Mhm.

My Lords!

I can offer you no words of comfort.

This armada that sails against us carries in its bowels, the Inquisition.

God forbid it succeeds.

Then there will be no more liberty in England of conscience or a thought.

We cannot be defeated.

The bells that ring from every tower laborers that leave the fields and take up arms.

The harvest must weigh all prisoners, but to be released.

England is their country, too.

Mm hmm.

Mhm.

And release Raleigh.

Okay, Yes, forgiven.

So to not get.

Mm hmm.