“Humph,” said she. “That seems little enough, my lord. Master Burbage here offers his life.”
Pembroke turned instantly to the tragedian, with his most courtier-like bow.
“Master Burbage does himself infinite honor,” he said. “I offer the half of my estate and he offers the whole of his, therefore is he twice the man that I am in the sight of heaven.”
“A well-turned speech, my lord,” said the Queen. She then fixed her sour smile upon Raleigh. “Tell me, Sir Walter,” she said, “what is the price you are prepared to pay for this foolish and wicked player’s ransom?”
The point-blank question was answered readily enough.
“The half of my fortune, your grace,” said Raleigh, “even as my Lord Pembroke.”
“But Master Burbage here,” said the Queen, acidly, “is prepared to pay the whole of his life.”
“Your grace,” said Raleigh with shining eyes, “Master Burbage is indeed a man happy in his valor and noble in the scope and compass of his nature. Our poet is fortunate in such a friend, yet such high constancy is not less than his deserts.”
This frank speech gave pause to the Queen. When the worst had been said of her, a robust commonsense remained the keystone of her character. These were men she was bound to respect. And to hear them express such unqualified opinions in regard to this play-actor had the effect in some degree of modifying her attitude. Besides, she herself believed the playwright to be a very remarkable man. But the combined testimony of such men as Pembroke and Raleigh made it clear that he was even more remarkable than she knew him to be.
“My Lord Burleigh,” she said abruptly, addressing Cecil, “let this man Shakespeare be brought to us. We will hear what defence he will venture of his froward conduct.”