that no
woman can resist.

SHAKESPEAR. Flatteries! _[Kneeling]_ Oh, madam, I put my case at
your royal feet. I confess to much. I have a rude tongue: I am
unmannerly: I blaspheme against the holiness of anointed royalty; but
oh, my royal mistress, AM I a flatterer?

ELIZABETH. I absolve you as to that. You are far too plain a dealer
to please me. _[He rises gratefully]._

THE DARK LADY. Madam: he is flattering you even as he speaks.

ELIZABETH. _[a terrible flash in her eye]_ Ha! Is it so?

SHAKESPEAR. Madam: she is jealous; and, heaven help me! not without
reason. Oh, you say you are a merciful prince; but that was cruel of
you, that hiding of your royal dignity when you found me here. For
how can I ever be content with this black-haired, black-eyed,
black-avised devil again now that I have looked upon real beauty and
real majesty?

THE DARK LADY. _[wounded and desperate]_ He hath swore to me ten
times over that the day shall come in England when black women, for
all their foulness, shall be more thought on than fair ones. _[To
Shakespear, scolding at him]_ Deny it if thou canst. Oh, he is
compact of lies and scorns. I am tired of being tossed up to heaven
and dragged down to hell at every whim that takes him. I am ashamed
to my very soul that I have abased myself to love one that my father
would not have deemed fit to hold my stirrup--one that will talk to
all the world about me--that will put my love and my shame into his
plays and make me blush for myself there--that will write sonnets
about me that no man of gentle strain would put his hand to. I am all
disordered: I know not what I am saying to your Majesty: I am of all
ladies most deject and wretched--

SHAKESPEAR. Ha! At last sorrow hath struck a note of music out of
thee. "Of all ladies most deject and wretched." _[He makes a note of
it]._

THE DARK LADY. Madam: I implore you give me leave to go. I am
distracted with grief and shame. I--

ELIZABETH. Go _[The Dark Lady tries to kiss her hand]._ No more.
Go. _[The Dark Lady goes, convulsed]._ You have been cruel to that
poor fond wretch, Master Shakespear.

SHAKESPEAR. I am not cruel, madam; but you know the fable of Jupiter
and Semele. I could not help my lightnings scorching her.

ELIZABETH. You have an overweening conceit of yourself, sir, that
displeases your Queen.

SHAKESPEAR. Oh, madam, can I go about with the modest cough of a
minor poet, belit