wild Will!-thou hast given my nephew, Philip Sidney, love-powder-he cannot sleep without thy Venus and Adonis under his pillow! We will have thee hanged for the veriest wizard in Europe. Heark thee, mad wag, I have not forgotten thy matter of the patent, and of the bears."

The player bowed, and the Earl nodded and passed on-so that age would have told the tale-in ours, perhaps, we might say the immortal had done homage to the mortal. The next whom the favourite accosted, was one of his own zealous dependants. The descriptions of the entertainments given by Leicester to his sovereign, at Kenilworth, many will regard as the most interesting part of the novel: we can only refer to them as imbued with life and vigour-being much limited in our space for extracts. Here the unfortunate Amy Robsart, driven, by the evidently fatal designs of her keepers, to flight from Cumnor place, arrives, after a series of most interesting adventures, unknown to her husband, at the instant he is entertaining his royal mistress. A string of accidents and embarrassments ensue, all calculated to increase the peril and misery of the doomed victim. Restrained by her love for Leicester, and dread of disobeying him, from making an open appeal to the Queen, she encounters her Majesty alone, by hazard, in a grotto of the grounds: the suspicions of Elizabeth are excited,—and a public examination takes place-the result of which is, that the detested Varney claims his master's Countess, as his own wife; in which piece of effrontery the sordid irresolution of Leicester sustains him. The victim is consigned to her assassin as insane, and is forcibly consigned back to Cumnor place, where death awaits her.

Soon after her departure, accident discovers the truth to Elizabeth-discovers how she has been imposed upon by Leicester, and how her woman's feelings, as well as her royal pride, have been trifled with and abused. The scene of resentment and exposure that follows, though long, we must give in our pages, as an imperishable. record of our author's powers.

Meantime Tressilian traversed the full length of the great hall, in which the astonished courtiers formed various groupes, and were whispering mysteriously together, while all kept their eyes fixed on the door, which led from the upper end of the hall

into the Queen's withdrawing apartment. Raleigh pointed to the door-Tressilian knocked, and was instantly admitted. Many a neck was stretched to gain a view into the interior of the apartment; but the tapestry, which covered the door on the inside, was dropped too suddenly to admit the slightest gratification of curiosity.

Upon entrance, Tressilian found himself, not without a strong palpitation of heart, in the presence of Elizabeth, who was walking to and fro in a violent agitation, which she seemed to scorn to conceal, while two or three of her most sage and confidential counsellors exchanged anxious looks with each other, but seemed to delay speaking till her wrath had abated. Before the empty chair of state in which she had been seated, and which was half pushed aside by the violence with which she had started from it, knelt Leicester, his arms crossed, and his brows bent on the ground, still and motionless as the effigies upon a sepulchre. Beside him stood the Lord Shrewsbury, then Earl Marshal of England, holding his baton of office-the Earl's sword was

unbuckled, and lay before him on the floor.

"Ho, sir!" said the Queen, coming close up to Tressilian, and stamping on the floor with the action and manner of Henry himself;

66 you knew of this fair workyou are an accomplice in this deception which has been practised on us you have been a main cause of our doing injustice?" Tressilian dropped on his knee before the Queen, his good sense shewing him the risk of attempting any defence at that moment of irritation. "Art dumb, sirrah!" she continued; "thou know'st of this affair-dost thou not?"

"Not, gracious Madam, that this poor lady was Countess of Leicester.”

"Nor shall any one know her for such," said Elizabeth. "Death of my life! Countess of Leicester !-I say Dame Amy Dudley and well if she have not cause to write herself widow of the traitor Robert Dudley."

“

"Madam," said Leicester, " do with me what it may be your will to do-but work no injury on this gentleman-he hath in no way deserved it."`

"And will he be the better for thy intercession," said the Queen, leaving Tressilian, who slowly arose, and rushing to Leicester, who continued kneeling," the better for thy intercession, thou doubly false-thou doubly forsworn?-of thy intercession, whose villainy hath made me ridiculous to my subjects, and odious to myself? I could tear out mine own eyes for their blindness!"

Burleigh here ventured to interpose.

"Madam," he said, "remember that you are a Queen-Queen of England— mother of your people. Give not way to this wild storm of passion."

66

Madam," he said, "I am a statesman, but I am also a man-a man already grown old in your councils, who have not and cannot have a wish on earth but your glory and happiness-I pray you to be composed."

Ah, Burleigh," said Elizabeth, "thou little knowest"-here her tears fell over her cheeks in despite of her.

"I do I do know, my honoured Sovereign. O beware that you lead not others to guess that which they know not!"

"Ha!" said Elizabeth, pausing as if a new train of thought had suddenly shot across her brain. "Burleigh, thou art right-thou art right-any thing but disgrace any thing but a confession of weakness-any thing rather than seem the cheated-slighted 'Sdeath! to think on it is distraction!"

"Be but yourself, my Queen," said Burleigh; "and soar far above a weakness which no Englishman will ever believe his Elizabeth could have entertained, unless the violence of her disappointment carries a sad conviction to his bosom."

"What weakness, my lord ?" said Elizabeth, haughtily; "would you too insinuate that the favour in which I held yonder proud traitor, derived its source from aught" -But here she could no longer sustain the proud tone which she had assumed, and again softened as she said, "But why should I strive to deceive even thee, my good and wise servant!"

Burleigh stooped to kiss her hand with affection, and-rare in the annals of courts -a tear of true sympathy dropped from the eye of the minister on the hand of his Sovereign.

It is probable that the consciousness of possessing this sympathy, aided Elizabeth in supporting her mortification, and suppressing her extreme resentment; but she was still more moved by fear that her passion would betray to the public the affront and the disappointment, which, alike as a woman and a Queen, she was so anxious to conceal. She turned from Burleigh, and sternly paced the hall till her features had recovered their usual dignity, and her mien its wonted stateliness of regular motion.

"Our Sovereign is her noble self once more," whispered Burleigh to Walsingham; "mark what she does, and take heed you thwart her not."

She then approached Leicester, and said, with calmness," My Lord Shrewsbury, we discharge you of your prisoner.—My Lord of Leicester, rise and take up your sword-A quarter of an hour's restraint, under the custody of our Marshal, my lord, is, we think, no high penance for months of falsehood practised upon us. We will now hear the progress of this affair."-She then seated herself in her chair, and said, "You, Tressilian, step forward, and say what you know."

Tressilian told his story generously, suppressing as much as he could what affected Leicester, and saying nothing of their having twice actually fought together. It is very probable that in doing so, he did the Earl good service; for had the Queen at that instant found any thing on account of which she could vent her wrath upon him, without laying open sentiments of which she was ashamed, it might have fared hard with him. She paused when Tressilian had finished his tale.

"We will take that Wayland," she said, "into our own service, and place the boy in our Secretary-office for instruction, that he may in future use discretion towards letters. For you, Tressilian, you did wrong in not communicating the whole truth to us, and your promise not to do so was both imprudent and undutiful. Yet, having given your word to this unhappy lady, it was the part of a man and a gentleman to keep it; and on the whole, we esteem you for the character you have sustained in this matter. My Lord of Leicester, it is now your turn to tell us the truth, an exercise to which you seem of late to have been too much a stranger."

Accordingly, she extorted by successive questions, the whole history of his first acquaintance with Amy Robsart-their marriage-his jealousy-the causes on which it was founded, and many particulars besides. Leicester's confession, for such it might be called, was extorted from him piecemeal, yet was upon the whole accurate, excepting that he totally omitted to mention that he had, by implication, or otherwise, assented to Varney's designs upon the life of his Countess. Yet the consciousness of this was what at that moment lay nearest to his heart; and although he trusted in great measure to the very positive counterorders which he had sent by Lambourne, it was his purpose to set out for CumnorPlace in person, as soon as he should be dismissed from the presence of the Queen, who, he concluded, would presently leave Kenilworth.

But the Earl reckoned without his host. It is true, his presence and his communications were gall and wormwood to his once partial mistress. But, barred from every other and more direct mode of revenge, the Queen perceived that she gave her false

suitor torture by these inquiries, and dwelt on them for that reason, no more regarding the pain which she herself experienced, than the savage cares for the searing of his own hands with the hot pincers with which he tears the flesh of his captive enemy.

At length, however, the haughty lord, like a deer that turns to bay, gave intimation that his patience was failing. "Madam," he said, "I have been much to blame more than even your just resentment has expressed. Yet, Madam, let me say, that my guilt, if it be unpardonable, was not unprovoked; and that if beauty and condescending dignity could seduce the frail heart of a human being, I might plead both, as the causes of my concealing this secret from your Majesty."

The Queen was so much struck by this reply, which Leicester took care should be heard by no one but herself, that she was for the moment silenced, and the Earl had the temerity to pursue his advantage. "Your Grace, who has pardoned so much, will excuse my throwing myself on your royal mercy for those expressions, which were yester morning accounted but a light

offence.'

The Queen fixed her eyes on him while she replied, "Now, by heaven, my lord, thy effrontery passes the bounds of belief, as well as patience! But it shall avail thee nothing. What, ho! my lords, come all and hear the news-My Lord of Leicester's stolen marriage has cost me a husband, and England a King. His Lordship is patriarchal in his tastes-one wife at a time was insufficient, and he designed us the honour of his left hand. Now, is not this too insolent, that I could not grace him with a few marks of court-favour, but he must presume to think my hand and crown at his disposal?-You, however, think better of me; and I can pity this ambitious man, as I could a child, whose bubble of soap has burst between his hands. We go to the presence-chamber-My Lord of Leicester, we command your close attendance on us."

All was eager expectation in the hall, and what was the universal astonishment, when the Queen said to those next her, "The revels of Kenilworth are not yet exhausted, my lords and ladies-we are to solemnize the noble owner's marriage."

There was an universal expression of surprise.

"It is true, on our royal word," said the Queen; "he hath kept this a secret even from us, that he might surprise us with it at this very place and time. I see you are dying of curiosity to know the happy bride. It is Amy Robsart, the same who, to make up the May-game yesterday, figured in the pageant as the wife of his servant Varney."

"For God's sake, Madam," said the

Earl, approaching her with a mixture of humility, vexation, and shame in his countenance, and speaking so low as to be heard by no one else," take my head, as you threatened in your anger, and spare me these taunts! Urge not a falling mantread not on a crushed worm.”

"A worm, my Lord ?" said the Queen, in the same tone; 66 nay, a snake is the nobler reptile, and the more exact similitude the frozen snake you wot of, which was warmed in a certain bosom "

"For your own sake for mine, madam," said the Earl" while there is yet some reason left in me

"Speak aloud, my lord," said Elizabeth, "and at farther distance, so please youyour breath thaws our ruff. What have you to ask of us?"

"Permission," said the unfortunate Earl, humbly, "to travel to CumnorPlace."

"To fetch home your bride belike?— Why, ay, that is but right for, as we have heard, she is indifferently cared for there. But, my lord, you go not in person -we have counted upon passing certain days in this Castle of Kenilworth, and it were slight courtesy to leave us without a landlord during our residence here. Under your favour, we cannot think to incur such disgrace in the eyes of our subjects. Tressilian shall go to Cumnor-Place instead of you, and with him some gentleman who hath been sworn of our chamber, lest my Lord of Leicester should be again jealous of his old rival. Whom wouldst thou have to be in commission with thee, Tressilian ?"

Tressilian, with humble deference, suggested the name of Raleigh.

"Why, ay,' said the Queen; God ha' me, thou hast made a good choice. He is a young knight besides, and to deliver a lady from prison is an appropriate first adventure.-Cumnor-Place is little better than a prison, you are to know, my lords and ladies. Besides, there are certain faitours there whom we would willingly have in fast keeping. You will furnish them, Master Secretary, with the warrant necessary to secure the bodies of Richard Varney and the foreign Alasco, dead or alive. Take a sufficient force with you, gentlemen-bring the lady here in all honour-lose no time, and God be with you."

But, alas! the lady was not to be brought from Cumnor-Place. By the contrivance of the villains, to whose hands her husband had committed her, she had perished before her de

liverers arrived!

Such is the story of Kenilworth. The author of Waverley and Ivanhoe, may fairly be proud of this work;