MRS. ASHLEY (_on her knees_, _in an imploring attitude_) My beloved mistress I—I—I only meant it— QUEEN (_in great agitation_). Away! Away—Ashley! Leave me to myself to calm this raging madness. MRS. ASHLEY (_clinging to her robe_). My beloved mistress! do not drive me from you in anger—It would break my heart (_sobbing_). QUEEN (_soothingly raises and kisses her_). There then! My faithful Ashley! There! (_kissing her again_) There now! Leave me for a little and come again. (_Exit_ MRS. ASHLEY _sobbing_. _Looking after_ MRS. ASHLEY.) My true, devoted, faithful friend—tried in affliction—that has known my inmost nature, as I thought—and yet, to misthink me thus! Well might the venal creatures of a corrupt court—gnawed by the constant worms.—Envy, malice, and all uncharitableness! (_She bursts into tears_—_sobs convulsively_.—_Then recovering her pride and dignity_, _comes forward_). No! marriage is not for me. The lily or the gentle violet may take root and bloom in fertile valley and peaceful shade. (_fiercely_) The oak shall brave the storm! It is the will of God! (_She pauses_—_then firmly continues_.) I will fulfil my destiny! Nor throne, nor duty shall be e’er divided. My duty is my country’s—entire—exclusive—none to spare for husband. I consecrate myself to England! No stain shall sully the lustre of the offering. Let foes calumniate, and vipers spit their venom. Providence, that foils the assassin’s knife, will yet unmask the falsehoods! (_Walking with proud step and uplifted arm she exclaims with exultation_) Time, the revealer, will avenge me! Yes, History! History! thou wilt be just at last! (_She pauses in great emotion and excitement_.) A lonely orphan—in cruelty and oppression—your generous spirit rose my bulwark.—The roar of an indignant people thundered their resolve that I should be their Queen! That earthquake shook the land! Murder, with axe and poison, slunk back in terror. Perish my name; when I forget my country!—England!—Proud!—Generous!—Brave!—Land of hospitality and freedom!—Thy glory!—Thy happiness be mine!—Thee only will I wed!—Thee only!—Thee only! (_exit_) _Scene changes_. SCENE III.—CENTRE OF THE PACIFIC. _The deck of the_ “_Golden Hind_” _dashing along under full sail_. _Sailors carelessly lounging_. _Night_. _The full moon_. THOMAS MOON, HIXOM, NOBLE. MOON (_at the helm_). I say, Hixom—Is not our craft a seaboat and no mistake? She steers herself. See how she answers to the least touch of the helm, and cuts the water like a dolphin. Never did I see her in better trim. Sometimes she seems to me a thing of life, that knows the value of her precious freight, and anxious to see its effect on merry England. How she plunges forward in the fall of the swell, like a racehorse at the winning post.