What can I say? What can I do? SHAKESPEARE: Nothing: I must go. [_Turns to the door._] You have your deeds to live with. [_Exit Shakespeare._] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ACT IV ------------------------------------------------------------------------ SCENE I. _In the “Mitre” Tavern._ SHAKESPEARE: [_To Ben Jonson, whom he finds sitting._] Good morning, Ben. Has Burbage left? JONSON: He’s gone to the theatre; he will be back, anon. You’re all to go to Court, he says. Do you play? SHAKESPEARE: [_Indifferently._] I don’t know: I hope not. [_Drawer enters and gives Shakespeare a letter._] Will you forgive me? JONSON: [_Shakespeare reads._] I’ll wager that’s from Chettle, asking you to pay his reckoning. [_Shakespeare nods._] But you won’t do it. No one deserves help less. SHAKESPEARE: Those who deserve it least, Ben, often need it most. JONSON: Need! He is all needs; he but uses you—shamelessly. SHAKESPEARE: [_Looking at the letter and smiling._] He signs himself “the old roisterer who won’t trouble you long.” JONSON: “The old roisterer” at your expense. SHAKESPEARE: I owe him what money can never pay [_takes out his purse_] his jokes and humoured laughter. He warms me with his hot love of life, and living. [_Gives Drawer gold; exit Drawer._ JONSON: I’ve no patience with you. You play prince-fool with everyone and you’ll suffer for it yet. SHAKESPEARE: Prince-fool, indeed. Which is the better title, I wonder:—prince or fool? [_Shakespeare goes to window; opens lattice and looks out._] Hush; hark! [_Opens the door, listens; shuts it again._] Curse her! JONSON: Be careful of your money, man, and the world will let you play both parts at will. SHAKESPEARE: Money! What is money to me? [_Returning into the room again and moving about and then going to the casement._] JONSON: Everything, Will, shield and sword; back and front piece. [_Shakespeare turns round listening._] You are love’s plaything, Will. SHAKESPEARE: [_Stopping in front of him._] Love lives on love, Ben; the less she gives me the less I crave. When I saw her every day it was too little, and now I see her twice a month, I’m no longer her slave. ’Tis not worth while to befool oneself for so little. JONSON: [_Shrugging his shoulders._] H’m. You’re not cured yet! SHAKESPEARE: Hush! [_Hastens to door and listens, opens it;_ _drops his hands in despair, shuts it again, turns into the room._] Damn her! JONSON: Love, you know—— SHAKESPEARE: