I don’t want to put the blame on her; it all came naturally; but you must not think I went about with intent to deceive you. SHAKESPEARE: She tempted you; when? The first time you saw her; the very night I asked you to plead for me? HERBERT: I don’t wish to excuse myself; you know how such things happen. We danced; she dared me to wait by her when the Queen came; of course I waited—oh, curse it! SHAKESPEARE: She dared you. That rank pride of hers the pride that ruined angels and unpeopled heaven! The foul temptress! Damn her, oh, damn her! HERBERT: Pride’s no fault. SHAKESPEARE: No fault! She swears love to me and then to you; kisses me and kisses you—no fault—she loves the slime that sticks to filthy deeds. HERBERT: You believe her when you’re with her; she seems true. SHAKESPEARE: O, the world hath not a sweeter creature. She might have lain by an emperor’s side. Hang her! I do but say what she is. The public commoner! HERBERT: Don’t blame her, she’s so young. SHAKESPEARE: And so fair! Such courage, strength, wit, grace, gaiety. God! Had she been true one would have pawned the world for her. And now—— HERBERT: You take it too tragic. SHAKESPEARE: Too tragic! I have lost all—joy, hope, trust—all gone; my pearl of life; my garden of delight! HERBERT: Think, man: it’s not the first time she has slipped, she doesn’t pretend it is. SHAKESPEARE: The pity of it; ah! the pity of it! The sky is all soiled: my lips, too—my hands—ah! HERBERT: Why can’t you be a man, and take what’s light lightly! SHAKESPEARE: Only the light do that! [_To himself._] Is it wrong to kill those light ones? HERBERT: You would not hurt her. SHAKESPEARE: No! That’s true. I could not hurt her sweet, white flesh. God, how I love her! I’ll tear out that love! Oh, the pity of it, the pity of it: all dirtied, all. But I’ll not be fond! HERBERT: Why not? she loves you; she said so: it’s true, most likely. SHAKESPEARE: Trust’s dead in me: she has killed it. I think of her, and shudder—the sluttish spoil of opportunity. Faugh! HERBERT: Put it out of mind, and it’s as if it had not been. SHAKESPEARE: You’ll marry her? HERBERT: I wouldn’t marry an angel. SHAKESPEARE: And yet—she loved you—kissed you—gave herself to you: Damnation! HERBERT: You make too much of it! SHAKESPEARE: Too much! I trusted you, your honour: bared my heart to you——Ah! the traitor wound! HERBERT: Forgive us both and forget: Come. [_Puts his hand out._] SHAKESPEARE: [_Shrinks back._] Words, words! HERBERT: I never meant to hurt you. SHAKESPEARE: That’s the Judas curse! They know not what they do; but it’s done. I had two idolatries—my friendship for you; I loved your youth and bravery! And my passion for her, the queen and pearl of women. And now the faith’s dead, the love’s befouled. HERBERT: In a little while hope will spring again and new love. SHAKESPEARE: Never, my summer is past! The leaves shake against the cold. HERBERT: