r John Norris, was
at their head, was hardly worthy her Majesty's service or himself, and
that in reality the Queen had lost nothing, by his appointment, but had
gained much benefit and honour by thus having the whole command of the
Provinces, of their forces by land and sea, of their towns and treasures,
with knowledge of all their secrets of state.

Then, relapsing into a vein of tender but reproachful melancholy, he
observed, that, if it had been any man but himself that had done as he
had done, he would have been thanked, not censured. "But such is now my
wretched case," he said, "as for my faithful, true, and loving heart to
her Majesty and my country, I have utterly undone myself. For favour, I
have disgrace; for reward, utter spoil and ruin. But if this taking upon
me the name of governor is so evil taken as it hath deserved dishonour,
discredit, disfavour, with all griefs that may be laid upon a man, I must
receive it as deserved of God and not of my Queen, whom I have reverenced
with all humility, and whom I have loved with all fidelity."

This was the true way, no doubt, to reach the heart of Elizabeth, and
Leicester had always plenty of such shafts in his quiver. Unfortunately
he had delayed too long, and even now he dared not take a direct aim. He
feared to write to the Queen herself, thinking that his so doing, "while
she had such conceipts of him, would only trouble her," and he therefore
continued to employ the Lord-Treasurer and Mr. Secretary as his
mediators. Thus he committed error upon error.

Meantime, as if there had not been procrastination enough, Davison was
loitering at the Brill, detained by wind and weather. Two days after the
letter, just cited, had been despatched to Walsingham, Leicester sent an
impatient message to the envoy. "I am heartily sorry, with all my heart,"
he said, "to hear of your long stay at Brill, the wind serving so fair as
it hath done these two days. I would have laid any wager that you had
been in England ere this. I pray you make haste, lest our cause take too
great a prejudice there ere you come, although I cannot fear it, because
it is so good and honest. I pray you imagine in what care I dwell till I
shall hear from you, albeit some way very resolute."

Thus it was obvious that he had no secret despair of his cause when it
should be thoroughly laid before the Queen. The wonder was that he had
added the offence of long silence to the sin of disobedience. Davison had