"Be it so, my lord," answered the Queen; "you could manage a theatre
well, who can thus command a double set of actors. For ourselves, we
will receive your courtesies this evening but clownishly, since it is
not our purpose to change our riding attire, being in effect something
fatigued with a journey which the concourse of our good people hath
rendered slow, though the love they have shown our person hath, at the
same time, made it delightful."
Leicester, having received this permission, retired accordingly, and
was followed by those nobles who had attended the Queen to Kenilworth
in person. The gentlemen who had preceded them, and were, of course,
dressed for the solemnity, remained in attendance. But being most of
them of rather inferior rank, they remained at an awful distance
from the throne which Elizabeth occupied. The Queen's sharp eye soon
distinguished Raleigh amongst them, with one or two others who were
personally known to her, and she instantly made them a sign to approach,
and accosted them very graciously. Raleigh, in particular, the adventure
of whose cloak, as well as the incident of the verses, remained on
her mind, was very graciously received; and to him she most frequently
applied for information concerning the names and rank of those who
were in presence. These he communicated concisely, and not without some
traits of humorous satire, by which Elizabeth seemed much amused. "And
who is yonder clownish fellow?" she said, looking at Tressilian, whose
soiled dress on this occasion greatly obscured his good mien.
"A poet, if it please your Grace," replied Raleigh.
"I might have guessed that from his careless garb," said Elizabeth.
"I have known some poets so thoughtless as to throw their cloaks into
gutters."
"It must have been when the sun dazzled both their eyes and their
judgment," answered Raleigh.
Elizabeth smiled, and proceeded, "I asked that slovenly fellow's name,
and you only told me his profession."
"Tressilian is his name," said Raleigh, with internal reluctance, for
he foresaw nothing favourable to his friend from the manner in which she
took notice of him.
"Tressilian!" answered Elizabeth. "Oh, the Menelaus of our romance. Why,
he has dressed himself in a guise that will go far to exculpate his fair
and false Helen. And where is Farnham, or whatever his name is--my Lord
of Leicester's man, I mean--the Paris of this Devonshire tale?"
With still greater reluctance Raleigh named and pointed out to her
Varney, for whom the tailor had done all that art could perform in
making his exterior agreeable; and who, if he had not grace, had a sort
of tact and habitual knowledge of breeding, which came in place of it.