This was said so peremptorily, and at the same time with so much kindness, that Sussex, however unwilling to become the guest of his rival, had no resource but to bow low to the Queen in obedience to her commands, and to express to Leicester, with blunt courtesy, though mingled with embarrassment, his acceptance of his invitation.  As the Earls exchanged compliments on the occasion, the Queen said to her High Treasurer, “Methinks, my lord, the countenances of these our two noble peers resemble those of the two famed classic streams, the one so dark and sad, the other so fair and noble.  My old Master Ascham would have chid me for forgetting the author.  It is Caesar, as I think.  See what majestic calmness sits on the brow of the noble Leicester, while Sussex seems to greet him as if he did our will indeed, but not willingly.”

“The doubt of your Majesty’s favour,” answered the Lord Treasurer, “may perchance occasion the difference, which does not—­as what does?—­escape your Grace’s eye.”

“Such doubt were injurious to us, my lord,” replied the Queen.  “We hold both to be near and dear to us, and will with impartiality employ both in honourable service for the weal of our kingdom.  But we will break their further conference at present.—­My Lords of Sussex and Leicester, we have a word more with you.  ’Tressilian and Varney are near your persons—­you will see that they attend you at Kenilworth.  And as we shall then have both Paris and Menelaus within our call, so we will have the same fair Helen also, whose fickleness has caused this broil.—­Varney, thy wife must be at Kenilworth, and forthcoming at my order.—­My Lord of Leicester, we expect you will look to this.”

The Earl and his follower bowed low and raised their heads, without daring to look at the Queen, or at each other, for both felt at the instant as if the nets and toils which their own falsehood had woven were in the act of closing around them.  The Queen, however, observed not their confusion, but proceeded to say, “My Lords of Sussex and Leicester, we require your presence at the privy-council to be presently held, where matters of importance are to be debated.  We will then take the water for our divertisement, and you, my lords, will attend us.—­And that reminds us of a circumstance.—­Do you, Sir Squire of the Soiled Cassock” (distinguishing Raleigh by a smile), “fail not to observe that you are to attend us on our progress.  You shall be supplied with suitable means to reform your wardrobe.”

And so terminated this celebrated audience, in which, as throughout her life, Elizabeth united the occasional caprice of her sex with that sense and sound policy in which neither man nor woman ever excelled her.

CHAPTER XVII.

     Well, then—­our course is chosen—­spread the sail—­
     Heave oft the lead, and mark the soundings well—­
     Look to the helm, good master—­many a shoal
     Marks this stern coast, and rocks, where sits the Siren,
     Who, like ambition, lures men to their ruin.—­The shipwreck.