We are
lost, you and I: nothing can separate us now.
THE DARK LADY. We shall see that, false lying hound, you and your
filthy trull. _[With two vigorous cuffs, she knocks the pair asunder,
sending the man, who is unlucky enough to receive a righthanded blow,
sprawling an the flags]._ Take that, both of you!
THE CLOAKED LADY. _[in towering wrath, throwing off her cloak and
turning in outraged majesty on her assailant]_ High treason!
THE DARK LADY. _[recognizing her and falling on her knees in abject
terror]_ Will: I am lost: I have struck the Queen.
THE MAN. _[sitting up as majestically as his ignominious posture
allows]_ Woman: you have struck WILLIAM SHAKESPEAR.
QUEEN ELIZABETH. _[stupent]_ Marry, come up!!! Struck William
Shakespear quotha! And who in the name of all the sluts and jades and
light-o'-loves and fly-by-nights that infest this palace of mine, may
William Shakespear be?
THE DARK LADY. Madam: he is but a player. Oh, I could have my hand
cut off--
QUEEN ELIZABETH. Belike you will, mistress. Have you bethought you
that I am like to have your head cut off as well?
THE DARK LADY.
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