[_Rising._] What a fate is mine! I see you but for a moment and then lose you. It is a week since we met and now I may not kiss you. I long for you night and day; my flesh aches for you; I am parched with fever and may not quench my thirst. MISS FITTON: Those high fevers have no long continuance; I prefer enduring affection—tenderness—— SHAKESPEARE: Still the fever and you will find the tenderness. Each time I meet you I have to win you anew, and that exasperates desire; but give yourself freely to me, and I will love you better than you love yourself. MISS FITTON: Violent desire soon burns itself out. SHAKESPEARE: When I am burnt out and dead—not before. Do not distrust desire, sweet; ’tis the spring of life, the wing that lifts the clay [_Takes her in his arms and kisses her. She draws herself free._] SHAKESPEARE: Again you move away. MISS FITTON: Men and women love differently, I think. You would kiss and kiss while I draw back half shrinking, half because I would taste this new joy sweet by sweet. There! You make me say too much. SHAKESPEARE: Never too much, you great heart! You unveil your soul, and the beauty of it fills me with reverence. [_Takes her in his arms._] MISS FITTON: You do love me, then? You are sure? SHAKESPEARE: Very sure. MISS FITTON: You will love me always? SHAKESPEARE: Always. I loved you before we met, always, through dateless ages. I never loved before, shall never love again. You were made for me. I love your courage, truth, pride, and most of all I love you when you yield. [_They kiss._] MISS FITTON: Ah, love is easy when one can trust. I must tell you something, though I hate to: I’m very jealous. SHAKESPEARE: You, jealous! MISS FITTON: [_Nods her head._] Jane Wroth told us of the dance at the Globe Theatre, and I was angry; that’s why I did not go to Lady Rutland’s to meet you. I was jealous, mad! SHAKESPEARE: You had no reason. I was not at the dance. I came past you here and wandered in Chelsea meadows. MISS FITTON: In truth? How strange! SHAKESPEARE: I have always loved to be alone. In unfrequented woods I used to build myself a world of dreams and hold a court of fancied creatures. But now the dreams have changed to memories; you come to me and I recall your words and looks and beauties; kiss your hands and eyes and lips. Oh, my thought-world is paradise with you as goddess-queen. MISS FITTON: You must never make me jealous. Heal that at once as you would heal a pain of mine. It makes some women love more, I think; it would kill all love in me. I am too proud to endure its sting. SHAKESPEARE: I will never give you cause, sweet, for jealousy, never! I love your pride too well. MISS FITTON: [_Rising and going to the spinet._] You promised me a song. Did you forget? SHAKESPEARE: [_Following her._] Could I forget a promise to you! [_He puts the roll on the spinet before her._] MISS FITTON: I cannot sing it, you know. I have none of women’s little graces. SHAKESPEARE: