_Cocoa nut trees with monkeys_.
_Enter_ CHIRUCA _and_ DRAKE _with the others_.
CHIRUCA. Above a hundred mules and as many llamas loaded! tons of gold,
silver, and, precious stones. You must form your own idea of their
value. We wonder at your desire for such useless stuff.
DRAKE. And you consider that we can intercept and take them?
CHIRUCA. Of course! We are eighteen English, and thirty Symerons, and
you know that one Englishman is equal to ten of them. We shall trap them
like wolves or buffaloes; in fact, the Spaniards will show us their heels
at the first volley from our bows; and the attendants who hate their
tyrants will lead the beasts wherever we order. The ambuscade is just
below us—close at hand. We can rest, and refresh ourselves here till the
hour.
DRAKE. This is a rich and beautiful valley, but toiling through it under
a burning sun, is dry work, and then to be tantalized with these
delicious fruits!
_He and_ CHIRUCA _throw themselves on a bank to one side_. _The rest
gather themselves into the centre_, _and are engaged talking and
laughing_, _when Bang_! _Bang_! _Bang_! _Down comes a shower of cocoa
nuts from a mob of monkeys_, _who thus commence petting their invaders
and scamper through the branches screaming and hurling their missiles_.
MOON _is knocked down_, _and scrambles up in alarm_, DRAKE _and_ CHIRUCA
_laughing at the sport_.
MOON (_running off_). Holloa there, messmates! Look out for squalls,
what the devil’s up? A legion of Devils, I think. (_He peeps from
behind a free_, _laughing with all the others_, _who have betaken
themselves to shelter_.) I call that Panama hail, boys, (_laughter and
cheers from all_. _The monkeys also chattering in triumph_.) Hark to
the devils, how they chatter and triumph. Hand me your longbow, Oxenham,
and I’ll spoil the sport of that long-tailed rascal, (_looking up_), I’ll
change your grinning.
DRAKE. Never mind, comrade! Let the poor things have their triumph. We
shall enjoy the fruits of victory. Bear a hand with your axe, and open
some of these nuts. Give us a drink of the juice. (_Moon falls to
opening the nuts with a gimlet and his axe_, _whilst Indians hold
Calabashes for the liquor_. _The rest having gathered melons_,
_plantains_, _bananas and other juicy fruits into a heap_, _are eating
and enjoying themselves_.)
OXENHAM (_eating a banana_). Why Tom, you have brought your whole chest
of tools.
MOON (_laughing_). Yes, John, so have you; but you carry yours in your
mouth.
CHIRUCA (_to_ DRAKE). We are at no loss for refreshing drinks, friend
Drake, in our forest (_he points to a large tree_). Here, friend Tom,
just notch this tall trunk, and get ready your calabashes. (DRAKE _comes
forward to see_.) This is one of our largest and most valuable trees.
The Spaniards call it Palo de Vacca (the Cow Tree). Now friend Tom!
MOON _gashes the great trunk and out rushes a stream of milk_, _which the
Indians catch in calabashes and hand round_. _They all begin to drink_,
_exclaiming_. _Excellent_! _Wonderful_!
DRAKE. This is marvellous! In the hands of a monk it would pass for a
miracle. It scarcely differs from real milk, and will not be believed in
England.
MOON. It beats cow-keeping, as far as a dolphin does a flying-fish. I
bethink me of bringing home some slips and setting up a dairy in old
Plymouth! (_laughter_)
VOICES. Your cows would all die of the cold, Tom.
MOON. Belike, General, if I should cut off a junk and put it to the
fire, we might have a joint of roast beef. Heh!
ALL (_with burst of laughter_). Try it, Tom! Try it, Tom! You’ll find
it hard to digest (_cheers_). You’ll need a marlin spike next to pick
your teeth, Tom (_cheers_). Ha! Ha! The roast beef of Old England
growing on a tree! (_cheers and laughter_).
_The Curtain falls_. _The Orchestra striking up_ “_The Roast Beef of Old
England_.”
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_).