“A well-turned speech, my lord,” said the Queen. She then fixed her sour smile upon Raleigh. “Tell me, Sir Walter,” she said, “what is the price you are prepared to pay for this foolish and wicked player’s ransom?” The point-blank question was answered readily enough. “The half of my fortune, your grace,” said Raleigh, “even as my Lord Pembroke.” “But Master Burbage here,” said the Queen, acidly, “is prepared to pay the whole of his life.” “Your grace,” said Raleigh with shining eyes, “Master Burbage is indeed a man happy in his valor and noble in the scope and compass of his nature. Our poet is fortunate in such a friend, yet such high constancy is not less than his deserts.” This frank speech gave pause to the Queen. When the worst had been said of her, a robust commonsense remained the keystone of her character. These were men she was bound to respect. And to hear them express such unqualified opinions in regard to this play-actor had the effect in some degree of modifying her attitude. Besides, she herself believed the playwright to be a very remarkable man. But the combined testimony of such men as Pembroke and Raleigh made it clear that he was even more remarkable than she knew him to be. “My Lord Burleigh,” she said abruptly, addressing Cecil, “let this man Shakespeare be brought to us. We will hear what defence he will venture of his froward conduct.” The Lord Treasurer quitted the room at once, in obedience to this command. Burbage, Pembroke and Raleigh would have followed him, had not the Queen ordered them to remain where they were. CHAPTER XXXVII THERE was a long five minutes of most uncomfortable silence between the four curiously diverse persons in the Queen’s morning chamber. Gloriana was not disposed to conversation just now. For one thing she was deeply offended. And at the best of times she was a difficult woman, and age and infirmity had made her morose. Her long life as a reigning sovereign had been neither more nor less than an orgy of despotic power. And such a condition does not make for human amenity, particularly in the case of one in whom a love of tyranny has become second nature. The plain truth was, that Gloriana was hard and cruel. And these three men were only too well aware of the fact. Each of them felt a grave uneasiness in regard to the fate that was likely to overtake the man for whose life and liberty they were there to plead. At last, the tapestried door of the chamber opened to admit the returning Cecil, who gravely ushered in the culprit. The playwright entered the room with a serenity, an unconcern that could only have been exhibited in such circumstances by one who breathes an air which is not the common ether of mankind. The Queen, a close enough observer when it pleased her to be so, was impressed by the almost majestic simplicity of this man. His three friends, so jealous for his reputation, could only rejoice at it.