And me of all I loved and left me desolate.
The Queen:
Ha! And you plead for him. Faugh! Even the cur snarls at those who beat him. Learn spirit from your dog!
Shakespeare:
Ah! madam, we learn sympathy from suffering, pity from pain!
The Queen:
[Wearily leaning back in her throne.] Do we? I don’t. [Pause.] I’m weary! You can go now, man; go, I say! [Shakespeare bows and moves towards the body of the hall; after a pause the Queen rises and takes Lord Burghley’s arm.] I’m weary—weary! [All bow; Queen goes out on Burghley’s arm.] Very weary!