Never yet did I hear such words.
The Painter.
When did you ever bow yourself to force? When did passion build you a throne on the ruins of the universe, the only throne to win which is more than an idle pastime, on which in splendid grandeur, instead of all the queens, sits Woman! And if a drone playing in colours ever indeed won a smile from you, take from me but your crown, for I, oh Queen, am--a man!
The Queen.
(Shrinking back to the throne.) Enough, I should not listen to you any longer.
The Painter.
You must. You have so willed it.
The Queen.
I will beg you, sir, I will conjure you.
The Painter.