Chapter VI: Act V: Scene I.—port St. Julian, Patagonia

_Rugged rocks of the coast_. _Small plain with scanty vegetation_. _Black snow-clad hills around_. _Gibbets and gallows_, _with skeletons suspended to them_, _the remains of Magellan’s sailors executed for mutiny_. DOUGHTY, with FLETCHER _the Chaplain_, _sitting on a rock_. DOUGHTY _pensive and melancholy looks down upon the ground_.

_Enter_ DRAKE, WINTER, _and the other members of the Court Martial with
crews of the different vessels_. _They range themselves in order_.

CAPTAIN WINTER _holding a paper_, _is about to read the sentence_.

DOUGHTY (_starting up with energy and emotion_). You need not read! (_surprise on all_) already sentence is pronounced. Conscience in her own court—Herself the judge—who only knows the deep-dyed guilt of dark sedition, hath decreed my doom! (_Abruptly_). You’ll bear me witness! I die thus self-condemned. I dare not live! Life would be a Hell! where worms unseen, the viper tooth of fell remorse would ceaseless gnaw the ever waking mind. I could not face my country brave men’s contempt, the multitudes ferocious scowl. Death is my sole relief and refuge. Thus would I whet your vengeance, or your justice. I have conspired your ruin, worse than death, to foil your project, give you up to Spain—(_Great excitement and indignation_). To fire and faggot, tortures inflicted on the brave before you! the Cadiz galleys, dungeons of Seville—burnings in the plazas of Mexico and Madrid—the yelling crowd—the vengeful monks gloating over the writhings of your agony. In self defence you have the right to slay me! Sentence is idle form. Self doomed I choose to die: I only ask that unrecorded I may pass away, and SILENCE be my epitaph! (a _conference between_ DRAKE _and_ WINTER _aside_)

WINTER (_turning to_ DOUGHTY). Thus then let it be. To morrow we have fixed for execution.

CREW. So say we all!

WINTER. Till then, Mr. Fletcher, he is in your charge. The task of preparation for his end be thine. (_Exeunt the court._)

DOUGHTY. Here my life must end, where I thought it had but well begun! Ambition’s bright mirage with hope deceitful lured. Its distant plains glowed in the sunshine of a feigned success. Success!—by what instruments? The base, the dastards—traitors to treason’s self.—The means? Murder of brave companions, with whom I vowed to live or die. Dethronement of a noble Queen, to whom I swore allegiance. For what end? To set a foreign tyrant on her throne—thus to enslave my country, which I love. Foul! Faithless! Traitor! (_he rushes about in distraction_, _beating his head with his fists_). Crime against nature!—against God!—’gainst England—’gainst myself!—for I am, or was, an Englishman! Reason! Judgement! Honour! Great nature’s guardians of the heart and conduct. Where were you, when I was tempted thus? Like drunken sentinels—deserters from your duly when needed most. Oh guilt! beyond all law to constitute a crime, or court to punish! (_writhing under remorse_, _looking upward_) Doughty, I try you here. (_Striking his heart._) Thou shall not live—Doughty decrees your death! Could I but die outright, and leave no name! (_he looks at the dismal prospect distractedly_) Place—suggestive of eternal death!—Where life itself in cold obstruction!—Icy apathy!—Ye rugged rocks, and snow-clad hills, bleak, barren plains—where nature sleeps in frost. Waste, howling, wilderness—a living tomb! Huge walls of mountain—strange birds—strange beasts—wild men, more savage still, than the sterility that bounds their lives. Ye savage winds—fierce angry gusts to howl one’s requiem. All looks like silence and forgetfulness! (_his eye catches sight of the skeletons_) Hah! Magellan’s Traitors! There swing your mouldering bones. Fit place for execution. Ye paid your debt. Would the penalty had blotted treason from the world! Now, death, I welcome thee! (_He takes a bottle from his bosom_—_holds it up_—_drinks the contents and throws the bottle away_. _The Chaplain rushes forward to arrest his hand_.) Fletcher, I was prepared for this. Who plots should count the cost. So perish treason! The tyrant’s tool—the curse of liberty—that foils the patriot in his hour of might!—And. This poison’s quick!—Fletcher, thou art my friend! (_He looks at him imploringly_.) You’ll see me decently interred and let my crime be buried with my bones. England thou art avenged. Be free and happy! (_He begins to stagger_—FLETCHER _supports him_.) Friend—the end is near.—Oh! I have much to say; and speech deserts me! (_He totters_.) I—I—(_he sinks down holding_ FLETCHER—_and making an effort to speak dies_—.)

_Scene changes_.

SCENE II.—THE QUEEN’S PRIVATE CHAMBER.

_The_ QUEEN _walking about in deep thought_, _with anxious uneasy gestures_, _and hesitating step_, MRS. ASHLEY, _her waiting woman watching her intently_. _The_ QUEEN _stops in front of a marble table_, _backed by a large steel mirror in which is reflected_ LEICESTER’S _symbolic present_, _scarcely less vividly represented in the polished surface on which it reposes_.

QUEEN. Marvellous production! What art thou? How camest thou forth, thus full of fearful meaning, and whence this atmosphere of thought, surrounding thee, arresting attention for thyself, bearing the rapt soul beyond the present, with prophecy sublime and breathing power to tell without a tongue, of coming greatness! Beneath the frenzied eye thou dost assume proportions grand, looming its giant abstract, through dim futurity. No creature of Leicester’s paltry brain art thou. No workman’s unreflecting labour, no design of common art assembled those ideas, above the mortal mind. Conception vast! Some angels prompting through an artist’s skill, fathomless to me. I’ll try the common mind! (_She turns to her waiting woman_). Ashley, you know how high I hold your tact and judgment, in the subtle, tortuous ways of life, your clear opinion of men and things. How many changes you have seen! a rare experience yours, through the late bloody reigns. Mine has been sad, but you have lived longer.

MRS. ASHLEY. Yes, my dear mistress and still of most concern to me, was what concerned your Royal Majesty. They knew well how truly I loved you, when, on your return to Ashridge after your release from Woodstock, you sent for me; and they committed me to the Fleet.

QUEEN. Ashley, that was a terrible time—rather say, the end of terror. One can bear to recall its memory. It was a trumpery malice, to send my faithful servants to prison. They dared not any longer molest me, personally, for the shadow of Lord Howard fell, like a blight, upon the Court. Even in his absence, his form stalked ever before the eyes of Philip and his Spaniards.

MRS. ASHLEY. God bless the noble Howard, the noblest of his name. He is the hero of England.

QUEEN. God bless him, I say again, Ashley. (_Aside_). He has not seen this yet. (_She lays her hand upon the emblematic device_. _Then stepping backward a few paces_, _deeply ponders on it_.) I wonder what he will say. But his mind and bent runs in that groove, like Drake, Hawkins, and Killigrew, the Tremaines, all that fighting band. They have the one dominant idea. “England must rule the sea,” and that they can do it. Look well at that Ashley and tell me what your common sense can make of it. (_The waiting-woman looks at the figures_, _then at the_ QUEEN _scrutinizingly_, _as if to find out her secret_.)

MRS. ASHLEY (_with hesitation_). It is a beautiful thing and means something. More than it seems. It is a riddle for Dr. Dee to read. (_Again she looks_, _with half malice at the_ QUEEN, _who is too intent to observe her_). Belike it is a love present—belike your Majesty is coming to the point at last. (_The_ QUEEN _starting out of her reverie_, _and looking at her companion sharply_).

QUEEN (_impatiently_). What point, Ashley? Dost thou understand it? Can’st thou read the future of thy country?

MRS. ASHLEY (_peering inquisitively at the_ QUEEN). Belike your Majesty will now marry the beautiful Earl?

_The_ QUEEN _starts as if electrified_—_her eye flashing_—_every feature twitching with disappointment and rage at the unlooked for answer_—_clenching her hands_, _and stamping with her feet_, _she exclaims_.

QUEEN. Blood of my kingly father! What damned wench in the corrupt court. Hirelings and traitors, in his pay, or some one’s else, has got up that foul scandal? And thy old head to prompt it at such a time! Surrounded with treason—threatened with invasion—without Counsel on which I can rely—drifting along on a tempestuous sea, with no other pilot than my own isolated wisdom—my tortured mind sought in glowing visions of the future for comfort, and repose! (_she walks about excited_, _then comes in front of her companion_, _who trembles for the consequence_). Dost thou thus misthink me, woman?—that I will act so unlike myself—so far below majesty—I, that have refused the greatest of princes—as to lower my dignity (_then raising herself do a loftier tone_) and the crown which my heroic people put on my head because they deemed me worthy to wear it, and to defend their glory and their rights, as to share it with a thing like Leicester? And that thou—thou above all—who hast known me.

MRS. ASHLEY (_on her knees_, _in an imploring attitude_) My beloved mistress I—I—I only meant it—

QUEEN (_in great agitation_). Away! Away—Ashley! Leave me to myself to calm this raging madness.

MRS. ASHLEY (_clinging to her robe_). My beloved mistress! do not drive me from you in anger—It would break my heart (_sobbing_).

QUEEN (_soothingly raises and kisses her_). There then! My faithful Ashley! There! (_kissing her again_) There now! Leave me for a little and come again. (_Exit_ MRS. ASHLEY _sobbing_. _Looking after_ MRS. ASHLEY.) My true, devoted, faithful friend—tried in affliction—that has known my inmost nature, as I thought—and yet, to misthink me thus! Well might the venal creatures of a corrupt court—gnawed by the constant worms.—Envy, malice, and all uncharitableness! (_She bursts into tears_—_sobs convulsively_.—_Then recovering her pride and dignity_, _comes forward_). No! marriage is not for me. The lily or the gentle violet may take root and bloom in fertile valley and peaceful shade. (_fiercely_) The oak shall brave the storm! It is the will of God! (_She pauses_—_then firmly continues_.) I will fulfil my destiny! Nor throne, nor duty shall be e’er divided. My duty is my country’s—entire—exclusive—none to spare for husband. I consecrate myself to England! No stain shall sully the lustre of the offering. Let foes calumniate, and vipers spit their venom. Providence, that foils the assassin’s knife, will yet unmask the falsehoods! (_Walking with proud step and uplifted arm she exclaims with exultation_) Time, the revealer, will avenge me! Yes, History! History! thou wilt be just at last! (_She pauses in great emotion and excitement_.) A lonely orphan—in cruelty and oppression—your generous spirit rose my bulwark.—The roar of an indignant people thundered their resolve that I should be their Queen! That earthquake shook the land! Murder, with axe and poison, slunk back in terror. Perish my name; when I forget my country!—England!—Proud!—Generous!—Brave!—Land of hospitality and freedom!—Thy glory!—Thy happiness be mine!—Thee only will I wed!—Thee only!—Thee only! (_exit_)

_Scene changes_.

SCENE III.—CENTRE OF THE PACIFIC.

_The deck of the_ “_Golden Hind_” _dashing along under full sail_. _Sailors carelessly lounging_. _Night_. _The full moon_.

THOMAS MOON, HIXOM, NOBLE.

MOON (_at the helm_). I say, Hixom—Is not our craft a seaboat and no mistake? She steers herself. See how she answers to the least touch of the helm, and cuts the water like a dolphin. Never did I see her in better trim. Sometimes she seems to me a thing of life, that knows the value of her precious freight, and anxious to see its effect on merry England. How she plunges forward in the fall of the swell, like a racehorse at the winning post.

HIXOM. We may well be proud of her. We have never chased a thing of any size or rig, we did not overhaul. Lord! we could sail round any ship of Spain, or through the very midst of her Navy. But this was a wary dodge of our General, to take the round of the Globe. We are safe to bring our prize home now. What think you, Bill Noble?

NOBLE. As for the little craft herself, I never trod the deck of the like of her. She was well named the “Pelican.” And now, in respect of what she carries—a freight as never was entrusted to a wooden plank before, fitly benamed the “Golden Hind.” As to landing it safe at Hamoaz—for the matter of speed or fighting, I should not much mind. But it was never my experience to see the canvas all spread in an unknown sea, at night. I have been to China with the Portuguese and I know these channels are dangerous!

MOON. Lord, I am anxious to see Old Plymouth, and hear the shouting when the Rovers salute us sailing up the Sound, with our bunting all abroad.—It would be a pity to shorten sail.

HIXOM. There’s no danger messmates. We have open sea room—the moon is up.—How brilliant she rises, and rapid, in these latitudes! It’s all fair weather with us now. (_Bump_! _bump_!)

ALL (_crying out in alarm_). What’s that? Did you hear? What’s that?

_Another bump_; _and the Vessel sticks fast_.

NOBLE. Oh!—My God! I expected this! My wife!—my children! I shall never see them more (_wringing his hands in distraction_).

_Screams of alarm among the deck watch_: “_We are sinking_”—“_We are lost_”—“_She’s on a rock_”—“_Get out the boats_”—“_Call the General_—_Call all hands_.” _The crew is rushing up on deck_. _Great confusion_.

DRAKE. Silence in the ship! Get out an anchor astern, and heave her off! Boatswain! All hands to quarters!

_The Boatswain pipes and cries to quarters_. _They are rushing about pulling ropes_, _and launching the boats_.

_Scene changes_.

SCENE IV.

_Deck of the Golden Hind_—_Midnight_, _the moon behind a cloud_, _constellations of the southern hemisphere brilliant in the deep blue firmament_. _The ship Argo amid the waves_, _the dove_, _bird of hope_. _The raven on the back of the sea serpent_. NOAH _sacrificing at the altar_.

DRAKE (_solus_, _looking at the stars_). Yes! Yes! This is no fancy, no vain imagination, no conceit of poesy—visible to sight and evident to sense. It is, it must be—The ark of promise, the greatest fact of history—The deluge, writ by God himself in his own firmament, eternal monument of wrath and justice. I never questioned sacred truth, but if I had that constellation were itself enough to anchor my soul to reason, and bid the baseless doubt begone! (_A figure appears in the air with a book under one arm_, _whilst the other points to the Constellation Argo_. _The figure is turbaned and otherwise brilliant with the hues of an oriental costume_. _His long white hair and beard float like a streamer on the deep blue of the sky_. DRAKE _starts and staggers back with uplifted hands_). Hah! Wherefore now? Is this the end? Art come to see my horoscope fulfilled? Zill-Allah! Shadow of God, Arab Astrologer, or Jew of Fez, or whatsoe’er thou art that visitest me so oft, in sleeping, aye, and in waking dreams, since first I learned the stars from thee under the clear sky of burning Africa, still as now before me. Thy beard of snow floats like a meteor, under thine arm a book, the other pointing to thy early lesson. (_The Spirit gradually disappears_—_dissolving into a brilliant white cloud which suddenly becomes dark_, _whilst the dove on the ark becomes brilliantly illumined_. _A voice says_, “_Have faith_, _look up_.” DRAKE _starting in horror looks around_). Who speaks? (_No answer_.) I do not surely dream! I heard a voice which said, “Have faith, look up.” I look, (_a pause of wonder_). Bright bird of hope, I take thy luminous omen, I will have faith. My God, the work is Thine, Thy servant in thy hand is but the staff, the wood cannot lift itself. Let it not glory, have faith. (_He falls down upon one knee_, _his face buried in his hands in deep thought_).

_Enter_ JOHN DRAKE.

JOHN DRAKE. My brother, did you call? You look troubled. Ah! This is the last of us. Our stirring lives are now near acted out. The first slight swell will dash our bark to pieces.

DRAKE. I fear not death, how often have I braved it—I trust in him who hitherto has shaped my course. What I have seemed to do with means inadequate is evidence of power beyond me. My destiny is not my own to deal with. He who made me has the right to end me. And now I know deliverance is at hand, though human skill do nothing towards it. See you this southern vault of heaven, ’tis one great oceanic record of the past, (_he points to the Constellation Argo_.)

JOHN DRAKE. You mean the Constellation Argo, the famous ship of Jason and the Golden Fleece. The dove that sits upon it! What a strange light it flashes.

DRAKE. Ship of Jason, humph! Tradition grand, perverted to a Grecian fable. That is the ark of Noah! I never told you how at Fez, a sage once took strange fancy to me, and taught me knowledge of the spheres. A man of wonderment and awe, he came and went unquestioned and unknown, without a friend or country, yet with boundless wealth. Some thought he was an Indian necromancer, some a Jew, some said he was an Arab, and practised Alchemy. He cast my horoscope, and told my destiny. “Born,” he said, “for great adventures, strange revolutions on the sea, a pebble in the sling of God to smite the power of Spain, and raise thy country to her place.” (_He walks musing_).

JOHN DRAKE (_with emotion_). The story, brother, is full of wonder, strange being this!

DRAKE. He showed me by the stars—that the celestial sphere was made at Babel—a record of the deluge when the great event was new. Zill-Allah, so he called himself, “Shadow of God,” knew all languages, the sacred tongues of India, Egypt, Juda. The story of the flood is in them all, because they came from Babel. The dispersed who formed the nations brought them thence, who else had all been dumb, for language is beyond invention, ’tis the gift of God. In that high tower of rebel pride were lodged the sciences. The heavens were charted, the celestial sphere was formed, and when the awful deluge filled their minds, they wrote its tragic memory in the stars. Argha, Arg, Ark, the same in every tongue. The ship of Noah. (_He looks at his companion who is deeply absorbed_, _then points up_). Behold the raven on the serpents back, there is the dove—Bright bird of hope—its symbol, there the great Father of mankind, the victim and the altar, around the monsters of the deep and the wild waves—(_Both are earnest and absorbed when the ship rocks and slides_, _they are startled and agitated_.)

DRAKE (_startled but calm_). Thy will be done.

JOHN DRAKE (_much excited_). God of mercy! She is breaking up! All hands on deck! (_He runs about alarmed and screaming_) she is breaking up, all hands on deck.

(_The crew rush upon deck in alarm_, _the ship rolls to one side_, _then falls off the rock into the sea with a heavy plunge_, _as if overwhelmed_—_a loud scream from the sailors_, _she suddenly rights and glides off uninjured_, _the crew recovering from their alarm break into a loud cheer_).

CREW. Hurrah! Hurrah!

DRAKE. Down on your knees and give thanks for your deliverance!

(_The ship is hauled off_).

_Scene changes_.

SCENE V.—ROOM IN HAMPTON COURT.

_The_ QUEEN _alone waiting for_ LORD WILLIAM HOWARD, EARL OF EFFINGHAM. _She walks back and forward in deep abstraction past a large steel mirror_. _She is startled and arrested by catching sight of the reflection of herself_.

QUEEN. Hah! What aged companion thou, abruptly thrust upon me? Unflattering mirror! Thou art no courtier! Care!—subtle poison—sure if slow.—I see thy working.—Remembrancer I thank thee. Still! Providence, I wait thy pleasure—though what a life! An atmosphere of terror—my vital air—to school me, doubtless, for thy purpose—to teach me cautious circumspection. Mysterious awe hung o’er my childhood—the latent influence of my mother’s fate, though then to me unknown. Nordic! I seem alone in this. The taint was upon all around—a wrinkle on every brow—a sorrow unexpressed in midst of joy and show, and brave festivity.—Danger and insecurity seemed to sit on all! England was merry—loud the roar of wassail.—But thoughtful people stopped short in laughter as if chid; and swaggering, warlike Britons, though in peace, held themselves erect for fight. The social heavens were black with clouds—surcharged with thunder in the midst of sunshine. Such! my earliest—undefined impression. Ever present—ever coming danger! Yet I feared not—rather longed to meet it face to face (_she walks musing_). When Edward died, and during Mary’s reign, what portents scared mankind! Unnatural frost bound the Earth, stifled vegetation dried up rivers. The Thames was solid till the month of May! Showers of red hail, like drops of gore congealed, sign of coming strife—a nation’s blood! and, as it lay around the roses in their gardens, men thought of York and Lancaster, and grew pale. Births of hideous monsters; frighted women; bodies with double heads and limbs.—Storms rent the welkin with unheard of fury, tore trees of ancient growth up by the roots, and hurled them in wild passion through the air! The summer’s sun in hot July, as putting mourning on, grew black as winter night. Rain, a second deluge! flooded the houses of terror-stricken London, and changed its streets to torrents. (_Her soliloquy is broken off by the entrance of the_ EARL OF EFFINGHAM. _Enter_ LORD WILLIAM HOWARD, EARL OF EFFINGHAM. _The_ QUEEN _rushes to him_, _throws her arms round his neck and kisses him_, _with a transport of affection_, _and tears of filial fondness_.) My loved! My honoured kinsman! My more than father!—that with heroic greatness stood to the lone girl, through danger, death, and tyranny! (_she is overcome with emotion_).

LORD WILLIAM HOWARD (_tenderly looking at her whilst he still affectionately holds her_). Thy sweet face is sad! What clouds thy queenly brow?

QUEEN. At sight of thee, noble kinsman, the Tower and Woodstock, and the hostile court, rise like hideous goblins—and the base courtiers tendering their cold salutes, almost contempt. Wretches! I see them in vision, cowering at the thunder of thy step and voice. “Down on your knees to her, and kiss her hand” you shouted. Oh! the dismay of Philip and his Spaniards!—the scowl of Mary!—Alva alone was firm.—Some one muttered “Treason!—Tower!”

HOWARD (_with a proud and bitter laugh_). Ha! Ha! Ha! The Lord High Admiral of England, to the Tower!—with the mariners of the Royal Navy—the fifty privateers that kept our coasts—the best blood of England at my back—a righteous cause—and the whole people agitated like a seething pot—ready at a word to rise and tear your foes to pieces! Philip and Alva knew better. Their heads were surety for yours! I had let them know that your father’s “deep ditch,” as he called the channel, lay between them and Spain, and that I was the man who held the key of it to send them to the bottom. Gardiner too, and that dark villain, Renard, were plainly told that one move more should cost their lives! (_The_ QUEEN _in great emotion_.) That was a revolution for them! (_He walks aside_.) Philip, himself, then thought it prudent to take your part. (_With sarcasm_) Treason!—the Tower!—Humph! There were other murmurs—Outside!—So that when Arundel, the very head of the Catholic party, left the palace with me, he whispered in my ear, “I see Elizabeth’s foot upon the steps of the throne.” (_He walks aside proudly_.) My Royal Mistress, you were safe (_the_ QUEEN _in great emotion flings herself upon him_).

QUEEN. Uncle mine! Uncle mine! Call me your dear child as you did! at Woodstock! Father! Friend! Under God, my Saviour! ’Twas you that chained the Lions.

HOWARD (_solemnly_). I was, perhaps, an instrument!—one of the raised up—like yourself—blind led and passive—Nor words, nor actions, were my own!—The dictates of mysterious power—unseen—and irresistible—ever forced me on—that guardian angel which upheld you, and will uphold you—long as you fulfil your purpose, and obey—

QUEEN. Yes! yes! Noble kinsman. I have reason to thank God who all my life has led me—often by devious paths—I knew not.—The end is his!

HOWARD. Never was Monarch in greater danger than when in your progress you stopped short at Richmond, to sift out of his cowardice and vacillation the secret of Norfolk’s treason. What foiled the foul conspiracy at once? No human light. The impulse was divine! No secret spy; no base accomplice; no false domestic; no unfaithful friend betrayed him. Your own discerning eye unveiled his thoughts behind the flimsy shield of shuffling falsehood and evasion.

QUEEN (_abruptly_). And when he left the court without taking leave, I saw he dared not face me—I had probed his heart—’twas confession of his guilt.

HOWARD. On such occasions, you are all yourself. Your character breaks forth in all its majesty of force—your resolution was electric. As eagle to her eyrie, you flew to Windsor, that seat of regal pomp and power. You called no councils; lost no time discussing plans—You took the helm yourself, and instinct pointed to the port of safety. To seize the prize, the very object of rebellion, was to cut it short at a stroke! (_He walks aside_). It was a masterly resolve to send Hunsdon without notice or delay to carry the Queen of Scots to Tutbury, and there to surround himself and his quarry with five hundred men. The she-devil stormed, and wept, and threatened; but Hunsdon was just the man to go through with his work. She understood it all—the game was up with her. How I should have laughed to see Shrewsbury’s stupid stare, when your order was presented to him. Well, it was a marvellous conception, and marvellously executed, but the instinct was not human; it was the dictate of that guardian angel, which I maintain attends you through every difficulty.

QUEEN. Noble kinsman, it is strange, now that I reflect, I did it all without a moment’s thought, without reason, fear or motive. In fact, I knew not why, but that I was constrained, and it was done.

HOWARD (_hurriedly_). Then without an hour’s delay, to order the greatest men in England, Pembroke, Arundel, Lumley, and Throgmorton—to appear at court, and there to put them under arrest.

QUEEN. They were men and patriots—friends at heart—and instantly obeyed. They knew their heads were safe enough at Windsor.

HOWARD. Insurrection, without leader or object was snuffed out. But these are not the men to put their country under a foreign yoke, whether of Pope or Spain.

QUEEN. Norfolk, too, I summoned to return. His courage failed him, his shaking fit came on and laid him up at Howard House to write his lying sneaking letter, (_she shows him a latter_.) See! This from a Howard, and great Surrey’s sun.

HOWARD. I am ashamed of him. That ague should have taken his life, and saved his head.

QUEEN. Yet I loved him, uncle. How hard to sign his execution! I would have mourned his death. How much his fall from loyalty and honour. Howards should fall on fields of fame—Champions of England’s freedom and independence—a wailing country follow to their tomb, and public monuments attest their virtue. Norfolk! minion to her foe! traitor to enslave her! sinks to his doom, disgracing his proud name. His friends must loathe him—rebel, felon, slave and coward.

HOWARD. He dies the worst of traitors—his treason against his country, his religion—against mankind. Perish rebellion with him! England now is safe, and marches on apace, to greatness of her own—the empire of the ocean.—Wherefore doubt your fortune?

QUEEN (_sadly_). Kinsman, my lot is cast in loneliness, a solitary rock amid the breakers; danger, doubt and treason ever round me, knowing not whom to trust. My very council, blind to their country’s welfare, squabble about foreign policy, and even if honest are divided. Some are for marrying me, in the interest of Spain, some in that of France. Or that I’m lost—Even Cecil.

HOWARD (_impassioned and abrupt_). Sheer madness, either! to end in civil war, and then in nothingness. Was it for the good of England that Philip sought your hand? and now would marry you to his minion, Austria? Or that France would impose her wretched ape upon you? No! England must, and can stand alone, against the world. (_He walks aside proudly agitated_).

QUEEN (_with decision_). Fear not, noble kinsman; never will I divide my crown with mortal man, nor barter the glory and independence of my country. Rather war! or death! But I am harrassed—worried. My court’s a very comedy. Here are at least a dozen Ambassadors intriguing, lying, bribing among my maids of honour as if the hand of Elizabeth could be thus obtained. And (_laughing_) I am afraid they will cut one another’s throats in my presence.

HOWARD (_laughing_). Ha! Ha! Ha! Comedy! By my halidame, a good one (_rubbing his hands_). Lord, what fun to see the fools draw, and go at it.

QUEEN (_laughing with affected surprise_). By the soul of King Harry, Uncle, you would make a Roman Amphitheatre in Greenwich Park, and fight them there in pairs, like gladiators.

HOWARD (_laughing_). Ha! Ha! Ha! Capital! Pitch them into the arena, Leicester and Hatton with them, all armed with French rapiers to skewer one another like Woodcocks. We should look on as umpires. But Cecil, Sussex, and Walsingham—what do they mean with such nonsense? ’Tis well!? ’Tis well! The proudest boast that woman e’er possessed. Philip himself—every prince in Europe, that dares aspire, has sought your hand, ready to throw himself at your feet. A fact to blaze upon the face of history—a testimony to character and greatness, to silence base detraction and endure for ever. Where’s our weakness? Our danger, where? Our only danger, low intrigues, mixing with foreign quarrels, and false allies.—England must dwell apart—her power—her path to glory lies on the deep! Her great sons must carry out her policy alone (_he walks thoughtfully and returns_). I ever hated doctrine-mongers—men of one idea and crooked ways—dubious! indirect! unsafe! The man who loves his country, cannot mistake her interest, shoots straight at his mark and rarely misses. Danger!—Your Fleet—the daring spirits who man it—are the envy of the nations who have already proclaimed you “Queen of the Sea—Restorer of Naval Glory.” Another thing, my Queen, England’s Commercial Navy is a power unknown before. Her merchants, enriched by growing commerce, rival each other in the ships they build—all fit for war—with English pluck to fight their own way upon the waves. These, with the Royal Navy, present a force of twenty thousand fighting men—a match for ten times their number any day. What foe will face them? Ha! Ha! Ha! (_He walks aside in triumph_). Philip could never bring his Spaniards to that.

QUEEN (_with an expression of joy_). Noble kinsman, still the same, to comfort and encourage me.

HOWARD (_earnestly_). One thing perhaps you may want—a little money to build more ships, and keep for difficulties. (_With an enquiring look_.) What of Drake? Have they no news at Plymouth?

QUEEN. No! But through Spain, notwithstanding efforts to conceal it, we know his plunder is immense, and though every one else thinks he has gone down, Philip, sleepless, and alarmed, is astounded, not knowing what next may happen. But Drake! poor fellow! I fear is gone for ever! Magellan’s Straits are guarded—return impossible, if alive.

HOWARD. Alive! What would kill them? If the Spaniards should kill these devils, there would be a noise the whole world would ring with. As to the straits being closed—Frobisher says there are other passages, and that Drake’s the man to find them. Drake’s the man! He’ll find his way, my life upon him.

QUEEN. But, come, Uncle mine! You’re out of breath with this excitement, and I have had a smart ride from London, and need refreshment. I ordered my maids to horse right early.

HOWARD. Ah! You require your favorite beverage—a cup of good ale. Ale’s the restorer.

QUEEN. You know my mind upon that, Uncle. It’s the natural drink of the nation.

HOWARD. I know I have ever seen the men fight best upon it, but I have heard that some fool proposes a tax upon ale.

QUEEN (_laughing_). What? Tax an Englishman’s ale! That would be the next thing to foreign rule. Come, kinsman! (_She takes his arm_).

HOWARD (_aside as they go out_). Marry a French frog! like that pock-marred Alençon. (_Grumbling angrily_). I must have a talk with Cecil.

(_Exeunt_).
_Scene changes_.

SCENE VI.—THE TERRACE OF GREENWICH PALACE.

_Enter the_ QUEEN _and_ DRAKE.

QUEEN (_laughing_). Abajo Perro! Down dog! Brave boy! I must see him Drake, Ha! Ha! Ha! Abajo Perro! So he leaped foremost aboard, felled the first Spaniard with his fist, shouting Abajo Perro. God’s death! How I should like to have seen the Spaniard sprawling on the deck. Ha! Ha! Ha! A Plymouth boy you say. His name, Drake?

DRAKE. Thomas Moon, an it please Your Majesty.

QUEEN. Humph! Fellows have been knighted for less; he’s a hero!

DRAKE. Such are the men that England wants, my Liege.

QUEEN. And has, Drake, I am proud to say. (_With eagerness_) Come! Tell me about the great gold ship.

DRAKE. As we neared, one broadside brought down her masts, a volley from our longbows mowed her deck, like the scythe in standing corn; we shot up alongside of her, our men rushed aboard, Thomas Moon foremost.

QUEEN (_laughing_). Ha! Ha! The Plymouth boy, Abajo Perro! I shall never forget that. Ha! Ha! Ha! Well, well! Go on.

DRAKE. Well, my Liege! We cut away the wreck, towed her out to sea and took charge of the precious freight at our leisure.

QUEEN. That’s the way that British sailors do their work. You astonished the Spaniards.

DRAKE. Your Majesty knows the rest. Magellan’s straits were secured against me, and I was not going to surrender what I had got.

QUEEN. No, Drake was not the man for that.

DRAKE. So I decided to take my chance, on the great unknown ocean, and by the Cape of Good Hope.

QUEEN (_thoughtfully_). The great unknown ocean, without chart or pilot!

DRAKE (_with an air of confidence_). My Liege, I had the stars of Heaven, and Him who set them in their courses, whose law I proclaimed from my deck to every line of longitude on His globe! (_Looking up with reverence_). Thus, Your Majesty’s little ship, having ploughed a furrow round the earth, arrived safe in Plymouth with a nation’s wealth in her hold.

QUEEN (_eagerly_). Tell me all! Tell me all. Strange sights, strange men, strange lands, a tale of wonder; (_she muses thoughtfully_).

DRAKE. Your Majesty will have much to hear. The story is long as well as full of wonder. Strange lands, I saw and took possession; there flies your Royal Standard, I proclaimed you Queen. The people flocked around and swore allegiance, (_with much animation_), a land, my Liege, richer than all the realms of Spain, a land whose streams flow over sands of gold, whose very soil is gold. ’Tis but to dig and wash.

QUEEN (_incredulous she rebukes_, _what she thinks exaggeration_, _with a shake of her head_). Drake! Drake.

DRAKE. It is true! my Liege—I have dug, and brought it home. (_He throws down a bag on the floor and kneels upon it_). I kneel upon the soil, and hail Your Majesty, Queen of California—the future goldfield of the world! (_He rises and presents her with the bag_). I have the honour to deliver to Your Majesty thus, part for the whole, legal possession of California. (_She takes the bag with curiosity and surprise_).

QUEEN. Is this gold? It is heavy!

DRAKE. There needs only to wash it in a basin—your Majesty will see the gold at the bottom.

QUEEN. This beats Alchemy. It is miracle! I’ll wash it with my own hands. Drake, I am proud of you. England is proud of you. Men’s minds are filled with your name, astounded by your achievements. You have covered your country with glory, thrown over her a mantle of power. The nations look up to us now and begin to think we can beat the world. Philip is alarmed, and when we all thought you were lost, he could not sleep for fear. He expected you to come on the winds of heaven, to make descents upon his coast.

DRAKE (_kneeling to her_). Your Majesty’s approval is my reward. That is the pride and glory of an Englishman.

QUEEN. My pride and glory is the love and valour of my people. Philip, and Mendoza his Ambassador, are clamorous for restitution, and call you a corsair—pirate—robber! (_laughing_)

DRAKE. Our acts are self defence and justifiable retaliation, my Liege. They are the spoilers, robbers, murderers. What is he doing in the Low Countries, to a free, civilized people? Is he not committing wholesale diabolical robbery and murder? Has he not seized our ships in defiance of solemn treaty, trading peaceably in time of peace? Whole fleets of our merchantmen, at Gibraltar and elsewhere,—imprisoning, hanging their crews, or burning them, in the Plazas of his cities, for the amusement of the mob? And we ourselves owed him a measure of vengeance, for the murderous affair of San Juan de Ulloa. But I have meted out to him, measure for measure—pressed down—shaken together.

QUEEN (_laughing_). Plenty of shaking, Drake. Plenty! Philip’s fit is not over. He is shaking yet. Cecil, too, is shaking—frightened by Mendoza’s bluster. He says we shall have war unless we give up the treasure—Sussex and Clinton agree with him. I don’t think much of that—I know them! They’re not the men to give up anything of their own (_with a sarcastic smile_) without a fight for it. They would talk another language, if they had a share in our little venture. (_Then with intense curiosity_). How much is it, Drake?

DRAKE. Impossible to estimate, my Liege. Philip puts his losses at one million and a half. That applies, however, only to ascertained, and registered quantities. They don’t know the half of what I have taken—Gold plate and bars by tons! What will your majesty say to cases of pearls and emeralds as large as pigeons’ eggs? I have brought, your majesty, a sample—a little present from your honoured servant. (_He presents her with the celebrated crown of emeralds as large as pigeons’ eggs which she gazes on with astonishment and delight_.)

QUEEN. A crown of emeralds! and of such magnitude. The like was never seen in Europe. No regal brow hath ever borne the like. Magnificent! Drake!—Drake! This is of unearthly splendour. Thou art an enchanter, man, or hast been in fairy-land. (_She puts the crown on her head and walks about musing_; _then suddenly confronts him_.) Three millions! Who ever dreamed of such a sum? It is a nation’s wealth! Give it up? Once in one’s clutches! Impossible! I could not give it up. Impossible! (_She walks about exulting in the possession_. _She pauses_, _and asks_ DRAKE, _with uneasy anxiety_.) What think you, Drake? Will there be war?

DRAKE. Not with Spain, my Liege, unless we declare war. Philip dare not—could not, go to war with us. What would become of the Low Countries then? He could not keep them a single week. Ha! ha! ha! Besides! He has no fleet!

QUEEN. No fleet? Our statesmen think the sea is covered with his fleets! (_ironically_) in fact that it is his property.

DRAKE (_with a sarcastic laugh_). Statesmen! Tush! tush! What do they know about it? (_contemptuously_) Spain upon the ocean is a MYTH! A huge ball of FOAM, my Liege, without force or cohesion, which with the first war-storm upon the angry waves, will scatter and be seen no more! (_He walks aside with a wave of his hand_; _then returning with a triumphant smile_.) Can Philip guard his coasts at home; his towns; his churches; from sack and flame? Can he protect his commerce? His merchantmen are sunk or plundered in the channel. His great officers and Nobles put up to auction in our seaports—kept in chains like dogs, till ransomed! Ha! Ha! Ha! (_Increasing in energy_.) Have I not sailed the Caribean sea, with the cross of St. George proudly at my masthead (_he looks to the_ QUEEN _in proud triumph_) burning, plundering, ships and towns?—Have I not landed on the coast, stopped his transports—taken his treasure—and, lastly, launched on the Pacific, the source of all his greatness—seized his bullion on sea and land, and carried a nation’s wealth in my little bark, round the globe, in triumph? Spain, where is thy might? (_He walks about in grim triumph_, _looking for approval to the_ QUEEN, _who stands amazed and stunned_, _yet watching her hero with pride and exultation_. _He comes up to the_ QUEEN _solemn and serious_.) Give him this treasure, my honoured Mistress. (_With emphasis_.) Put this sting in him!—and then—(_he starts as if some dreadful apparition had risen before him_, _to arrest his speech and force him to contemplate it with doubt and alarm_).

QUEEN (_startled at his expression_, _with deep interest and impatience_). You look with grave apprehension on it. What then?

DRAKE (_slow solemn and serious_). Why then, my Liege, not your statesmen! for they seem too blind to fear; but your royal Majesty—our beloved country,—nay, Europe itself, would have cause for fear. My soul shrinks within me from contemplation of the fearful consequence. (_He is greatly excited_, _wringing his hands_.) Oh! My God! It never struck me before—it flashes on me now—a light from Heaven—fearful! fearful!—seas of blood!

QUEEN (_excited to frenzy_, _impatient of some dreadful apprehension_, _rushes up to him_, _and seizing hold of him_, _shakes him for explanation_.) God of England! Speak man, what mean you? It must be something which quells the soul of Drake.—What then? Quick.—Relieve this boding doubt, this frantic apprehension. Quick! Quick, what then?

DRAKE. Why then, my Liege, he would equip a fleet, collect his mighty hosts, crush the Low Countries in an hour, annihilate our trade, blockade our ports. France shrinking paralysed, overawed, and then—

QUEEN (_starting away as from a frightful apparition_, _but with unquailing spirit rushes about with uplifted arms and the rage of a tigress_.) I see! I see! I see it ALL—Villains, fools, and traitors, I should be left without an ally to battle with the world in arms. Rebels, traitors, assassins—Fiends of Hell within—The fleets and armies of Spain without. The wars of the roses over again. Fierce civil strife, seas of brothers’ blood—The proud island before whose arms Europe has quailed, trampled into a Spanish province! (_A pause of grim rage and sarcasm_), and the moles and bats would give it to him! (_She laughs with a grim and bitter expression of rage and exultation_). Ha! Ha! Ha! They shan’t, Drake, they shan’t! Philip shall not have one ochavo of it. No! War or no war—never! Shade of Henry of Monmouth! Can thy stone casement hold thee? (_She walks about with a proud resolve then confronts him_). What then do you propose sir? You are entitled to a voice in the matter.

DRAKE. Your Majesty can now take the wind out of his sails, you can build and equip the fleet. Give me, my Liege, but a small one, I’ll burn every town upon his coast, every stick of navy he possesses, in harbour or afloat; carry his gold fleet to England, and drive him from the ocean in a month; (_he walks aside in exultation_).

QUEEN (_abruptly_). You’re the man, Drake! you’re the man!

DRAKE. Then, my Liege, we shall occupy California and the Indies, whose downtrodden people will welcome you as a Saviour. England will become the mart of the precious metals, the centre of universal commerce. The tribes of broken humanity will come begging for the crumbs that fall from your replenished table. Our great race, (_elevating his voice_) shall spread from land to land, from sea to sea, till one wide luminous zone of truth, of light, of freedom, shall gird the globe; the sun shall make his eternal round and never set in the dominions.

_He looks upward with confiding fervour as if delivering a divine message from on high_. _The_ QUEEN _overpowered with emotion at the awful development of national greatness_.

QUEEN. Hold! Spare me! My brain turns, stunned, bewildered in the vastness of that visioned future. (_She exclaims imploringly as one afraid to advance farther_.) Stay! Stay!

DRAKE (_impetuously_). I speak not without book, My Royal Mistress. It was not human power that raised your Majesty and held your right hand, (a _pause_) through death and tyranny, (_the_ QUEEN _much moved_) until you reached your throne, or guided my little bark through storm and battle to your shores. It is not chance, my Liege, but Providence that rules! A secret impulse ever drove me on, (_a pause_) and now ASSURES me that the end is near. The blood of butchered nations crying to heaven, at length is heard. Spain totters to her fall! (_He walks aside excited_, _then returns and continues with energy_). The star of England rises from the sea to rule its waves, the ocean rules the land, its trident shakes the earth! (_He comes up to the_ QUEEN _impassioned_). ’Tis thine! ’Tis thine! Stretch forth thine hand, my Liege, and grasp the Trident.

QUEEN (_in great excitement_). Drake! Drake! A virtue goeth out of thee. I’m filled with awe, but feel the power. (_She essays to leave_.) Come! Come!

_Leaving the terrace absorbed in thought_, _her outstretched hand grasping at something in the air_, _whilst_ DRAKE _still follows her close with earnest voice and gesture_.

DRAKE. My Liege! It is the will of GOD! It is the will of GOD.

(_Exeunt_).

SCENE VII.—A ROOM IN THE PALACE.

LEICESTER’S _present on a marble table_, _backed by a large steel mirror which reflects it_. _The_ QUEEN _sitting on a sofa_, _in conversation with the_ EARL OF LEICESTER _who stands at a little distance_.

LEICESTER. What thinks my royal Mistress of my symboled future now? (_he point to it_) These figures seem to speak and challenge me to ask.—I always felt that thought was inspiration! The vision rapidly developes into facts. You’ll live to see the symbol a reality. Drake’s deeds of wonder bring it up in force.

QUEEN. Miraculous! Incomprehensible! Drake’s a prodigy!—At sight I read him in the first moment’s interview. He’s made for greatness not his own. A Demi-god could not accomplish his achievements, so vast in their proportions, and whose effects, perhaps, shall run through Time!—Nor dare—nor even conceive them. A clear impossibility—by himself to mortal man! The finger of God is visible throughout for his own end—then unseen! Drake’s eyes are opened now, and so are mine! I see the work and aim of Providence. We are but passive instruments to carry out his will. ’Tis always thus, Leicester. I have observed it well through life. God brings about His greatest ends by means, to us, inadequate—to show His power, and that the work is His; lest we should say “my hand hath done it.” You see how all Drake’s other ships were sunk or scattered to the winds, that HE hurled on an unknown ocean! LEFT ALONE! should be the chosen means to change the destiny of the world.

LEICESTER. It is a mighty prize, howe’er he dropped upon it, and marvellous as you say. What power to you!—To Philip, most vexatious loss at present—to say the least, inconvenient in the extreme—your seizures, of that Genoese loan, and now this treasure, have crippled him. He is at a stand still for money, notwithstanding his Indies. Alva is in despair—his army in mutiny. This would have relieved them of all their difficulties. They are in a dreadful way. Mendoza spluttering at a huge rate, has frightened Cecil with a threat of war—and he in his alarm would give it up. But the whole country is enthusiastic about Drake.—He is the universal hero!

QUEEN (_indignant_). A fig for Cecil and the whole Council—a set of fools—some are afraid of Philip—some are in his pay. I’ll stick to it, Leicester—every silver bar—every quoit of gold. It is the gift of Providence—my power, my safety. I have had my doubts and fears! Now I feel that I can defy the world. Drake despises Spain; laughs at invasion; says Philip can’t defend himself from us. He swears he’ll drive him from the ocean in a month—and I believe him. He (_with emphasis_) knows what he’s talking about. Drake’s the man!—Drake’s the man for me!

_A Page announces the Spanish Ambassador_.

PAGE. His Excellency the Spanish Ambassador.

QUEEN (_startled and confused_). God’s death, Leicester! I thought as much. Here he comes to demand it. You must retire into my private room (_with decision_) I’ll face it out, Robin! (_exit_ LEICESTER. _To the_ PAGE) Admit his Excellency. (_Exit_ PAGE.) I must play my cards with skilful hand. By flattery or menace—to draw from him his policy. (_Enter_ AMBASSADOR. _The_ QUEEN _bounds from the sofa to meet him with affected friendliness_.) Don Bernardino de Mendoza! I am always glad to see you—in your private character. But are you now come as a King-at-Arms to declare war?

MENDOZA. No! No! My instructions from my master are, to cultivate peace—But from your Majesty’s preparations, I should imagine that you meant war, on a large scale. Your fleet at Chatham! and the noise of fife and drum throughout the land.

QUEEN (_interrupting_). ’Tis only the commission of array for training—Though England keeps on foot no armies, she is always armed—Her freemen are her soldiers. In times of danger, she gets ready; I don’t intend to be caught sleeping. What are those mighty naval preparations for at Cadiz? Six thousand additional seamen!

AMBASSADOR. Of that—not having the gift of inspiration! I can give your Majesty no information. My master finds no fault with you, but your ministers encourage, and aid rebellion against his authority in the Low Countries, and English Corsairs, not content with robbing his merchantmen in the channel, have now extended their ravages to the Indies and the Pacific. The notorious Drake is, even now, returned with enormous booty. He is cherished and feted, as if the exploits of a robber were some great national triumph. His Majesty expects that you will not only order immediate restitution, but punish the offender as he deserves.

QUEEN. Tush! Tush! Your master cannot be serious. If so, he must either be a fool, or think me one. If my ships should invade the possessions of the King of Spain, the act could not be considered Piracy—It would be war. Now your complaint shows that the nations are at peace, and therefore that the acts are not my acts. He has been a King of England, and knows well, that the laws of England do not extend to the Pacific—Hey! Hey! Our courts have neither authority to try, nor means to punish offences committed in the other hemisphere.

AMBASSADOR (_with haste_). Drake is now in England with the booty.

QUEEN. Well! Drake has committed no offence against the laws of his country. What exclusive right has your master, the King of Spain, to the Indies, the whole continent of America, and the wide Pacific?

AMBASSADOR (_with much earnestness_). The Pope who, as Vicar of Christ, has authority over the whole earth, has given the Indies and the Pacific, to Spain.

QUEEN (_laughing outright_). Did Charles the fifth owe his empire to the Pope, when he sent his army to imprison His Holiness and seize the possessions of the church? Hey! Will his son Philip acknowledge that he now owes them to the Pope? I trow not! Let the Pope only interfere with Philip’s dominions—We should soon hear of another Spanish army marching upon Rome, and probably Don Bernardino de Mendoza in command of it, to make the Pope a second time prisoner, and shut him up in his Castle of St. Angelo. That is the way Philip would acknowledge his authority over the earth; and that you would show your faith in it. Ha! Ha! Ha! (_Laughter_, _in which_ MENDOZA _cannot help joining_. _The_ QUEEN _walks about_, _exulting in her triumph_).

AMBASSADOR. That would be an extreme case, your Majesty.

QUEEN (_bursting into a laugh_). Capital! An extreme case! It would be an extreme case, for the Vicar of God upon earth. For myself you know, I utterly deny his authority altogether, as well as his office (_with sarcastic emphasis_). But look you here, a Pope has given Ireland to England, for an eternal possession, by a solemn bull; and yet, your master Philip has invaded that country, to wrest it from us—His troops are at this moment in Ireland. Tell your master from me, that I will hear no complaints, nor give him any answer, until these are withdrawn (_she walks proudly and defiant_).

AMBASSADOR. I am sorry for it, but if you allow these measures to be pursued, you will see when too late, your throne slip from under you. I know your resources, compared with those of France, and that your only safety is behind the shield of Spain.

QUEEN (_sarcastically_) I am not going to quarrel with France, who with good reason, keeps a jealous eye on Spain, you know that well, and so does Philip. I intend only to maintain myself, as my father has done before me, independent in my own realm. And as for losing my throne, what raised me to it? Under God, my people who, Catholic and Protestant, alike, agree in this—To hate with all their hearts, a foreign jurisdiction (_she looks with insinuation at him_). France has not forgotten the battle of the Spurs, or the still greater lesson taught her within living memory; when her sixty thousand men, were driven from the shores of the Isle of Wight, like the small dust before the whirlwind by the tall yeomen of the soil (_she proudly walks aside_, _then boldly utters_). The audacious foe that lands upon our shores, will learn to his cost that he has to encounter men. The English of the present day have not lost the spirit of their noble fathers. They will defend their liberties to the death; and should they fall in the great struggle, with the help of God, he will find the body of their Queen, like that of the great Harold in the midst them. With England I will LIVE or DIE, (_she storms about the room_, _the_ AMBASSADOR _gazing on her with stupified amazement_).

AMBASSADOR. I am sorry your Majesty views my advice in that light. I shall now take my leave, and report to my master the result of this interview.

_Exit_ AMBASSADOR.

_Re-enter_ EARL OF LEICESTER.

_The_ QUEEN _walking about agitated_, _chafed_, _but exulting_, LEICESTER _laughing as he enters_.

LEICESTER. Nobly done, my Royal Mistress—all yourself—you frightened Mendoza, more than he does Cecil. He was under cow from the first and dared not speak up to you as he does to the council. You acted your part to the life, and cannot even now throw off the mask.

QUEEN (_excited_). God’s death, Robin! No mask, no acting at all. My blood was up, I was in thorough earnest; it is something to stand on solid ground, I’m not going to be bullied now by the empty bluster of a Spanish coxcomb, or his master either—Drake has opened my eyes and theirs too! this load of wealth! Our strength! Their weakness. Leicester, he has shown me a secret! (_She looks at him with intense meaning_) a power that must rule the world!

LEICESTER (_astonished and interested_). Indeed, my Liege! I did not know he was given to such deep state-craft.

QUEEN (_with proud emphasis_). Why man! With one hand I grasp the trident of the ocean, with the other California and the Indies. Drake’s a Prophet—he knows the true strength and policy of England. The destiny of nations! (_She storms about_, LEICESTER _eyeing her with astonishment and awe_). Come along, Robin! I must see these wise men of the council and let them know what I think of their drivelling. I say Drake’s conduct is only self defence! Just retaliation! The money is lawful prize. I’ll give Sussex a talking to, for his intermeddling—’Fore God, I’ll set some of them by the feet before all’s over about this, I’ll bracelet them with iron, both arms and ankles. Come along, Robin! Come along. (_Aside as she goes off_). Three millions! Mother of God! Three millions.

(_Exeunt_).

SCENE VIII.—TERRACE OF GREENWICH PALACE.

_Decorated with masts_, _bearing various devices_, _illustrative of England’s heroes and their victories_, _and surmounted with the National flag_. _The river is crowded with shipping_, _having all their bunting and streamers abroad_, _in honour of the great event_. _Their decks and rigging filled with gaily dressed spectators_. _All London is there_. _It is known_, _that the_ QUEEN _has resolved to honour with her presence at dinner_, _the little ship that has fought its way round the world_, _and the heroes who manned it_. _Deck of the Golden Hind covered with an awning_, _extended with canvas on to the land in a semi-circular form_; _open in front and supported by pillars_—_the whole highly ornamented and painted with scenic effect_, _to represent the great occasions of England’s triumph by sea and land_. _A dinner-table spread with gold and silver plate_, _with various jewelled articles in those metals_—_trophies brought from the Indies_—_and piled with rare tropical fruits and productions_, _since become familiar although then extraordinary_. _A flag in the centre_, _by order of the_ QUEEN, _bearing the arms of_ DRAKE _and the mottoes_ “_Divino auxilio_” _above and_ “_Sic parvis magna_” _below_. _The table is occupied by distinguished nobles_, _knights_, _and great officers_—_amongst them_, _conspicuous_, HOWARD OF EFFINGHAM, _Lord High Admiral_; LEICESTER; RALEIGH; HATTON, _and others_, _principally those most against Spain_, _if not actually in the interest of the Freebooters_, _who fearlessly kept the Channel and guarded the coast_, _and who had maintained the right of_ QUEEN ELIZABETH, _even when her sister was on the throne_. _On the left_, _the_ QUEEN _on a raised platform_, _with the great ladies of her court_, _seated at a table_. _Sailors with a profusion of gold chains_, _jewels and foreign ornaments standing about_. _Yet showing their deference to their sovereign_, _as well as their high discipline_. _Great cheering_. _Curtain rises_, DRAKE _comes forward with a large gold richly jewelled goblet filled with wine_, _which he presents to the_ QUEEN _kneeling_.

QUEEN. Rise, Mr. Drake. What would you say?

DRAKE. On behalf of the crew of the “Golden Hind,” I would beg your Majesty’s acceptance of this cup, which is probably the most valuable ever designed for human lips—meet only for the Monarch, whose wisdom and genius have made her country respected and feared by the nations of the earth. The goblet and the wine are the lawful prize of the valour of your men—taken on the great Pacific, whose waters quailed beneath the thunder of your guns. Both have made the circuit of the globe, and thus been guided by Providence to the lips of His most favoured Queen.

QUEEN (_bowing to the men_). I accept your precious gift, with thanks.

DRAKE. My Liege! I have another favour to ask—leave to propose a toast?

QUEEN. You shall be king, sir, on your own deck, where you have so ably commanded—proceed!

DRAKE (_turning to the company whilst his cup-bearer hands him a golden goblet_) Ladies! Lords! Noble Englishmen, and you, brothers in arms, who in this little bark have never struck your flag to a foe, but have carried it at your main, through storm and battle, round the globe, fill your cups and stand. (_They fill their cups and stand_, _a little excited_). You have this day received an honour, which is a reward for all your difficulties and dangers. Your Queen acknowledges our services, and condescends to be our guest. This is no common event in the lives of men. It is an ERA in the history of the WORLD, which will be read, whilst one page of the great volume lasts (_sensation_). We have amongst us, the chosen of Providence, who has covered herself and her country, with a glory which shall endure, till time shall be no more; the ELECTED HEAD of the NEW TOWER rising from the sea to rule the WORLD—to send forth from England the law of commerce and civilisation. (He _turns to the_ QUEEN). “For the abundance of the sea shall be converted to you.” (_Turning to the company_). Hers is not the sceptre of an Attila or a more cruel Philip, by the swords of armed men, steeped in the blood and tears of prostrate humanity. The Trident of the Ocean is the wand of peace, which shall wave over freedom, prosperity, and law. (_Sensation_). The fortune of our great race may be chequered, but it shall never wane, till it has pushed its nations to the everlasting hills. (_Turning and extending his hand towards the_ QUEEN). Behold the fountain, the well-head of our progress. When tyranny shall oppress, and prosperity waver, England will look back with hope to her maiden Queen. When her armies conquer, and her navies triumph, when her flag o’er sea and land shall sway the mighty and the free. England will turn with pride to the origin of her power—The reign of her maiden Queen. When the traitor in the council, or the coward in the field, shall betray his country, his honour, his faith, his God, England will fling aside the infamy and take courage from her maiden Queen. When her empire shall gird the globe, with arts, science, commerce, and peace—When the elements themselves shall obey her, and flash from land to land, from sea to sea, her mandates of liberty and law, England will look to her maiden Queen as the starting point of it all. (_He looks around_, _and raising his goblet pronounces the toast_).—The Queen! God bless her!

ALL. The Queen, God bless her. Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah.

_Tremendous cheering_, _taken up by the men on the river_, _and on the land_. _The sailors on the Golden Hind in great commotion and enthusiasm endeavour to rush forward to the_ QUEEN—_The officers’ exert themselves to restrain them_. HOWARD, LEICESTER, _and the great men gather round_ DRAKE, _who is __much affected_. _The_ QUEEN _is overcome with emotion_! LORD HUNSDON, _great chamberlain_, _who is standing beside her_, _comes forward_.

LORD HUNSDON. Silence, and order! It is Her Majesty’s command that her poet shall commemorate the occasion? (_The poet comes forward with a paper_. _Cheers_!)

SEVERAL VOICES. The Corsairs, song! The Corsairs, song.

SONG OF THE CORSAIRS.

Oh! We’re the boys of thunder!
The Rovers of the main;
We’ll strike with awe and wonder
The pride of tyrant Spain:
Her giant ships are lumber,
Their aim is slavery—
We count not size or number—
We’ll drive thorn from the sea!

CHORUS.—Her Tars will fight for England,
Till Death or Victory!
Nor French, nor Spaniard, here shall land!
Hurrah! Brave boys, Hurrah!

Proud Spain shall know we are the men
Who boldly board the foe;
Who burn or plunder all we can,
And others sink below.
We are to storm and battle bred,
Our Island, as of yore,
The home where Freedom lifts her head;
And rules from shore to shore! _Chorus_.

Each Saxon and each Dane sire
A sea-king was of old—
They left to us, their race, the fire
Of soul, which made them bold;
Their Empire was the deep sea—
It is our heritage,
Where we’ll neither yield nor flee!
We’ll tame the tyrant’s rage! _Chorus_.

Spain’s cruel Inquisition burns
Our brethren whom they take,
But, the tide of death now turns
The bark of gallant Drake,
For vengeance launched a rich town,
Shall give to spoil and flame,
Nay more, a Spanish crew drown
For every martyr’s name. _Chorus_.

Proudest Admirals shall quail
Before thy genius, Drake,
And their lofty galleons sail
As captives in thy wake;
Gold and gems, for Idols meant,
In heaps thy bark shall load—
And be to England’s Queen sent,
Price of her seamen’s blood. _Chorus_.

Drake! heroic name of fear!
With England’s flag unfurled,
Startled every Spaniard’s ear,
As first he round the world;
His bold untrodden course stood,
Eternal fame to build,
And his country, great and good,
With joy and wealth he filled! _Chorus_.

On wild Panama he stood,
And from its palm-clad height,
Gazed on broad Pacific’s flood,
So calm in golden light—
Thence his fancy strayed abroad,
Dreaming of wonders there,
Then he turned his thoughts to God
And poured his soul in prayer. _Chorus_

Be mine, Lord, the favoured keel
To cross that unknown waste;
And that, through my country’s weal,
Benighted man be blessed:
Not with gold alone for freight—
Nor yet to fight for fame;
To belt the globe with holy light,
The Glory of Thy Name! _Chorus_.

My ship with the glittering ore
Carries more precious load,
The Bible, which ne’er before
Hath journeyed o’er that flood:
Let me, in Thy Name, first bear
The message of Thy Peace,
“Woe! down-trodden dry thy tear,
Thy rod oppression cease.” _Chorus_.

England is the Bible’s land,
THE GUARDIAN OF THE WORD!
True to trust she safe shall stand—
_More safe than by the Sword_!
By Thee elected let her fill
Her mission o’er the wave,
Just and faithful! Be it still,
The lost to seek and save. _Chorus_.

Oh! Freedom’s is the Ocean!
Our Island is its Queen!
The billows pay devotion,
Around her robed in green:
No Despot shall his flag wave
Upon its chainless roll!
Ocean loves the Free and Brave!
’TIS OURS FROM POLE TO POLE! _Chorus_.

_The chorus is taken up by all present_, _especially the sailors_. _At the conclusion of the song_, _much excitement and enthusiasm with confusion among the sailors_, _subdued with difficulty by the officers_—_The_ QUEEN _rises_.

QUEEN (_with much emotion_). Brave men! My heart is too full for speech—But even did my feelings permit, what words could measure the daring of your souls, or the greatness of your achievements. You have filled the world with wonder, like the Demigods of fable. Your country and eternal fame can alone requite you—You have my heart, my love! I thank you, and drink to all your healths. (_Great cheering_, _the_ QUEEN _comes forward_. _Efforts are made by_ DRAKE _and the leading men to restore order_.)

DRAKE (_going among the sailors_). The Queen, men! The Queen, men, silence in the ship. (_Order is restored_).

QUEEN. I have now another duty to perform, which though done to one will through him extend to all. Francis Drake, Come forward. (DRAKE _advances_). Your sword, sir! (_He presents his sword_, _of enormous value_, _ornamented with gold and precious stones_. _The_ QUEEN _gazes on it with wonder_). (_Aside_) Spanish! Like everything around, it speaks of triumph. This little deck exhales an influence, ’tis holy ground to me. An atmosphere of conquest breathes around me—I feel the power (_flourishing the sword_). Kneel sir. Francis Drake; you have accomplished deeds of deathless renown, which have thrown over your country a halo of glory and power. You have taught her foes to dread her, your country; that her valour can achieve the conquest of the world: and that the TRIDENT OF THE OCEAN of right belongs to ENGLAND. (_She strikes him with the sword_). Rise, Sir Francis Drake, pursue the path of Knighthood and virtue, till you reach the destined goal of your own and England’s greatness. (_She extends her hand to him to kiss_, GARTER KING-AT-ARMS _comes forward and presents a large Escutcheon with a ship on the globe emblazoned on it_. LORD HOWARD OF EFFINGHAM, LEICESTER, RALEIGH, _and others press round to congratulate him_, _amid the cheers of the sailors_).