DRAKE. Your Majesty will have much to hear. The story is long as well as full of wonder. Strange lands, I saw and took possession; there flies your Royal Standard, I proclaimed you Queen. The people flocked around and swore allegiance, (_with much animation_), a land, my Liege, richer than all the realms of Spain, a land whose streams flow over sands of gold, whose very soil is gold. ’Tis but to dig and wash. QUEEN (_incredulous she rebukes_, _what she thinks exaggeration_, _with a shake of her head_). Drake! Drake. DRAKE. It is true! my Liege—I have dug, and brought it home. (_He throws down a bag on the floor and kneels upon it_). I kneel upon the soil, and hail Your Majesty, Queen of California—the future goldfield of the world! (_He rises and presents her with the bag_). I have the honour to deliver to Your Majesty thus, part for the whole, legal possession of California. (_She takes the bag with curiosity and surprise_). QUEEN. Is this gold? It is heavy! DRAKE. There needs only to wash it in a basin—your Majesty will see the gold at the bottom. QUEEN. This beats Alchemy. It is miracle! I’ll wash it with my own hands. Drake, I am proud of you. England is proud of you. Men’s minds are filled with your name, astounded by your achievements. You have covered your country with glory, thrown over her a mantle of power. The nations look up to us now and begin to think we can beat the world. Philip is alarmed, and when we all thought you were lost, he could not sleep for fear. He expected you to come on the winds of heaven, to make descents upon his coast. DRAKE (_kneeling to her_). Your Majesty’s approval is my reward. That is the pride and glory of an Englishman. 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.