Chapter II: Act I

SCENE I.—PLYMOUTH—A STREET ALONG THE QUAY.

_The harbour and ships_, _sailors swaggering about with a bold_, _saucy_, _defiant air_, _richly dressed_, _displaying a profusion of silks_, _gold_, _and jewelry_; _their women also flaunting in rich dresses_.—_Enter an English spy_.

ENGLISH SPY, (_In a serious musing attitude_)—I have watched this game from its beginning, when Mary married Philip. With all the might of Spain and Rome to back her she failed to crush a seeming helpless girl. The young Nobility, the proud hold chivalry of England took her part! On high paced steeds they rode her escort, or thronged her house with levies which shamed the deserted Court. Where’er she moved abroad, the roaring multitude surged round her, unbonneted to their idol as she passed. I saw that Church and Spain must lose! Elizabeth would be Queen at last! (_He walks a few steps with a satisfied air_.) When Mary’s reign was closed, what shouts of joy broke from emancipated London! A pall as black as death seemed lifted off men’s souls. What tables of rejoicing lined the streets! What blazing bonfires reddened all the walls! Catholic and Protestant forgot their creeds to hail the rising sun of Liberty! I said Priests and Monks may plot. There is one only party in the State. England for herself against the WORLD! So hath it been of yore, so let it be for ever. No foreign Despot will she ever brook. (_He walks proudly_). What experience has been mine? Poverty! Power! Influence! rare companions! meeting only in the Monk—and he a Jesuit, a Missionary; what lands I have visited, what dangers and hardships encountered! hunger, thirst, travel, fatigue; frozen in the snows of Siberia, burnt to a living cinder in the Torrid Zone; perils by sea and land, the barbarous savage with open violence or poisoned weapon; still worse the pestilence that walketh in darkness. All have I endured. (_His reverie is interrupted_—_startled by tremendous shouts and cheers of a violent crowd rapidly approaching_).

CROWD, (_behind the scenes_). Hurrah for England! Down with Spain and her inquisition! Hurrah for the El Dorado! Hurrah for the General!

(_Startled_) What terrible hurly, burly now? Another gust of the rising tempest that is to shake the nations!

_Enter a turbulent crowd of sailors_, _bursting in with a great banner on which is blazoned a ship in gold_, _and in similar letters the name_ “_El Dorado_,” _cheering and shouting with violent gestures and confusion_.

CROWD. Hurrah for the Virgin Queen! Down with Spain and her Inquisition.

1st SAILOR. The Queen! God bless her, and give her a good English husband. No foreign rule here!

2nd SAILOR. Confusion to Philip and all Foreigners! England for the English!

3rd SAILOR. Aye! Aye! lads. We’ll keep them out! No landing of the foe on our coasts. Our cruizers will keep the channel clear.

4th SAILOR (_with energy_). The Channel’s ours!

SPY (_aside_) No doubt, they will clear it of everything that carries gold, or other foreign valuables, without being over particular about their nationality.

_The chief or general_, _standing beside the banner_, _a tall powerful man_, _though young_, _sunburnt_, _and weather-beaten_, _gaudily dressed as silk_, _velvet_, _gold and jewels can make him_. _In his broad belt plaited with gold_, _are stuck a brace of heavy pistols_, _richly chased with silver_, _and a long dagger hafted with gold and diamonds_. _On his head a blue velvet cap with a gold band_. _On the velvet_, _emblazoned with jewels_, _a ship with the words_ “_El Dorado_.” _He holds forth in his left hand a large ingot_, _or bar of gold_.

CHIEF. Look ye here, ye sons of the Ocean Queen, ye storm-birds that have the daring spirit of your sea-king race, that love the raging surf, and the mountain wave when it rolls the highest! Ye of the forward step, and the ready fist, who wish for a little of this! (_holding out the ingot_). (_Cheers_). Who’ll volunteer for the good ship El Dorado? We don’t want every lubber that may offer, only roaring boys that are not afraid to board a Spanish galleon without counting the square feet of her lumbering hull, or the hundreds of her cowardly crew. The El Dorado has a speedy forefoot, I can tell you; she can run the Caribs in about a fortnight, and we don’t care who knows the WHEN and the WHITHER, not as much as one!—Copper!—Maravedi! (_snapping his fingers_).

CROWD, (_cheering_), Hurrah! That’s the talk and no bunkum! We know you, General. We’ll follow you to the death.

1st BYSTANDER. Who is he? A gallant bearing and tall! He looks a hero born for command.

2nd BYSTANDER. So he ought to look; Don’t you know him? That’s young Lord —. (_He whispers the name_), one of Elizabeth’s early lovers. One of the five hundred young nobles who rode beside her in defiance of Mary’s wrath. When his idol was insulted at Court, he behaved so violently that he became a marked man, and the persecution growing hot, he took to the sea for vengeance on the Spanish party. Now he sticks to it, you perceive, for something else, (_with a knowing look_).

CHIEF. Now then! who’s for the free flag and the gold coast? We have already seventy hands, and want a few to make up a hundred. That’s enough of Englishmen to carry any of their goldships, or any Spanish town in the world. We want especially the sons of our brave men who have died in Spanish dungeons, or by fire and faggot! (_Shouts of indignation and hurrah for the General_).

CROWD. Here we are, General! We’ll man your guns for you! Hurrah! We’ll pay them off all old scores!

1st SAILOR, (_in a swaggering tone_.) I have searched the whole coast, from Rio de la Hacha to San Juan, have been up the Darien and the Bocco del Torro, I know every creek where a Cruizer can lie like an Alligator for her prey.

2nd SAILOR. And I every coral-reef, from the Windward islands to Bahama. I’ll pilot you, General.

CHIEF. Come on then, my Bullies!—To the brave ship El-Dorado! March!

_They advance with the Standard singing and stamping in time as sailors do when weighing anchor_; _the crowd following and joining in with excitement_, _as they chant the following doggerel_.

Our free born comrades languish.
In dungeons, and in pain:
We’ll tear them from their anguish,
Or take revenge on Spain. (_Cheers_.)

Come on ye Tars! we’ll all go,
With hearts both true and bold:
We’re bound for El-Dorado,
And we will have the gold! (_Cheers_. _Exeunt singing_.)

We’re bound for El-Dorado
And we will have the gold!

SPY, (_looking after them_.) A tempting offer! had I not a deeper game upon the die of Fate, and a loftier stake to play for than all the gold of the Indies—the liberty of the world! How many parts I have filled in social life! A bigot and inquisitor in Despotic Rome, I saw fierce Bourbon, called the Constable, rush with hot valour on her wall; I fired the death-shot! saw the Apostate fall! ’Twas vain! The mighty wave swept on resistless. The City of the Caesars and the Popes—the twice Mistress of the world—lay helpless under the ruffian foe, defiling what fierce Vandal and noble Goth majestic in strength and courage spared. No place was sacred. No party safe. The sanctuaries of religion, the sepulchres of the dead, the very tomb of St. Peter rifled for their wealth; Guelph and Ghibeline, Priest and Layman, the vilest trades and callings taxed for contributions when plunder failed;—and when the blood-hound scent for gold came to fault, torture was applied, without respect to rank, or sex, or age, to wring the last scudo from the prostrate people. There was a spoil! ten millions of gold! the garnered harvest of centuries of corruption, the imposts of a taxed world gathered in one stagnant pool. Offerings of pilgrims, gifts of the dying; the orphan’s patrimony; the widow’s dower; extortions of Ecclesiastical Courts; INDULGENCES; the liquidated value of every vice, lust and crime! BRIBES for which Heaven had bartered its joys, and HELL had commuted its torments of the damned! The sack of Imperial Rome! (_holding up his hands in dismay_) Satanic Bourbon! Infernal Tempter! Thou knew’st the mystic Solder which alone could weld that Rebel Host, mad with lust and hunger, discordant, dissolute, through battle, fatigue, and famine! And hurl the blazing Meteor on the goal of thy Vengeance and Ambition! I beheld the Holy Father himself a prisoner in his castle of St. Angelo; his jailors! the Catholics of Spain. My eyes were opened! I fled from the Desolation. Before me spread an Earthquake of Republics, a wreck of Nations. France and Spain had torn the land. I took refuge in the fleet of Dorea with the Spirits that were left. Genoa rose at his heroic summons. We proclaimed the Republic. Yes! I saw that last flame of Italian Glory! It flickered and went out for ever. Through the once free cities of Italy I harangued the Infidel—in democratic clubs on the RIGHTS of Nature—the Republicans on their LAWS—to gather up the broken fragments of their liberties, and arm against the spoilers of the land. In Holland I preached freedom through the grim creed of Calvin, and urged the dull Flemmings to defend their Constitutions. I have been ALL things to ALL men. My single foe—Despotic Spain—My creed, its overthrow. In England two characters by turns. A conspirator to assassinate the Queen with fanatics who would deluge the land with blood, destroy their own and other’s freedom, and yield our glorious Island to a foreign tyrant—the execrable Philip. And now I am an agent of the unselfish Patriot, Walsingham (I would trust none other!)—to foil this foul conspiracy, and save my native country from slavery and ruin. I must to the “Blue Anchor” to meet this Arch-plotter for the Church and Philip. I’ll search his inmost thoughts. I’ll sound the very depths of all his treason! (_Exit_.)

SCENE II.—“THE BLUE ANCHOR”—THE TAP ROOM.

_Ornamented with model ships of every form and rig_; _all of a warlike character_. _Here and there are hung up arms_, _chiefly those used at sea_, _with Parrots and curious birds_, _shells and other productions of foreign climes_, _all indicating that the owner and his friends are familiar with distant lands_, _in fact_, _all maritime contributions_. _The room is filled with sailors and their women_, _profusely decorated with gold_, _reckless of expenditure_, _playing at dice for gold pieces_, _and displaying masses of gold and silver articles_, _chalices and cups_, _the fruit of plunder by land and sea_. _Their bold dashing air shows a character not likely to hesitate about what they would attack_, _and themselves ready to take their own part_, _or that of England_, _against the world_. _They call for wines of the most expensive sorts like men habituated to wealth_. _The two spies at a table_, _served with a flagon of wine and cups of silver_, _by the landlord_. _The foreigner is much surprised at the scene_.

1st SAILOR. Mine Host there! Some Hippocras for the ladies! and—and—more Gascony!

2nd SAILOR (_saucily_). Bear a hand, Joe Jolly! or Jolly Joe! another measure of that old Sack. You’re an old sack yourself. Ho! here he comes, rolling like a dismasted ship in the trough of the sea (_laughter_). Ha! Ha! Ha!

_Enter Host_, _scowling fiercely and holding out in his right hand menacingly a great tankard of Wine_.

HOST. I say, Cut-throat! Belay your damned tongue! Don’t you think to make a butt of me for your gibes, or I’ll give you this (_holding out the tankard_) on your head!

_The sailor laughs and holds out by the muzzle his heavy pistol as if to show its weight_.

2nd SAILOR. If you did, Joe, I would, and that quickly too, make a butt of yours. Look you! Butt to Butt. This has cracked many a skull as thick as Joe Jolly’s.

ALL (_interfering_). Avast there! Enough of that messmates! Here, Jolly, drink with me! Here, Joe (_says another party_), drink with us! Hurrah! old chap!

ENGLISH SPY (_to his companion_). I made our appointment here, Brother, to give you an idea of what is going on in the world—a mighty revolution—which I think neither His Majesty of Spain nor His Holiness yet comprehends, and to show you the character of our people. You will thus understand with whom you have to deal.

FOREIGN SPY. They surprise and almost frighten me with their fierce demeanour and warlike defiant air.

ENGLISH SPY. Of that anon. Now, Brother what of the Great Cause in the Low Countries? There the struggle is at present.

FOREIGN SPY, (_Slowly and with emphasis_), And there, brother, it is almost ended. William the silent is silent for ever! (_The English spy starts with surprise_). That Arch-Heretic, the Prince of Orange, is no more!

ENGLISH SPY. What? The Prince of Orange dead!

FOREIGN SPY, (_With bitter emphasis_), Three poisoned bullets did for him, spite of all his caution! Parma outmanœuvred him. Philip is at the right game of war now!

ENGLISH SPY, (_Interested to excitement_), How? How was this, brother? It will be a thunder clap to Europe!

FOREIGN SPY. It was difficult; William was so closely guarded; so many attempts had failed. He seemed unapproachable. We found the fitting tool! (_He pauses_, _watching his startled companion with exultation_, _then continues_). Balthazzar Gerard, an enthusiast from Burgundy. We fanned the Bigot-flame, and armed his fiery soul with all the panoply of Faith the church could give, a Martyr’s Crown! Immediate bliss in Heaven. Philip added earthly honours, nobility and estates in Spain. Balthazzar swallowed the baited hook, and counted not the cost! (_He pauses_, _looking at his deeply interested and astounded companion_.)

ENGLISH SPY, (_Eagerly_), Pray go on, Brother! He was seized of course! how did he proceed, or obtain access?

FOREIGN SPY. He repaired to the palace at Delft, petitioned for protection and aid, he pretended to be a Calvinist whose father was executed, and himself a fugitive for his religion. The mask was sufficient, he obtained employment, and was at length received into the palace. There he watched his opportunity, and as the Prince was passing through his hall to dinner fired into him three poisoned bullets. The victim dropped, “William the Silent” was no more.

ENGLISH SPY, (_with emotion_), Villain! He was cut down, or seized, tortured, hung!

FOREIGN SPY. Quick as his bullets he bounded from the hall, crossed the court-yard, and gained the city wall, where aid was ready.

ENGLISH SPY, (_Hurriedly_), Good God! The perfidious traitor escaped.

FOREIGN SPY. There, just as the tiger was about to spring, a strong hand arrested him. His Spanish title, his broad lands, his order of St. Jago vanished, and the dread spectre of rack and dungeon rose before his eyes, but Balthazzar was a hero and accepted death. They dragged him to the rack, ’twas vain! They tried every torture ingenuity could invent, or the wickedness of Heretics employ to tear from this soldier of the church a confession of his employees. Balthazzar fixed his eye upon his Martyr’s crown, and pointing to his dislocated limbs, with grim but triumphant smile, heaved his last breath, said “_Ecce Homo_,” and expired.

ENGLISH SPY, (_Shocked and excited_), Oh! Brother, this is horrible!

FOREIGN SPY, (_Rather Surprised_), But the end, Brother, justifies the means. You see the good cause advances! ’Tis Philip’s most successful warfare; thus Murray in Scotland, Coligny at Paris, and now the Prince of Orange at Delft have paid the penalty of heresy. These were only the horns Brother, the head itself shall be cut off. In England is the very head of Heresy! She must fall next, and then the Church’s triumph is complete. Philip himself, great as he is, must bow as kings of yore, and hold the stirrup.

ENGLISH SPY, (_Aside_), This will do for Walsingham, he’ll trap the wolves! (_To his companion_), We’ll talk of this anon, Brother.

_Cheers and shouts without_, _tumult_, _rushing_, _and cheers_. _Shouts of_ “_To the Market-place_.” _The cheers taken up by the sailors within_, _who brandish their gold goblets and shout_, “_Hurrah for old Plymouth_,” “_Hurrah for the Craft_!”

1st SAILOR. What’s up messmates?

2nd SAILOR. Some Spanish prize, I’ll warrant; It’s no mere row that, I know the heavy tread of a Rover’s crew. That’s the game for me. Let’s out and join the fray. (_Exeunt sailors_, _rushing in confusion_).

ENGLISH SPY, (_hurriedly_), Come! Brother come, there is much that you must see here before you make up your horoscope of the future. (_Exeunt spies_).

SCENE III.—THE MARKET PLACE.

_A great crowd surging along_, _pushing_, _fighting_, _and hallooing in the rear of a compact body of Rovers or freebooters_, _well armed_, _bringing with them a band of Spanish prisoners_, _captured in a ship in the channel_, _bound from Cadiz to the Low Countries_, _with a rich cargo of Silks_, _Wines_, _and other such articles of value_, _besides a quantity of money_, _for the payment of the Troops there_. _Among the captives_, _Soldiers of rank, Noblemen_, _Great Merchants_. _Some are hauled along in irons_, _screaming for mercy_, _to be kept prisoners till ransomed_. _A group of three_, _the assumed property of one party_, _are about being put up to auction_. _A Sailor stands upon a barrel with an axe in his hand for a hammer_, _as auctioneer_. _Jews and Spectators in front_, _ready to bid_, _and chaffing the extemporized Auctioneer_.

SEVERAL VOICES. Why don’t you go on, Bill Sayers! go on! go on! put one of the Hidalgos up. (_Laughter_.)

_Whilst the chief is bargaining with a rich Jew aside_, _a Ruffian grasps at one of the Spanish Captives_.

RUFFIAN. I should like one of those gold buttons.

_The leader_, TOM COBHAM, _turning from the Jew_, _brandishes his axe not very particular whether or not it lopped off an arm_.

TOM COBHAM, (_fiercely_.) Back varlet! on your life, I’ll cleave the first man, to the brisket, who dares to lay hand on one of them! (_Sweeps round him with his terrible weapon_, _the crowd fall back_. _Turning to the Jew again_) I’ll tell you what, Isaac! We cannot deal!

ISAAC. They’re not worth an Angel more. There’s not an Hidalgo among them. Only traders like myself.

TOM COBHAM. You Jews can jabber all the languages in the world. But I have robbed Churches, sacked towns along the coast of Spain, from Cadiz to Finisterra, have plundered her gold ships, and seized her Merchantmen (_he pauses musing_) ever since the execution of Sir Thomas Wyatt, and I can talk Spanish as well as you. They are Nobles, every one of them.

ISAAC (_whispering in his ear_.) There now! I will do no more.

TOM COBHAM (_turning away indignant_.) Two thousands Rials! Not even Sovereigns! We only count in Sovereigns, you old screw! You mean to rob. It’s not the price of the gold lace and buttons on their coats, not to speak of the jewels, silk, and velvet. Speak up, or be off! I know what to do with them.

ISAAC (_again whispering_). There now! That’s because you are a friend, Tom. By the Holy Moses and all the Prophets, I’ll not advance another Rose Noble.

TOM COBHAM (_considering_). Well! I’ll take your note of hand. I know you, Isaac. I’m in haste. I want to get to sea. There’s something coming down the wind that far beats this. I say, old hard fist, you’ll clear a good fire hundred out of this job. Well! well! business! business! I’m in a hurry. (_Exeunt Sailors_, _Jews and Captives_, _the latter apparently pleased with the arrangement_. _The Market Place and its frequenters_, _Booths_, _Stalls for Gold and Silver_, _Casks of Wine being measured out for sale_.)

ENGLISH SPY. There’s a sight for you! Booths where richest silks are sold as basest stuffs to peasants at a rustic fair. Casks of Gascony drawn for the mob like Common Beer.

FOREIGN SPY (_amazed_). Gold and Silver weighed on open stalls.

ENGLISH SPY. Our Seaboard is the Mart of Precious Metals, debased in price by quantity. Merchants come here to buy. It costs the vendors nothing. Our Seamen take it as their right from Spain.

FOREIGN SPY (_in deep refection_). What waste of luxury! Masses of wealth surpassing proudest Capitals.

ENGLISH SPY (_scrutinizing his amazed companion_). You seem bewildered, Brother, I thought you should be. Engaged about this serious business, ’tis well, you see, to understand the Drama that’s being acted in the world. These are the Actors, not Priests and Politicians, blind with their own cobwebs, self-wove before their eyes. What think you of the scene?

FOREIGN SPY. Horror-struck—amazed—such lawless violence—such heaps of Gold and Silver—altar-plate made common traffic! Grandees of Spain put up to open auction! It passes comprehension.

ENGLISH SPY (_smiling_). Philip knows it all, and cannot help himself. He sees his Gold-ships captured, or sunk, crews and all—his merchants plundered; Cities sacked and churches rifled on his own coast; His Officers and Nobles sold like slaves by public auction; kept in chains till ransomed; shuts his eyes and must endure the affront. (_He walks aside with a grim smile_, _and triumphant air_. _Then returns and continues solemnly_.) There is a Crisis now in the affairs of mankind. Providence re-adjusts his plan to open another chapter in the course of Destiny. ’Tis a New Power that rises from the sea, and has its source at Plymouth; to rule the world, and set the nations free! (_He walks aside eyeing his companion exultingly_.) I’ve seen it for some time, and in my waking dreams, this little Isle expands and fills the Globe, whilst Spain recoils, and shrinks before it like a burning scroll. (_He walks with triumph_—_then slowly_, _with emphasis_). Here’s food for thought, Brother! (_aside_) Now for proud Spain’s Ambassador, and learn his plans to murder Queen Elizabeth.

FOREIGN SPY (_serious but firm_). The prospect for the Church is ominous and gloomy. Still, Brother, we must cut off the Head of Heresy! Let us be moving, (_going_).

ENGLISH SPY (_aside as they go off_). Cut off the Head! Still the power remains to crush thy Despotism—the stone to strike the Image, and crumble it to dust! (_Exeunt_).

SCENE IV.—A ROOM IN THE PALACE.

_Enter the_ QUEEN _and the_ EARL OF LEICESTER.

LEICESTER (_laughing_). Ha-Ha-Ha! I cannot see it. Excommunicated! How is it possible? Even the Pope cannot put one out of his house who never was in it. Ha! Ha! Ha! It’s a joke. Excommunicated indeed! Because a fellow like a thief in the night nails a paper on the Bishop of London’s door, your Majesty is to be deprived of your throne and life. All the world knows the Statue of Premunire.—(_with emphasis and deliberation_) No Bull can be published here without the licence of the Crown. This is poor thunder from the Vatican. Not thus did Leo roar, and yet a German Monk laughed him to scorn, burned his Bull in the open Market-place, and challenged him to prove his title before the Christian world. Ha! Ha! Ha! (_He walks about laughing_—_then comes up to the_ QUEEN _sarcastically_) Pius the Fifth is no Hildebrand, his wretched missive thus stolen into the kingdom is no more than waste paper. The thunder of the Seven Hills has lost the bolt. Ha! Ha! Ha!

QUEEN. By the Rood, Robin, I agree with you; It is an insolent joke (_She laughs to herself grimly_). The world begins to see it too. France contemptuously suppressed his Bull, Philip forbade him to issue it and refuses to permit its publication in his dominions, (_with proud defiance_) I have answered his insolence in my own way, by hanging up his messenger at the very door where he committed the offence. Ha! Ha! Ha!—He’ll carry no more messages.

LEICESTER. Well! Is there one Catholic Nobleman in England who did not acquiesce in the execution of Felton? Parliament too gave a quick and substantial reply, by passing an immediate act, without a dissentient voice. “That to affirm by word or writing that the Queen is not Queen, or not entitled to the Crown, or that any other person ought to be Queen, even without an overt act, shall be High Treason.”

QUEEN. And the Nation indignant, shouted its assent. I plant my throne, Leicester in the hearts of my people! They are the true foundation of all Political right.—They are my Guards! My bulwark! my support!—I did not wait for an Act of Parliament to hang Felton.

LEICESTER (_rubbing his hands and laughing_). No! No! Your father’s daughter for that! It was a masterly counter-thrust for him. I should like to see the Pope’s face when he considers your position. (_He walks musing_, _then confronts the_ QUEEN) Here you stand an excommunicated Princess; entirely unscathed by his thunder. Your throne is as firm as the primeval rock. You hold prisoner Mary, that was Queen of Scotland, the Dowager Queen of France, the Representative of Papal claims upon the throne. Yet not one member of the Catholic Nobility is ready to do the behests of the Pope in regard to your life or title.

QUEEN. And the people! the Great English people! the fearless! the free! Are they not more enthusiastic than ever? When do I show myself among them that they do not crowd around me with the idolatry of devotion, proud to kiss the hem of my robe, or touch the horse that bears me. Woe to the assassin who should lift a finger! He would be torn limb from limb. Yes! Yes! Leicester, I am safe among my People (_she walks about confidently then stands and passionately continues_) They know I love them, and will never betray their liberties or their honour (_walking aside with emotion_).

LEICESTER. You are the only Sovereign in the world that can freely move abroad without other guards than the people.

QUEEN. The Catholics of England never did, and never will, acknowledge the power of the Pope to annul their liberties, or to interfere in the government of their country. They will hear the Mass, but they will have none of his Bulls. They have had too much of Ecclesiastical Courts, and Appeals to Rome. That question was decided long ago, when the Clergy tried to substitute the Canon for the Common Law, and Parliament and People proclaimed with one voice “We will not have the Laws of England changed” (_she walks with a triumphant air_).

LEICESTER. The Court of Rome takes credit for great cunning and deep policy. Their present folly does surprise me; to threat without the power to strike. On whom does it rely? On France or Spain? Neither could permit the other to attack us, and concert is impossible ’twixt elements ajar.

QUEEN. They both are suing me for favours and alliance. Nay! every Power in Europe.—I am the Arbitress of Nations.

LEICESTER (_fiercely_). Besides! Our Naval heroes boldly say, their fleets combined could never land an army on our shores, and if they could, England like one man would rise and dash invasion from her! (_He walks exultingly aside_).

QUEEN. I believe it all, Leicester. My faith is in my country! In my people! Nor would their Queen in such an hour be wanting. Elizabeth would lead the van with them to conquer, or with them to fall. (_She walks with a fierce and triumphant air_) Yet, Leicester! Though with thoughts like these my Lion spirit rises to the occasion, there are times when sadness sits brooding o’er me, and in the lone, darkness of my soul, kindred and goblin forms arise, the brood of melancholy to fright my woman weakness. William, Prince of Orange, butchered in his Palace! the loaded pistol! the assassin’s knife! ever at one’s defenceless breast—Ah! Leicester (_she shudders with horror_) ’tis too much to bear! too much! too much! (_she weeps and turns aside with great emotion_, LEICESTER _approaching her with deep sympathy_, _and kneeling_, _kisses her robe_, _to which he timidly ventures to apply his lips_).

LEICESTER. My honoured Mistress! My beloved Queen! God, who raised you up His chosen instrument, has hitherto supported, and will preserve you. (_The_ QUEEN _turns abruptly and surprised_).

QUEEN. What, Robin! This from thee? Art thou turned Puritan, man?

LEICESTER. Of late, my Queen, I have had dreams! Visions of Prophetic import, which seem to touch the times.

QUEEN. Dreams! Dreams that touch the times, belong to anxious brains like mine, troublous as my checkered life, with danger and alarm. Thine are of thyself, of love and selfish gain, intrigues with traitor wenches of my Court that pay me hollow homage, and take the pay of France, or Philip, or the Queen of Scots, or even thyself! (_Looking at him piercingly_).

LEICESTER, (_attempting to speak_). Oh! My loved Mistress!

QUEEN (_interrupting him_), Nay! Nay! Ne’er deny it, Leicester. I watch the games of all, and play my own! (_with a grim smile_).

LEICESTER (_earnestly_, _as to repel the insinuation_). My Liege, my thoughts are capable of proof. The vision long hath left my brain, and found material body. Art hath moulded it in jewelled gold, and given it tongue prophetic! Futurity will unfold the truth; but it would be presented to you on the throne. May it please your Majesty to be seated.

QUEEN. What mean you, man? Robin! No mummery now, my mood is serious! (LEICESTER _bows solemnly_), Well! Well! I will indulge you. (_She gives him her hand and he leads her to the throne_).

LEICESTER. My Liege! It is behind the arras, permit me to introduce it.

QUEEN (_impatiently_). Do as thou listest and be quick. (_He goes for the intended present_). There’s something in it, else he’s acting well. What can it be?

_He returns with a splendidly gilt and ornamented box_, _lays it down_, _and opening it_, _withdraws a group of statuary of jewelled gold_. _Approaching the throne_, _he kneels on one knee_, _and presents it to the_ QUEEN, _who all the time watches the proceeding with intense interest_, _then takes the present with great surprise and curiosity_.

LEICESTER. Behold, my Liege! The symboled future! May the God of England verify it soon.

_He buries his face in his hands and continues kneeling_. _The_ QUEEN _eyeing it for a moment_, _on all sides_, _in deep abstraction_, _rushes from the throne_, _and placing it on a highly ornamented table under the light_, _examines it curiously_, _not without awe_, _as if something supernatural_. LEICESTER, _still kneeling_, _watches her askance_.

QUEEN (_slowly_). Magnificent! sublime! Art indeed, which can embody thought in gold, and almost shape the lips to speech. Prophetic Vision! Symboled future, humph! The future still to me is mystic, dark, and awful. (_She looks around for_ LEICESTER, _who is still kneeling before the throne and watching the_ QUEEN _with great anxiety askance_). No more of that play-acting; up man, and expound thy riddle. (LEICESTER _comes forward_, _and taking up the group in one hand_, _whilst he points with the other to the figures_, _thus explains their meaning_, _the_ QUEEN, _anxiously awaiting the result_).

LEICESTER. The central figure, seated on a throne, with features so beautiful, the express image of Majesty itself, is the Queen of England! the likeness unmistakeable. At her feet kneeling, is the so-called Queen of Scots. Around the stormy ocean your bulwark, strength, and power. On either side, figures of France and Spain overwhelmed in the waves, whilst Neptune, rising in front, presents to you the globe, and does homage to the true Sovereign of the seas.

QUEEN. Oh Leicester! Leicester! (_The_ QUEEN _sinks upon a chair_, _overcome by the weight of thought and the tumult of her ideas_). Prophetic Vision! Symboled Future! I am lost in a tumult of thoughts, and hopes, and fears. Call Ashley! Be quick! Quick, my Lord! Exhausted! Overcome! (_Exit_ LEICESTER. _She leans sobbing on the chair_, _her face buried in her hands_).

_Re-enter the_ EARL OF LEICESTER _with_ MRS. ASHLEY, _who rush to her assistance_.

_Curtain falls_.