Elizabeth Tudor

                                             
                                              By Rebekah Sawyer.

    Elizabeth paced the floor of  her newly acquired royal chamber,  twisting and pulling the hem on the sleeve of her gown, as she racked her brain for the answers she sought.  Oh what shall I do?  What shall I do? She spoke half aloud and half to her self.  Mary is dead leaving England the worse for ruling than when she began.  I, the Queen, have no money to speak of, as the royal treasury is empty, and there is a great lack of good men in positions of power to aide me in  ruling this country.  Furthermore my army and navy are weak, while we are in precarious situations with Spain and France.  Sparring Catholics and Protestants add to the general upheaval in this once great country.  Even now as I speak parliament is advising and plotting a marriage for me.  Their council is to marry with great haste and lean heavily on my would be husband!  Bah!  I, Elizabeth, married to a man who will dictate every detail of the ruling of my country?  I dare say NOT!  Parliament may not know,  but I am determined.  I have a vision for this country of mine.  England will be unified and great making its people proud to be Englishmen once more!  She stops pacing the floor, and instead, walks over to a rather large looking glass and gazes at herself as if trying to decipher if she means all that she speaks and thinks.  She looks and sees in her reflection, a woman.  That is what I am, she says, I have the spirit of a man trapped inside this frail woman's body.  But, God help me, I will rule England much as a man would.  As my father would.  She recognizes determination in her set of jaw and her eyes, and suddenly realizes she she means it.  What had all these years of cleverly avoiding execution and learning to play the complicated game of politics been for?  Preparing me for this exact time.  My time to rule England and, I pray, bring it into its age of glory.