o the graceful flatteries of Spenser
or Lyly. In this year 1584 she had granted a patent to Ralegh for
further explorations of the lands north of Florida discovered half a
century since by Sebastian Cabot. She heaped upon it rights and
privileges which made Hatton and her other court gallants grind their
teeth. Ralegh knew well that this was no time for him to be wandering
about strange coasts. He was therefore fitting out an expedition to make
a preliminary voyage and report to him what was found.

"'T is like this," Armadas was saying with the buoyant confidence which
endeared him alike to his patron and his comrade. "North you get the
scurvy and south the fever, but midway is the climate for a new empire.
There Englishmen may have timber for their shipyards, and pasture for
their sheep and cattle, and meadows for their corn. There Flemings and
Huguenots may live and work in peace. Our sons may be lords and princes
of a new world, Arthur lad."

"Aye; but there's the Inquisition in the Indies to reckon with,"
answered Barlowe with his grim half-smile. "And if what we hear of the
barbarians be true, the men who make the first plantation may be forced
to plant and build with their left hand and keep their right for
fighting."

"Oh, the barbarians,--" Armadas began, and paused, for the chatter of
young voices broke forth in a copse.

"I tell thee salvages be hairy men with tails like monkeys. My uncle he
has seen them on the Guinea coast."

"Dick, if thou keep not off my heels in the passamezzo--"

"Be not so cholerical, Tom Poope, or the Master'll give thee a tuning.
Thou'rt not Lord of the Indies yet."

"Faith," chuckled Barlowe, "here be some little eyasses practising a
fantasy for the Queen's pleasure. Hey, lads, what's all the pother
about?"[2]

The company emerged half-shamefacedly from the shrubbery, a group of
youngsters between ten and fourteen, in fanciful costumes of silk and
brocade, or mimic armor and puffed doublets. The central figure of the
group was a handsome little lad in a sort of tunic of hairy undressed
goatskin, a feather head-dress and gilded ornaments. His dark face had a
sullen look, and he grasped his lance as if about to use it. Another
urchin, whose great arched eyebrows, rolling eyes and impish mouth
marked him as the clown of the company, made answer boldly,

"'T is Tom Poope, your lordships, who mislikes the dress he must wear,
and says if we have but a king and queen of the monk