[_Tartly._] Doctor Hall says father is very ill. JONSON: [_Holds out his hand._] Oh, I am sorry, too sorry. Our visit has done you harm. SHAKESPEARE: No need for grief. Our life is but a breath— A rack of smoke that at the topmost height Dislimns and fades away. JONSON: Not so, dear friend: the work remains. And of all men you should be content, for your work has already put you among the immortals. SHAKESPEARE: We are immortal only when we die; It is the dead who steer the living— JUDITH SHAKESPEARE: [_To Jonson._] Oh, please! you must not make him talk; it was the talk last night gave father the fever. Doctor Hall says talk excites him even more than wine. JONSON: Then we must go, Shakespeare, but I never thought we’d go so sadly. I can only hope now that the illness will be short and that you will soon be yourself again. [_Shakespeare droops and does not answer._ JUDITH SHAKESPEARE: I must get your medicine, father. [_She goes out._ SHAKESPEARE: [_Half wandering._] So she’s well and married. I’m glad! JONSON: Who? SHAKESPEARE: Mary—Mary Fitton. A great woman. DRAYTON: And beautiful! SHAKESPEARE: When she left me my hopes went down for ever. Strange! At first I didn’t suffer much; it’s the scratches hurt, not the death-wound; but as the years went on I suffered: it was always ill with me here about my heart— Yet I see now she was a wonderful piece of work—a great woman—she made me sound the depths. JONSON: And Pembroke? He didn’t touch you so nearly? SHAKESPEARE: No. His was the poison of daily life; the small, hard nature, the low betrayal. It was well to forget him. But she was too great to be forgotten. There was something immortal in her, and I loved her. JONSON: I wonder you did not kill them both. SHAKESPEARE: No, no, Jonson: that is your nature, your violent nature. We all must suffer through the best in us: the mother through her child; the lover through his love; the wise through his wisdom—these are the growing pains of our humanity. JUDITH SHAKESPEARE: [_Enters again with medicine in her hand._] Now, father, you must take this medicine. Sir [_to Drayton_], the doctor says that father must be kept very quiet. JONSON: [_Taking Shakespeare’s hand._] Then, Shakespeare, all good wishes and we go. Farewell, old friend, farewell. DRAYTON: [_Also taking Shakespeare’s hand._] Good-bye, dear friend, good-bye! I shall have news of you from my brother who passes this way next week, and will tell us in London how you do. Farewell. SHAKESPEARE: Farewell. Farewell! I thank you both for coming, and all your offices of friendship and your courtesy. Keep me in loving memory. DRAYTON: We shall, indeed! [_Exit._] JONSON: Always. Always. [_Going out he adds._] So long as this machine lasts. SCENE II. _His will is outspread now on the table by the bed._ JUDITH SHAKESPEARE: