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! QUEEN (_excited to frenzy_, _impatient of some dreadful apprehension_, _rushes up to him_, _and seizing hold of him_, _shakes him for explanation_.) God of England! Speak man, what mean you? It must be something which quells the soul of Drake.—What then? Quick.—Relieve this boding doubt, this frantic apprehension. Quick! Quick, what then? DRAKE. Why then, my Liege, he would equip a fleet, collect his mighty hosts, crush the Low Countries in an hour, annihilate our trade, blockade our ports. France shrinking paralysed, overawed, and then—