Anonymous Page #2

Cecil's all but promising him

the throne.

To James?

Elizabeth would never...

Elizabeth is old. III.

And yet she refuses

to name an heir.

But a Scotsman?

On the Tudor throne?

That is why we must do

everything in our power to ensure

the right man succeeds Elizabeth.

A man deserving

of the Tudor crown.

I ask you for the support

of you and your men, Henry,

if it comes to a fight,

for me to seize the throne.

You know you need not ask.

I stand with you,

as I always have.

Be careful, Henry.

Always concerned for me.

What would you have me do?

Deny him.

The son of the queen?

That is rumor alone, Henry.

Rumor?

All you have to do is look at Essex

to see the queen's reflection.

Everyone thinks he's her son.

My lords.

And I, for one,

would rather bow to a Tudor, bastard

though he may be, than a Scotsman.

My only desire is to see

the next king be the rightful king.

But what Essex contemplates

will lead to civil war. No.

If this is to be done,

it must be done carefully.

Tie her off there.

I agree, my lord.

My Lord of Southampton.

Sir Robert Cecil.

Have you seen Lord Essex?

He is in the viewing chamber

with Her Majesty.

Alone?

With your father in London

dealing with troubles in Ireland,

who else should the queen

turn to but Essex?

By the grace of God,

Her Majesty, Elizabeth,

Queen of England

Wales and Ireland.

- Your Majesty.

- Your Majesty.

- Your Majesty.

- Your Majesty.

- Your Majesty.

- Your Majesty.

- Your Majesty.

- God bless Your Majesty.

God bless Your Majesty.

Ah. Your Majesty, my Lord of

Southampton has a gift for you.

A gift?

Yes, Your Grace.

Though not from me.

Are you the gift,

my gracious little man?

No, no, my most majestic Majesty.

I am a free man. My gift is a play.

A play?

Plays are the work

of the devil,

born from a cesspool of plague,

whoredom, thievery,

fornication and heresy.

Tell your master that Her Majesty...

Will gladly accept.

That is, of course,

if Your Majesty so desires.

Comedy or tragedy?

Comedy, Majesty.

Comedy. By whom?

By Anonymous, Your Majesty.

Anonymous.

I so admire his verse.

Lead us to this play.

The woosel cock so black of hue

With orange-tawny bill

The throstle...

The throstle with his note so true

The Wren with little quill

What angel

wakes me from my flow'ry bed?

The finch, the sparrow and the lark

The plain-song cuckoo gray

If we shadows have offended,

think but this and all is mended.

That you have but slumber'd here

while these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme,

no more yielding but a dream.

Gentles, do not reprehend.

If you pardon, we will mend.

So good night unto you all.

Give me your hands,

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