But the queen's excited
imagination could by no entreaty be diverted from its
course. 'Bid him come hither to our aid,' she said, 'and
bring with him his lambs, as he calls them--Bowton, Hay of
Talla, Black Ormiston and his kinsman Hob--Fie, how swart
they are, and how they smell of sulphur! What! closeted with
Morton? Nay, if the Douglas and the Hepburn hatch the
complot together, the bird when it breaks the shell will
scare Scotland, will it not, my Fleming?' 'She grows wilder
and wilder,' said Fleming. 'We have too many hearers for
these strange words.' 'Roland,' said Catherine, 'in the name
of God begone!--you cannot aid us here--leave us to deal
with her alone--away--away!"
And equally fine is the scene in _Kenilworth_ in which Elizabeth
undertakes the reconciliation of the haughty rivals, Sussex and
Leicester, unaware that in the course of the audience she herself will
have to bear a great strain on her self-command, both in her feelings
as a queen and her feelings as a lover.
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