THE QUEEN: [_Breathing heavily, as if tired._] You wrote the piece? SHAKESPEARE: To please your Majesty! THE QUEEN: [SLOWLY AND WITH DIFFICULTY.] I did say something about it; I’ve forgotten what—I—Yes—Oh, I wanted to see the fat Knight in love, and you wrote this “Wives of Windsor” to show it: ’tis not ill done, but the Knight was better in the earlier piece, much better; the story better too. Still, I wished it, and now—They say you’re witty, and rhyme well, and would make a good Master of the Revels to save my Lord Chamberlain there—some labour—— SHAKESPEARE: [_Bows low._] I thank your gracious Majesty with all my heart, and should be proud to serve in any place; but—— THE QUEEN: [_Starting up._] But!—But! The fools are all mad to-night. But what? SHAKESPEARE: I would prefer to private gain what our great Queen herself desires— THE QUEEN: [_Leaning back again._] And that is? He, he! You’d be more than wizard to divine what I don’t know. SHAKESPEARE: I had a friend, your Majesty, most dear—— THE QUEEN: What’s that to do with me, man? Say what you want and make no speeches; I’ve heard enough speeches to-night to last me a lifetime. SHAKESPEARE: [_Kneeling._] I beg for freedom, your Majesty, for my Lord Herbert: mercy for his youth—— THE QUEEN: [_Sitting bolt upright._] Did ever one hear the like? My dog will school me next! You forget your place, man. SHAKESPEARE: I am nothing, gracious lady, but a voice to the pity in your heart: the meanest born may beg for mercy—— It blesseth him that gives and him that takes; ’Tis mightiest in the mightiest. THE QUEEN: [_Laughs loud._] Ha! ha! ha! The player’s turned preacher. Ha! ha! Hark you [_She beckons him nearer._] Your tongue’s too long; I’ll have it cut if it wag so boldly. SHAKESPEARE: He loved you well, ma’am, and often spoke of all your greatness. His faults are youth and madcap daring. THE QUEEN: I care not. When we’re hurt, we strike. He was kind to you, you say, and so you speak for him; he cheated me—— SHAKESPEARE: And me of all I loved and left me desolate. THE QUEEN: Ha! And you plead for him. Faugh! Even the cur snarls at those who beat him. Learn spirit from your dog! SHAKESPEARE: Ah! madam, we learn sympathy from suffering, pity from pain! THE QUEEN: [_Wearily leaning back in her throne._] Do we? I don’t. [_Pause._] I’m weary! You can go now, man; go, I say! [_Shakespeare bows and moves towards the body of the hall; after a pause the Queen rises and takes Lord Burghley’s arm._] I’m weary—weary! [_All bow; Queen goes out on Burghley’s arm._] Very weary! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ THE EPILOGUE SCENE I.