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.