SNEER. Pray, Mr. Puff, how came Sir Christopher Hatton never to ask that question before? PUFF. What before the play began?-how the plague could he? DANGLE. That’s true, i’faith! PUFF. But you will hear what he thinks of the matter. SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. Alas I my noble friend, when I behold Yon tented plains in martial symmetry Array’d; when I count o’er yon glittering lines Of crested warriors, where the proud steeds’ neigh, And valour-breathing trumpet’s shrill appeal, Responsive vibrate on my listening ear; When virgin majesty herself I view, Like her protecting Pallas, veil’d in steel, With graceful confidence exhort to arms! When, briefly, all I hear or see bears stamp Of martial vigilance and stern defence, I cannot but surmise—forgive, my friend, If the conjecture’s rash—I cannot but Surmise the state some danger apprehends! SNEER. A very cautious conjecture that. PUFF. Yes, that’s his character; not to give an opinion but on secure grounds.—Now then. SIR WALTER RALEIGH. O most accomplish’d Christopher!— PUFF. He calls him by his Christian name, to show that they are on the most familiar terms. SIR WALTER RALEIGH. O most accomplish’d Christopher! I find Thy staunch sagacity still tracks the future, In the fresh print of the o’ertaken past. PUFF. Figurative! SIR WALTER RALEIGH. Thy fears are just. SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. But where? whence? when? and what The danger is,—methinks I fain would learn. SIR WALTER RALEIGH. You know, my friend, scarce two revolving suns, And three revolving moons, have closed their course Since haughty Philip, in despite of peace, With hostile hand hath struck at England’s trade. SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. I know it well. SIR WALTER RALEIGH. Philip, you know, is proud Iberia’s king! SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. He is. SIR WALTER RALEIGH. His subjects in base bigotry And Catholic oppression held;-while we, You know, the Protestant persuasion hold. SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. We do. SIR WALTER RALEIGH. You know, beside, his boasted armament, The famed Armada, by the Pope baptized, With purpose to invade these realms— SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. Is sailed, Our last advices so report. SIR WALTER RALEIGH. While the Iberian admiral’s chief hope, His darling son— SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. Ferolo Whiskerandos hight— SIR WALTER RALEIGH. The same—by chance a prisoner hath been ta’en, And in this fort of Tilbury— SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON. Is now Confined—’tis true, and oft from yon tall turret’s top I’ve mark’d the youthful Spaniard’s haughty mien Unconquer’d, though in chains. SIR WALTER RALEIGH. You also know—Dang. Mr. Puff, as he knows all this, why does Sir Walter go on telling him? PUFF. But the audience are not supposed to know any-thing of the matter, are they? Sneer. True; but I think you manage ill: for there certainly appears no reason why Sir Walter should be so communicative.