them that did love their country's good, 
 Cry, — ' God save Robert, England's royal king.' 
 
 Es. And did they so ? 
 
 Mes. No, so God help me, they spake not a word ? 
 But like dumb statues, or breathing stones,
 
 64 The Tragical History „pf 
 
 Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale, 
 
 Which when I saw, I reprehended them, 
 
 And ask'd the mayor what meant this wilful silence : 
 
 His answer was, the people were not used 
 
 To be spoke to, but by the Recorder. 
 
 Then he was urg'd to tell my tale again : — 
 
 k Thus saith the Earl, thus hath the Earl inferr'd,' 
 
 But nothing spoke in warrant from himself. 
 
 When he had done, some followers of mine own, 
 
 At lower end of th' hall, huiTd up their caps 
 
 And some ten voices cried, — ' God save King Robert ! ' 
 
 And thus I took the vantage of these few, — 
 
 < Thanks gentle citizens and friends,' quoth 1, — 
 
 ' This generous applause and cheerful shout, 
 
 Argues your wisdom, and your love to Robert : ' 
 
 And even here brake off and came away. 
 
 Es. What tongueless blocks were they. 
 Come, let us take a muster speedily : 
 Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily. 
 
 Southampton. Talk not of dying, I am out of fear 
 Of death, or death's hand, for this one half year. 
 
 [Exeunt.) 
 
 Actus Quartus. Scena Sexta. 
 
 (Street in London.) 
 Enter two or three running over the stage. 
 
 First Man. Where is this viper 
 That would depopulate the city, and be every man himself^
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 65 
 
 Second Man. Calmly, I do beseech you ; here he comes. 
 
 {Enter Essex, Southampton, Rutland, 
 
 Blunt, Gorges, with their power.) 
 
 Essex. Shame and confusion ! all is on the rout ; 
 Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds 
 Where it should guard. O war, thou son of hell, 
 Whom angry heavens do make their minister, 
 Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part, 
 Hot coals of vengeance. Let no soldier fly. 
 He that is truly dedicate to war, 
 Hath no self-love ; nor he that loves himself 
 Hath not essentially, but by circumstance 
 The name of valor. O let the vile world end, 
 And the premised flames of the last day, 
 Knit earth and heaven together. 
 
 {Enter a soldier, running.) 
 
 Soldier. My lord, there is an army gather'd together 
 In Smithfield. 
 
 Es. Come then, let's go fight with them ; 
 But first go and set London bridge on fire, 
 And if you can, burn down the Tower too. 
 Come, let's away ! away ! now up Fish Street, 
 Down Saint Magnus Corner ; kill and knock down, 
 Throw them into the Thames ; lay out ! lay out ! 
 So sirs ; now go and pull down the Savoy : 
 Others to the Inns of Court ; down with them all : 
 Away ! burn all the records of the realm ; 
 Away, away! 
 
 Once more, sweet lords, farewell. 
 Now let us altogether to our troops, 
 And give them leave to fly, that will not stay, 
 And call them pillars that will stand to us;
 
 66 The Tragical History of 
 
 . ■ v, 
 
 And if we thrive, promise them such rewards 
 
 As victors wear at the Olympian games. 
 
 This may plant courage in their quailing breasts, 
 
 For yet is hope of life and victory : 
 
 Forslow no longer, make we hence amain. 
 
 Sound drums and trumpets boldly, cheerfully; 
 
 God and Saint George, Essex and victory. 
 
 First Soldier. Go fetch fire. 
 
 Second Soldier. Pluck down benches. 
 
 F. S. Pluck down forms, windows, anything. 
 
 Es. Now let it work : mischief thou art afoot ; 
 Take what course thou wilt. 
 
 (E?iter one running.} 
 How now fellow? 
 
 Messenger. Arm ! arm ! my lords ; the foe vaunts in 
 the field. 
 I have been i' th' market place, and sir, 'tis fit 
 You make strong party, or defend yourself 
 By calmness, or by absence ; all's in anger. 
 
 Es. Draw near, ye people — 
 
 First Man. No, no, no, no, no ! 
 Thou wretch, despite o'erwhelm thee : 
 What should the people do with these rebels 
 ( hi whom depending, their obedience fails 
 To th' greater bench? In a rebellion. 
 When what's not meet, but what must be, was law, 
 Then were they chosen: in a better hour 
 Let what is meet, be said it must be meet. 
 And throw their power i' th' dust. 
 The soldiers, ho ! let him be apprehended : 
 Seize him soldiers; down with him, down with him; 
 You viperous traitor, hence.
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 61 
 
 Es. Good people, 
 If I may be heard, I would crave a word or two, 
 The which shall turn you to no farther harm, 
 Than so much loss of time. 
 
 F. M. Down with them, ho ! 
 Here's he that would take from you all power. 
 Base, leaden earls, that glory in your birth, 
 Go sit at home and eat your tenants 1 beef. 
 Manifest treason ! weapons, weapons, weapons ! 
 
 Es. I do suspect I have done some offence, 
 That seems disgracious in the city's eye. 
 
 ( Enter soldier. ) 
 
 Soldier. Against thy seat both old and young rebel, 
 And all goes worse than I have power to tell. 
 
 Es. Too well, too well thou tell'st a tale so ill. 
 O gentle followers, let's return. 
 
 Southampton. Where ? 
 
 Es. No matter where ; of comfort no man speak : 
 Let's talk of graves, of worms, of epitaphs, 
 Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes 
 Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. 
 Let's choose executors, and talk of wills : 
 And yet not so ; for what can we bequeath, 
 Save our deposed bodies to the ground ? 
 Our lands, our lives, and all are lost and gone 
 And nothing can we call our own, but death, 
 And that small model of the barren earth, 
 Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. 
 
 {Exeunt.)
 
 68 The Tragical History of 
 
 Actus Quartus. Scena Septima. 
 
 {Front of Essex House.) 
 Enter the Lord Lieutenant and Followers. 
 
 Lord Lieutenant. Go fellow, get thee home, provide 
 some carts 
 And bring away the armour that is there. 
 Gentlemen, will you muster men? If I know how, 
 Or which way to order these great affairs 
 Thus disorderly thrust into my hands — 
 Quick, gentlemen, go muster up your men 
 And meet me here presently at the gates. 
 Come cousin Burghly, I'll dispose of you. 
 What, Essex! wilt thou leave the house and fight, 
 Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears ? 
 
 (Essex on the walls.) 
 
 Essex. Alas I am coop'd up here for defence. 
 
 Raleigh. Put him to choler straight : he hath been us'd 
 Ever to conquer, and to have his worth 
 Of contradiction ; being once chaf cl, he cannot 
 Be rein'd again to temperance. 
 
 L. Lieut. Very well. 
 My lord, dark night whose black contagious breath 
 Already smokes about the burning crest 
 Of the old, feeble and day-wearied sun, — 
 Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire, 
 Paying the fine of rated treachery, 
 Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives. 
 Lords, to the charge ! Saint George and victory ! 
 
 ( Alarms and excursion. They set upon the guards who fly. 
 
 Enter on the other side Earl of Lincoln and his soldiers. )
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 69 
 
 Earl of Lincoln. Brave followers, yonder stands the 
 thorny wood, 
 Which by the heaven's assistance, and your strength, 
 Must by the root be hewn up yet ere night. 
 I need not add more fuel to your fire, 
 For, well I wot, ye blaze to burn them out : 
 Give signal to the fight, and to it lords. 
 
 ( They assail the EarVs house on two sides. Parley 
 sounded. Enter Sir Christoper Blount on the walls. ) 
 E. L. What noise is this I hear? In the battle 
 Dare any be so bold to sound retreat 
 Or parley, when I command them kill? 
 Sir Christopher Blount. Stay! 
 E. L. Whatis't knave? 
 Sir C. B. I speak to thee plain soldier ; 
 My Lord Lincoln, my message is to you : 
 The noble Lady Essex lieth here, 
 And will you not, my lord, give her rescue ? 
 
 E. L. Before I make reply to aught you say, 
 I must inform the rest. 
 
 Sir C. B. Go about it. 
 
 E. L. Soldiers, cease not, but with a din confus'd 
 Enforce the present execution. 
 
 [Exit Lincoln. Alarm, and hattle. Enter 
 again Lincoln. Essex on the wall.) 
 E. L. My lord, in the base court we will attend 
 To speak with you ; may it please you sir, to come down ! 
 Es. Is it your trick to make me ope the door? 
 E. L. Nay, we are prepar'd to parley or to fight. 
 Es. Down, down I come, like glist'ring Photon 
 Wanting the manage of unruly jades. 
 
 [Enter Essex on one side of the 
 court, lords on the other.)
 
 70 The Tragical History of 
 
 L. Lieut. I arrest thee of high treason, by th' name 
 Of Robert Earl of Essex, and with thee 
 All the rest of thy revolted faction. 
 
 Es. One boon I beg. 
 
 L. Lieut. Well ask. 
 
 Es. And shall I have? 
 
 L. Lieut. You shall. 
 
 Es. Then give me leave to go. 
 
 L. Lieut. Whither ? 
 
 Es. Whither you will, so I were from your sight. 
 
 L. Lieut. Go, some of you, convey him to the Tower. 
 
 Es. Is there no other way of mercy 
 But I must needs to th' Tower my lords? 
 
 L. Lieut. What other 
 Would you expect ? You are strangely troublesome : 
 Let some o 1 th' guard be ready there. 
 
 Es. For me ? 
 Must I go like a traitor thither? 
 
 L. Lieut. Receive him, 
 
 And see him safe in the Tower. 
 
 ( Exeunt. ) 
 
 Aches Quartus. Scena Octava. 
 
 {Audience Room of the Palace.) 
 Enter Queen and Attendants. 
 
 Queen. The gaudy babbling and remorseful day, 
 Is crept into the bosom of the sea: 
 And now loud howling wolves arouse the jades
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 71 
 
 That drag the tragic melancholy night, 
 
 Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings 
 
 Clepe dead-men's graves, and from their misty jaws 
 
 Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air. 
 
 Witness my son, now in the shade of death, 
 
 Whose bright outshining beams, night's cloudy wrath 
 
 Hath in eternal darkness folded up. 
 
 First Lady. Why looks your Grace so heavily to- 
 night ? 
 
 Q. I do beweep the many simple gulls, 
 Who peradventure now must lose their lives, 
 Fifty thousand strong. 
 
 F. L. O, it cannot be ; 
 Rumour doth double, like the voice, and echo 
 The numbers of the feared. Please it your Grace 
 To go to bed ? Upon my life, Madam, 
 The pow'rs that you already have sent forth 
 Shall bring the prize in very easily. 
 
 Q. Who comes here ? 
 
 {Enter Messenger.) 
 What's the news, sir? what's the news? 
 
 Mess. O my sweet Queen, news fitting to the night,' 
 Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible : 
 All Kent hath yielded ; nothing there holds out 
 But Dover castle : London hath receiv'd, 
 Like a kind host, Lord Robert and his powers, 
 Who doth call your Grace usurper, openly, 
 And vows to crown himself in Westminster. 
 His army is a ragged multitude, 
 Who, thirsting after prey, spoil the city 
 And traitorously threat your royal court. 
 
 Q\ Sir, the first bringer of unwelcome news 
 Hath but a losing office ; and his tongue
 
 72 The Tragical History of 
 
 Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, 
 Remembered knolling a departing friend. 
 Here comes my servant whom I newly sent 
 To listen after news. 
 
 (Entev servant, who kneels.) 
 Now sir, what tidings ? 
 
 /Servant. A gentleman (almost fore-spent with speed) 
 That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse, 
 Told me that rebellion had had ill-luck. 
 With that he gave his able horse the head, 
 And bending forward strook his able heels 
 Against the panting sides of his poor jade 
 Up to the rowel head; and starting so, 
 He seem'd in running to devour the way, 
 Stopping no longer question. 
 
 Q. Ha ! Stand up : 
 Said he that rebellion met ill-luck? 
 Stand up, I say : where is the Earl ? Is he dead ? 
 
 Ser. Nay, I know not Madam. 
 
 {Enter Robert Cecil.') 
 
 Q. Master Robert, 
 Where is the Earl ? 
 
 Cecil. In the tower, your Grace. 
 
 Q. Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made ; 
 Now shall he try his friends that flattered him. 
 What is't a clock ? 
 
 Chamberlain. Upon the stroke of four. 
 
 Q. Thanks, my good lord Chamberlain. I'll to bed. 
 Rebellion in this land shall lose his way, 
 Meeting the check of such another day : 
 And since this business so fair is done, 
 We will not leave till all our own be won. 
 
 (Exeunt.)
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Ensex. 
 
 !■> 
 
 Actus QuinUis. Scena Prima. 
 
 {Room in Palace.) 
 Enter Sir Robert Cecil, Scrivener and Messenger. 
 
 Cecil. Let this be copied out, good Master Clerk, 
 And keep it safe for our remembrance. 
 
 (Hands Scrivener a paper. Exit Scrivener.) 
 Go bear this letter to my Lord Lincoln, 
 This to the Earl of Derby and Lord Gray. 
 Come, bustle, bustle. 
 
 Messenger. Please you sir, I will. 
 
 (Exit Messenger.) 
 
 Ce. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. 
 The secret mischiefs that I set abroach, 
 I lay unto the grievous charge of others, 
 And stir the Queen against her dear allies : 
 And she believes me and withal whets me 
 To be reveng'd on all my enemies. 
 And then I sigh, and with a piece of Scripture 
 Tell her that God bids us do good for evil, 
 And thus I clothe my naked villainy, 
 With odd old ends, stoPn forth of Holy Writ, 
 And seem a saint, when most I play the devil. 
 But soft, here come the lords. 
 
 (Enter Lords of the Council.') 
 Great lords, all hail. 
 
 That this foul deed shall smell above the earth 
 With carrion men groaning for burial, 
 And to make a period of tumultuous broils, 
 Her Majesty (God bless and keep her safe) 
 Hath agreed the rebellious Earl to bring
 
 74 The Tragical History of 
 
 On Tuesday next, for trial for his treason 
 
 Before your lordships of the great star-chamber; 
 
 And I here deliver, by th' Queen subscribe, 
 
 The writ of his attainder unto you. 
 
 Believe me lords, were none more wise than I, 
 
 (And yet herein I judge my own wit good,) 
 
 This Essex should be quickly rid the world, 
 
 To rid us from the fear we have of him. 
 
 That he should die, is worthy policy, 
 
 And we want no colour for his death : 
 
 Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of Capital law. 
 
 Oxford. Be not offended, Master Secretary : 
 I speak not as in absolute fear of you. 
 I think our country sinks beneath the yoke ; 
 It weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gash 
 Is added to her wounds. I think, withal, 
 This ague fit of fear is over-blown, 
 And easy task it is to win our own. 
 
 Ce. Beating our officers, cursing himself, 
 Opposing laws with strokes, and here defying 
 Those whose great powers must, try him; 
 Even this so criminal, and in such capital kind, 
 Deserves th' extremest death. 
 There's no remedy, my noble lord, 
 Unless by so doing, our good city 
 Cleave in the midst and perish. 
 The time shall be not many hours of age 
 More than it is, ere foul sin gathering head 
 Shall break into corruption; and I think, 
 If we mean to thrive and do good, we must 
 With rigorous hand resist them now, 
 And with th' axe abate the edge of traitors,
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 75 
 
 That would reduce these bloody days again, 
 
 And make poor England weep in streams oi" blood. 
 
 Lords. Amen, amen. 
 
 Ce. Ha ! Then we must, my lords, 
 Let them not live to taste this land's increase 
 That would with treason wound this fair land's peace. 
 
 (Exeunt. ) 
 
 Actus Quintus. Scena Secunda. 
 
 {Room in Palace.) 
 Enter Francis Bacon Alone. 
 
 Francis Bacon. O my dear brother Essex, God doth 
 know 
 Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wrong : 
 And as the butcher takes away the calf, 
 And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strays, 
 Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house ; 
 Even so, remorseless, have they borne thee hence: 
 And as the dam runs lowing up and down, 
 Looking the way her harmless young one went, 
 And can do nought but wail her darling's loss; 
 Even so myself bewail good l!ssex' case 
 With sad unhelpful tears ; and with dimm'd eyes, 
 Look after him, and cannot do him good. 
 Fie on ambition, and fie on myself; 
 I'll speak unto the Queen. Lo here she comes. 
 
 (Flourish: Enter the Queen. Bacon kneels.) 
 
 Queen. How now, good Master Bacon? stand thou up!
 
 76 The Tragical History of 
 
 F. B. First, Madam, I entreat true peace of you, 
 Which I will purchase with my duteous service. 
 Your Majesty, I do not sue to stand ; 
 Pardon is all the suit I have in hand, 
 And here I must unload my grief. 
 Q. Your grief? 
 
 F. B. Aye, and the common grief of all the land . 
 What ! did my brother Robert spend his youth, 
 His valor, coin and people in the wars ? 
 Did he so often lodge in open tield, 
 In winter's cold and summer's parching heat, 
 But to conquer death ? And did my brother 
 Toil his wits, and receive deep wounding scars 
 In Ireland and Spain, but thus to die ? 
 
 Q. What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance. 
 Listen, but speak not to't, and take thou care : 
 This is a happier and more comely time, 
 Than when these fellows ran about the streets, 
 Crying confusion. Robert Essex was 
 A worthy officer i' th' wars, but insolent, 
 O'er-come with pride, ambitious past all thinking, 
 Self-loving, and affecting one sole throne, 
 Without assistance. 
 
 F. B. O, I think not so. 
 
 Q. Show me one scar character'd on his skin i 
 Men's flesh preserved so whole do seldom win. 
 
 F. B. Be patient, gentle Queen. 
 
 Q. Ah, fro ward man, 
 Who can be patient in such great extreme? 
 
 F. B. Nay then, this spark will prove a raging fire, 
 If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with. 
 
 Q. Go to, sir, I say he shall have no wrong.
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 77 
 
 F. B. Thou knowest, Madam, Friar Bacon's brazen head 
 Pronounced a sentence ; thus it said : — ' Time is, 
 Time was, and Time is past.' 
 
 Q. Time is past, indeed : 
 My life, my fame, my glory, all are past. 
 Villain ! I'll set a point against thy breast. 
 If thou dost not use most dear employment 
 In what I further shall intend to do, 
 By heaven I will tear thee joint by joint, 
 And strew a hungry churchyard with thy limbs : 
 The time and my intents are savage wild, 
 More fierce and more inexorable far, 
 Than empty tigers or the roaring sea. 
 Put not another sin upon my head, 
 By urging me to fury. O, begone ! 
 
 F. B. What I believe, your Majesty, I'll wail; 
 What know, believe ; and what I can redress, 
 As I shall find the time to friend, I will. 
 
 Q. You cannot make gross sins look clear. 
 
 F. B. To revenge is no valor, but to bear. 
 And Madam, under favor, pardon me, 
 If I speak like a captain. 
 
 Why do fond men expose themselves to battle, 
 And not endure all threats ? Sleep upon't. 
 
 Q. And let our foes quietly cut our throats 
 Without repugnancy? If there be 
 Such valor in the bearing, what make we 
 Abroad ? Why then, women are more valiant 
 That stay at home, if bearing carry it ; 
 And the ass, more captain than the lion ; 
 The fellow loaden with irons, wiser than the judge, 
 If wisdom be in suffering.
 
 The Tragical History of 
 
 F. B. O Madam, 
 As you are great, be pitifully good ; 
 Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood? 
 
 Q. To kill, I grant, is sin's extremest gust, 
 But in defence, by mercy 'tis most just. 
 F. B. To be in anger, is impiety. 
 Q. But who is born that is not angry? 
 Weigh but the crime with this. 
 
 Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer'd blows ; 
 Strength match'd with strength, and power confronted 
 
 power ; 
 Both are alike, and both alike we like : 
 One must prove greatest. 
 
 F. B. Believe this, Madam, 
 No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, 
 Not the King's crown, nor the deputed sword, 
 The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, 
 Becomes them with one half so good a grace 
 As mercy does. If he had been as you, 
 And you were he, you would have slipt like him ; 
 But he, like you, would not have been so stern. 
 Q. I was not born to die on Essex' sword ! 
 And this we mean to do, for that he has 
 (As much as in him lies) from time to time 
 Envied against the Crown, seeking means 
 To pluck away our power, — and now at last 
 Given hostile strokes, and that not in the presence 
 Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers 
 That doth distribute it, — in the name o' th' people. 
 And in the power of us their Queen, we 
 Will push destruction and perpetual shame 
 Out of the weak door of our fainting land.
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 79' 
 
 See, here in bloody lines we have set down 
 And what is written shall be executed ; 
 Your brother is to die, as his offences 
 Are accounted to the law. 
 
 F. B. O your Grace, 
 Are not you then as cruel as the sentence? 
 I know no law, Madam, that answering 
 One foul wrong, lives but to act another. 
 
 Q. Be satisfied ; 
 Your treacherous brother dies ; be content. 
 
 F. B. Oh, it is excellent, your Majesty, 
 To have a giant's strength : but it is tyrannous 
 To use it like a giant. 
 
 Q. Peace, peace sir, peace. 
 Were I not the better part made of mercy, 
 1 should not seek an absent argument 
 Of my revenge, thou present, thou traitor. 
 
 F. B. Why do you dress me in borrowed robes? 
 
 Q. Thou art a traitor. 
 
 F. B. This is strange. 
 
 Q. Art thou not 
 Ever for insurrections arguing ? 
 But he that temper'd thee, bade thee stand up, 
 Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason, 
 Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor. 
 If that same demon that hath gull'd thee thus, 
 Should with his lion-gate walk the whole world, 
 He might return to vasty Tartar back, 
 And tell the legions, I can never win 
 A soul so easy as that Englishman's. 
 O, how hast thou with jealousy infected 
 The sweetness of affiance ! Show men dutiful ?
 
 80 The Tragical History of 
 
 Why so didst thou : seem they grave and learned ? 
 W hy so didst thou : come they of noble family ? 
 Why so didst thou : seem they religious ? 
 Why so didst thou. Look to it, thou villain, 
 Thy life's dependent on thy brother's death. 
 Let our instruction to thee be thy guide, 
 Under penalty of thine own false head. 
 
 F. B. I do partly understand your meaning. 
 
 Q. Why then, go get thee home, thou fragment vile. 
 Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know 
 'Tis death for death, a brother for a brother : 
 Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure ; 
 Like doth quit like, and measure still for measure. 
 
 {Exeunt.) 
 
 Actus Quintus. Scena Tertia. 
 
 (Star-Chamber.) 
 
 Judges, Peers, and Lawyers. Essex, Rutland, Blount, and Gorges. 
 
 Chief Justice. Lord: you (against all proportion) did 
 bring in 
 Wonder, to wait on treason, and on murder : 
 And whatsoever cunning fiend it was, 
 That wrought upon you so preposterously, 
 Hath got the voice in hell for excellence. 
 In sight of God, and us, your guilt is great ; 
 Receive the sentence of* the law for sin, 
 Such as by treason are adjudgM to death. 
 You four, from hence to prison, back again ;
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 81 
 
 From thence, unto the place of execution : 
 And may our God in mercy quit you. 
 By law we do deliver you ; get you hence, 
 (Poor miserable wretches) to your death, 
 The taste whereof, God of his mercy give 
 You patience to endure, and true repentance 
 Of all your dear offences. Bear them hence. 
 
 Essex. You that hear me, 
 This from a dying man receive as certain : 
 When you are liberal of your loves and counsels, 
 Be sure you be not loose ; for those you make friends 
 And give your hearts to, when they once perceive 
 The least rub in your fortunes, fall away 
 Like water from ye, never found again 
 But where they mean to sink ye. Oh brothers, 
 Take heed of yonder deformed dog : 
 Look when he fawns, he bites ; and when he bites, 
 His venom'd tooth will rankle to the death : 
 Have not to do with him, beware of him ; 
 Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him, 
 And all their ministers attend on him. 
 Do not scorn me for my gentle counsel, 
 Nor sooth the devil that I warn ye from. 
 But O, remember this another day, 
 When he shall split your very hearts with sorrow, 
 And say, poor Robert Essex was a prophet : 
 Or live each of you subjects to his hate, 
 And he to yours, and all of you to God's. 
 
 Cecil. My lord, — 
 
 Es. No lord of thine, thou haught, insulting man ; 
 No, nor no man's lord : I have no name, no title ; 
 No, not that name was given me at the font.
 
 82 The Tragical History of 
 
 Ce. My lord, you do me shameful injury, 
 Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects. 
 If I unwillingly, or in my rage, 
 Have aught committed that is hardly borne 
 To any in this presence, I desire 
 To reconcile me to his friendty peace : 
 'Tis death to me to be at enmity ; 
 I hate it, and desire all good men's love. 
 Of you, my most noble cousin Essex, 
 If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us, 
 If ever any malice in your heart 
 Was hid 'gainst me, I do beseech your Grace, 
 For charity, now to forgive me. 
 
 Es. The fires i' th' lowest hell infold you, dog. 
 
 Ce. Nay, temperately, thou great traitor. 
 
 Es. Dost call me traitor, thou injurious slave? 
 Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, 
 In thy hands clutch'd as many millions, in 
 Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say, 
 Thou liest unto thee, with a voice as free 
 As I do pray to God. 
 
 Ce. Mark you this, lords ? 
 
 Es. Nay, all of you, that stand and look at me 
 Whil'st that my wretchedness doth bait myself, — 
 Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands, 
 Showing an outward pity ; yet you Pilates 
 Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross, 
 And water cannot wash away your sin. 
 
 C. J. My lord, dispatch ; read o'er these articles. 
 
 Es. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see : 
 And yet salt water blinds them not so much, 
 But they can see a sort of traitors here.
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 83 
 
 Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself, 
 I find myself a traitor with the rest. 
 
 Ce. You speak, my lord, as if you were a god. 
 
 Es. As for my country, I have shed my blood, 
 Not fearing outward force : so shall my lungs 
 Coin words till their decay, against these measles 
 Which I disdain should tetter me. 
 
 Ce. Yet sought 
 The very way to catch them ! 
 
 C. J. What ho, there ! 
 
 [Enter Soldiers.) 
 See them deliver'd over 
 To execution, and the hand of death. 
 
 {Exeunt.) 
 
 Actus Quintus. Scena Quarta. 
 
 {Street in London.) 
 Enter Two Gentlemen. 
 
 First Gent. Whither away so fast? 
 
 Second Gent. God save ye. 
 Why neighbour, here walk I to find you out. 
 
 F. G. Come, come, sans compliment. 
 
 S. G. Brief then, good sir, 
 Ev'n to the hall, to hear what shall become 
 Of the great Earl of Essex and of Ewe. 
 
 F. G. I'll save you that labour. 
 Sir, all's now done, but the ceremony
 
 84 The Tragical History of 
 
 Of bringing back the prisoner. 
 
 S. G. Were you there? 
 
 F. G. Yes indeed was I. 
 
 S. G. Pray speak ; what has happened ? 
 
 F. G. You may guess quickly. 
 
 S. G. What! Is he found guilty? 
 
 F. G. Yes truly is he, 
 And condenin'd upon't. 
 
 S. G. I am sorry for't. 
 
 F. G. So are numbers more. 
 
 S. G. But pray, how pass'd it ? 
 
 F. G. I'll tell you in a little. The great Earl 
 Came to the bar, where to his accusations 
 He pleaded still, not guilty, and alledg'd 
 Many sharp reasons to defeat the law, — 
 Yea, with a splitting power and made to tremble 
 The region of my breast, — then brought they in 
 Those who conspir'd with him. 
 
 S. G. Gorges was one 
 Who fed him with his promises. 
 
 F. G. The same ; 
 All these accus'd him strongly, which he fain 
 Would have flung from him, but indeed he could not. 
 And so his peers upon this evidence, 
 Have found him guilty of high treason. Much 
 He spoke, and learnedly, for life ; but all 
 Was either pitied in him, or forgotten. 
 
 S. G. After all this, how did he bear himself? 
 
 F. G. When he was brought again to th 1 bar to hear 
 His knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirr'd 
 With such agony, he sweat extremely, 
 And something spake in choler, ill and hasty :
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 85 
 
 But he fell to himself again, and sweetly 
 In all the rest show'd a most noble patience. 
 
 S. G. Prithee, let's go and see him. 
 
 F. G. Stay here, sir, 
 And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of. 
 Look where he comes. 
 
 S. G. Stand close and behold him. 
 
 [Enter Essex from his arraignment, Tipstaves before 
 him; the axe with the edge towards him. Halberds 
 on each side, accompanied by the common people. ) 
 
 Guard. Prepare there! 
 The Earl is coming; see the barge be ready, 
 And fit it with such furniture as suits 
 The greatness of his person. 
 
 Essex. Nay, good sir, 
 Let it alone ; my state will now but mock me. 
 When I came hither, I was Lord High Marshal, 
 And Earl of Essex ; now am I nothing : 
 Yet am I richer than my base accusers, 
 That never knew what truth meant. 
 All good people, 
 
 You that thus far have come to pity me, 
 Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me. 
 I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment, 
 And by that name must die ; yet Heaven bear witness, 
 And, if I have a conscience, let it sink me 
 Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful. 
 The law I bear no malice for my death, 
 'T has done upon the premises, but justice : 
 But those that sought it, I could wish more Christians : 
 (Be what they will) I heartily forgive. 'em;
 
 86 The Tragical History of 
 
 Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief. 
 
 Friends and neighbours, you few that lov'd me, 
 
 And dare be bold to weep for Robert Essex, 
 
 His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave 
 
 Is only bitter to him, only dying, 
 
 Go with me like good angels to my end ; 
 
 And as the long divorce of steel falls on me, 
 
 Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice, 
 
 And lift my soul to Heaven. 
 
 Pray for me. 
 
 I must now forsake ye, for the last hour 
 
 Of my long weary life is come upon me : 
 
 Farewell : and when you would say something that is sad, 
 
 Speak how I fell. 
 
 I have done ; and God forgive me. 
 
 Lead on, a God's name. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 Actus Quintus. Scena Quintet. 
 
 {Garden of the Palace.) 
 Flourish. Enter Queen and Two Ladies. 
 
 Queen. What sport shall we devise here in this 
 garden, 
 To drive away the heavy thought of care? 
 Lady. Madam, we'll play at bowles. 
 Q. Soft, I pray thee; 
 Who comes here so fast ? 
 
 (Enter Lady Essex, Child, and Francis Bacon.)
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 87 
 
 Ha ! I like not this. 
 
 How now, mistress, upon what cause com'st thou ? 
 
 What wouldst thou ? 
 
 Lady Essex. O my royal Sovereign, 
 My heart is crack'd. 
 
 Q. How crack'd ? inform me. 
 
 L. E. Alas, I am a woman, friendless, hopeless ; 
 My husband at death's door. O give me leave 
 And let me kiss my lord before I die, 
 And let me die with kissing of my lord. 
 Make not the law a tyrant, gracious Queen. 
 
 Q. Peace lady, peace ; he hath resisted law, 
 And therefore law shall scorn him further trial 
 Than the severity of the public power, 
 Which he so sets at naught. 
 
 L. E. O madam ! 
 
 Q. Peace! 
 And such a one as he, who puts his shall, 
 His popular shall, against a graver bench 
 Than ever frown'd in Greece ! — by Jove himself, 
 It makes the country base ! and my soul aches 
 To know, when two authorities are up, 
 Neither supreme, how soon confusion 
 May enter 'twixt the gap of both, and take 
 The one by th' other. Yea, he must die. 
 
 L. E. O let him live ! consider further : 
 His act did not o'ertake his bad intent, 
 And must be buried but as an intent 
 That perished by th' way : thoughts are no subjects, 
 Intents, but merely thoughts. 
 
 Q. Merely, madam? 
 He's traitor to th' height, — a giant traitor.
 
 88 The Tragical History of 
 
 Here's his period : to sheathe his knife in us 
 
 Was his intent. We could not live in freedom 
 
 And this man out of prison, 
 
 Who being accus'd a crafty murderer, 
 
 His guilt should be but idly posted over 
 
 Because his purpose is not executed. 
 
 L. E. Madam, 'tis true. 
 
 Q. And were't not madness then 
 To make the fox surveyor of the fold? 
 So, the poor chicken should be sure of death. 
 
 Z. E. God mend all ! 
 Madam, I'll take my leave. 
 
 Francis Bacon. Give't not o'er so ; 
 To her again, entreat her, dear lady ; 
 Kneel down before her, hang upon her gown ; 
 You are too cold : if you should need a pin 
 You could not with more tame a tongue 
 Desire it : to her, I say. 
 
 Z. E. Alas ! What poor 
 Ability's in me to do him good ? 
 
 F. B. Assay the power you have. 
 
 Z. E. My power, alas, I doubt. 
 
 F. B. Our doubts are traitors 
 And make us lose the good we oft might win 
 By fearing to attempt ; weep, kneel and pray. 
 
 Z. E. Must he needs die ? 
 
 Q. Madam, no remedy. 
 
 Z. E. Yet I do think that you might pardon him y 
 And neither heaven, nor man, grieve at th' mercy. 
 
 Q. I will not do 't. 
 
 Z. E. But if you would, you can. 
 
 Q. Ha ! what I will not, that I cannot do.
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 89 
 
 L. E. But you might do't and do the world no wrong,, 
 If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse, 
 As mine is to him. 
 
 Q. He is sentenc'd : 
 1 Tis too late, too late, and you are too cold. 
 If he find mercy in the law, he may ; 
 If none, let him not seek't of us. 
 
 Z. K Alack ! 
 If you had so offended him, he would 
 Have weigh'd you by your deeds, and not have cut 
 You off, Madam. 
 
 Q. O harp not on that string ! 
 Your husband must die to-morrow : no more, 
 My will may not be altered : away ! 
 Let him be furnish'd with divines, 
 And have all charitable preparations. 
 
 F. B. Then thou wilt, like an executioner, 
 Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprays, 
 That look too lofty in thy commonwealth : 
 All must be even in thy government. 
 
 Q. Hold thy peace ! 
 He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring, 
 Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf : 
 The weeds, that his broad-spreading leaves did shelter, 
 That seera'd in eating him to hold him up, 
 Are now pulled up, root and all, by me ; 
 The noisome weeds, that without profit suck 
 The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers, 
 I will root all away. Avoid ! begone ! 
 
 F. B. O God! I fear thy justice will take hold 
 On thee and me, on mine and thine, for this. 
 
 Q. I have no further gone in this, than by
 
 90 The Tragical History of 
 
 A single voice ; and that not pass'd me, but 
 
 By learned approbation of the judges. If I am 
 
 Traduc'd by ignorant tongues, which neither know 
 
 My faculties nor person, yet will be 
 
 The chronicles of my doings, — let me say 
 
 'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake 
 
 That virtue must go through. We must not stint 
 
 Our necessary actions, in the fear 
 
 To cope malicious censurers, which ever, 
 
 As rav'nous fishes, do a vessel follow 
 
 That is new trimm'd, but benefit no further 
 
 Than vainly longing. What we oft do best, 
 
 By sick interpreters (once weak ones) is 
 
 Not ours, or not allow'd ; what worst, as oft, 
 
 Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up 
 
 For our best act. If we shall stand still, 
 
 In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at, 
 
 We should take root here where we sit, 
 
 Or sit, state statues only. 
 
 F. B. Things done well, 
 And with a care, exempt themselves from fear ; 
 Things done without example, in their issue 
 Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent 
 Of this execution ? I believe not any. 
 You must not rend your subjects from your laws, 
 And stick them in your will. Why, when you take 
 From every tree, lop bark and part o' th' timber; 
 And leave it with the root thus hack'd, 
 The air will drink the sap. 
 
 Q. Advise yourself. 
 The peace of England, and our person's safety, 
 Enforce us to this execution,
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 91 
 
 To warn false traitors from the like attempts. 
 
 We now have sworn to weed and pluck away 
 
 Such caterpillars of the commonwealth, 
 
 Sith every action that hath gone before, 
 
 Whereof we have record, trial did draw 
 
 Bias and thwart, not answering the aim, 
 
 And that embodied figure of the thought 
 
 That gave surmised shape. * 
 
 But mark you, sir, degree being vizarded, 
 
 The un worthiest shows as fairly in the mask. 
 
 The heavens themselves, the planets and this centre, 
 
 Observe degree, priority, and place, 
 
 Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, 
 
 Office, and custom, all in line of order: 
 
 And therefore is the glorious planet Sol 
 
 In noble eminence, enthron'd and spher'd 
 
 Amidst the other, whose med'cinable eye 
 
 Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil, 
 
 And posts, like the commandments of a king, 
 
 Sans check, to good and bad. But when the planets, 
 
 In evil mixture to disorder wander, 
 
 What plagues, and what portents, what mutiny? 
 
 What raging of the sea ? shaking of earth ? 
 
 Commotions in the winds? Frights, changes, horrors, 
 
 Divert and crack, rend and deracinate 
 
 The unity and married calm of states, 
 
 Quite from their fixture. Oh, when degree is shak'd, 
 
 (Which is the ladder to all high designs) 
 
 The enterprise is sick. How could communities, 
 
 Degrees in schools, and brother-hoods in cities, 
 
 Peaceful commerce from dividable shores, 
 
 The primogenitive, and due of birth, .
 
 92 The Tragical History of 
 
 Prerogative of age, crown, sceptres, laurels, 
 (But by degree) stand in authentic place? 
 Take but degree away, untune that string, 
 And hark ! what discord follows ; each thing meets 
 In mere oppugnancy. The bounded waters, 
 Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores, 
 And make a sop of all this solid globe ; 
 Strength should be lord of imbecility, 
 And the rude son should strike his father dead ; 
 Force should be right, or rather, right and wrong, 
 (Between whose endless jar justice resides) 
 Should lose her names, and so should justice too. 
 Then everything includes itself in power, 
 Power into will, will into appetite, 
 And appetite (an universal wolf) 
 Must make perforce an universal prey, 
 And last, eat up himself: therefore tis meet 
 For this rebellion he should die. 
 
 F. B. Madam, 
 To guard a title that was rich before, 
 To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, 
 To throw a perfume upon the violet, 
 To smooth the ice, or add another hue 
 Unto the rain-bow, or with taper-light, 
 To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, 
 Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess. 
 
 Q. You know not what you speak! I'll see that he 
 Be executed by nine to-morrow morning : 
 Bring him his confessor, let him be prepar'd, 
 For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage. 
 
 F. B. Well ! heaven forgive him, and forgive us all; 
 Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall ;
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl oj Essex. 93 
 
 Some run from brakes of ice, and answer none, 
 And some condemned for a fault alone : 
 Now civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives again ; 
 That she may long live here, God say, Amen. 
 
 ( Exeunt. ) 
 
 Actus Quintus. Scena Sexta. 
 
 {Dungeon in the Tower.) 
 Enter Robert Earl of Essex. 
 
 Essex. No bending knee will call me Caesar now, 
 No humble suitors prease to speak for right, 
 No, not a man comes for redress of me ; 
 For how can I help them and not myself, 
 Not knowing how to find the open air, 
 But toiling desperately to find it out ? 
 So 1 were out of prison, and kept sheep, 
 I should be merry as the day is long ; 
 And so 1 should be here, but that I doubt 
 That Cecil practices more harm to me : 
 He is afraid of me and I of him. 
 
 ( Knocking heard. ) 
 
 Who knocks there ? 
 
 {Enter Jailor.) 
 Jailor. My lord, one comes to greet you. 
 
 [Enter Baron.) 
 Es. What art thou ? And how com'st thou hither. 
 Where no man ever comes but that sad dog 
 That brings me food to make misfortune live?
 
 94 The Tragical History of 
 
 Give us a light there, hoa ! 
 
 (Light brought) 
 
 thou damn'd cur, 
 
 Whom to call brother would infect my mouth, — 
 Get thee gone, thou most wicked sir. 
 F. B. My lord, 
 
 1 may be negligent, foolish, and fearful ; 
 In every one of these no man is free, 
 But that his negligence, his folly, fear, 
 Among the infinite doings of the world, 
 Sometime puts forth in your affairs, my lord. 
 If ever I were willful-negligent 
 
 It was my folly ; if industriously 
 I play'd the fool, it was my negligence, 
 Not weighing well the end ; if ever fearful 
 To do a thing where I the issue doubted, 
 Whereof the execution did cry out 
 Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear 
 Which oft infects the wisest : these, my lord, 
 Are such allow'd infirmities that honesty 
 Is never free of. But, beseech your grace, 
 Be plainer with me ; let me know my trespass 
 By its own visage ; if I then deny it, 
 'Tis none of mine. Speak, my lord. 
 
 Es. Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 F. B. Why dost thou laugh ? it fits not with this 
 hour. 
 
 Es. Why ? I have not another tear to shed : 
 Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, 
 And would usurp upon my watery eyes, 
 And make them blind with tributary tears ; 
 Then which way will I find revenge's cave ?
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 95 
 
 F. B. Despair not, my lord. 
 
 Es. Who shall hinder me ? 
 I will despair, and be at enmity 
 With coz'ning hope ; he is a flatterer, 
 A parasite, a keeper back of death, 
 Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, 
 Which false hopes linger in extremity. 
 
 thou damnable fellow ! thou coward ! 
 Thou cursed Cain, to slay thy brother Abel ! 
 Soft conscience man ; to please our mother, 
 Thou help'st to kill me. Thou congealed ice, 
 Preach some philosophy to make me mad, 
 For, being not mad, but sensible of grief, 
 
 My reasonable part produces reason. 
 
 F. B. O, if I could, what grief should I forget! 
 O, I am pale at heart to see thine eyes 
 So red ! Thou must be patient. 
 
 Es. Away, fool ! 
 What ! think'st thou that the chirping of a wren, 
 By crying comfort from a hollow breast, 
 Can chase away the first-conceived sound ? 
 Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words. 
 
 (Bacon starts to embrace him.) 
 Lay not thy hands on me ; forbear I say ; 
 Their touch affrights me as a serpent's sting. 
 Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight! 
 
 F. B. Is it my .fault that I was forc'd to plead ? 
 No, indeed, 'twas not. How much thou wrong'st me, 
 Heaven be my judge. 
 
 Es. have done, have done ! 
 So dear I lov'd thee, man, that I must weep : 
 
 1 took thee for the plainest harmless creature,
 
 ■96 The Tragical History of 
 
 That breath'd upon the earth, a Christian ; 
 Made thee my book, wherein my soul recorded 
 The history of all her secret thoughts. 
 
 momentary grace of mortal men, 
 
 Which we more hunt for than the grace of God ! 
 Who builds his hope in air of thy good looks, 
 Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, 
 Ready with every nod to tumble down, 
 Into the fatal bowels of the deep ; 
 And I, in such a desp'rate bay of death, 
 Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft, 
 Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom. 
 
 F. B. My lord, my lord ! — 
 
 Es. Go, coward as thou art ! 
 •Go, base intruder, over-weening slave, 
 Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates, 
 And think my patience, (more than thy desert) 
 Is privilege for thy departure hence! 
 Thank me for this, more than for all the favours 
 Which (all too-much) I have bestow'd on thee. 
 My comfort is, that heaven will take my soul, 
 And plague injustice with the pains of hell. 
 
 F. B. Now God keep you, my gracious lord Earl. 
 If that black scandal, or foul-fac'd reproach, 
 Attend the sequel oi your imposition, 
 Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me 
 From all the impure blots and stains thereof; 
 For God doth know, and you may partly see, 
 How far I am from the desire of this. 
 
 1 would to heaven I were in your place, 
 Within this loathsome dungeon, here to pine 
 Away my pining youth and fading breath.
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 97 
 
 Es. O God! what mischief work the wicked ones, 
 Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby ! 
 O God, O God, O God! consumptions sow 
 In hollow bones of man ; strike their sharp shins, 
 And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's voice, 
 That he may never more false title plead, 
 Nor sound his quillets shrilly : hoar the prophet, 
 That scold'st against the quality of flesh, 
 And not believes himself. Down with the nose, 
 Down with it flat, take the bridge quite away 
 Of him, that his particular to foresee 
 Smells from the general weal. Make curl'd pate ruffians 
 
 bald ; 
 And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war 
 Derive some pain from thee. Plague all. 
 O devils, devils, devils ! 
 
 Pluck the grave wrinkled judges from the bench, 
 And minister in their steads to general filths. 
 Convert o' th' instant green virginity, 
 Do't in their parent's eyes. Bankrupts, hold fast 
 Rather than render back ; out with thy knives, 
 And cut thy trusters' throats ! Bound servants, steal ! 
 Large-handed robbers thy grave masters are, 
 And pill by law ! Maid, to thy master's bed ; 
 Thy mistress is o' th' brothel ! Some of sixteen 
 Pluck the lyn'd crutch from thy old limping sire, 
 With it beat out his brains ! piety and fear, 
 Religion unto God, peace, justice, truth, 
 Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighborhood, 
 Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, 
 Degrees, observances, customs, and laws, 
 Decline to thy confounding contraries.
 
 98 Tfie Tragical History of 
 
 And yet confusion live ! Plagues incident to men, 
 Thy potent, and infectious fevers heap 
 On England, ripe for stroke ! thou cold sciatica, 
 Cripple our counsellors, that their limbs may halt 
 As lamely as their manners ! lust and liberty 
 Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth, 
 That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive, 
 And drown themselves in riot! itches, blains, 
 Sow all the English bosoms, and their crop 
 Be general leprosy ! breath infect breath, 
 That their society (as their friendship) may 
 Be merely poison ! Let courts and cities be 
 Made all of false-fac'd soothing ! — 
 Look thou, who comes here? 
 
 ( Enter Lord Keeper. ) 
 
 Lord Keeper. Sir, away ! away ! 
 Ha! I have said away! 
 
 F. B. What ? I am fearful ! wherefore frowns he 
 thus ? 
 All's not well. 
 
 L. K Mr. Bacon, away, away ! 
 
 F. B. You speak a language that I understand not. 
 Have you no countermand for Essex yet, 
 But he must die to-morrow ? 
 
 L. K. None sir, none. 
 
 F. B. As near the dawning, keeper, as it is, 
 You shall hear more ere morning. 
 
 L. K Happily 
 You something know ; yet I believe there comes 
 No countermand ; no such example have we : 
 Besides, upon the very siege of justice, 
 Her Majesty hath to the public ear
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 99 
 
 Profess'd the contrary. If you be pleas'd, 
 Retire sir. , 
 
 F. B. My lord, I will even take my leave of you. 
 I pray you, sir, take patience ; I have hope, 
 You less know how to value her desert, 
 Than she to scant her duty. So farewell. 
 
 Es. So part we sadly in this troublous world, 
 To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem. 
 
 [Exit Bacon.) 
 
 Who's within there ? hoa ! 
 
 (Enter Jailers.) 
 
 Ha! who's here? 
 
 What would'st thou, fellow? and how cam'st thou hither? 
 
 First Jailer. I would speak with you, and I came 
 hither 
 On my legs. 
 
 Es. What ! so brief? 
 
 F. J. 'Tis better sir than to be tedious : 
 Let him see our commission, and talk no more. 
 
 L. K. I am, in this, commanded to deliver 
 The noble Earl of Essex to your hands. 
 I will not reason what is meant thereby. 
 
 (Exit Keeper.) 
 
 F. J. Oh, he is bold, and blushes not at death. 
 
 Es. A vaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone ! 
 
 F. J. There's the great traitor. 
 
 Second Jailer. Ingrateful fox, 'tis he. 
 
 F. J. Bind fast his corky arms. 
 
 Es. Help, — help, — help, — help ! 
 Here's a man would murder me. Help, — help, — help ! 
 I will not struggle, I will stand stone still. 
 
 F. J. Bind him, I say.
 
 100 The Tragical History of 
 
 8, J. Hard, hard ! O filthy traitor ! 
 
 F. J. Give me the iron I say, and bind him here : 
 To this chair bind him. 
 
 Es. Let me not be bound : 
 Alas, why need you be so boisterous rough ? 
 I am undone, O I am undone ! 
 Do me no foul play,friend ! 
 
 F. J. Read here, traitor. 
 Can you not read it ? is it not fair writ ? 
 
 Es. How now, foolish rheume ; 
 Must you, with hot irons, burn out both mine eyes ? 
 O Heaven, that there were but a moth in yours, 
 A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair, 
 Any annoyance in that precious sense : 
 Then feeling what small things are boisterous there, 
 Your vile intents must needs seem horrible. 
 O spare mine eyes, though to no use but still to look on 
 
 you! 
 Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold 
 And would not harm me. O men, if you will, 
 Cut out my tongue, so that I may still keep 
 Both mine eyes to see. 
 
 F. J. To see some mischief! 
 
 * 
 
 See shall thou never: (fellows, hold the chair:) 
 Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot ! 
 
 Es. He that will think to live till he be old, 
 Give me some help ! — O save me, — save me ! — help ! 
 
 ( They tear out one of his eijes.) 
 O cruel ! O God, — O God, — O God ! my eyes are out ! 
 Oh, I am slain ! 
 
 F. J. My lord, you have one eye left ! 
 One side will mock another ; th' other too.
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 101 
 
 Out, vile jelly! where is thy lustre now? 
 
 ( They tear out the other eye.) 
 Es. All dark and comfortless ! — 
 O God, enkindle all the sparks of nature 
 To quit this horrid act. 
 
 F. J. Away with him ; lead him unto the block. 
 
 {Exeunt Omnes.)
 
 102 The Tragical History of 
 
 Bacon and Decipherer. 
 
 " Away, with me, all you whose souls abhor 
 Th' uncleanly savors of a slaughter-house." 
 
 " 0, I am stifled with this smell of sin ! 
 I am best pleas'd to be from such a deed. 
 
 " Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain 
 Prom whence this stream, through muddy passages 
 Hath had his current, and defil'd himself, 
 Thy overflow of good, converts the bad, 
 And thy abundant goodness shall excuse 
 This deadly blot in thy digressing friend. 
 Now he is gone, I do but stay behind 
 To do for him the office of revenge, 
 And then my soul shall wait on his to heaven, 
 As it on earth had been his servant still. 
 
 God, God ! I wish the wicked Queen 
 Had cut off my head with my poor brother's." 
 
 " Nay do not banish reason ; show wisdom 
 In close patience." 
 
 " Many that are not mad, 
 Have sure more lack of reason. Look thou, sir, 
 His head is off, his eyes pluck'd out ; and I 
 Must hide the faults, seem true and gracious, 
 Be a suitor unto his substitutes, 
 Or go to prison. Shall I continue?" 
 
 " I am your free dependent." 
 
 " Peace, here comes 
 The villain that did murder my dear lord ! 
 What black magician conjures up this fiend? 
 
 1 beseech you look, sir ; here comes to him 
 The steeled jailer and his cut-purse friend. 
 Oh 'tis an accident Heaven provides ! 
 Let's step into the shadow of these trees, 
 And listen to them."
 
 Our Late Brother, Earl of Essex. 103 
 
 Jailer. I do beseech you, 
 O good my lord, that I may speak with you. 
 
 Cecil. What's the matter with you now, my masters ? 
 
 Ja. Why, stay and hear me speak. 
 
 Ce. Not now, not now ; 
 111 speak with nobody : I have much to do. 
 
 Ja. Come sir, come sir, come sir; the prince is dead. 
 And we claim the promise at your grace's hand, 
 And look to have it yielded with all kindness. 
 
 Ce. Get you hence, instantly ! for look you, sirs, 
 Dogs are often beat for barking. 
 
 Ja. Thou dar'st not, coward, live to see the day : 
 Oppose thy steadfast-gazing eyes to mine, 
 See if thou canst out-face me with thy looks. 
 Set limb to limb and thou art far the lesser ; 
 Thy hand is but a finger to my fist; 
 Thy leg a stick, compar'd with this truncheon ; 
 My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast ; 
 And if mine arm be heaved in the air, 
 Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth. 
 Did'st thou not tell us to torture and oppress, 
 Villify, torment and crucify him ? 
 Starve, vex, gall, tyrannize and insult him ? 
 To put out both his eyes, that they might serve 
 For buttons to his lips to keep his tongue 
 From catching cold ? 
 
 Ce. Out, treacherous villain ! 
 Is't not enough to break into my garden, 
 And like a thief to come to rob my ground. 
 Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner, 
 But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms ?
 
 104 The Tragical History of 
 
 Ja. Brave thee? ay, by the best blood that ever was 
 broach'd, 
 And beard thee too. 
 
 Ce. Thou miserable wretch : « 
 
 I was not born to sue but to command. 
 Upon mine own free-hold, with forty feet 
 Of gallows conning thy neck, thou shalt hang. 
 
 Ja. What, coward ! If I be hang'd look to it, 
 Whither I go, thither shalt thou go too. 
 
 Ce. Peace! 
 
 Second Jailer. Hear the cryer. 
 
 Ce. What the devil art thou ! 
 
 S. J. One that will play the devil, sir, with you, 
 And a may catch your hide and you alone. 
 You are the hare of whom the proverb goes, 
 Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard; 
 I'll smoke your skin-coat, and I catch you right ; 
 Sirrah, look too't; yfaith I will, yfaith. 
 
 Ce. Well, well, put up your sword. 
 
 Ja. Say then my peace is made. 
 
 Ce. I will excuse you both, and for his death 
 No wind of blame shall breathe against you, sirs ; 
 Even his mother shall not lay a fault on you. 
 Come, go with me, speak fair; you may salve so. 
 
 Ja. I'll follow sir, as they say, for reward. 
 
 S. J. He that rewards me, heaven reward him. 
 
 ( Exit Cecil and Jailers. ) 
 
 " This is the cruel man that was employ'd 
 To execute that execrable tragedy, 
 And you can witness with me this is true." 
 
 " This is the strangest tale that e'er I heard."
 
 Sir $rcmcis Bacon's (£iplicr Story. 
 
 The series of deciphered writings from the Shakespearean 
 Plays, the stage plays of Marlow, the works of Peele, Green, 
 Spenser and Burton, has reached the sixth book, and others in 
 process of translation. The character and scope of the mat- 
 ter so far deciphered, will be indicated by the following 
 
 SYNOPSIS. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 Francis Bacoii's Letter to the Decipherer. 1 
 
 Embracing the plan of the work, explanation of methods, 
 and reasons for writing the narrative in Cipher. 
 
 Epistle Dedicatory. 45 
 
 To him who shall find the Cipher. 
 
 Description of Queen Elizabeth. 56 
 
 TIw Curse. 61-67 
 
 Upon those who have caused his humiliation. 
 
 Francis Bacon's Life. 97 
 
 Discovery that he was son of Elizabeth. Confirmation by 
 his foster mother, Lady Ann Bacon. 
 
 Description of the Reign of Elizabeth. 154 
 
 The Queers Last Days. 170 
 
 Strangled by Robert Cecil. 184 
 
 Lady Ann Bacon recounts to Francis 190 
 
 The early life of Elizabeth and the end of the reign of Mary. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 Continues 200 
 The account of Elizabeth ; the wooing of Leicester in the 202 
 Tower ; bribes the Holy Friar to take him to Eliza- 
 beth ; frightens him into performing the marriage cer- 224 
 emony ; plotting the death of Leicester's wife, Ayme 226 
 Robsart; Ayme Robsart visits the Queen; stormy 235 
 interview ; death of Ayme Robsart. 248
 
 Second Marriage of Elizabeth and Leicester. 
 
 By Sir Nicholas Bacon, in the presence of Lady Ann Bacon 
 
 and Lord Puckering. Account interrupted by a sum- 250 
 mons from the Queen. 252 
 
 Elizabeth and Francis. Banished to France. 256 
 
 The Spanish Armada. 263 
 
 Prologue. Phillip II demands, through ambassadors, the 
 hand of Elizabeth in marriage. The alternative of 
 refusal, the wresting of the Crown from her " unlawful 
 hands " by war. Elizabeth's reply to the ambassadors. 
 Pedigree of the Queen. Appearance of the Spanish 
 Fleet. 
 
 The Great Storm. 377 
 
 Bacon's description. Bacon rescues Don Pedro, the Span- 
 ish Commander. 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 The Spanish Armada Continued. 401 
 
 Bacon visits the Queen and pleads for his prisoner Don Pedro 459 
 
 whom he rescued from drowning. Entrance of Lord 489 
 
 High Admiral, Capt. Palmer and Sir Anthony Cook. 492 
 
 Don Pedro before the Queen. Plea for mercy. 493 
 
 "The quality of mercy is not strain'd." 494 
 
 The Queen "aweary of his speech," wishes to hear the 
 
 Admiral's report of the battle, which is described. 495 
 
 Capt. Drake tells of the second day's battle. Allegor- 498 
 
 ical description giving the names of Spanish and Eng- 499 
 
 lish vessels engaged. Admiral Howard recounts his 512 
 
 part in the fight. Capt. Drake describes the storm. 526 
 
 Capt. Palmer's experiences in the German Seas. 530 
 
 Don Martin, a prisoner before the Queen. 552 
 
 Bacon again begs for Don Pedro. 558 
 
 Enter sailors with letters. 566 
 
 " The end has come." 
 So by a roaring tempest on the flood, 
 A whole Armado of convicted sail 
 Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship. 
 
 Epilogue. 567 
 
 Francis Bacon's Life at the Court of France 571 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 Massacre of St. Bartholomew. 603 
 
 Mary Queen of Scots. 631 
 
 Francis Bacon recurs to his oivn life. 650 
 
 Hamlet. 652 
 
 Discovery by the Queen that Bacon wrote it, and the fate 
 of tlic first copy. 
 
 Tragedy of Mary Queen of Scots. 672
 
 Synopsis of "The Historical Tragedy of flary Queen of Scots." 
 
 Act I.— Scene /.— Interview between Queen Elizabeth and Counsellor Francis Bacon. The Law of 
 Treason. * * * Queen Elizabeth commands the presence of Leicester, who arranges 
 to bring Mary to his house in London for an interview. 
 Scene 2 — Banquet room at house of Leicester. Leicester and Mary at banquet table. Queen 
 Elizabeth secretly enters; hides behind statue. Mary proposes marriage to Leicester, 
 they to be rulers of the French, English and Scottish realms. Elizabeth steps forth, 
 
 "Doth Scotland make your Majesty our judge.'" 
 Mary in surprised alarm, 
 
 "Alas, lam undone! It is the Queen." 
 Interview between Elizabeth and Mary; withdrawal of Elizabeth and Leicester. 
 Act II. — Scene 1. — In front of Tower; time, midnight. Stormy interview between Queen Elizabeth 
 and Leicester; the jealous Queen declares his banishment; thrusts hirn away and enters. 
 Leicester in rage: 
 
 "I'll empty all these veins, and shed my blood 
 Drop by drop i 1 tli eai t/i ei e I -oil! go ! 
 Lei my soul want mercy if I do not join 
 With Scot/and, in her behalf. ' 
 Enter Francis Bacon, who counsels a different course. Leicester requests Bacon to 
 plead for him to the Queen. 
 Scene 2 — Audience room of Palace. Bacon pleads for Leicester; calls upon himself the wrath 
 of the Queen; takes leave. 
 
 " No power I have to speak, I know. 
 And so, farewell, I, and my griefs will go." 
 Enter Leicester; begs that he be not banished; Queen repents. 
 " Restrain thy <//>/>/ ehension; I will lay ti us/ upon thee, 
 And thou shall find I 'fill preserve and love thee. 
 
 I have conferred on thee the commandment of mine army beyond the sea." 
 Act III. — Scene /.—Council Chamber of Palace. Lords seated at table: Queen on the throne; 
 Elizabeth announces that Leicester is to command her armies in Ireland. Strongly 
 opposed by the Lord Chancellor; Leicester accused of treason. The Queen overrules the 
 council; makes him General and administers the oath. 
 Scene 2.— Council Chamber—twelve months later. Queen Elizabeth presents the treasons of 
 Mary Queen of Scots; gives letter of commission for her trial. 
 Act IV.— Scene /.—Room in Fotheringay Castle; lords, knights, captains, lawyers and gentlemen in 
 attendance. Queen Mary before the Court; notes the absence of the English Queen; 
 demands her presence— Will be tried by her peers, and not by servants of lesser degree, 
 Council show warrant. Mary denies the charges; so impresses and moves the Court that 
 Chief Justice suddenly adjourns the Court to London, fearing that by her eloquence and 
 beauty she be acquitted 
 Scene i.-Room in Tower of London; Court convenes to convict Mary; Montague speaks 
 strongly for her; members cry Guilty! guilty! 
 Act V. — Scene 1. — Palace of the Queen, Elizabeth and train. 
 
 "Q. E. Fie, what a slug is Warwick, he comes not 
 To tell us whether they will that she shall die or no. 
 
 Ah! In good time here comes the sweating lord." (Enter Warwick.*) 
 Heannounces the decision of '• guilty." Enter Lords of Council; they present Elizabeth 
 the warrant for Mary's death She does not sign it. 
 
 "Q. E. My lord, I promise to note it cunningly; 
 
 But here come the ambassadors of our brothers of France and Spain." 
 Enter ambassadors, who plead for the life of Mary. 
 Scene 2. — Street in London. Enter Burleigh and Secretary of the Queen (Davison); met by 
 
 Leicester. All enter a public house. 
 Scene j. — Private room; Burleigh and Leicester force the Secretary to forge the Queen's name 
 
 to the warrant for Mary's execution. 
 Scene ^.— Chamber in Fotheringay Castle— Queen Mary and maids. Enter English Lords. 
 "Q. M. Welcome, my lords.- Why do you come. Is' 't for my life? 
 Lord Shrewsbury. ' Tis note midnight, and by eight tomorrow thou must be made 
 
 immortal. 
 Q. M. How! Mv lord! Tomorrow? tomorrow! Oh! that's sudden. 
 
 Oh! this subdues me quite. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Good, good mv lord, if / must die tomorrow, 
 
 Let me have some revet end person 
 
 To advise, comfort and pray with me." (This is refused. 1 
 Scene 5. — Hall of Fotheringay Castle, hung with black. Platform and block at end. English 
 Lords and Gentlemen, executioner, and assistants. 
 Enter Queen Mary dressed in black and red velvet gown. The executioner assures her 
 
 "I will be as speedy in your death as all the poisonous potions in the world. 
 
 And yo u sli a II feel n o pa i?i . ' ' 
 Mary addresses the Lords, denies the charges, asserting that they shed innocent blood. 
 
 "And if you tell the. heavy story right, 
 
 Upon my soul the hearers will shed tears. 
 
 Yea, even my foes will shed fast falling tears. 
 
 And say it zuas a piteous deed to lake me from 
 
 The world, and send mv soul to heaven." 
 
 * * * * 
 
 (She kneels and prays): 
 " Oh God, hatie mercy upon me, and receive my fainting soul again ! Oh be thou merciful ! 
 And let our princelv sister be satisfied with our true blood which, as Thou know'st, unjustly 
 must be spilled ! Oh God, send to me the wa/er from the well of life, and by my death stop 
 effusion of Christian blood and' ' stablish quietness on every side! Let me be blessed for the 
 i>eace I make. Amen." (Rises.) 
 
 " Farewell, stveet Lords; let's meet in heaven 
 Good my Lord of Derby, lead me to the block." 
 
 (Speaks to Executionei.) 
 Finis.
 
 Queen Elizabeth's Dream. 762 
 
 Her indignation and horror at the death of Mary. 
 
 " Queen. Who hath made bold with the great seal, and who 
 Hath inscribed my name? 764 
 
 Leicester. Your servant, th' secretary, 
 Brought the warrant to us, the great seal stamp'd upon't. 
 
 Q. Then there was a league between you to hasten her 
 Untimely death." 
 
 Foreign Ambassadors Presented. 7^5 
 
 The Queen explains to them that her savage council have 
 cruelly slain Mary, and declares her intention to hang 
 her secretary for insubordination, 
 
 Bacon Resumes his "Life in France" 767 
 
 Interview between Bacon and Navarre. 771 
 
 Prayer of Navarre. 782 
 
 Intrigues to effect his escape from France. 786 
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 Continues Bacon's '-'-Life in FranceP SOI 
 
 Bacon discloses to Navarre that he is heir to the throne of 
 England, lawful son of Elizabeth and Leicester. 
 Tells of his banishment and espouses Navarre's cause. 
 
 Navarre^s Attempt to Escape Frustrated. 834 
 
 The grand hunt; Navarre's flight. 
 
 Bacon's Visit to the Huguenot Camp. 871 
 
 Report of same to Henry III. and to Margaret of Navarre. 
 Plan of the latter to escape to the camp. 
 
 Bacon Discloses his Love to Margaret. 926 
 
 Ladder of cords. Disappointment. Interview with Friar. 
 Farewell to Margaret. 
 
 BOOK VI 
 
 (in preparation.) 
 
 Conclusion of Bacon's "Life at the Court of France." 1001 
 Anjou's desertion of the Huguenots; his trifling successes 
 magnified ; the triumphs or fetes in his honor. 
 Catherine's revival of " The Court of Love." 
 
 Bacon Returns to England. 
 
 Stormy interview with Queen Elizabeth and Leicester. 
 Paulet attempts to negotiate a marriage between Bacon 
 and Margaret. Second banishment. Visit to Italy. 
 
 Bacon follows the Queen-mother to the South. 
 
 Public Trial of Queen Margaret. 
 
 The Assassination of the Duke of Guise and the Cardinal 
 of Lorraine. 
 
 Henry LI I. and Navarre join forces to besiege Paris. 
 
 Navarre declared Heir to the Throne of France. 
 
 Assassination of the King. 
 
 Death of Nicholas Bacon; Francis Recalled to England. 
 
 HOWARD PUBLISLIING CO. 
 
 Detroit, March, 1895.
 
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