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THE PRINCE.
Be off!–What is it you say?

The Queen stands still, with her hands over her face.

THE SAILOR.
The ship is ready.

THE PRINCE.
Go!

The sailor walks away.

THE QUEEN.
( looking after him )

A word, and you have forgotten me already.
A moment ago I thought you loved me. Now I am nothing to you.

THE PRINCE.
The ship–

THE QUEEN.
It is ready to sail.
They are waiting for you. Why do you not go?

THE PRINCE.
I am sorry. But it is as you say. The ship is ready to sail. I must go.

THE QUEEN.
Go quickly.

THE PRINCE.
Farewell, then.

THE QUEEN.
No, stay.

( She throws herself at his feet, and clasps his knees.)

See, I beg you to stay. I have no shame left. I beg you. Stay even though you despise me. Stay even though you hate me. I do not care. I will be your slave, your bondwoman. I cannot let you go.

She puts her head in her hands, and weeps.

THE PRINCE.
( looking down at her )

I am sorry.

( After a pause )
Farewell.

He touches her lightly on the shoulder, and, looking toward

the sea, leaves her. She rises, and watches him with a stony

face until he goes.

The fool enters.

THE QUEEN.
Are you drunken, fool, as I bade you be?

THE FOOL.
I am drunken, yes, but not with wine.
I am drunken with bitterness. With the bitterness of love.

THE QUEEN.
Of love, fool?

THE FOOL.
With the bitterness of love. It will amuse you,
and so I will tell you what I mean. It is you that I love.

THE QUEEN.
Life grows almost interesting once more.
But are you not afraid that I will have you whipped?

THE FOOL.
You would have had me whipped a week ago if
I had told you this. But now you will not.
Now you know what it is to love. . . .

THE QUEEN.
My secrets are on a fool’s tongue. But what does it matter? Go on.

THE FOOL.
Why did I try to keep the man you love from going away? In the hope that one day I should see you kissing him in the garden, and thus I would be spared the trouble of killing myself. In a word, I am a fool. But I have tried to help you. Why did you not keep him?

THE QUEEN.
I have been asking that question of my own heart, fool. I would that I had not come to him a virgin and a Queen, but a light woman skilled in all the ways of love. Then perhaps I could have held him. But now he is gone, and the world is black.

THE FOOL.
It is not the world, it is your heart that is black.
And it is black with hatred. . . .

THE QUEEN.
I think you understand, fool. I would set fire to this palace which the King my father built, I would burn it down tonight, save that it would not make light enough to take away the blackness from my heart.