THE LADY. You spoil your heaven with your million. You are
extravagant. Observe some measure in your speech.

THE MAN. You speak now as Ben does.

THE LADY. And who, pray, is Ben?

THE MAN. A learned bricklayer who thinks that the sky is at the top
of his ladder, and so takes it on him to rebuke me for flying. I tell
you there is no word yet coined and no melody yet sung that is
extravagant and majestical enough for the glory that lovely words can
reveal. It is heresy to deny it: have you not been taught that in
the beginning was the Word? that the Word was with God? nay, that the
Word was God?

THE LADY. Beware, fellow, how you presume to speak of holy things.
The Queen is the head of the Church.

THE MAN. You are the head of my Church when you speak as you did at
first. "All the perfumes of Arabia"! Can the Queen speak thus? They
say she playeth well upon the virginals. Let her play so to me; and
I'll kiss her hands. But until then, you are my Queen; and I'll kiss
those lips that have dropt music on my heart. _[He puts his arms
abont her]._

THE LADY. Unmeasured impudence! On your life, take your hands from
me.

_The Dark Lady comes stooping along the terrace behind them like a