a public trial.
With prudence make your best defence; but should
Severity her iron jurisdiction
Extend too far, and give thee up condemn'd
To angry laws, thy queen will not forget thee.
Yet, lest you then should want a faithful friend
(For friends will fly you in the time of need)
Here, from my finger, take this ring, a pledge
Of mercy; having this, you ne'er shall need
An advocate with me, for whensoe'er
You give, or send it back, by heaven, I swear,
As I do hope for mercy on my soul,
That I will grant whatever boon you ask.

_Essex._ Oh, grace surprising! most amazing goodness!
Words cannot paint, the transports of my soul!
Let me receive it on my grateful knees,
At once to thank, and bless the hand that gives it.

_Qu. Eliz._ Depend, my lord, on this--'twixt you and me,
This ring shall be a private mark of faith [_Gives the ring._
Inviolate. Be confident; cheer up;
Dispel each melancholy fear, and trust
Your sovereign's promise--she will ne'er forsake you.

_Essex._ Let Providence dispose my lot as 'twill,
May watchful angels ever guard my queen;
May healing wisdom in her councils reign,
And firm fidelity surround her throne;
May victory her dreaded banners bear,
And joyful conquests crown her soldiers' brow;
Let every bliss be mingled in her cup,
And Heaven, at last, become her great reward. [_Exit._

_Qu. Eliz._ 'Tis done;
And yet foreboding tremors shake my heart.
Something sits heavy here, and presses down
My spirits with its weight. What can it mean?
Suppose he is condemn'd! my royal word
Is plighted for his life; his enemies,
No doubt, will censure much.--No matter; let them;
I know him honest, and despise their malice.

_Enter COUNTESS of RUTLAND._

_Rut._ Where is the queen? I'll fall before her feet
Prostrate; implore, besiege her royal heart,
And force her to forgive.

_Qu. Eliz._ What means this phrensy?

_Rut._ Oh, gracious queen! if ever pity touch'd
Your generous breast, let not the cruel axe
Destroy his precious life; preserve my Essex,
My life, my hope, my joy, my all, my husband!

_Qu. Eliz._ Husband!--What sudden, deadly blow is this!
Hold up, my soul, nor sink beneath this wound.----
You beg a traitor's life!

_Rut._ Oh, gracious queen!
He ever loved--was ever faithful--brave!
If nature dwells about your heart, oh, spurn
Me not!--My lord! my love! my husband bleeds!

_Qu. Eliz._ Take her away.

_Rut._ I cannot let you go.
Hold off you