Shaker_coverRobert, Earl of Essex spites the Queen and marries without permission.

The following year a new crisis threatened their relationship when Essex secretly married the widow of Sir Philip Sidney, Frances, daughter of the recently deceased Secretary of State Walsingham. It was several months before Elizabeth learned of the marriage.
When she found out, her anger knew no bounds as she called Robert into her private quarters. “What is the meaning of this? How dare you marry below your degree and without my permission? I am furious with you. How could you do this to me?” she said, ringing her hands, and almost crying in her despair.
“ ‘Below my degree’? Madam, she is the daughter of your former Secretary of State and leading adviser, and from one of the best families in England,” said Robert calmly.
“You are a Tudor, you fool. I had hoped that you would marry a royal Princess,” said the Queen.
“You did never inform me of such intentions, Madam. You have done nothing to recognise me, nor Francis. How can you expect either of us to put aside our lives and wait patiently for you to decide when the moment is right for you, if ever.” He was getting warmed up. “It was the same with Leicester. You would not recognise him as Prince Consort. You forced him to seek his happiness elsewhere. You drove him into marriage with Lettice. You drove him to his death. Don’t you see what you do to people? It is all a result of your own procrastinations. ‘When in doubt, postpone the decision’. Were they not the famous words of your father that have become your most important guidelines to ruling this country?”
“No, no, no!”, cried Elizabeth. “You know I cannot recognise you or Francis at this time. It would be very risky for the realm.”
“Rubbish! We are already at war with Spain. How much worse can it get? The fact is that you are the alone Queen, who wishes to rule alone until the day she dies. And by then it may be too late for Francis or for me. Francis is already close to giving up, I happen to know. And perhaps I too should forget about my chances. I think the idea of going down in history as the ‘Virgin Queen’ is more important to you than recognising your rightful heirs, and so does Francis,” he said bitterly.
“Don’t say that,” cried Elizabeth. “I do intend to name one of you. That is why I insisted on the ‘natural issue’ clause. You must realise that.” But she was not very convincing.
“I have to live my own life. I cannot count on you. I love my wife, and if it ever came to it, she would make an excellent Queen. That is my opinion.”
“You should have asked my permission under all circumstances,” she said weakly.
“Perhaps. But I knew how upset you would be. Now in any case it is a fait accompli. Nothing can be done about it. I am sorry, Madam,” said Robert apologetically, as he took his leave.
Elizabeth was crushed.