These inconsistent resolutions and emotions caused Elizabeth's life to be one of agitation, though without warmth, and devoid of serenity as of sweetness.

And so, when she grew old, she was disgusted with it and weary of it; she took no pleasure any more in thing or person; she could no longer bear herself, either in her court or in her bed or elsewhere; she decked herself out to lie stretched upon cushions and there remain motionless, casting about her vague glances which seemed to seek after that for which she did not ask.

She ended by repelling her physicians and even refusing nourishment.

When her ministers saw her thus, almost insensible and dying, they were emboldened to remind her of what she had said to them one day at White-Hall, "My throne must be a king's throne." At this reminder she seemed to rouse herself, and repeated the same words, adding, "I will not have a rascal (vaurien) to succeed me." Sir Robert Cecil asked her what she meant by that expression.

"I tell you that I must have a king to succeed me; who can that be but my cousin of Scotland ?" After having indicated the King of Scotland, James Stuart, son of the fair rival whom she had sent to the block, Elizabeth remained speechless.