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.