Elizabeth: The Golden Age Page #3

in the hope that

our two great nations

might be

joined in love.

He interests me.

Talk to him.

Him, my lady?

Him.

I adore the natives you brought. I

don't suppose you could get one for me.

They're not

dangerous, are they?

That depends on what you

propose to do with them.

I'd dress him up in

mulberry colored silk,

and have him walk behind

me, carrying my cloak.

I have a secret,

my dear.

I pretend there's

a pane of glass,

eine Glasscheibe

between me and them.

They can see me,

but they cannot touch me.

You should try it.

Majesty, I am...

It is something,

after all,

to take a blank on the map

and build there a shining city.

Which you will no doubt

name after yourself.

No doubt.

May I ask

a question in return?

Of course.

How am I to win

the Queers favor?

Why should I tell you that?

I've little enough to offer,

but whatever I have to give,

ask, and it's yours.

Say what you mean to say

as plainly as possible.

All men flatter the Queen

in hope of advancement.

Pay her the compliment

of truth.

I don't even know

your name.

Elizabeth Throckmorton.

A second

Elizabeth?

Everyone calls me Bess.

Your most serene Majesty,

bright star of our firmament,

we present our humble masque

of the heavenly spheres.

His Highness is tired

after his long journey.

No man

can become tired

in the presence of

so lovely a queen.

His Highness, the Archduke informs

me that my charms overwhelm him.

He will retire to his

private chambers to rest.

I don't want him hurt

by your schemes.

So how should

we proceed?

Perhaps we should

all retire.

I suspect him of being

a professional charmer.

Am I right?

He is certainly

charming, my lady.

Well, there are

duller professions.

You like him, don't you?

He's a man that lives in a

world far beyond the court.

It's refreshing.

Well.

We shall let him

come again.

Blue.

SIR WALTER. Can you imagine

what it is to cross an ocean?

For weeks, you see nothing but

the horizon, perfect and empty.

You live in the grip of fear.

Fear of storms.

Fear of sickness on board.

Fear of the immensity.

So you must drive that fear

down deep into your belly.

Study your charts.

Watch your compass.

Pray for a fair wind.

And hope,

pure,

naked,

fragile

hope.

Majesty, the Archduke

and court are waiting.

Let them wait.

Go on, Mr. Raleigh.

You were hoping.

At first, it's no more

than a haze on the horizon.

So you watch.

You watch.

Then it's a smudge,

a shadow on the far water.

For a day.

For another day.

The stain slowly spreads

along the horizon taking form,

until on the third day,

you let yourself believe.

You dare to whisper

the word.

Land.

Land.

Life.

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