When Lord Essex comes to power, he will act more soberly. Great men are like the heavenly bodies; they move violently to their places, and calmly in their places. SHAKESPEARE: True, true! His violence is all of quick feeling: at heart he is most generous-kind. BACON: You do not overpraise him; yet on troubled sea, small sails of will and temper are the safest. SHAKESPEARE: Lord Essex is too great to think of safety; he dreams of noble deeds, and does them. BACON: [_After pausing._] Your praise does you credit; it shall be reported to the Earl. But I came to greet Jonson, and hear his new song: I must soon be on my way. SELDEN: [_To Fletcher._] Curious, the two masters can neither wrestle nor embrace: Bacon’s on earth, Shakespeare in the clouds. FLETCHER: [_Not listening._] Let us go into the inner room: we shall hear the music better. [_All go inside save Shakespeare and Jonson. Music is heard through the open door._] JONSON: [_Turning to Shakespeare._] So you are in love, I hear. Oh, that urchin, Cupid! But beware, Will, beware; his darts are all poisoned. [_Takes Shakespeare’s arm, and draws him towards the inner room._] SHAKESPEARE: What sweet poison! SCENE III. _In the grounds of St. James’s Palace by moonlight. A marquee in centre of stage with throne. Miss Fitton moves about in garden_, L., _as if looking for something till Shakespeare enters_, L. SHAKESPEARE: [_Taking both her hands._] At last! at last, I see and hold you, [_Holding both her hands to his heart._] and all is well again; the pain is gone. MISS FITTON: Pain? SHAKESPEARE: Intense pain—the misery of doubt and fear; the agony of disappointment—all vanished now, lost in a sea of pure delight. Ah, what a life ecstatic after death—— MISS FITTON: Death! SHAKESPEARE: [_Gravely._] Worse. On Monday you were to be at Lady Rutland’s; you had promised; I went; you were not there; I fell into the abysm of despair. Why, my queen, why? MISS FITTON: [_Smiling and seating herself._] “Affairs of state” would sound well for a queen; but I prefer the truth. [_Solemnly._] A three-piled ruff, the newest thing in neckgear, made me forget your coming. You see your queen is very woman. [_He kisses her hand and she pushes his head up gently._] One of Eve’s unnumbered daughters. SHAKESPEARE: [_Kneeling._] The wittiest of all, the most adored, the fairest! Your hand [_lifting it in his_] is warm ivory, so firm and smooth [_looks up at her_]—the eyes like wells o’erhung with shadow—and oh, the rubious lips. [_Puts up his hand and draws down her head; she bends and kisses him; then rises._] MISS FITTON: You must rise; we might be seen: we have only half an hour; be careful; someone might come. SHAKESPEARE: