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Her Highness beareth a more kind afpect.

"Tush, man! These are vain conceits: the fumes of your ever overweening. None strive to thrust you hence! who dare?"

"None! did they know your gracious will. Oh, happy Effex, by one kind word raised from the duft! Yet, fweet lady, they who holp to urge me on this employ have striven to tie me to't under most hard conditions."

"Methinks thou art mistaken, Robin! Thou haft no enemies at Court."

"None, fairest lady, an thou smileft on me! Where the fun fhines in fplendour no envious clouds can come between !"

Then the Queen questioned as to the order left in Ireland, and was fatisfied; willing to be left to her gentle

women.

"Stay, Effex! Haft feen thy Countefs?-and my coufin Lettice-eh ?"

"Nay, fweet madam! my duty and my love brooked no dalliance on the way."

"Go to! go to! fweet Robin! I hear your fair wife is in the instant hope of a tiny comforter ?"

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"Fairest lady! And, when it forts, I would be a

poor fuitor to your Grace fo I might visit her."

"So foon, Effex? ah!"

"At your Highness' pleasure."

"I have no pleasure in your abfence, Robin." "Gracious and dear Lady!”

Effex kiffed hands again; and, rifing, withdrew backwards. Cheerful, indeed, was his fpirit now! All labour, all anxiety, all danger, rifk, lofs, was repaid by the one fmile of royalty! No longer did the step he had taken seem fraught with difficulties: no doubts, no fears, no respects haraffed him. It feemed like a matter of course-all had been fo fitting; and the refult proved that he was wife. Elizabeth had liftened to what alone had troubled him. Nay, she had seemed to justify his conduct. Beyond all this, he had once more made fuggestions to her ear unfavourable to his enemies; and he well knew by experience how these would work. And thus elated he hastened to prepare himself for a fecond interview he had been promised.

There were at all times lodgings ready for the Lords of the Council and other officers of the Court: but the Master

VOL. III.

N

of the Horfe Chambers the Chamberlain had gotten ready so foon as it was known my Lord had come.

Now did the Queen question him upon feveral points, and with fcrupulous acutenefs; often making notes and answers to his statement. Yet fo gentle and feemingly confiding was her Grace, that Effex became emboldened again to hint at those ill offices fome whom he had left behind were capable of doing him. Her Majesty tried to reaffure him, none prefuming, as she said, to speak evil of one fo dear to her at least in hearing; nor did fhe think but that his body, distempered by that malicious Isle (as she termed a certain part of her dominions), had gotten fome crude phantafies into his brain that could not but thrust their noxious fumes into his poor conceit.

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CHAPTER XIII.

"Let him grow awhile,

His fate is not yet ripe. We must not pluck
At all together, left we catch ourselves.”

SEJANUS HIS FALL, act II. fc. II.

EANWHILE Secretary Cecyl fat in his lodgings over against the archway of the Palace. There

were before him piles of papers, rolls of red

ferret, memorials, reports, estimates, accounts, petitions, complaints, informations, pleas, letters, difpatches, in many tongues and handwritings, cyphers known only to diplomatists, or unintelligible but to the writer and intended reader, all which lay about the room in most admired diforder.

Occafionally, from an inner closet, fome cringing fcribe would bring a paper he had indited from inftruction; date,

names of places and of perfons, all in blank. These Master Secretary would anon most secretly fill up.

Another clerk would fhew his facfimile transcript, with, however, many ingeniously added paragraphs, ill afforting with the early spirit of the writing.

Then were there whispering and intelligencing by notable figns, mysterious looks, and quaint cant terms paffing among the employed; figures, too, masked and muffled, might be seen in the dark entry, skulking; while strange un-English forms walked to and fro along the

corridor.

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Here Sir Robert Cecyl took council of his own fpirit. None could thwart or contend with him here. Here was he abfolute; and, with a staff of fworn officials, might he not be emphatically fupreme?

There was more stir about the son than old Burghley had. There was not in this Secretary the gravity of Walfingham. Yet with a gay oftent of humour could he be as crafty as Sir Francis, as cautious as his volpone father.

At a desk before him ftands a youth writing to his dictation-"For the time of the year is so spent, and the

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