Once more Ralegh was about to journey into the unknown, and his spirit thrilled with excitement at this his last and most adventurous journey. Dr. Tounson, the worthy Dean of Westminster, came to visit him in the little room which was allotted to him in the Gatehouse prison. "When I began to encourage him against the fear of death he seemed to make so light of it that I wondered at him." His body was weak; his spirit was strong. Sorrow he was leaving behind him. And until the clock struck the hour of midnight he who was to meet death in the morning of that very day sympathized and strengthened his wife, who had many days more through which she must live. At midnight Lady Ralegh left him, and for the last time he began to set his affairs in order. He knew now how he could clear his name before the world. His spirit was so alive that he never doubted his power to die as he had lived--splendidly. He determined what he would say in the morning--quietly, resolutely--and having done so, still there was some time at his disposal. He opened the Bible that lay on the table and upon the first blank page he wrote-- Even such is time! who takes in trust Our youth, our joys, and all we have, And pays us but with earth and dust; Who in the dark and silent grave, When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days. But from that earth, that grave and dust The Lord shall raise me up, I trust. And now the time had come for him to face the high ordeal of public death, which was to be the last triumph of his great spirit. A goblet of sack was brought him and he made his way to the scaffold. A crowd was already assembled--waiting. Ralegh walked to the scaffold with head erect, complete master of the terrible situation. He noticed an old man standing in the front of the crowd with uncovered head, and taking off the covering he wore under his hat, he gave it to the old man, saying, "You need this, my friend, more than I do." The crowd pressed upon Ralegh and the struggle to reach the scaffold made his body, still weak from the ague, breathless. It is in accordance with the irony of things that even this last path was not clear for him. At last he stood upon the scaffold, erect and smiling. The crowd listened for his death speech. The chief men in England were there to hear his last words and to witness his death. Ralegh began to speak. He said-- "I have had fits of ague for these two days. If therefore you perceive any weakness in me, ascribe it to my sickness rather than to myself. I am infinitely bound to God that He hath vouchsafed me to die in the sight of so noble an assembly, and not in darkness, in that Tower where I have suffered so much adversity and a long sickness. I thank God that my fever hath not taken me at this time, as I prayed to God it might not."