[As the servant nears the couple.] Yes, I promise—sometime—go! [Herbert, bowing low to Miss Fitton, swings round, walks to the Queen, and puts one knee to the ground.]
The Queen:
[Angrily.] You forget your manners, my lord, and your duty.
Herbert:
[Smiling.] Manners, ma’am, and duty are worthless frozen words: my allegiance to you is an irresistible passion; as, you know, the desire of the moth for the light.
The Queen:
Methinks, the moth is quite content with blackness, here. [With a glance at Miss Fitton.]
Herbert:
The eyes that suffer through excess of radiance close of themselves to rest.
The Queen: