Tressilian appeared, and made a low and beseeming reference. His

person, as we have elsewhere observed, had an air of grace and even of

nobleness, which did not escape Queen Elizabeth's critical observation.

She looked at him with, attention as he stood before her unabashed, but

with an air of the deepest dejection.

"I cannot but grieve for this gentleman," she said to Leicester. "I have

inquired concerning him, and his presence confirms what I heard, that he

is a scholar and a soldier, well accomplished both in arts and arms. We

women, my lord, are fanciful in our choice--I had said now, to judge by

the eye, there was no comparison to be held betwixt your follower and

this gentleman. But Varney is a well-spoken fellow, and, to say truth,

that goes far with us of the weaker sex.--look you, Master Tressilian, a

bolt lost is not a bow broken. Your true affection, as I will hold it to

be, hath been, it seems, but ill requited; but you have scholarship, and

you know there have been false Cressidas to be found, from the Trojan

war downwards. Forget, good sir, this Lady Light o' Love--teach your

affection to see with a wiser eye. This we say to you, more from the

writings of learned men than our own knowledge, being, as we are, far

removed by station and will from the enlargement of experience in such

idle toys of humorous passion. For this dame's father, we can make his

grief the less by advancing his son-in-law to such station as may

enable him to give an honourable support to his bride. Thou shalt not be

forgotten thyself, Tressilian--follow our court, and thou shalt see

that a true Troilus hath some claim on our grace. Think of what that

arch-knave Shakespeare says--a plague on him, his toys come into my head

when I should think of other matters. Stay, how goes it?

'Cressid was yours, tied with the bonds of heaven;

These bonds of heaven are slipt, dissolved, and loosed,

And with another knot five fingers tied,

The fragments of her faith are bound to Diomed.' You smile, my Lord of Southampton--perchance I make your player's verse

halt through my bad memory. But let it suffice let there be no more of

this mad matter."

And as Tressilian kept the posture of one who would willingly be heard,

though, at the same time, expressive of the deepest reverence, the Queen

added with some impatience, "What would the man have? The wench

cannot wed both of you? She has made her election--not a wise one

perchance--but she is Varney's wedded wife."




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