Shakespeare bent his knee and presented a small roll of paper to the Queen, which she received graciously, and after glancing at it, "'tis well," she said, "we will, good William, be present." She then gave the poet her hand to kiss and passed through the door.
As Shakespeare rose from his knee he was immediately accosted and congratulated by the Earls of Essex and Southampton, whilst many others of the Court came about him.
Sir Thomas Lucy, meanwhile, continued to exhibit the utmost astonishment. The countenance of the poet he could hardly mistake. The name, too, he had caught the sound of, and in the person of one apparently on the most familiar terms with the grandees of Elizabeth's court, nay, one who was received with favour by the haughty Tudor herself, he saw the individual who had broke his park, stolen his deer, and decamped to avoid punishment for his offence.
Whilst, therefore, Shakespeare stood amidst the glittering throng, Sir Thomas still continued rapt in astonishment. Proud as he himself was, he felt (in common with all country squires), that removed from his own little domain, and transplanted into the wondrous world of fashion of London, he was but a "cypher in the great accompt." But a small mite indeed, helping to swell the grandeur of the court.
"A substitute shines brightly as a king
Until a king be by, and then his state
Empties itself (as doth an inland brook,)
Into the main of waters."
"A parliament member," he muttered to himself, as the lampoon kept recurring to his mind, and as he watched the courtiers, so interested and so joyous, whilst in the influence of Shakespeare's wit. "It must be him—I am sure it's him—I know it's him—A justice of peace," he muttered: "at home a poor scarecrow. And on such terms here at court too! In London an ass," he continued, as he approached somewhat nearer, and took a more keen survey of the unconscious poet. "Yes, it is him sure enough; and yet—I'll make bold to make sure," and Sir Thomas accosted Sir Christopher Hatton, and inquired somewhat tartly, the name of the gentleman who seemed to keep the Lords Essex, Bacon, Leicester, and Sir Walter Raleigh, in such exceeding mirth.
"His name?" said Hatton, who was himself hastening to the feast of wit, "Why, it's our Shakespeare, man—The gentle Will—Knowest thou not Will Shakespeare, the very element of wit and pleasantry?"
"Shakespeare!" said Sir Thomas. "Shakespeare! Thank you. Sir Christopher. Shakespeare! the element of wit and pleasantry! And what may be the present calling of this element of whit?" he inquired.
"His calling; why, he's an actor, Sir Thomas—a poet, and a right good one. A player, sir, and a writer of plays; one, too, who keeps us amused.