The Player.
Someone....
Anne. Hast heard?
Why sure my Lord of Herbert.
Ay, Pembroke's son. But there I doubt,—I doubt.
He is an eagle will not stoop for less
Than kingly prey. No bird-lime takes him.
The Player. Herbert....
He hath shown many favors to us players.
Anne.
Ah, now I have you!
The Player. Surely, gracious madam;
My duty; ... what besides?
Anne. This face of yours.
'Twas in some play, belike. [Apart.] ... I took him for
A man it should advantage me to know!
And he's a proper man enough.... Ay me!
[When she speaks to him again it is with encouraging condescension.]
Surely you've been at Whitehall, Master Player?
The Player [bowing].
So.
Anne. And how oft? And when?