‘A Lady, whose name is Robinson, made her first appearance at this theatre, in the character of Juliet. Her person is genteel; her voice harmonious and ... her features ... are striking and expressive.’ This was The Morning Post’s impression of Mary Robinson’s stage debut. She was briefly an actress but was persuaded to give up her career to become all too briefly a royal mistress of the young George IV. At times their relationship reads like a farce and Mary – Perdita to George’s Florizel - was justifiably furious when she was dumped and denied a decent pension. Then she was mistress of various milords until she met the wicked ruthless Banastre Tarleton who was a bit rubbish as a human but gosh he made a gorgeous painting for Sir Joshua Reynolds. Then she transformed herself into an amazing, interesting and innovative poet – ‘the English Sappho’ – novelist and journalist. Walsingham (1797) has a plot twist that would make tabloid headlines spin. She dined with William Godwin, corresponded with Mary Wollstonecraft and haunted Coleridge’s imagination. From disaster Mary Robinson created her own happier ending and one that did not include rescue by a feckless prince charming. If things had gone differently perhaps she would have lived a dull and affluent life like Mrs Maria Fitzherbert, after she too was cast off by George IV. But would Robinson have exchanged deadlines and intellectual conversation for tea, cards and seaside retirement? As Gristwood reveals, her answer would have been almost certainly not.