Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, RALEGH IN GUIANA, by BARRETT WENDELL


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

RALEGH IN GUIANA, by                    
First Line: Tonight, good friends, we come, as others came
Last Line: And with that all ends.
Subject(s): Guyana; Raleigh, Sir Walter (1552-1618)


NOTE

SIR WALTER RALEGH was born of a good Devonshire family in 1552. "Country
gentleman, student, soldier, sailor, adventurer, courtier, favourite and spoils
man, colonizer, fighter, landlord, agriculturist, poet, patron of letters,
state prisoner, explorer, conqueror, politician, statesman, conspirator,
chemist, scholar, historian, self-seeker, and martyr to patriotism, he
acquired through the latter half of Elizabeth's reign the most
comprehensive experience ever known to an Englishman."
The most serious motive of his life Ralegh states in the
preface to his Discovery of Guiana, an account of his
first voyage, in 1595, to the region now called
Venezuela: "If we now consider of the actions
both of Charles the Fifth ... together with
the affairs of the Spanish king now living, ... how many kingdoms he hath endan
gered, how many armies, garrisons, and navies he hath and doth maintain; ...
we shall find that these abilities rise not from the trade of sacks and
Seville oranges, nor from aught else that either Spain, Portugal, or
any of his other provinces produce: it is his Indian gold that
endangereth and disturbeth all the nations of Europe; it
purchaseth intelligence, creepeth into counsels, and
setteth bound loyalty at liberty in the greatest
monarchies. ... I have therefore laboured all my life ... to advance all those
attempts that might ... be a let and impeachment to the quiet course and
plentiful trades of the Spanish nation."
Whether the regions which Ralegh explored in 1595 were already in
the possession of Spain is debatable. He always declared not, "because the natu
ral lords did most willingly acknowledge queen Elizabeth to be their
sovereign, who by me promised to defend them from the Spanish cruelty."
The expedition of 1595 was not strong enough to do more than
explore; nor was Ralegh able to fit out another during the
lifetime of Elizabeth. What happened later is thus related by Carew Ralegh, his
surviving son: "When king James came into England, he found Sir Walter Ralegh
(by favour of his late mistress queen Elizabeth) lord warden of the
stannaries, lord lieutenant of Devonshire and Corn-wall, captain of the guard,
and governor of the Isle of Jersey; with a large possession of lands, both in
England and Ireland. ... But finding him (as he said himself) a martial man,
addicted to foreign affairs and great actions, he feared lest he should
engage him in a war, a thing most hated and contrary to the king's
nature; wherefore he began to look upon him with a jealous eye,
especially after he had presented him with a book, wherein with great animosity
he opposed the peace with Spain. ... But Sir Walter Ralegh's enemies, soon
discovering the king's humour, resolved at once to rid the king of his
doubt and trouble, and to enrich themselves with the lands and offices of Sir W
alter Ralegh. Wherefore they plotted to accuse him, and the lord Cobham, a
simple, passionate man, but of a very noble birth and great possessions,
of high treason. ... Sir Walter was condemned; ... all his lands and
offices were seized, and himself committed close prisoner to the Tower."
Here Ralegh remained, with a sentence of death in reserve, from 1604 to 16
16. During this interval he wrote his History of the World. At last, his
son declares, "he found means to obtain his liberty, but on condition to go
a voyage to Guiana, in discovery of a gold mine." The issue of this voyage
is substantially set forth in the following pages.
On Ralegh's return, he was arrested; he was executed on October 29, 1618.
The closing passage of Oldys's Life of Sir Walter Ralegh completes
the story: "King James, soon after Ralegh's execution, beginning to see how he
was and would be deluded by the Spaniard, made one of his ministers write to
his agent in Spain, to let the state know that they should be looked upon as th
e most unworthy people in the world, if they did not now act with sincerity,
since ... to give them content, he had not spared [Sir Walter Ralegh]; when, by
preserving him, he might have ... had at command, upon all occasions, as
useful a man as served any prince in Christendom."

PROLOGUE

TONIGHT, good friends, we come, as others came,
To waken chords, half slumbering in your hearts,
Of music like old music, that brought fame
To players long gone to play unbodied parts.
Like them we fain would please; still like them, too,
We fain would summon back to earth once more
Heroic elder days, else lost to view
In musty tomes, recording deeds of yore:
How Ralegh in Guiana strove with Spain,
When all our Western World was yet unwon,
Our play shall tell; nor shall the tale be vain
If you, when these our fleeting acts are done,
Remember, had Sir Walter held his way,
Our country, with the world, were happier today.

CHARACTERS

SIR WALTER RALEGH
YOUNG RALEGH
CAPTAIN KEYMIS
CAPTAIN POLWHELE
DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
A BOATSWAIN

The scene is the cabin of Sir Walter Ralegh's ship, the Destiny, when
she lay off the mouth of the Orinoco in the winter of 1617–18. At
the back is a ladder, or sea-stairway, leading from the deck above. On either s
ide are sea-chests, and between them a table, whereon, in the First Part,
stand a flagon of wine and cups.

THE FIRST PART

Enter, in dispute, Captain Keymis and Captain Polwhele.

KEYMIS
RALEGH was never faithless!

POLWHELE
He is a man;
What man was ever faithful, saving them
That chance to die before their faith is broke?

KEYMIS
Well, sir, I'll pledge mine honour—

POLWHELE
God be praised
You keep it still to pledge!

KEYMIS
Sir Walter gone,
I am master here aboard.

POLWHELE
Ay; and are like
To stay so.

KEYMIS
Then beware, sir, how you loose
Your tongue again. Mine hair in youth was red;
And though sea-salt encrust it now with gray
The head beneath stays hot.

POLWHELE
Nay, Captain Keymis,
You understand me not.

KEYMIS
Sir Walter's gone,
You said, and left us in a Spanish trap.

POLWHELE
Not I, not I, sir; 't was but what the crews
Are murmuring I told you.—Boatswain there!

THE BOATSWAIN, from the deck without
Ay, ay, sir.

POLWHELE
Come within here.

So from the deck comes the Boatswain, reluctant; and as he comes down
the stairway Polwhele speaks on.

Captain Keymis
Would fain know how the sailors speak together.

THE BOATSWAIN
Very vilely, sir. When knew ye a company of men left by themselves but tha
t straight they fell to talking bawdy?

Then Captain Keymis, testily answering, sits him down on one of the
sea-chests; and on the other sits Captain Polwhele; and the Boatswain stands be
tween them, turning to one or the other as he speaks.

KEYMIS
To the point, Boatswain. Boy and man, thou hast known me, and Sir Walter
too, this thirty year.

THE BOATSWAIN
Ay, sir, for very honest gentlemen.

POLWHELE
Speak now, telling in what respect this opinion of thine lacketh favour
among thy fellows.

THE BOATSWAIN
Without offence, Captain Keymis?

KEYMIS
Unless thou liest.

THE BOATSWAIN
God forbid that I should lie if what they say be true; for they would
have it that we be nearer Heaven or Hell, according to our deserts, than
Christians love to be.

POLWHELE
He bears me out, you see.

KEYMIS
Be precise, Boatswain.

THE BOATSWAIN
Precise, Captain, as I understand the term, is as one should say,
Be brief, short, not lengthy or without end. Marry, then, to be
precise, and to waste no words and not unduly to take up time
for which doubtless there should be more worthy business and
occupation; in fine, to speak precisely—

KEYMIS
What then? What do the sailors murmur?

THE BOATSWAIN
Of yourself, sir, naught but good.

KEYMIS
And of Sir Walter Ralegh?

THE BOATSWAIN
Faith, Captain, what they say of Sir Walter I know not
altogether. For there be many, not only of the Destiny
here, but also of the Encounter, and of the Thunder,
and of the Flying Joan, and of the rest of the
fleet, which for preciseness I will not stop
to name, with whom I have had no words. And
of such matter a man can tell only what he hath heard with his own ears.

POLWHELE
Speak out, Boatswain, telling what
thine own shaggy ears have heard concerning Sir Walter.

THE BOATSWAIN
Marry, sir, there be doubtless
them that say how that salt meat
breedeth scurvy, and that Sir
Walter—mark you both,
gentlemen, I say it not of mine own motion—hath eaten overmuch salt meat.

KEYMIS
Meaning thereby?

THE BOATSWAIN
Nay, Captain, who can tell what men mean? I can but guess that their
meaning is as if one should say how that we be left here in these
shallows to God's mercy; and Sir Walter gone not to return; and
the old Spanish Don—him that was our prisoner in the
Queen's time when we burnt their city of Saint
Joseph—now no longer here a prisoner, but our master, waiting for force to
put us all to the sword, even as we put his guard aforetime after that we had
drunk them careless; and so no mines in the river save mines of powder that
shall be the end of us—But all this I myself believe not, Captain
Keymis, having trust in Sir Walter Ralegh and in you.

Then very gravely, Captain Keymis rises; and thereupon Captain
Polwhele rises jauntily and stands, like one who has proved his
point, while Keymis speaks.

KEYMIS
Go, Boatswain, keep thy trust; and tell them this:
They be our eyes wherewith we keep our watch;
But I, until Sir Walter come again—
As come he shall, with news of where the stream
Flows deepest for our navy—am the will
That governs this our force. Let but the eyes
Report a Spanish quiver in the air—
Nay, in the hues of sunset—and the will,
I pledge my word, shall make that grim old Don
Go face it hanging.

THE BOATSWAIN
God be wi' you, sir.

So he goes willingly forth, up to the deck again; and when he is gone, Polwhe
le speaks.

POLWHELE
Brave words, sir; but remember, when the Queen
Betook herself from earth, and canny James
Journeying toward London met our vagrant knight,
Then Captain of the Guard, his Scottish mind
Was even as doubtful as these sailors' are.
So when Sir Walter crooked his pliant knee,
"I have heard but rawly of thee!" cried the King,
And clapped him in the Tower.

KEYMIS
Thou saucy fellow!
That speech, thou knowest, Sir Walter never brooked
From any save the King. An thou presumest—

POLWHELE
More gently, sir. I am a gentleman
Who hath adventured much.

KEYMIS
I thou thee, man,
To show thee here thy place. A gentleman!
God's blood! Time was when gentlemen had died
Ere they had slunk as thou.—Hark. If to me
A whisper cometh more that buzzing doubters
Gather about thee,—even as tropic flies
Swarm to a carrion there to fat themselves
With noisome nurture,—ere Sir Walter come
I'll lay the lashes on thy gentle back.

POLWHELE
By God, sir, you shall answer me for this,
If ever we see England.

KEYMIS
Keep the peace
Till then; and send me for a challenger
Some stale companion of thy lady wife—
Her that the player wrote his sonnets for,
Pembroke's cast mistress.

Then Polwhele, in anger, makes as if to draw his sword; but just then Young
Ralegh calls to them merrily from the deck above; and his voice shows him
already flushed with drink.

YOUNG RALEGH
Ho, within there! Wine's
Ready, I hope.

And with that, Keymis turns sternly to Polwhele, speaking as one in
command.

KEYMIS
Now silence to our brawl.
Here are young Wat, and Don Antonio,
The hard-favoured Spaniard.

So Polwhele does not draw, but stands angry; and down from the deck comes You
ng Ralegh, unsteady with his drink, but making as if in courtesy to aid the
grave old Spanish Don Antonio de Berreo, who follows him.

YOUNG RALEGH
Nay, sir, I'll go first.
This ladder's steep. Lean on my shoulder.—So.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Gracias. I grow old.

YOUNG RALEGH
For want of wine.—
Why, Captains, till we came with store of sack,
This reverend sinner tells me,—we be all
Miserable sinners in our service-book;
I'll show it you anon, sir,—for some score
Of weeks, they quenched their thirst by biting bungs
Of voided pipes and tuns. Here's better liquor.
It grew in Spain, sir; how it came to us
Were not quite mannerly to tell.—

And by this he has gone to the table, and from the flagon there he has
filled cups, giving one to each of the company. And thereupon, looking
at each in turn, he gives his toast with a laugh.

The King,
God bless him!

So the Captains Kemis and Polwhele raise their cups; but Don Antonio de Berre
o makes a gesture to interrupt the toast, asking courteously his question.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Pray, which king, sir?

YOUNG RALEGH
Which you will.
I gave the toast to fit or our King James
Or your King Philip. They are royal friends,
As we are friends though humbler.—Captain Keymis
And Captain Polwhele, do not lag behind us;
Drink with us to the King, who shall possess
His own Guiana.

ALL
Amen. To the King!

So they drink the toast; and presently the Spaniard speaks.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Now, gentlemen, I pray you drink with me.

And thereupon Young Ralegh takes again the flagon, and fills for all,
speaking with merriment.

YOUNG RALEGH
Fill your cups. Spare no wine. Our sober Keymis
Shall pledge you brimming this time.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
With me to
Sir Walter Ralegh, my most gallant host
Here on the Destiny. He is gone to seek
A passage to the deep Guiana mines;
And may he prosper as we hope he shall.

So the two Captains, with the Spaniard, raise their cups again. But
this time Young Ralegh interrupts, suddenly grave, with the gravity
of drink.

YOUNG RALEGH
How mean you that, sir?

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Marry, as it please you;
I gave it to suit all.

YOUNG RALEGH
Then all be suited.

So all drink the Spaniard's toast; but as they set down their
cups, Captain Keymis leads Young Ralegh apart, speaking to him
privately, with concern.

KEYMIS
Your leave, sir. Be not careless with your wine.
Here wit must not be cloudy.

YOUNG RALEGH, to Keymis
Never fear.
I play my father's game. Fasting from wine
Hath made the Don's head light. I'll set it spinning
Till his tongue reel us yarns.

KEYMIS, still to him
I fear yourself
Shall grow entangled in them.

YOUNG RALEGH
Trust me, friend.—

So he turns from Keymis, gravely addressing him to the Spaniard.

Your favour, Don Antonio. On your neck
I see the image of our Blessed Lord.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
To wear it is our manner.

YOUNG RALEGH
So in France
I have seen them—not so featly carven as this;
And yet methinks I made one better there.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Yourself, sir?

YOUNG RALEGH
Ay, myself. I was but young—

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
And now?
YOUNG RALEGH
I am three and twenty. Lusty Ben—
You knew him, Polwhele.

POLWHELE
He that makes the plays,
Laid bricks once, slew a player, and drinks deep?

YOUNG RALEGH
The same. He was my tutor. Once I plied him
Till he was e'en past snoring. Then, his heels
Together, either arm stretched out, his head
Dangling, I bade them lay him in a cart
And carry him abroad through Paris streets,
A livelier image of the crucifix
Than any carved in France.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Your language, sir,
I am not perfect in; else I had thought
This jest unseemly.

YOUNG RALEGH
My grave father swore
It smacked irreverence; but my lady mother—
Born Bess Throckmorton, sir; bred at the court
Of great Elizabeth.—

POLWHELE, apart to Berreo

And big with him
Before her hand was ringed. (To Young Ralegh.) Pray, what said she?

YOUNG RALEGH
She clapped him on the cheek, and cried in youth
He was no wiser.—So the trouble passed.—

And with that he turns laughing to the table, filling the
cups again, while he speaks on.

Your health, sir, now. Come, Captains, to the Don!
Then he shall pledge all three.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Your pardon, sir;
I have my fill.

YOUNG RALEGH
Why, then, I'll sing a song
Shall make you thirst; I made it to a tune
The sailors chant at work.—Your health, sir, first.

So he drinks once more, this time to the Spaniard; and
then, to the tune they call "The King shall have his own again," he sings his s
ong.

So from Cadiz by the sea,
Yo-ho—Heave-ho!
Where we made their gunners flee,
Yo-ho—Heave-ho!
O'er the drowsy tropic main,
Yo-ho—Heave-ho!
Where we lightened ships of Spain,
Yo-ho—Heave-ho!
To the Indies now we come,
Yo-ho—Heave-ho!
Where they beat the alarum drum,
Yo-ho—Heave-ho!
For the harbours and the gold,
Yo-ho—Heave-ho!
Which they have, but shall not hold,
Yo-ho—Heave-ho!

How's that, sirs?—Sure the tide runs faster now
Than ever it ran before. 'T is hot here, too.
These tropic seas make all our knees give way.

KEYMIS
'T is cooler in your cabin. Come with me.
Rest you awhile.

YOUNG RALEGH
Why, as you will.—Your arm—
I am something qualmish.—Look for me anon
To pledge the Don afresh.

So Keymis leads Young Ralegh to the cabin within; and when they are gone
beyond hearing Polwhele turns him quickly to the Spaniard.

POLWHELE
Sir, all goes well.
The crews are wavering; till, in fine, these two—
The grizzled incorruptible, and the boy,
Silly with drink—are all that stoutly stand
Betwixt us and possession.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Sir, your hand.—
It shakes not; and mine own is steady, too.

POLWHELE
And both are armed.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Nay, sir, the trouble's there.
I am here a guest. The usage of our Spain
Locks guests' arms to the scabbard.

POLWHELE
Mere punctilio
Must not avoid our purpose.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
We of Spain
May not forget punctilio.

POLWHELE
But myself

Were sore at odds with two.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
I will hold the boy.

POLWHELE
Meseems your years were something overmatched
By his strong English youth.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Made weak with wine,
Even as a life run thrice the span of his
In temperate health hath made my grip like steel.

POLWHELE
Here cometh Keymis.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Have at him from behind.

So Keymis comes back, sad and thoughtful; and Polwhele, when he is well
forward, draws and makes at him from behind; but Keymis, drawing his
sword, turns swiftly, stoutly defending himself. And as they fight,
he shouts.

KEYMIS
What ho! Young Walter! Treason! To my aid!

Then comes stumbling back Young Ralegh, still heavy with drink,
his sword drawn.

YOUNG RALEGH
By God, sirs, this is scurvy!

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO, pinioning his arms

Nay, young sir,
Stand still by me. We will mark them. You meanwhile
May chant again your pretty sailor-song.

KEYMIS
Wouldst gore me with the horns that Pembroke bought thee?

POLWHELE
Hold fast the boy!

YOUNG RALEGH
By God, sirs, this is scurvy!

But then comes from the deck a great shout of voices crying in
greeting, "Sir Walter Ralegh! Sir Walter Ralegh!" And with
that Polwhele, taken aback, falters; and Keymis presses him
hard, again shouting.

KEYMIS
Sir Walter! Ho! Here's treason, but I've downed it.

So he has Polwhele on his back. And then swiftly down
from the deck comes Sir Walter Ralegh, followed by
others, men at arms and the like, who stand back.
Then, looking sternly about him, he speaks.

RALEGH
I come in happy season, here to find
A happy ending to a happy voyage.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO, releasing Young Ralegh

And here is your babe whom I have saved from hap.

YOUNG RALEGH
Father, I beg thee, father, give me chance
To show myself the man.

RALEGH
Anon, Wat. Now
Betake thee to thy cabin.

So Young Ralegh goes out, sad; and Ralegh speaks on.

Captain Keymis,
You are hurt?

KEYMIS
Praise God, sir, no; I had him down.

RALEGH
Clap him in chains. I will call you back anon.
Now leave us.

So all but Ralegh and Berreo go forth to the
deck; and Ralegh, taking the flagon, drinks
therefrom a great draught of wine; and
then, refreshed, turns him sternly to the Spaniard.

Don Antonio de Berreo,
Was this well done, our kings at peace, myself
Trusting your friendship?

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
I was taught the trick, sir,
When to my town Saint Joseph, years ago,
There came a fleet of English friends. I gave them
Of what I had; and when the Indian night,
Glorious with stars, fell on our revelry,
They turned those heavenly lamps to thievish lanterns,
And slew my guard, and made me prisoner,
Burning my town.

RALEGH
I had savoured of the ass
To leave your strength behind me, journeying on
To explore my Queen's Guiana.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Nay, Sir Walter,
I may not yield you that: Guiana was ours
From the bold days of great King Charles the Fifth.

RALEGH
Grant that your Carlos knew her secrets first,—
As he knew store before he took the cowl,
Seeking God's mercy superstitiously,—
It was by no fair encounter, but such force
As your armed soldiery use with soft-eyed girls
And wives of Orinoco. We were come
To right that mischief. She—our maiden queen,
Elizabeth—

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Brave maiden!

RALEGH
Sir, of her
No word unreverent. Now these fourteen years
She dwells in glory, heaven the richer for
Our poverty on earth.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
The which, methinks,
Bred in her love of gold most justly ours.

RALEGH
You do her wrong. She loved it as it brought
Power with possession. Not its yellow self
Did she, or I, her servant, ever care for.
'T was when she marked your shuttling galleons weave
On this Atlantic loom your golden tissue
Of priestly empire, faring back and forth
With precious threads, she roused her English spirit;
Then bade me spoil the stuff, replacing it
With our more rude but stouter.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
And therewith?

RALEGH
Why, she would have mantled all this Western world,
Covering the wounded nakedness you wrought,
With that sweet name, born of her purity,—
Virginia.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
That queen is dead, Sir Walter.

RALEGH
May God so guide me, when my time shall come,
That I may pass to where she lives undying.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
The king who had succession to her throne
Of England holds more prudent policy.

RALEGH
Held rather. He mistrusted. But no longer
Doth stiffening inaction keep me caged
In London Tower, making the history books
That men shall cherish. Now, in loyalty,
He sends me forth, his loyal servitor,
To take possession, in his sovereign name,
Of this, his broad Guiana.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Listen, sir;
You found me here before you, come from Spain
Hasting to bid you welcome.

RALEGH
Ay; and wondered
To find you voyaged so far; but gave my hand,
Renewing broken friendship.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Have you guessed
Who sent me hither?

RALEGH
Philip.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
No; King James.—

So, as he speaks on, he draws from
his breast a packet of papers; and
these he gives one by one to Sir
Walter Ralegh. And Ralegh, as he takes them, sits, gazing at them, amazed. And
the Spaniard stands by his side, expounding their meaning.

I ask you not to trust my Spanish word,
For I would trust no English. Here are letters
To prove me truthful. From the King of Spain
One that I brought in March; another sent
After in May; another still—July
Brought this from Porto Rico, from the Bishop,
Duly attested; here is a fourth, not from
King Philip's hand, but written by our farmer
Of customs in the Indies. All are like
In tenor. Do you read our Spanish script?

RALEGH
Faultily, Don Antonio.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
May I aid you.
In substance all say this: Your royal James,
At peace with our King Philip, greeteth him,
Sending him message how you are gone forth
To seek rich mines still unpossessed by us.
He bids us guard our own, then; since aforetime
'T was whispered you were something careless of
The laws of mine and thine. So, if perchance
We find you trespassing and let you go
Unprisoned, why, your own just English law
Shall hold you answerable, if for nothing else
Then for the sentence passed in Cobham's case
Upon your daring neck.

RALEGH
I had read aright,
Choosing to doubt my wit, before the throne
That was Elizabeth's.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Elizabeth
Dwells now in glory. Orinoco, sir,
Is warned and guarded. You, unwarranted,
Trespass on our Guiana. Make your choice:
Or go in peace, or stay a rebel to
Your own King James.

RALEGH, rising up
You put me to the test!
Thereby my mind is settled.—Ho! Without there!
Bid Captain Keymis come hither.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
You make sail?

RALEGH
Not so; this cloudy monster, circumstance,
Affrighting common folk, doth melt to air
Round them that, plunging in her maw, dare vex
Her misty bowels.

Enter Keymis.

KEYMIS
At your bidding, sir.

RALEGH
Polwhele, the roaring gentleman, is chained?

KEYMIS
Securely, sir.

RALEGH
Why then, Tom Keymis, I'll trust thee
With something nobler. Now this thirty year
Have thou and I been shipmates, and we near
At last our final harbour.

KEYMIS
Nay, Sir Walter,
I hope not yet.

RALEGH
Good! Keep thine hopes alive;
We need them all, God knows.—There's treason, Tom.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Tell whose!

RALEGH
Nor I nor thou shall whisper whose!
I am master yet, Berreo.—Keymis, choose men,
And take young Walter with thee. Seek the mines
You wot of. Dig there. Bring me back the gold
Shall win the heart of James.—O, if that I
Might lead the way! But those twelve idle years
In London Tower have crippled that bold strength
Which made my body, in the olden times,
Stout as my heart. So I must tarry here,
And watch, and pray and guard.—Tom, none but thee
Would I quite trust with this; for all is at stake.—
Come! Hug me, man!—So. Bid thy crew make ready.

KEYMIS
'T is here you plan to wait me?

RALEGH
Ay, just here.

KEYMIS
How long, sir?

RALEGH
Take a month. Go stoutly armed;
You shall see fighting. If the thirtieth day
Bring no good news of thee, it shall be the last
Of this grave old Berreo. Tell Spaniards so,
If on the river they seek word of him.
And guard him to his cabin, there to outwait
The changes of a moon.

So, with a mocking smile, the Spaniard gives up his sword; and presently
Keymis leads him out. Then, after a little while, Ralegh, alone at the
door of his son's cabin, calls to him.

What, Walter boy,
Come forth.

Then forth from the cabin comes Young Ralegh, penitent; and kneels
him down at his father's feet, who tenderly lays his hand on the boy's head.

YOUNG RALEGH
O, father, father, I am young,
And played the fool.

RALEGH
Well, play it, Wat, no more.
Here's business afoot shall make thee great
Or end us altogether. Trust thee, boy,
In good Tom Keymis, to whom I trust myself.

And just then sailors without begin chanting Young Ralegh's tune.

Hark. They make ready. Make thee ready, too;
And, Walter boy, whatever hap, remember
Thou'rt Walter Ralegh's son and Bess Throckmorton's,
Bred at the court of great Elizabeth.

And so they part, Young Ralegh going to the deck, and Sir Walter, heavy with
care, to his cabin.

Between the First Part and the Second, almost a month is feigned to pass.

THE SECOND PART

Sir Walter Ralegh enters, pondering over a map. Then to him enters his
prisoner, the Spaniard. And Ralegh, laying down the map, begins to speak sorrow
fully.

RALEGH
Antonio de Berreo—

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Walter Ralegh.—
I so forgot your knighthood, hearing you
Forget my due.

RALEGH
We English, blunter folk
Than Spanish, have an honest, foolish trick
Of speaking, when our hearts be big, to men
By just the names God gave them. For as God
Makes gentlemen of nobler clay than knaves,
Nor earthly honours alter any jot
The one or the other, so His simplest names
Mean most of all.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
The speech I had esteemed
A flout you turn to an honour.

RALEGH
Ay, and more.—
You bade me once not trust your Spanish word,
For you would trust no English. Yet today
I mean to trust you.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
If you will, you may;—
Within the bounds of honour.

RALEGH
Give me aid:
Interpret to me what an Indian means
Whose tongue we have no skill in.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
That I will.

RALEGH
I thank your courtesy. Nine and twenty days
These tropic tides have swung us since the flood
Of Orinoco bore from sight the boats
On whose adventure warring Spain and England
Must stake their future. Now, perchance, this savage
May tell their story; that, no wit but yours
Among us can unravel.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
You, sir, would
Have done so much for me, had I come hither,
A transient voyager, where these many years
You had governed, learning quaint, barbaric tongues
That brown-faced Indians chatter.

RALEGH
So I would,
And may do yet!—But let that pass.—In the night
He slipped beside us. When the morning broke
Full-grown from the womb of ocean, he from his boat
Made eager signals. So we had him aboard;
And ever since he points us toward the river
With antic motions, uttering uncouth sounds
That leave us never wiser.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
It is like
I can tell their meaning.

RALEGH
Which, perhaps, shall be
The meaning of our lives. These thirty years
Good enemies, each knows the other true
To the cause he lived for—I to England's, you
To that of Popish Spain. And, Don Antonio,
I think that when we meet o' the other side
Of that we wait for, if so be it we may,
Why, each shall love the other better for
So loyal warfare here.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Sir Walter Ralegh,
May I speak from the heart?

RALEGH
Sure that is how
I speak myself today; for I grow weary
Of this dissembling trouble, hollow life,
Where each would thwart the rest.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
I wonder not
Your heart hath sickened. While our Spanish kings
Stand trusty by their servant, James of England
Deserts you, in these ticklish, fatal days
When most you need him.

RALEGH
Kings are mortal men;
And empires, too, shall pass. Our tumbling world
Flows down the slope of time to be engulfed
In deep eternity, as mighty rivers
Merge in old ocean. Yet, as this frothy world
Outlasts the imperial systems, burst like bubbles
From out of it, so those glistering realms outlast
Their flitting tenants. England shall remain,
Long after James, and we, with all that live
Today, lie rotting. Those of time to come
May judge James as it please them, judging me
So long as James was England loyal to
My English duty.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Why not rather loyal
To all the future world? I bear you a mission,
Till now unbroken, from a stauncher king
Than you have known. Sir Walter, would you listen
To Philip's greeting, you and I together
Might plant in this Guiana dynasties
To outlast old Europe.

RALEGH
That imperial hope
I cherish for old England is too wide
To brook a rival.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Even so thought we,
Till we beheld so worthy a rival come
That we would rather count him with ourselves
Than rule without him sovereign.

RALEGH
Don Antonio!—
I am not angry. You have warrant for this,
Knowing how Scots in England hold their faith
As light as churls of Carthage; nor is it strange
Scotland and Devon to your Spanish mind
Should seem all one.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Believe my conquered love
For your brave person urges me to urge
Our royal Philip's friendship.

RALEGH
Greet him, sir;—
If so it chance you may fare home to Spain,
Our English venture prospering;—and so tell him
It were not seemly I should reason of James,
Being his subject; but that ere this fleet
Set forth, which rides here still, rigged at the cost
Of many English gentlemen, one of these,—
The Lord Arundel, a very worthy man,—
Beset with doubts, had promises from me
To see me there again—which I must keep,
Or soil mine honour.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Yet remember, sir,
Whatever chance here, your courageous life
Shall rest unsafe in England.

RALEGH
For myself
I care not, so that England prosper still.—
This savage Indian—why the devil waits he?—
Perchance hath prosperous news for Englishmen,
Won by the venture Keymis and my young Wat
So boldly undertook— What, Boatswain there!

THE BOATSWAIN, answering from the deck without
Ay, ay, Sir Walter.

And so, with looks of vexation, the Boatswain comes slowly down the stair
from the deck. And as he comes Sir Walter speaks on.

RALEGH
Why bringest thou not the Indian, as I bade thee?

THE BOATSWAIN
Marry, Sir Walter, an it please you,—or, for that matter an it
please you not, neither, for it is all beyond me,—I bring him not
for very good reason; namely, that I have him not to bring.

RALEGH
Surely thou hast not let him escape.

THE BOATSWAIN
Escape, sir! What think you of us all to say that? He hath by no
means escaped.

RALEGH
But what then? What then?

THE BOATSWAIN
Why, what he hath done, Sir Walter, is as it were the opposite
of escape. For escape, as I take it, is as one should say come out
of danger into safety; and the naked fellow is even now clambering out of comfo
rtable, friendly safety into the most danger he can find.

RALEGH
Clambering! And whither should he clamber?

THE BOATSWAIN
Nay; whither, Sir Walter, I cannot now justly tell, but whence I can. For
when your honour called me below he was sitting in the main-top, even as the
Popish apes we saw aforetime in Orinoco—of whom I myself would think
him one but that his bum hath no tail—would sit in branches,
jabbering their bawdy prayers and the like.

RALEGH
And how came he there in the main-top?

THE BOATSWAIN
An you will grant me time to tell you, Sir Walter, I will
make shift to do so. For, by your order, we had made him
welcome, and fed him, and brought him drink—but not so much as he would ha
ve had, being like the rest of them, and some Christians also, too thirstily
given—

RALEGH
Enough of that. Why couldst thou not bring him below here?

THE BOATSWAIN
Why, when in all gentleness, Sir Walter, we would have clapped hands on hi
m to bring him below here, through the hatch-way, he, being without clothes,
but as God made him, was through our fingers and up the shrouds before we
might find breath to bid him be damned. And how to bring down, save with
a shot, I for one know not.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Let me go call to him. These Indian folk
Have much mistrusted since, in former times,
We closed our hatches over two caciques
And brought them home to Spain.

RALEGH
Ever the same
Sly tricksters! with ourselves, or with these meek
Brown children of the West, who held you as gods
Till sorrow proved you devils!

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Good Sir Walter,
Our Spanish ways little resemble yours,—
Our king is very trusty,—but ourselves,
Like your best selves of England, may not hear
Rebukes without rebuke.

RALEGH
I cry you pardon.
I am not what I was, in all the strength
Of youth and confidence. Elizabeth
Bore with her from this world something whereof
The lack makes flickering weakness master me,
And hasty speech usurp the seat of judgment—
Seek, how you will, the Indian. What he bears me
I cannot bear to lose.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Nor shall you, sir.

So they go out, the Boatswain leading, and Ralegh is left alone.

RALEGH
O, I am old and sickly; and my brain
Reels palsied doubt. Mine England! if thou mightst
Possess these future continents we coast
And spy, then, though ten thousand valiant lives
As dear as Keymis' or Wat's—more dear than mine,
Dull, aged, broken—took their starry flight
From Orinoco, I could shout for joy
Above the sons of the morning! O, my Queen!
When thine Auroral presence brightened earth
Who loved not, feared it. Now thine English glory
Fades in rank Scottish mists; and lurking scroyles
Creep forth i' the murk until our very crews
Seem of them, hither lured by greed of gold,
Not care for England.—So my groping love
Cleaves heart-sick to that valorous old man
Here in my power. While the fleeting days
Bring on his time of parting, if no word
Come sooner from our venturers, his cheek,
More pale than mine with years, begins to glow
With buoyant hope for what shall bring despair
To England, plunging this round hemisphere
Deep in the Popish drowsiness of Spain.
A cry without: "Overboard!"
Overboard! Who? The Spaniard?

THE BOATSWAIN, coming hastily down the stair, speaking as he comes
Nay, Sir Walter; have no fear. The Spaniard is safe enough, but you should
have seen the other at the sight of him, who is now farther from good,
comfortable escape than ever he was, among the man-eating fishes,
unless per-chance in the dimness of the waters they should take
him for one of their ugly selves.

RALEGH
Nay, tell me clearly, who is overboard. I hope't is not the Indian.

THE BOATSWAIN
Good Sir Walter Ralegh, with your leave I will tell you
all. We come on deck, I first and the other in his black
suit following close. So I, catching sight of him there
in the main-top, shake my fist at him thus, pleasantly, to show him what an I h
ad my own way he should catch for his manners, or lack of them, in so slipping
aloft to our trouble and vexation. But there he sits, for all me, grinning
back at us with his apish jabber. Then comes the Don up after me, very
grave, with his hand thus in what should be his jerkin—for how
they name their outlandish Spanish garb I cannot call to mind.
(And just here comes the Spaniard, gravely descending the
stair, unobserved.) But of this I am sure, that he makes
no friendly motion such as mine was. So when the naked
fellow aloft sees him he gives a great cry like
"Spanyole!"—which I take to be what these
papists foolishly call themselves—and so
out on the yard, and head-first takes water,
that the sharks may have him sooner than we.

RALEGH
Send me the Spaniard hither.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
I come unsent, sir,
To tell you all I can.

RALEGH
Send me hither, too,
The vapouring Captain, striking off his chains.—
So the Boatswain goes out.
I am displeased to find you play with me
At fatal moments.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
In all sadness, sir,
Here was no playing.

RALEGH
Lord! I know not that—
Nor know I anything in this treacherous world
Save what myself may do.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
So far as I
Could mark, he came of an once warlike tribe
Who, rising against us, met with chastisement
That makes them shiver at the thought of Spain.

RALEGH
And even so, I would that men of Spain
Might view us English!

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
I had thought you, sir,
Too wise to waste the treasure of your wishes
In airy folly.

RALEGH
Let me remember you
Your time grows very short. We have no priests
Here in our fleet. Make shift to shrive yourself.
For if tomorrow—that's the thirtieth day
Past since they left us, Keymis, and my young Wat,
And all the rest—bring us no happy news
Through them for England, then that same dark morrow
Must be your last.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Last days must come to all;
You shall not find me fearful.

Enter Polwhele.

RALEGH
For this fellow,
Who had sent Tom Keymis to God a little sooner—

POLWHELE
You speak of me, Sir Walter?

RALEGH
Ay, sir.

POLWHELE
Listen,
I pray you rather, while I speak myself.
I am a gentleman who, trusting your skill,
Adventured much. You absent, I believed
Venture and life in danger. If I erred
You might with justice reason with mine error.
Instead, you chained one who hath friends at home
As good as you, and better. I take it ill
To be thus scorned.

RALEGH
Why, take it as it please you.—
This gentleman tomorrow hath a mind
To leave us, and betake him to that voyage
We all embark on.—

POLWHELE
O, poor gentleman!
This is most bloody. He shall have my prayers.

RALEGH
He shall have more.

POLWHELE
More?

RALEGH
Ay, your company.

POLWHELE
Sir Walter! Sweet Sir Walter! I repent
All these fond indiscretions.

RALEGH
Very well;
You've the less to do beforehand. Do not whimper;
Mark him, and let his Spanish valour teach
Your English knavery how to make an end.

But just then there comes from the deck without a sudden cry of: "A boat!
A boat!" And Sir Walter, turning him quickly, cries questioning to them
without:

A boat?
A VOICE, from the deck without
Ay, sir, a boat from out the river.

RALEGH
Why, Don Antonio, our vagrants come
Just in the nick of time! All is well with you!

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Be not too sure one boat brings welcome news.

POLWHELE
Praise God, they come! I am safe!

RALEGH
Perchance thou art;
But now, as I remember, thine offence
Was chiefly done to Keymis, who comes again,
In just the hour to judge thee.

POLWHELE
Sweet Sir Walter!
He is hot and very violent.

RALEGH
The less
Thy chance, then.—Ho, without there! Do they come?

THE VOICE, from the deck
Ay, sir. We see more now—three or four at least.

POLWHELE
Sir Walter—

RALEGH
Stay below here. I am going
To greet Tom Keymis and Wat.

POLWHELE
Here, on my knees,
I pray you—

RALEGH
Stay with Don Antonio.

So Ralegh goes eager up on deck; and the Spaniard stands by the stair,
looking after him, as if to learn what is doing there above. And
Polwhele, very sorrowful, sits silent a little while, then
speaks doubtfully.

POLWHELE
O, sir—

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
You speak to me?

POLWHELE
Good heavens, sir,
Who else is here to speak to?

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Why, then, speak
At all?

POLWHELE
Pray, were you ever chained by the leg?

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Not I, sir.

POLWHELE
Had you been, you would crave for speech
With any that would listen.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Not, I think,
With those disposed to silence.—Pray, good Boatswain,
The boats come still?

THE BOATSWAIN, answering from the deck without
Ay, sir, that they do; and the first draws near at
hand. O, all goes bravely; you should see Sir Walter wave his hat to them.
Shouts without.

POLWHELE
Lord! This is worse than what in other years
I thought my worst—when Mary Fitton, sir,
Who was my wife at last—thereby I had
The money for this venture—played me false
With one Will Shakspere. You should never have heard
His name—a common player that made plays,
Otherwise noteless;—but she liked his rhymes,
And he was less in girth than I was then.
So grieving I betook me to the stews,
Unsavoury to remember.
Shouts of "Captain Keymis!"

THE BOATSWAIN, still without
Ay, Captain Keymis it is, sure enough, my merry Don. He draws alongside
even now.

POLWHELE
Woe is me!
I would I were again in Turnbull Street,
Mad, jilted, drunk, and happy.
Shouts without.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
What now, Boatswain?

THE BOATSWAIN, Still without
They come aboard, sir, they come aboard. Here is Captain Keymis over
the side. And Sir Walter hugging him. And more crowding up; and all as it shoul
d be, save that their faces be neither so clean nor so joyful as was to be
hoped.—Nay! God save us all! What is this they are saying?—Alas! Alas
! And where is young Captain Ralegh?
A confused noise without.

POLWHELE
Young Walter gone, he said? Then something is gained;
There comes one less to flout us!

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Nay, if this
Be true, God grant the blessing of his peace
To that brave, foolish boy his father loved!

Then down from the deck comes Sir Walter Ralegh with Keymis, followed by
others to whom Sir Walter sternly speaks, pointing his hand at Polwhele
and the Spaniard.

RALEGH
Take those two out, and guard them.

So they lead out the Spaniard and Polwhele, guarded. And Sir Walter
Ralegh and Keymis are left there together.

So poor Wat
Is killed.

KEYMIS
He made a valiant end.

RALEGH
Trust him
For that—my son and Bess Throckmorton's, too.

KEYMIS
Come near the hills, we landed. In the night
The Spaniards came, unlooked for, in such force
As made our common sort give way. Then he
Most cheerily revived us. Without him
I think we had been cut to pieces.

RALEGH
With him?

KEYMIS
We lightly charged the chargers, carrying them
Confused before us.
RALEGH
Good!

KEYMIS
He, in our van
With pikemen, leading on, was struck with a shot
Full in the breast; but ere his gallant soul
Broke forth from the wound, he found breath for these words:
"The Lord have mercy on me, prospering your venture!"

RALEGH
Why, so farewell, dear Wat. Thou happily
Art dead untired, knowing of heavy life
Only the flushed beginning. Thy last prayer
The Lord hath heard; and if from paradise
Thou mayst glance back at us who linger here,
Thy joys shall brighten still, to see us prosper.

KEYMIS
How prosper, sir?

RALEGH
Nay, that I wait to hear,
Knowing only how you come victorious.
And, sure, this victory shall outlive us, Tom,
Even when we are forgotten. Thou and I
Must soon fare after Wat—it is all one
Or now or later. But the centuries
Unborn hang on our conquest. Whether here
The manly law of England shall prevail,
Or else this tropic western hemisphere
Languish with slumb'rous Spain, is what we fought for
And all the English seed of time to come
Shall bless the fruit of our doings.

KEYMIS
Take me with you,
Sir Walter.

RALEGH
Those deep mines thy skill hath won
Confirm Guiana ours. Uncertain James,
His eyes convinced by store of golden proof
Which through your deeds I bring him, shall avow
Our purpose his. And so, good-by to Spain!
The whole wide world is England's!

KEYMIS
Dear Sir Walter,
We bring no gold.

RALEGH
No gold! What baser tool
Shall royal wits be wrought with?—Cease these stammerings!
What bring you from the river?

KEYMIS
Only ourselves,
Escaped with hardship from the watery wastes
Of Orinoco.

RALEGH
Now, by Jesu Christ,
One of us two runs mad!

KEYMIS
The Spaniards held
The stream in force, the hills, the very mines—
If any be in those barrens—

RALEGH
Be there, sir!
Thou knowest them there, and bottomless!

KEYMIS
I never
Found trace of them.

RALEGH
Thou liest!

KEYMIS
Walter Ralegh,
I have served you faithfully these thirty years—

RALEGH
Winning my trust, until I charged on thee
The charge I bore for England. Fool that I was!
Thou hast done us noble service.

KEYMIS
Still I serve
You faithful, brooking words no other man
Had uttered scathless.

RALEGH
Still the coward who
Turned tail in Orinoco, leaving Spain
To laugh her sleepy scorn of us.

KEYMIS
Have a care, sir!
And listen: was it better there to die
Of sword or famine, unrecorded, leaving
You prey for timeless doubt; or thus to tell you
Just how we tried and failed? I mused on it long;
Then puzzling came, chiefly for love of you,
My life-long leader, who I thought would choose
To know our whole sad story.

RALEGH
Gallant love!
At least it saved thy skin.

KEYMIS
I would that skin
Were pierced and flayed like them the Indians tan!
It was saved but for your service; and you fling
Such taunts at me as no man dared before
Nor any shall much longer.

RALEGH
He bids me shall!
As though he knew me one brave terms could fear
From damning knavish jacks!

KEYMIS
I have lived to learn,
Finding you thus ungentle, one was right
I chided late for telling that old tale
Of how, when first you knelt before our James,
"I have heard but rawly of thee!" cries the King,
And claps thee in the Tower.

RALEGH
Captain Keymis,
Thy sword! So.

And with that Keymis sorrowfully gives up his sword; and Sir Walter Ralegh, t
urning to the wall, hangs it beside the sword of the Spaniard, which is there
already. And then, turning back to Keymis, he speaks on, heavily.

To thy cabin, there to ponder
Thine argument. If thou make it satisfy
His Majesty and the State, why, I for one
Shall be glad of it. Betwixt thee and me
All is over.

KEYMIS
All, Sir Walter?

RALEGH
All, sir.

KEYMIS
Nay,
Sir Walter, both were hasty. Our old love—

RALEGH
Old folly, rather. For thine obstinacy,
Which hath undone our England, breeds one good:
I know thee craven at last.—I trusted Wat
To thee; an I had trusted thee to Wat
This had gone otherwise.

KEYMIS
I know then, sir,
What course to take.

So, with bowed head, Keymis goes out, to his cabin within.

RALEGH, to those without
Send back the prisoners here.—
I will show them yet there is danger left in me,
Though I be soused in danger.

Enter Berreo and Polwhele.

Gentlemen,
I think you smile, deeming yourselves no doubt
Well out of trouble. Then your devilish games
Have troubled me enough to make you smile.
You have double cause for joy.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Worthy Sir Walter,
I have no thought of smiling.

POLWHELE
No more have I.

RALEGH
And yet, methinks, ere this you should have heard
The fate of our expedition.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Ay, sir; and
Rejoicing for myself, I grieve for you,
My faithful enemy.

RALEGH
What I shall do
I know not altogether; but on this
I am fixed: it is my need that all be sure
About me. So to make it, I today
Shall hang you both.

POLWHELE
Surely you jest, sir; but
I hardly savour your merriment.
A shot without.

RALEGH
What is that?
Mutiny?

THE BOATSWAIN, who comes running from the cabin of Keymis, within
O, Sir Walter, Sir Walter!—Captain Keymis!—

RALEGH
He said he knew what course to take.
An it be mutiny, he shall find me plucky.
And therewith he draws his sword.

THE BOATSWAIN
O, Sir Walter, if it were naught but a scurvy mutiny, I would not so
come hither without orders and against all manners and discipline. But
Captain Keymis—brave Captain Keymis, that we have loved, and
fought with, and known this thirty year—

RALEGH
What of him, man? I am ready for the worst.

THE BOATSWAIN
And he past the worst, Sir Walter, with a bullet in his
brain that himself hath put there, and his dagger, to make
sure, stuck just beneath his left pap.

RALEGH
Dead, say you! Dead by his own hand?

THE BOATSWAIN
Alas! Alas! That we should have lived to see him grow white and stiff, and
next we shall be living so to see ourselves!

RALEGH
Why, Tom Keymis,
I jump at last to thy meaning; and the course
Thou takest is the course that I must steer
Out of this troublous world.— To thee and me
Life is bootless, nor can striving any more
Lure back those glories here, to dwell wherein
Thou surgest skyward!—Stay! I'll follow thee!

So he turns his sword on himself; but Berreo and the Boatswain prevent
him.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Sir Walter—

POLWHELE
Let him strike; 't were best for us.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Doth not sad human duty bid you stay
This desperate happiness?

RALEGH
What mean you, sir?

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Why, even when I urged King Philip's love,
The Lord Arundel, a very worthy man,
You told me, had your word to see you back
In England.

RALEGH
So he had.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Not keeping which,
You said—

RALEGH
I soiled mine honour. Even so.—
Mine honour, fair as England's, ere King James
Made England Scottish. English royalty
Crumbles to dust with bright Elizabeth,
And that fair realm she ruled hath need of all
Her fading gentry.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
Then, the greater way
Were to betake you thither.

RALEGH
Thither, where
That sentence waits me, passed in Cobham's case
By tricksy quibblers. I had dared to dream
Of faring home triumphant, conquering that
In world-wide conquest.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
I might pledge you still
The love of Philip.

RALEGH
Which I prize too high
To hold but finally. He shall love me best
In fair Saint Margaret's.—Boatswain, go bid them
Make sail. We are going home.
So the Boatswain goes sadly out.
Now on the block
I'll lay me down to sleep, keeping for aye
Mine honour that your wit hath kept me safe
When I so madly wavered.

POLWHELE
Silly wit,
Fanning anew our dangers.

Now while Polwhele is speaking, Sir Walter Ralegh has turned him toward the
wall, and has taken therefrom the Spaniard's sword, which now he hands to
him, speaking gently.

RALEGH
Fare you well.
Go free.
So Berreo has back his sword; and sheathes it.

POLWHELE
And what of me?

RALEGH
Why, go so, too.
The time is past when I should trouble me
With earthy things.

POLWHELE
Come, while he entertains
These heavenly thoughts. In England I will prove him
What earthy things can do.
So Polwhele goes threatening out.

DON ANTONIO DE BERREO
I will wait.—Farewell,
Sir Walter Ralegh. Had I been your friend,
Throughout this strife, perchance I had not known
Your nobleness as now. For enemies,
Most keen for mutual fault, learn best of all
Each other's virtue. Had you been of Spain,
Our Spain had prospered better than she shall

RALEGH
Had England stood so faithful as your Spain,
The world, I think, had known a braver future
Than that I see darkling behind the keels
That glide me to my rest. Our English die
Is cast; the game is against us; and my rest
Is all I look for now.

And just then sailors on the deck without begin chanting the tune which Young
Ralegh sang in derision to Spaniard.

Your hand — Farewell.

So they clasp hands. Then Don Antonio de Berreo gravely passes out. And all
the while the sailors sing, as, with bowed head, Sir Walter Ralegh betakes
him to his cabin. And presently comes a sound of the Boatswain's whistle;
and with that all ends.






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