"I were no woman to refuse you such a boon," said the Queen, smiling.
"Then," pursued the Duchess, "in the name of these fair ladies present,
I request your Majesty to confer the rank of knighthood on Walter
Raleigh, whose birth, deeds of arms, and promptitude to serve our sex
with sword or pen, deserve such distinction from us all."
"Gramercy, fair ladies," said Elizabeth, smiling, "your boon is
granted, and the gentle squire Lack-Cloak shall become the good knight
Lack-Cloak, at your desire. Let the two aspirants for the honour of
chivalry step forward."
Blount was not as yet returned from seeing Tressilian, as he conceived,
safely disposed of; but Raleigh came forth, and kneeling down, received
at the hand of the Virgin Queen that title of honour, which was never
conferred on a more distinguished or more illustrious object.
Shortly afterwards Nicholas Blount entered, and hastily apprised by
Sussex, who met him at the door of the hall, of the Queen's gracious
purpose regarding him, he was desired to advance towards the throne. It
is a sight sometimes seen, and it is both ludicrous and pitiable; when
an honest man of plain common sense is surprised, by the coquetry of a
pretty woman, or any other cause, into those frivolous fopperies
which only sit well upon the youthful, the gay, and those to whom long
practice has rendered them a second nature. Poor Blount was in this
situation. His head was already giddy from a consciousness of unusual
finery, and the supposed necessity of suiting his manners to the gaiety
of his dress; and now this sudden view of promotion altogether completed
the conquest of the newly inhaled spirit of foppery over his natural
disposition, and converted a plain, honest, awkward man into a coxcomb
of a new and most ridiculous kind.
The knight-expectant advanced up the hall, the whole length of which he
had unfortunately to traverse, turning out his toes with so much zeal
that he presented his leg at every step with its broadside foremost,
so that it greatly resembled an old-fashioned table-knife with a curved
point, when seen sideways. The rest of his gait was in proportion
to this unhappy amble; and the implied mixture of bashful rear and
self-satisfaction was so unutterably ridiculous that Leicester's friends
did not suppress a titter, in which many of Sussex's partisans
were unable to resist joining, though ready to eat their nails with
mortification. Sussex himself lost all patience, and could not forbear
whispering into the ear of his friend, "Curse thee! canst thou not walk
like a man and a soldier?" an interjection which only made honest Blount
start and stop, until a glance at his yellow roses and crimson stockings
restored his self-confidence, when on he went at the same pace as
before.