[As if pacified or negligent.] You may dance, my lord. [Amid the astonished silence and observation of all, Herbert bows and draws backward towards Miss Fitton.] Go on with the dance. The Coranto, not that kissing thing. [The Pages remove the cushions.]
Lady Jane Wroth:
[To Sir John Stanley.] She hates to see others kissing.
Stanley:
That’s morality. [The talk breaks out again, and the dance goes on. In a moment or so Herbert is at Miss Fitton’s side, and they dance round.]
The Queen:
[As they pass, calls] Lord Herbert! [He dances on as if he didn’t hear. The Queen descends from her throne, and takes him by the ear.] Are you deaf to-night? I will dance with you. [Lord Herbert bows, smiling, and they dance a measure or two; the Queen holds up her dress very high and marks each step elaborately in bygone fashion: when they come to C.]
Herbert:
I knew I’d win you.
The Queen: