Queen: Thou wouldst have gold? Fie, young man. Yet, thou mayest be poor. It shall be gold. But thou shall answer to me for the use of it.
Raleigh: I do not wish gold, your majesty.
Queen: How, boy, neither gold nor garment! What then?
Raleigh: Only permission to wear the cloak which did this trifling service.
Queen: Permission to wear thine own cloak, thou silly boy?
Raleigh: It is no longer mine. When your majesty's foot touched it, it became a fit mantle for a prince.
Queen: Heard you ever the like, my Lords? What is thy name and birth?
Raleigh: Raleigh is my name.
Queen: Raleigh? We have heard of you. You may wear thy muddy cloak, and here, I give thee this, to wear at the collar.