Act 1 — Scene IX.
Reading edition
Shakespeare:
[Enters, L., with a mask in his hand, and stops on catching sight of Miss Fitton.] Ah!
Miss Fitton:
[Looking at him over her shoulder.] Oh, the poet! Well, Master Shakespeare, what think you of my dress?
Shakespeare:
Yesterday, lady, you were lovely; to-day, bewitching.
36Miss Fitton:
There is more of the man than the woman in me, I think: yet I would this cloak were somewhat longer. [She tries to draw it round her to cover her legs; failing in this she stands up and swings it about her.] There, I am at ease now. Does it set me off?
Shakespeare:
As envious cloud that veils the beauty of Night’s Queen.
Miss Fitton:
[Seating herself and drawing the cloak about her.] I don’t like poetry: it’s not true—sincere. You poets are too much in love with phrases to be honest.
Shakespeare:
When the heart is full we unpack it in song, like the birds.
Miss Fitton:
But when the bird really feels—rage or fear, he shrieks or twitters and forgets his song.
Shakespeare:
He still sings his love.
37Miss Fitton:
I’d not give a cross [Snaps her fingers] for love that keeps time. What’s formal and composed’s a pleasure—not a passion. I want prose and truth.
Shakespeare:
Yet they say that men love truth—and women, honeyed flatteries!
Miss Fitton:
[Scornfully.] They say! Men say that; but it is worse than false. No sooner is a man in love than he lies, wheedles, pretends, shows off—for all the world like the peacock in the garden yonder, that sidles round with tail outspread, in stately sweepings. But when we women fall to love, we are too honest to be vain—too fond for make-believe.
Shakespeare:
Those are the signs of love in man, as in woman. But who made you wise, so young?
Miss Fitton:
Mother Eve, I suppose. The greenest girl knows more about love than your graybeard.
38Shakespeare:
True.
Miss Fitton:
[Settling herself, and pointing to the seat.] You may liken me to night if it please you. We dark women are out of favour now: red hair is the Queen’s colour, and Beauty’s ensign: bleached locks, even, are preferred to brown or black.
Shakespeare:
[Taking the chair, and leaning towards her.] I must have been born red, then, to love your great dark eyes, and the coils and tresses of your hair.
Miss Fitton:
[Pouting.] Do you believe people must like their opposites in colour and height and——
Shakespeare:
Such a difference is only one strand in the tie; and in a true marriage the mind, I think, is more than the body.
Miss Fitton:
Of course the mind and character have something to do with it—the sauce to the sweet: but the body’s the sweet.
39Shakespeare:
When I am with you, I think so too. I cannot reason now, I can only feel. I saw you yesterday for the first time, a few poor minutes; and now you are with me again and time is fleeting. Oh, I want fifty eyes to take in your beauties, fifty ears to catch the music of your voice, fifty hands to touch you, fifty lives to show you how I love——
Miss Fitton:
[Draws up.] Love! love is not so sudden-mad—But hush! [She takes up a mirror to hide her face; Shakespeare masks; a page crosses stage rapidly from L. to R.]
Miss Fitton:
[Putting down the mirror.] And so you love me—madly—in an hour?
Shakespeare:
[Taking off the mask.] Ah, lady, Time is love’s plaything—now he presses years into one look, one touch; and now a moment’s kiss swoons out of count—will you not yield to love’s magic?
40Miss Fitton:
I don’t think I love easily. But why do you love me?
Shakespeare:
Your beauty, grace, courage, wit—a thousand reasons; but deeper than all reason and higher is love’s throne.
Miss Fitton:
We have a saying in my country, “quick flame soon cold.”
Shakespeare:
Ah, that’s not true in love; proverbs are never true; they are all made by dullards for the dull, but tell me how shall I win you? Teach me. Like a timid scholar I’ve forgotten all I knew. Will love win love?
Miss Fitton:
Love will keep us when won; I have no philtre for the winning.
Shakespeare:
One thing you must believe: this love is all my life.
41Miss Fitton:
I’ll believe it sooner than I confess I do; for I love to hear you say it. A constant lover, you know, touches every woman’s heart.
Shakespeare:
Then I shall win you, sweet!
Miss Fitton:
Perhaps: all women want to love and be loved. Men desire beauty, wealth, power, honours; we want nothing but love, love only: love is our religion. You see the doublet and hose have not changed my disposition. But Lady Cynthia will be here soon—— [Rises.]
Shakespeare:
When am I to see you again and where? I only live for the hope of seeing you, and now I’ve been with you and said nothing—nothing!
Miss Fitton:
Hist! [Moves behind the spinet again: Shakespeare follows. Lady Jane Wroth and Lady Rutland cross stage from L.C. to L.]
Lady Jane Wroth:
Oh, Lord Herbert is wonderful. As he came 42from the Queen he met me at the door of the antechamber: I stopped to let him pass: he drew me to him and kissed me on the lips. I could not help it. Do you think he means anything?
Lady Rutland:
Not he. Herbert! He means you are a girl and pretty. Take care, Jane; broken hearts come from such kissings.
Lady Jane Wroth:
But why should he want to kiss me if he does not love me?
Lady Rutland:
Men love to kiss, dear, and we kiss because we love—that’s the difference.
Lady Jane Wroth:
I wish I were a man, for I love the kiss, too.
Lady Rutland:
Hush, dear, hush! you must not say that: if you were overheard—[Glances round nervously: they go off L.]
43Miss Fitton:
The silly women! [To Shakespeare.] But why do you love so madly? ’Tis not wise.
Shakespeare:
Wisdom and love, sweet, are sworn enemies.
Miss Fitton:
[Rising.] I have many faults: if you knew them all, you might not love me.
Shakespeare:
Faults! you have no faults!
Miss Fitton:
[Gravely.] I’m too tall, and I look twenty-five though I’m only seventeen. Then my nose is not quite straight—do you see? [Holds up her face.] Besides, I’m very proud and hot-tempered—vain! No: I’m not vain, ever.
Shakespeare:
Delightful wretch! [Puts his hands on her shoulders.] Now girlish-gay and now so witty-wise; but always adorable.
Miss Fitton:
[Holding his hands away by the wrists.] I’m 44very proud, you know, and want the truth always. I’d never forgive you if you deceived me.
Shakespeare:
Who could deceive you? Give me your love and I’ll be true as hand to heart. [She puts her hand on his shoulder: he lays his hand on her outstretched arm and gazes in her eyes.] Your beauty comes upon my soul like music ravishing the sense. How I adore you. [Kneels.] You make me humble: I seem a thing of naught and you a Queen—divine—[She stoops and kisses his forehead; in a sort of exaltation he cries:] Now life begins anew for me; this hour is consecrate——
Miss Fitton:
[Putting her finger to her lips and glancing at the canopy.] You must go and so must I. Hush! Farewell. [Goes off, L.C. Shakespeare looks after her, takes a step as if to follow her, and then goes off hurriedly L.]
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