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!