The Painter.
Too late. You offered me love's pay as you would throw a gold piece
into the cap of a beggar crouching in the street, and if I, thrilled
now by hot desire, employ the only moment of life which commits you
into my hands, I will not have you play with me any longer. I will, and
you--you--must--before this throne our alliance is ratified. Take away
the hand. That, others may kiss, but I, Queen, will have the mouth. I
will----
_FIFTH SCENE_.