Shakespeare:
[Looks up smiling.] Mad, you would say; why not? It goes with “bad” and “glad” and “sad”—good words all! Do you know how first I came to it? I will tell you. Sit there and let my eyes feed on you. [Miss Fitton sits near him.] Strange; you are more desirable now than when I first knew you. Then I saw faults in you; now your faults all sharpen appetite. As I look at you it all comes back—that first day in Whitehall when the morning air was warm like milk and the wavelets danced in the sun. Do you remember how we sat and kissed, each kiss longer than the last? [Mistress Fitton bows her head.]... I went the other day to the same spot by the river—I was alone and desolate—but of a sudden you came—[she turns to him in wonder] yourself, of grace and pride compounded, like a queen, and I touched your hair, and every separate hair a sin of multiple desire; I drew down your face and your lips clung and kissed as no lips ever kissed before. Then of a sudden you were gone, and I was awake—alone. Since then I have prayed to go mad again, to hold you, and so be mad for ever, lips on lips——[Mistress Fitton rises.] What are you doing?
Miss Fitton:
[Takes up cloak.] I must go, Will; I must, indeed. I am late now. [Holds the cloak to him.]
Shakespeare:
What! Now! You have been but a moment... [He drapes her in the cloak.] Perhaps it is best so. [She turns to the door.] You will come again soon?
Miss Fitton:
Soon. But I want to hear you laugh as you used to laugh and turn all things to humour and gaiety!
Shakespeare:
Come soon, and I will clown it—soon! [She goes, nodding to him from the door.] Soon.