Source:
The girlhood of Queen Elizabeth, a narrative in letters, Frank Arthur Mumby, 1909
The letter:
Good Mr. Vice Chamberlain, — This messenger, your servant, having given me some little warning to wait on you, I have ventured to trouble you with my ill-written letter, false English, and matter as little to be regarded as the profession of her good will that wrote it, who is, herself, little or nothing worth. Nevertheless, when I remember your courtesies offered, even then when fortune most showed her despite against me, I am persuaded a certain planet reigned, that then assured me, and so doth still, that I should receive some good of you, though the storms of my ill fortune having shed since many drops untimely for me, to gather fruit of your favour. I have nothing to present you with, but the thought of the heart by the pen's descriptions, in what thankful manner I take your good and kindly offer to do me pleasure, holding that opinion of your great virtue that I have ever conceived, which is, that you love faithful plain dealing, and hate dissimulation. I am grievously sorry for Her Majesty's heavy displeasure, so kindled against me, as I hear it is. If God will make my prayers worthy to enter into His ears, I will, with all lowliness of mind, incessantly beseech Him to prosper her estate; and for my offence, which she supposeth to be heinous in her judgment, and instantly deserving her disfavour, I appeal to the Highest, that is best able to look into the bottom of my heart, whether my innocency have not always dreaded only to conceive so much as an ill thought of her. God bless her, and give me grace to serve Him, that by His goodness it may plainly appear unto her how unjustly I am afflicted with her disgrace and indignation. It shall make me less careful than I have been (but only for duty's sake) for that life of courting: but Countrywoman, or Courtier, as long as Mr. Vice Chamberlain will do me the honour to judge me worthy to be esteemed an honest poor friend, I will ever, with all honour that any tongue can express, think I do right to myself in giving you that which your virtue deserveth. Yours, as ever vowed during life, ELIZABETH, Prisoner.
Postscript. — I hope, Sir, that if a poor pilgrim, wandering in the Park with a long bow, shoot at rovers and hit a buck where the sign is, and die of it, you will not make it a pretended murder.
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