[_Looks up smiling._] Mad, you would say; why not? It goes with “bad” and “glad” and “sad”—good words all! Do you know how first I came to it? I will tell you. Sit there and let my eyes feed on you. [_Miss Fitton sits near him._] Strange; you are more desirable now than when I first knew you. Then I saw faults in you; now your faults all sharpen appetite. As I look at you it all comes back—that first day in Whitehall when the morning air was warm like milk and the wavelets danced in the sun. Do you remember how we sat and kissed, each kiss longer than the last? [_Mistress Fitton bows her_ _head._]... I went the other day to the same spot by the river—I was alone and desolate—but of a sudden you came—[_she turns to him in wonder_] yourself, of grace and pride compounded, like a queen, and I touched your hair, and every separate hair a sin of multiple desire; I drew down your face and your lips clung and kissed as no lips ever kissed before. Then of a sudden you were gone, and I was awake—alone. Since then I have prayed to go mad again, to hold you, and so be mad for ever, lips on lips——[_Mistress Fitton rises._] What are you doing? MISS FITTON: [_Takes up cloak._] I must go, Will; I must, indeed. I am late now. [_Holds the cloak to him._] SHAKESPEARE: What! Now! You have been but a moment... [_He drapes her in the cloak._] Perhaps it is best so. [_She turns to the door._] You will come again soon? MISS FITTON: Soon. But I want to hear you laugh as you used to laugh and turn all things to humour and gaiety! SHAKESPEARE: Come soon, and I will clown it—soon! [_She goes, nodding to him from the door._] Soon. SCENE III. SHAKESPEARE: [_While Shakespeare stands at gaze Ben Jonson enters._] It is the end, I think—the end. [_Turns to the room._] What weak curs we are, Ben: I beg her to come soon; yet I wish she were dead! JONSON: A proud patch, that; she’s not likely to die soon: the devil takes care of his own. SHAKESPEARE: She’s proud, indeed; but why do you miscall her? JONSON: We were there in the yard as she passed, three or four of us: the yard was dirty: she picked up her clothes and walked past us as if we were posts. Shapely legs she’s got. SHAKESPEARE: Shapely, indeed. Damnation! JONSON: Why did she go so soon? SHAKESPEARE: Duty at Court, she said. JONSON: A convenient excuse. Why came she so far for so little? I’d seek another reason. SHAKESPEARE: Another reason? Speak plainly, man, like a friend. JONSON: Plainly, then, it’s said she visits Herbert in that horseman’s cloak. ’Twas Hughes spread the thing: he knows. SHAKESPEARE: Herbert! Damn her! JONSON: Put her out of your head, man. Violet’s worth a dozen of her. Put her out of your head and think of weightier things. You are to play at Court this afternoon, and Burbage says the Queen will make you Master of the Revels if you ask for it. I wish ’twere mine for the asking. SHAKESPEARE: