Act 1 — Scene III.

Southampton:

The play was excellent.

Lacy:

A carcanet of diverse colours—of absolute favour.

Southampton:

But the playwrights are not your friends.

12Shakespeare:

I have befriended most of them.

Lacy:

A double reason for repugnance—ingratitude the point, envy the barb!

Southampton:

[To Shakespeare.] A fine play, Shakespeare, but you seem cast down. Is all well with you in your home?

Shakespeare:

Thanks to you: more than well. My father’s debts all paid; the best house in the village bought for my mother——

Southampton:

Come, then, throw off this melancholy—’tis but a humour.

Lacy:

And let the wit play like lightning against the clouds. Or, better still, exhort him, my lord, to seek a new love; ’tis love that lifts to melody and song, and gives the birds their music.

Southampton:

You are often with Herbert, are you not?

13Shakespeare:

Yes.

Southampton:

Don’t build too much on him! You’ll be deceived.

Shakespeare:

To me he’s perfect. In beauty a paragon, in wit unfellow’d.

Southampton:

I would not trust him; he’s selfish.

Lacy:

Most insensitive-hard.

Shakespeare:

[Turns to Lacy.] Youth, youth, my lord! We do not blame the unripe fruit for hardness; a few sunny days will mellow it, and turn the bitter to juicy sweet.

Southampton:

What a friend you are, Shakespeare! You find excuses for everyone.

Lacy:

But those who trust too much are like the rathe flowers, frost-blighted.

14Southampton:

Here comes Mistress Violet—we’ll take leave of you. I was telling Shakespeare, lady, how fair you are.