The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex Page #3

The old order is dead. Your house

will die if you cannot learn.

This is Elizabeth we deal with.

What's a king but a man,

a queen but a woman?

There's one man she fears,

and that man's yourself.

- And she has good reason to fear you.

- To fear me? Why? I'm loyal.

You're a man not easily governed...

...moreover, a general,

popular and acclaimed.

And last, she loves you...

...which makes you more to be feared

whether you love her or not.

Love her?

I most certainly do love her.

- My lord, a man as young as yourself...

- lf she were my mother's kitchen hag...

...toothless and wooden leg, she'd still

make the others colorless. She's a witch.

She's got a witch's brain.

I love her. I hate her.

I adore her.

That side of it you must

know for yourself.

But, my lord,

permit me to caution you.

Don't count too much

on the loves of queens.

Thanks, Schoolmaster Bacon, for that

sound lecture and the sound advice.

Which you probably will not take.

Which I probably will not.

- What's the shortest road to London?

- Up the hill to the river, then follow it.

So you would take the queen's knight,

Mistress Penelope?

I fear you are overpresumptuous

and over-inexperienced.

- All knights are fair game, Your Grace.

- I have observed you seem to think so.

The queen will protect her own.

Why didn't you move?

- Lf I do, l...

- You will take my knight.

Is that so far from your desire?

Move, I tell you.

Check to Your Grace.

I fear the queen is powerless now.

The queen is never powerless.

For example...

I had no desire to play,

but Your Majesty commanded me.

Never mind, child.

It's only a game,

and I'm out of sorts.

I'm tired of it.

Do something. Sing. Play.

Amuse me.

- Your Majesty?

- Well?

Would you like to hear

Master Marlowe's song:

- "The Passionate Shepherd to His Love"?

- Anything you please.

Please, Penelope, don't.

- Your Majesty.

- Well?

By Your Grace, Raleigh has lately writ

an answer to Master Marlowe's ballad.

I'll sing it if Mistress Margaret

will take Marlowe's verses against me.

A tournament of song?

By all means.

Proceed. Proceed.

So Sir Walter has turned rhymester.

The words will fit perfectly.

A woman in love with a man

much younger than herself.

Are you mad, Pen? She'll beat you...

...or send you to the tower.

Come live with me

And be my love

Enjoy with me

The pleasures here above

That hills and valleys

Dales and fields

And all the wooded mountains yield

If I could be

As young and fair as you

Believe what every shepherd

Said was true

These pretty speeches

Might me move

To live with you

And be your love

- And I will make your bed of roses

- In lovers ' vows there is but little truth

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