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         You wished to-day assurance of your fate;

         My Lord of Burleigh brings it to you now;

         Hear it with resignation, as beseems you.

         I hope with dignity, as it becomes

         My innocence, and my exalted station.

         I come deputed from the court of justice.

         Lord Burleigh lends that court his willing tongue,

         Which was already guided by his spirit.

         You speak as if no stranger to the sentence.

         Lord Burleigh brings it; therefore do I know it.

         To listen less to hatred.

                       I but name

         My enemy: I said not that I hate him.]

         But to the matter, sir.

                      You have acknowledged

         The jurisdiction of the two-and-forty.

         My lord, excuse me, if I am obliged

         So soon to interrupt you. I acknowledged,

         Say you, the competence of the commission?

         I never have acknowledged it, my lord;

         How could I so? I could not give away

         My own prerogative, the intrusted rights

         Of my own people, the inheritance

         Of my own son, and every monarch's honor

         It is enacted by the English laws

         That every one who stands arraigned of crime

         Shall plead before a jury of his equals:

         Who is my equal in this high commission?

         Kings only are my peers.

                      But yet you heard

         The points of accusation, answered them

         Before the court —

                   'Tis true, I was deceived

         By Hatton's crafty counsel: – he advised me,

         For my own honor, and in confidence

         In my good cause, and my most strong defence,

         To listen to the points of accusation,

         And prove their falsehoods. This, my lord, I did

         From personal respect for the lords' names,

         Not their usurped charge, which I disclaim.

         Acknowledge you the court, or not, that is

         Only a point of mere formality,

         Which cannot here arrest the course of justice.

         You breathe the air of England; you enjoy

         The law's protection, and its benefits;

         You therefore are its subject.

                         Sir, I breathe

         The air within an English prison walls:

         Is that to live in England; to enjoy

         Protection from its laws? I scarcely know

         And never have I pledged my faith to keep them.

         I am no member of this realm; I am

         An independent, and a foreign queen.

         And do you think that the mere name of queen

         Can serve you as a charter to foment

         In other countries, with impunity,

         This bloody discord? Where would be the state's

         Security, if the stern sword of justice

         Could not as freely smite the guilty brow

         Of the imperial stranger as the beggar's?

         I do not wish to be exempt from judgment,

         It is the judges only I disclaim.

         The judges? How now, madam? Are they then

         Base wretches, snatched at hazard from the crowd?

         Vile wranglers that make sale of truth and justice;

         Oppression's willing hirelings, and its tools?

         Are they not all the foremost of this land,

         Too independent to be else than honest,

         And too exalted not to soar above

         The fear of kings, or base servility?

         Are they not those who rule a generous people

         In liberty and justice; men, whose names

         I need but mention to dispel each doubt,

         Each mean suspicion which is raised against them?

         Stands not the reverend primate at their head,

         The pious shepherd of his faithful people,

         The learned Talbot, keeper of the seals,

         And Howard, who commands our conquering fleets?

         Say, then, could England's sovereign do more

         Than, out of all the monarchy, elect

         The very noblest, and appoint them judges

         In this great suit? And were it probable

         That party hatred could corrupt one heart;

         Can forty chosen men unite to speak

         A sentence just as passion gives command?

         I am struck dumb by that tongue's eloquence,

         Which ever was so ominous to me.

         And how shall I, a weak, untutored woman,

         Cope with so subtle, learned an orator?

         Yes truly; were these lords as you describe them,

         I must be mute; my cause were lost indeed,

         Beyond all hope, if they pronounce me guilty.

         But, sir, these names, which you are pleased to praise,

         These very men, whose weight you think will crush me,

         I see performing

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