So the two proceed to Westminster, where the Queen has summoned Burleigh, to obtain his advice before receiving the envoys of the Gueux. “Zounds!” cries Her Majesty, “My Lord of Burleigh, I see you have brought another Gueux with you. Is he their ambassador also?” With this she looks at Guy frowningly, for the Gueux have bothered Queen Elizabeth’s mind for the last day or two. They are hungry people, and she does not care particularly about feeding them; they are thirsty people, and she does not desire to diminish her exchequer to buy drink for them; but they are enemies of Alva, and she would like to succor them. “No, Your Majesty,” replies Guy with sudden inspiration, “I do not appeal for succor for the Gueux. Don’t give them any!” “Why not?” asks Queen Elizabeth, who is unaccustomed to being advised so freely outside of her Privy Council. “For these reasons: If you give them provisions and drink, they will stay here, and be your guests and pensioners as long as your hospitality holds out.” “Out on the lazy rascals they would eat me out of castle and kingdom,” grumbles Her Majesty. “Twenty-five vessels are a fleet. They have left the Netherlands, that leaves Alva’s hands so much more free to deal with you.” “Then you would refuse them food?” “Yes,” replies Guy. “Not a barrel of provisions.” “But they have no water.” “Not a barrel of water. Provision them and water their ships, and, though they be ordered from England, they will not go back to the Netherlands. The Spanish Main, where booty is thick for bold hands like theirs, will perchance be more to their liking than Alva’s hard knocks. Give them nothing but powder and ball. Then they must sail to near-by port. They dare not go to France, they must go back straight at Alva’s throat, and twenty-five vessels of them are a power that may change the whole course of military events. They have been weak before because they were never banded together. Now there is unity. Give them powder, Your Majesty, give them powder and ball for him of Alva!” “Ho! ho! Make ’em fight for their dinners! Gadzooks!” cries Her Majesty. “My Sir Guy Chester, uses not only his sword, but his head. What say you, Burleigh?” “Say?” replies the English statesman, who is great enough and generous enough to admit the wisdom of another, “I say he has given you the wisest advice you have ever received. You make the Spanish ambassador happy by telling him you will refuse admission or succor to the Gueux, and by doing so you send a thunderbolt straight at Alva and Spain, stronger than you could unless you waged open war with England’s powers at land and sea, for which we are not ready—” “But it will come in good time, my lord,” remarks Elizabeth. Then summoning a page, she says: “Give order for the two envoys of the Gueux to enter.” Then Van Tresslong and De la Mark enter to receive what they think is their despair, but in time will be their glory.