But from one
seated in the Royal Presence much is expected; and so it is in a tone of
sprightly expectancy that his Royal Mistress now prompts him to his task
of entertaining her_.)
QUEEN. Well? And how is everything?
LORD B. (_rousing himself with an effort_). Oh! Pardon! Your Majesty
would have me speak on politics, and affairs of State? I was rapt away for
the moment.
QUEEN. Do not be in any hurry, dear Prime Minister.
LORD B. Ah! That word from an indulgent Mistress spurs me freshly to my
task. But, Madam, there is almost nothing to tell: politics, like the rest
of us, have been taking holiday.
QUEEN. I thought that Mr. Gladstone had been speaking.
LORD B. (_with an airy flourish of courtly disdain_). Oh, yes! He has
been--speaking.
QUEEN. In Edinburgh, quite lately.
LORD B. And in more other places than I can count. Speaking--speaking--
speaking. But I have to confess, Madam, that I have not read his speeches.
They are composed for brains which can find more leisure than yours,
Madam--or mine.
QUEEN. I have read some of them.
LORD B. Your Majesty does him great honour--and yourself some
inconvenience, I fear. Those speeches, so great a strain to understand, or
even to listen to--my hard duty for now some forty years--are a far
greater strain to read.
QUEEN. They annoy me intensely. I have no patience with him!
LORD B. Pardon me, Madam; if you have read _one_ of his speeches,
your patience has been extraordinary.
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