The words themselves may not have been without irony, but the gentle voice showed no trace of that quality which the countrymen of Shakespeare so much distrust. “That is indeed high news, Master Shakespeare. And of your bounty do we pray you that your new diversion be all in the mood of comedy as is this inimitable piece we have seen this afternoon.” “Alas, your grace!” The playwright shook his head. “We poor makers of plays are no more than mortal men. And as mortal men are subject to the coils of fate, so are the characters we weave subject to those laws which govern our being.” “I don’t understand,” said the Queen. “We makers of plays, your grace, often have but a small part in our own contrivances. Many a time have I devised a play in the spirit of comedy, but it is ever the characters themselves who spin the plot. And whether they shall spin it to a comic or a tragic issue none but themselves shall say.” “But you are the moulder and the master of your characters, are you not, Master Shakespeare?” “Alas, your grace, my characters are the moulders and the masters of me!” The Queen was perplexed by so paradoxical a saying. “I confess,” said she, “I should ever have thought it to be otherwise. Now is it that you would have us believe that although you have yourself devised the characters and the plot of your new interlude, you have so little hold upon them that you know not until your play is written whether it will be in the tragic or the comic vein?” “It may not always be so, your grace, to the extent that it is in this particular case. But in this instance, I will confess that I have but little hold upon the destiny of the characters in the story.” “That seems very odd, Master Shakespeare. And our counsel to you is to take a very speedy and secure hold upon your characters unless you would court our grave displeasure.” “Alas, your grace!” The playwright sighed heavily. “Tell me, sirrah, what is your perplexity?” “To tell my perplexity, your grace, would involve the whole plot of the story, and a recital of that your grace would doubtless find tedious.” The Queen, however, in the expansiveness of her mood, assured the author that he need have no fears upon that account. On the contrary, she professed herself delighted at the prospect of hearing it. She avowed, besides, that her ladies would be immensely diverted by hearing the argument of the new play fresh from the mint of the poet’s invention. “Do you tell us the story, I beseech you, Master Shakespeare!” said the Queen. “And although I cannot pretend that an unlearned woman such as myself has it in her power to resolve your perplexity, there are about us those of quick parts who shall hear it, who, I doubt not, will be able to give you valuable advice upon the conduct of your play.” Doubtless the Queen spoke in mockery, since at heart she was a despiser of most men and of all women. Mr. William Shakespeare, however, was fully prepared to take her at her word.