b> Betsy, now's the time. Are you ready? BETSY (annoyed) Ready for what? CHRIS We must leave. Immediately. JOANNE (to Lionel) You're not a man, Lionel. You're a monster. LIONEL (to Chris) What the hell happened? You look like you just saw a ghost. BETSY I'm sorry, Chris. I'm not going anywhere. JOANNE (to Lionel) Take it all back. Everything you just said. CHRIS Betsy! LIONEL (to Chris) Listen, Chris.... Joanne slaps him across the face. LIONEL Ouch! BETSY (annoyed and feeling guilty) Mother, will you please behave yourself! This is a public place, for crying out loud! CHRIS Do you mean that?.... BETSY I'm sorry, Chris. I suppose I've betrayed you. LIONEL Chris, you must run, they're after you. CHRIS (to Betsy) What's the matter? Have I offended you? Betsy turns away impatiently. JOANNE (to Lionel) You stupid creep! LIONEL Chris, did you hear what I just said? Joanne makes another attempt to strike him. He catches her wrist and roars at her. Shut up! She is so astonished, she freezes and stares at him. He turns to Betsy. You too! Betsy draws back. The floor is his. He turns to Chris. Lord Warwick is on his way to France and beyond anyone's reach. They suspect you of high treason. Whether it was really you who warned him is unimportant. They want your head, and they'll get it unless you act now. Leave. Immediately. Stay off major highways. On your way to the Channel, don't speak to anyone. If anyone calls out to you, don't answer. Decline all offers to share a meal. Don't stop anywhere until you reach France. My regards to old Warwick. CHRIS (the truth dawns on him) You! LIONEL Yes. CHRIS But.... It seems to me, sir, that you're not doing anything different from what I did. You're betraying your trust. LIONEL I'm allowed. So would be Robert if he wished to let someone off the hook. Our rank is higher than yours, that's all. I can't stop them from chasing you. But I can tell you to take precautions. CHRIS Why can't you stop them? LIONEL Because the chase was ordered by the highest authority possible. CHRIS (desperate) No! The Great Bitch? LIONEL Yes. CHRIS I thought Robert bore me a grudge. LIONEL He does. But so does she, and her grudge seems to be even greater than his. And she knows how to bear grudges, believe me. The odds are against you. The sooner you clear out, the better. CHRIS Betsy.... LIONEL Forget it, Chris. Be a man. She never really loved you. BETSY (turns to him, furious) How dare you! Stage-right, enter William. WILLIAM Ah, Chris! Oh, look who's here.... Everybody. Betsy steps towards him quickly. BETSY Who was that woman? Is she gone? WILLIAM Oh. It's you. Yes. Er.... Chris?... BETSY Wait. What have you decided? WILLIAM About what? (to Chris) Look, I don't know whether it's going to improve or worsen anything, but I've spoken with someone about you.... Chris clutches his head and moans. CHRIS This is a nightmare. Wobbly, why are you involved in this? WILLIAM Me? I don't know that I'm particularly involved in anything.... I.... LIONEL He's not involved. At least not yet. Chris? CHRIS Yes? LIONEL There's one thing I'm sure of. So long as your friend here is around, no one will dare touch you. He's under special protection. I have to talk to this lady here. Let's meet at the inn after the performance. I'll give you all you'll need to make it safe to France. CHRIS Lionel.... LIONEL Please, take your friends someplace, have a snack, and come to the theatre. We'll be doing this pseudo-Greek nonsense tonight, you don't want to miss it, do you? Master William, I look forward to being directed by you. William is baffled, and Betsy overwhelmed. Chris is decided. He nods and leads his friends away. Lionel turns to Joanne. LIONEL Now, Duchess.... JOANNE Who are you, Lionel Collins? That's not your real name, is it? LIONEL What difference does it make? Now, make sure you don't breathe a word of what you've just heard here. Master William is a capable man, and he writes brilliant plays. JOANNE I see. It still comes down to the same thing. You don't need me anymore. LIONEL I didn't say that. JOANNE You meant it. LIONEL No. He smiles. Her eyes widen. She steps back. You know, Duchess, you shouldn't have slapped me so hard. Now my cheek will blow up to an absurd size. How am I suppose to act with a cheek the size of your buttock? JOANNE Lionel.... What are you doing? He steps towards her. He takes her by the shoulders. LIONEL We go on as usual. You'll still see me in all my shows, and we'll remain lovers for as long as you wish. JOANNE But.... Why? LIONEL I'm kind of fond of you, that's all. He runs his hand through her hair. JOANNE Now wait a minute.... I'm so confused all of a sudden. You're a member of the Secret Service, is that it? LIONEL No more and no less. JOANNE Acting is only a front. LIONEL I wouldn't put it that way. I adore acting, and I think I'm rather good at it. Don't you think I'm rather good at it? JOANNE You're magnificent at it. LIONEL Your understatements are beginning to annoy me, but fine, I'll accept magnificent. Anyway, why don't we go to your place and spend these few hours together? And then go to the theatre? JOANNE (suddenly smiling and inclining her head slyly) Suppose we're late for the performance? LIONEL (indignantly) Do you imagine they'll dare begin without me? She laughs. He smiles, kisses her on the lips. She returns the kiss. Curtain. Scene Two. A cheap sort of inn. A table in the middle, with chairs around it. On the table, a pitcher and three clay mugs. The Man In Black is sitting at the table, sipping ale from a large crude mug. Stage-left, enter Lionel, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. LIONEL Robert. What are you doing here? THE MAN IN BLACK Meditating. Are you done clowning? LIONEL Quite. They're still cheering like mad. Most of them are out-of-town merchants; never saw a theatrical performance before. The piece is sheer nonsense. Takes more than that to lure the average Londoner into the place. This will change when the new owner assumes his duties. He hasn't been told yet, poor devil. He sits down, pours himself a mugful from the pitcher. THE MAN IN BLACK Was the Queen present? LIONEL Yes. THE MAN IN BLACK Did you speak with her? LIONEL Yes, and she promised to recompense you for whatever loss you think you've suffered because of your uncle. THE MAN IN BLACK (rising) Well, I'd better go. By the way, are you going to dump your Duchess? A pause. LIONEL Why does this interest you? THE MAN IN BLACK Now that my uncle is gone, she can no longer be of any use to us. LIONEL (smiling) I see. You know, this constant urge you have to do your uncle one better is an intolerable bore. Why is it that you absolutely must succeed where he has failed? Why don't you try acting or playwrighting instead? THE MAN IN BLACK You're keeping her, then? LIONEL I can't very well do that; the lady's married. A pause. THE MAN IN BLACK (fraternizing) Well, if the husband is the only obstacle, why not do away with him? A pause. LIONEL (nonchalantly) My dear Robert, what a low-born creature like yourself may deem appropriate is not always so for a man of my birth and position. (sternly) Please stop meddling in my affairs. (casually) I'm expecting some friends. Would you mind very much if I asked you to leave? THE MAN IN BLACK (furious, humiliated; almost whispers) Yes, Duke. Lionel smiles contemptuously. The Man In Black turns around and exits stage-left. Lionel sips from his mug. Off-stage, loud merriment. Enter Chris and William. Chris is carrying a guitar; he is slightly drunk. They are followed in by Betsy who is laughing. CHRIS What a piece! The author must be a genius. Don't you think he's a genius? Wobbly? WILLIAM (frowning) How did that line go? (suddenly giggles) CHRIS Oh, I don't know. Hi, Lionel. Let me see. Oh my most beautiful bodacious mermaid! I, standing on my gouty knees before you.... Wobbly? WILLIAM Declare that you must soon accept my offer Of marriage, otherwise I'll puke profusely. CHRIS Accept, o gorgeous, all I have to offer.... WILLIAM My castle, land, myself and my six inches.... CHRIS Or else I'm liable loudly to fart. Both laugh. Betsy, blushing, is trying not to. Lionel smiles. LIONEL Nice instrument. CHRIS A real Spanish guitar, man! Just bought it off a Spanish journeyman. Boy, do those Castilians smell! Listen, I haven't played in ages. In fact, I don't remember playing since my last trip to Spain. Seven years ago! Get that shit off the table, or I'll spill it. Lionel removes the pitcher, placing it on the floor. Chris sits on the edge of the table. William sits in one of the chairs, Betsy stands next to it. Chris tries the strings. A bit out of tune. Let me see. He tries a few chords, satisfying himself that he still can. Now, listen to this. Ahem. The Ballad Of An Author Making Up His Mind. Now, I want everyone's attention here. WILLIAM Just don't fall over. CHRIS Never fear, old man! Listen, all. (sings, accompanying himself on the guitar) I have two girls who run my show, And Bill has none. Bess was born high and Joe Anne low, And both are fun, Yet Billy claims a lighter load Is easier packed: His Mary Jane minds his abode But not his act. Where Bess is subtle and astute, Joe Anne is straight. Yet they share traits which, saint or brute, One learns to hate: Their merits differ but, alas, Their faults concur; For each time Bess falls on her ass, Joe Anne must err. My name is Chris, and I know this (And you'll agree): Though I can't say that Billy's way Appeals to me, Scorned by Joe Anne and vilified By haughty Bess, One day I might give it a try Nevertheless. He plays a few chords, stops. He jumps off the table and, turning around, bows to his audience. William and Lionel applaud. Betsy is pensive. WILLIAM I've always said you're ore of a minstrel than a playwright. Good song, though. CHRIS Your problem, Wobbly, is that you're not at all musical. A typical Englishman is not supposed to be musical, in fact. William shrugs, smiles crookedly. Suddenly, he remembers. WILLIAM By the way, Lionel, permit me to.... LIONEL No need, sir. The play was lousy. I don't like congratulations that sound like, well, commiserations. Now, Chris. Lionel reaches into his pocket and produces a bundle of scrolls. Here are some maps and instructions. All easy to follow. CHRIS (sobering up) Thank you. He takes the bundle, twirls it in his hands pensively, stuffs it in his pocket and becomes morose. LIONEL France is as good a place as any, I suppose. WILLIAM (frowning at Chris) France? You are going there, after all? CHRIS Yes. I need a vacation. Such is my opinion, and also, I hope, that of my close friends and relatives. Listen, Wobbly, you take care of yourself, all right? And especially of her. BETSY Now, Chris!... CHRIS Do not interrupt me, Betsy. Whatever may happen to you, Wobbly, don't ever think that you can start all over again. Clean slate my ass. Writers do not earn bad reputations, they are born with them. No one will ever trust you or take you seriously. Except her. Funny, but she has that quality. She's the real thing, Wobbly. When I found out, it was too late. I met her too early, when she was still unformed, an affected little Philistine with crazy ideas and ugly teeth; full of complexes. From start to finish, our affair was one unending caprice. And listen, man, I.... never really liked you, but.... Ah, shit, I need a drink. Enter De Maisse. DE MAISSE Good evening, gentlemen. My lady, your servant. Now, is Master William here by any chance? CHRIS I'm tired of this fellow. WILLIAM Now, Chris, let me clarify a few things for you. First, I haven't the slightest intention.... DE MAISSE Now, Her Majesty, in order to express her extreme appreciation of your works, sir, would like to offer you a present. CHRIS Good for her. To me, she only offered a past. DE MAISSE (producing a scroll) This document is to confirm that as of today, you are the owner of the Blackfriars theatre. Her Majesty would like you to come with me immediately to claim it. Please. Betsy opens her mouth. Lionel smiles. Chris frowns. WILLIAM I see. Thank you. (accepts the scroll absentmindedly) Now, Chris, the important thing is, I think I could persuade Her Majesty.... CHRIS Wobbly.... WILLIAM She could still pardon you. De Maisse is astonished. Chris shakes his head. CHRIS The Great Bitch? Not in a thousand years, Wobbly. These capricious broads, once they get past a certain age, are so vindictive and vain they'll sell their mother to the devil to see you cringe. DE MAISSE Master William.... WILLIAM Just a minute. Now, Chris, you don't understand.... LIONEL Master William, I think you should thank the gentleman who brought you the good news. WILLIAM Yeah, all right.... BETSY I think.... CHRIS Forget it, Wobbly. Just thank this faggot here and go meet your destiny. Whatever you do, though, keep your gratitude to yourself. Don't waste it on the Great Bitch, she's not worth it. WILLIAM Chris, you'll be pardoned before long. As a matter of fact.... CHRIS Pardoned. What am I guilty of? WILLIAM You'll see, Chris. The Queen likes you. She'll tell you so herself, you'll see. Even tonight. In writing. (to De Maisse) Sir, I'm ready. De Maisse shrugs, leads the way. He and William exit stage-left. Betsy looks after them. Chris looks at her, smiling ruefully. CHRIS Well? BETSY Chris, you're a wonderful person.... CHRIS Please. Don't. You want to be with him? Go. Go, Betsy. She hesitates, looks at Lionel. Lionel smiles and nods. She rises reluctantly. Suddenly, she dashes out. LIONEL Curious fellow. CHRIS Who? LIONEL Master William. Anyway, why don't you explain to me why you had to warn old Warwick? Is he a good person? CHRIS Warwick? The man's the meanest son of a bitch I ever met. LIONEL Was it gratitude, then? CHRIS Gratitude? LIONEL I believe he financed one of your publications once. CHRIS That was part of the bargain. He was going to seduce some duchess or other; he asked me to write him a sonnet for her, so that he could send it to her as his own. Which I did, but only after I made sure the press was already running. Warwick is stingy as hell, and the last person one can trust. Not what you'd call a charitable person. LIONEL Do you remember the sonnet? CHRIS Some of it. LIONEL How did it go? CHRIS Oh, who cares. ....I used Wobbly's favorite rhyme scheme. A bit boring, but serves the purpose well. LIONEL So why did you have to go and warn Warwick? CHRIS Lionel, what's the matter with you? It was in my power to save him, so I just went ahead and did it. How difficult is this to understand? A pause. LIONEL I see. Well, I have news for you. He reaches into his pocket and produces a scroll. He throws it nonchalantly on the table. Chris looks askance at him. Break the seal and read it. It's for you. Chris does so. He squints, holds the scroll close to his face. He sets it down on the table, wipes his forehead, brings the scroll close to his face again. You're nearsighted, aren't you? CHRIS This says that the Queen grants me her pardon. LIONEL That's correct. CHRIS I am forgiven, then? LIONEL Unless some new evidence turns up, you're free to do whatever you like. They've made an exception for you. You may consider yourself a member of the Secret Service no longer. Chris rises. He is very pale. The hand which is holding the manuscript is shaking. He steadies it by pressing the scroll to his chest. CHRIS I can't believe this. LIONEL There will be no new evidence, I trust. Or am I wrong? Chris is about to say something. He inhales deeply and holds his tongue. If I were you, I'd still go abroad for a while. Let this whole Warwick business blow over and settle. Make sure you come back with at least three new plays, and make sure there are major parts for me in all three of them. Chris smiles faintly. CHRIS I can't fucking believe this.... I.... How come you're an actor, Lionel? LIONEL (laughs) You should know these things, Chris. You're a writer. Man shall always seek that which he does not possess. How come you're a nobleman? CHRIS I? LIONEL Yes, the son of a shoemaker. The Service. That's why you joined in the first place. You knew that sooner or later your plays would be produced. But nobility papers - no fame and no money could buy you that. The Service granted you your little title; it granted me the opportunity to do that which I adore doing. A duke cannot possibly join a theatre company without making a laughingstock of himself. But a Service man can become anything on earth, and everyone minds his own business in the meantime. We were both stuck for a while. On your part, you have somehow found your way out. Myself, I'm pretty much doomed. But I have what I want. I'm an actor. He rises. Chris sits. I'm going to join the festivities. Your friend is being crowned the king of clowns. I'd advise you not to appear there now. Leave. Just pick up and go. You'll get all the money you want from Warwick. See you in three years, son of a shoemaker. He leaves quickly stage-left. Chris bends over the table, clutches his head. A pause. Stage-right, enter the Man In Black. THE MAN IN BLACK Christopher. Chris shudders, stares in front of himself. The time of reckoning has come. Don't move. He goes around the table and sits beside Chris. CHRIS I have Her Majesty's pardon. THE MAN IN BLACK You have my permission to shove it up your ass. Go ahead, I'll wait. No? Well. A friend of yours has been arrested. CHRIS What friend? THE MAN IN BLACK His surname is Kyd. Also a playwright of sorts. Chris stares. It seems, from the evidence he has provided, that my dear old uncle wasn't the first person who escaped justice thanks to your - how should I put it? - endeavors. CHRIS You tortured him! THE MAN IN BLACK The Kyd person? Sure. You wouldn't believe how little it takes to push a human being past his natural limits. The Great Inquisitor has nothing on us, trust me. It seems, Christopher, that it's almost a passion with you to save lives. What are you trying to do, gain a free passage to Paradise? I would have expected a better taste from a man of letters in fact. You don't discriminate. I've looked over the list of criminals wondering at large thanks to your efforts. Goodness gracious! Dukes and peasants, peers and commoners, state treasury embezzlers and horse-thieves, Jews converted and otherwise, protestants, Catholics, baronesses and prostitutes, a vagabond Spanish fiddler, an Italian prince. Mere seven years! Awesome. A pause. The Man In Black's gaze becomes reflective. At first, I thought of presenting the Queen with the list, just to show her whom it was she was pardoning. Then I thought better of it. Women are capricious, you know. She might pardon you again. We can't have that now, can we? He slaps Chris across the face. The blow is hard enough to take Chris out of the chair. He staggers but remains on his feet. The Man In Black rises heavily and faces Chris. I'm off to France. I can't entrust this business to anyone else. My dear old uncle must die. But I couldn't bear the thought of leaving without settling the score with you, Christopher. Do you have any idea how much humiliation your charity has caused me? He slaps Chris again. Chris backs away. The Man In Black catches him by the neck and holds him in front of himself at his arm's length. Vagabond players talking back to me! I could have been duke two months ago! He shoves Chris on the floor. He kicks him. Chris crawls away from him. My uncle married the girl I loved. Fine! Let him keep it. I proposed to another girl. I didn't love her. But she was of high birth, and her father had millions. I was refused by her father, whose wife my uncle was trying to seduce at the moment! She said I wasn't sufficiently well-bred! CHRIS Betsy. THE MAN IN BLACK Yes. Betsy. Lionel sleeps with her mother. Suddenly I found out that you, of all people, are the daughter's lover! CHRIS Wait a minute! THE MAN IN BLACK Shut up! His kick misses. Chris manages to crawl away in time. Now he rises, holding his side. CHRIS You're not marrying Betsy. THE MAN IN BLACK If he refuses me a second time, when I'm a duke, I'll just do away with him. I'm sick and tired of all these little warms of no consequence with handles to their names! And I'm tired of you, Christopher. He draws his sword. Chris jumps back. Don't run away from me, Chris. You know it's useless. Chris draws his own sword and throws himself clumsily on guard. The Man In Black laughs. You wish to do some fencing, I see. CHRIS You are not marrying Betsy, Robert. THE MAN IN BLACK Put that sword away, Christopher. You know you can't fence. He lunges forward. Chris backs away in a circular manner, swinging his sword wildly. The Man In Black chuckles and presses. It is evident that he is only playing with Chris. An ominous smile is on his lips. They go around the table. Chris tries to pull the chair between them. The Man In Black kicks the chair away. He makes a thrust. Chris jumps back, swinging his sword. Curtain. Scene three. The plaza in front of the Blackfriars. Lit torches. The Woman In Black, now brilliantly attired in light colors and without a mask, is at last frankly and unmistakably the Queen. She is chatting pleasantly with De Maisse. THE QUEEN I assure you, my dear Monsieur De Maisse, there's nothing unusual about it. It is simply one of our traditions. Women do not become players in this country - simple as that. DE MAISSE But surely this doesn't strike anyone as strange? Any country has a number of conventions; and the French are no better than anyone else, I suppose. But this! I mean, people must feel that something is wrong. Unless, of course, there aren't many theatre goers here. THE QUEEN Most Londoners are theatre goers. Our national pastime, you know. DE MAISSE Well, I'm sorry, Your Majesty. It's just.... Unnatural! I just can't believe that they all take it as a matter of course, especially the women. THE QUEEN Sure they do. You may ask anyone. There's someone coming - ask her. Stage-right, enter Anne. She intends to pass by them when De Maisse stops her. DE MAISSE My dear girl. Anne who, at her age, is not used to be addressed in this fashion, stops and turns slowly, a faint smile playing on her lips. ANNE I'm sorry. Did you just call me your dear girl? DE MAISSE Well, yes. Anne laughs. The Queen smiles. De Maisse, refusing to see the joke, frowns and fingers his moustache. ANNE Well? DE MAISSE Doesn't it strike you as very odd that only men are employed by theatre companies? Anne has to think about this. The Queen looks triumphantly at De Maisse. ANNE What do you mean exactly, sir? DE MAISSE Well, you know. Men playing female parts. Don't you find that strange? ANNE Oh. But that's just one of the conventions. That's how theatre is. You aren't from around here, are you? She seems to be amused if not outright patronizing. DE MAISSE No. I'm sorry. I press my question. The particular convention of having men play female parts; you don't find anything wrong with it? ANNE Well, from the purely logical point of you, there's plenty wrong with it. But theatre is neither logical nor pure. For instance.... Well, have you ever been to a theatre? DE MAISSE Yes. ANNE Well, then. For instance, there's always the boy who runs out between the scenes carrying a sign. It says on the sign where the next bit of action is going to take place. Like, it's a forest, or a castle, or riverbank, as the case might be. But the stage is still the stage. You don't actually see the forest, or the castle, just imagine that they're there. Or, if you actually listen to what the players say - it's all blank verse. People don't speak like that. Yet it's taken for granted that characters in plays all speak like that. Same with the rest. Theatre is an art form, and like any other art form, it must have its boundaries and, well, conventions. Take one away, and it won't be theatre anymore. See what I mean? The Queen is so impressed by Anne's soundness of judgement and sense of logic that she draws forth and says, THE QUEEN My dear, you seem to know a great deal about theatre. ANNE Well, I've been married to a playwright for quite a while now, so I guess I ought to know a thing or two. DE MAISSE Oh! We'd better ask someone else, then. You're naturally too partial. THE QUEEN And is your husband a good playwright, dear? ANNE I think he's rather good. Nothing grand, you understand, but fairly good. THE QUEEN Is he famous? ANNE (frowns) Famous? How can a playwright be famous? THE QUEEN Well, certainly Aristophanes is famous? ANNE Oh, but that's classics. Aristophanes died more than a thousand years ago, didn't he? THE QUEEN What is your name, dear? ANNE Anne, Madam. THE QUEEN Your surname? DE MAISSE Madam, the Duchess. THE QUEEN Oh. Enter Joanne. JOANNE Madam.... THE QUEEN Good evening, Duchess. Are you here for the festivities? JOANNE Festivities? DE MAISSE Her Majesty has been generous enough to pay for the little carnival tonight, celebrating the new owner's ascent. Masks will be worn and scenes from various plays will be recited. ANNE Ah! There's a new owner, then? JOANNE I'm not feeling well, Your.... THE QUEEN Stay, Duchess. A friend of yours will no doubt wish to take part in the festivities, especially in the recital part. DE MAISSE Oh, yes, Duchess. It's going to be most amusing. Enter Lionel and Betsy. LIONEL (sonorously) Ladies and gentlemen! Permit me to introduce a new member of Lord Chamberlain's Men, Thomas Carlyle. The Queen inclines her head. Anne looks with interest. Joanne nearly faints. De Maisse rushes to her side and helps her remain on her feet. DE MAISSE Something has happened to the good Duchess. Duchess? JOANNE Lionel! LIONEL I give you my word of honor, Madam. It's perfectly all right. JOANNE Thomas Carlyle! BETSY I.... LIONEL (quickly to Betsy) Go ahead. Betsy strikes a pose. The rest of them form a semi-circle to the left of her, with De Maisse still assisting Joanne. BETSY O beautiful Adonis, come, my love, My idol who has robbed me of my peace, You are that which I have been dreaming of, My gift divine and rare, my sweet caprice. LIONEL The passion of this captivating creature Is irresistible; no man could bear Waiting a moment longer; every feature In her speaks of delight and tender care. BETSY If this be lust.... She stops, seeing William enter stage-right. Lionel turns around, sees him two. LIONEL Ah. It would be only fair if we let the new owner open the festivities. Your Majesty.... THE QUEEN Duke. Please. LIONEL I'm sorry. ANNE William. She crosses over to him. Betsy makes a movement, Lionel holds her hand. WILLIAM Er.... Why is everyone looking at me? ANNE I'm afraid to think this. (looks over her shoulder at the others) I.... No. Hear for yourself, whatever it may be. LIONEL My dear Master William, Her Majesty is good enough to make you a present of that little hut over there, current residents included. In addition, I myself congratulate you most sincerely and hope that you still remember your promise to accept me as a member of your company. WILLIAM Yes. I mean, thank you. ANNE (quietly) Oh, William. Go and thank the Queen. WILLIAM Anne.... Betsy twists herself free and runs over to William. BETSY Master William, you must go and thank the Queen. ANNE (through her teeth) Are you his mistress? BETSY Whose? WILLIAM Thank the Queen. Yes. All right. Anne, get a grip. Look at her, she's merely a child. ANNE (skeptically yet hopefully) You don't have a mistress, then? BETSY Master William! Madam, let him go and thank the Queen first. You may always figure out the rest later. WILLIAM (irritably) Of course I have a mistress. I thought we'd established that. Anne closes her eyes, opens them, and pushes William towards the Queen almost violently. William crosses the stage, stops in front of the Queen, bows. Your Majesty.... I was just thinking. I'm very grateful, of course. Thanks a lot. I mean, real nice of you and all. But, you see.... a friend of mine is in danger. The Queen makes an impatient gesture. De Maisse looks at her, than at William. He seems to be amused. Enter Chris dragging the corpse of the Man In Black. He crosses to center stage, drops the corpse, wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. CHRIS Good evening, all. I hope I'm not too late. Ah, you haven't started yet. Good. General consternation. WILLIAM Chris.... CHRIS Yeah, Wobbly man, this is, like, grand, right? You were about to thank Her Majesty for everything she's done for you. Go ahead. Don't mind me. You were just going to speak of gratitude and beauty and all. Beauty. We're still pagans in this country. We worship beauty out of context. Lionel makes a step towards Chris. De Maisse and the Queen remain standing, curious as to what is going to happen next. Betsy is frightened. William is trying to rationalize what it is that is going on. CHRIS (to Lionel) Don't come near me, actor. BETSY Chris! CHRIS Ah, Betsy. You alone can sense it. Good girl. Not even Wobbly, with all his insight and talent and what all else can figure this simple truth out. Eh, Wobbly? THE QUEEN De Maisse, please go and round up the first guard squad you can find, and bring them here. DE MAISSE Your Majesty.... CHRIS No need, Madam. Think I'm going to escape? Betsy begins to cry. LIONEL Betsy. It's all right. Now, Chris.... JOANNE I always knew he was a troublemaker. Chris straightens up and throws her a flaming glance. CHRIS Did you ever, Madam! How very observant of you. Yet the fact that I was also a playwright failed to draw your attention altogether. Strange, isn't it? For three years, your theatre company performed a play of mine. It never occurred to you that its author was head over heels in love with your daughter. Betsy covers her face. Shut up, Betsy. BETSY Oh, Chris! CHRIS (drawing his sword) We serve the Great Bitch! William steps towards him, says quietly, WILLIAM Chris, come with me. We'll figure out a way to get you to France. CHRIS (laughs) France? Wobbly, don't be naive. Once the Great Bitch is angry with you, it's curtains. My only regret is that I must now die a murderer. I didn't want to kill him! I don't even know how to fence. He came to kill me. So that he could.... He looks at Betsy, falls silent. WILLIAM Chris.... CHRIS No false generosity, Wobbly. I have less than an hour to live. Let them call the guards, let them sentence me to torture. Ah, this is freedom at last. They don't have time to do anything to me. WILLIAM (quietly) Chris, you're mad. This is suicide. Shut up. CHRIS Wobbly, please come to grips with this. There are all kinds of people in the Secret Service. Commoners and dukes. Shepherds and their masters. But they all have one thing in common. Their blades are poisoned. Brave Robert here made a beautiful thrust. Except he forgot that I couldn't fence. I slipped, fell to one knee, closed my eyes. He pinned himself on my sword. But he touched me. He touched me! (smiles) A mere scratch, Wobbly, but, since the blade was poisoned, I'm soon to follow him. Sweet, isn't it? Why don't you use it in a play, Wobbly. I give you my permission. He falls to one knee, clutches his chest. He drops his sword. ANNE Poor man. She walks over to him. He looks up at her, smiles. She takes out a handkerchief and wants to wipe his forehead. He rises with an effort, stops her. CHRIS I was afraid, Madam, that your husband here was going to commit a terrible mistake. You see, that's what we authors usually do in this kind of situation. People laugh at us and kick us when we're down, and starve us, and break up our families. Then, suddenly, someone takes pity on the poor bastard and - lo and behold! a genius is among us! When this happens, we forget everything; we're so overwhelmed, we pour out gratitude right and left. Artists tend to be over-generous with their gratitude. They have so much to give, you see. Before they know it, they start making promises. I know I did. Betsy! BETSY Chris! She rushes to him at last, but he looks over her head at the Queen. CHRIS Not you. He walks over unsteadily. He looks the Queen in the eye, smiles. Your body is still so young. Graceful as ever. But you should never remove that mask you're so fond of wearing. Your face betrays you. There are few vices that aren't written in it. It startled me nine years ago. It startles me still. He turns to Joanne. She backs away from him. Stop. We're never what we'd like ourselves to be. Duchess - remember, three years ago, you tried to seduce me? JOANNE (pleading to everyone) This is absurd! CHRIS I wouldn't have minded much. Except I had just met your daughter. I, who used to laugh at virtue, who always posed as a lady-killer, a bold seducer, discovered that I was hopelessly monogamous. Funny, isn't it? He turns to Lionel who is looking at Joanne in astonishment. Remember, I told you.... Lionel, pay attention. Remember, when you officially recruited me, I told you that writing was just a hobby for me? Some hobby. LIONEL You have no right to blame me. I offered you an alternative only an hour ago. CHRIS Yeah, and then I decided to get myself killed. Just to keep the element of surprise on my side. He walks over to William. Wobbly, I once told you I disliked you a great deal. Well, you're the only friend I ever had. WILLIAM Chris, I.... CHRIS Stick to playwriting. That's your true vocation. Your sonnets suck. He goes into the foreground, faces the audience. Finally, I, mocker, pagan, discovered that I had faith. I, who used to disdain mankind found myself making love to it, all of it at once. I, atheist and sinner, turned to God when they were dancing around their pagan bonfire. Betsy.... The Queen makes a movement. Chris almost laughs and then almo