[_With graceful gesture._] Most excellent in invention, liberal in conceit. The Jew a gem, a gem, I say—a balass ruby of rich Orient blood! DEKKER: Pretty, perhaps, but tedious! Tedious—as a rival’s praise, eh, Chapman? SOUTHAMPTON: Ah, Master Burbage, you outdid yourself as Shylock. When you sharpened the knife, we all shivered. BURBAGE: I’m much beholden to your lordship. FLETCHER: [_To Lord Lacy_] The scene between the lovers in the moonlight was not ill-conceived. That Lorenzo had something of Shakespeare in him. LACY: And Jessica! The name’s a perfume. A flower, Jessica, of most rare depicture, dear to fancy, responsive to a breath! DEKKER: [_Aside to Fletcher._] Has the gull any meaning? SELDEN: His words, Dekker, are like his dress: too choice for ease, too rich for service: but he’s of great place, and friend to Essex. FLETCHER: [_To Southampton._] The end’s weak, and the merchant too much the saint. DEKKER: Saints are always tiresome unless they’re martyred. SOUTHAMPTON: And detractors, unless they’re witty. LACY: [_Reproachfully._] A cannon-ball as a retort! Fie, fie, my lord Southampton. A little salve of soft disdain obliterates the sting, and no one shoots at midges. [_Enter Shakespeare, who takes a seat apart._] SOUTHAMPTON: [_Moving aside, with Lacy, waves his hand to Shakespeare._] Good! good! SIR JOHN STANLEY: Give me an English play. Why can’t we have a play where we thrash the Spaniards? Curse Venice! What’s Venice to me! [_Exit, accompanied by Marston and Dekker; Fletcher and Chapman follow._] SCENE II. CHETTLE: [_To Shakespeare._] Did ye hear that? SHAKESPEARE: No! What? CHETTLE: The truth, Will—the truth in the mouth of a suckling! They all want an English play and Falstaff. Without him, my lad, the spirit’s out of the sack—all stale and flat. SHAKESPEARE: Would you have onions with every dish, Chettle, even with the sweets? CHETTLE: In faith ’tis a seasoning and healthy weed—and provokes thirst, go to! But why can’t you be gay, lad, gay as you used to be and write us another comedy with Falstaff and his atomy page? SHAKESPEARE: Laughter and youth go together, Chettle, and I am too old for comedies. CHETTLE: It makes my flesh creep to hear you; but I’ll not be sad: I’ll not think of age and the end, I’ll not—. Ah, lad, you’ll never be popular without Falstaff. SHAKESPEARE: And why not? CHETTLE: ’Tis his wit pleases the many. SHAKESPEARE: Wit!—when wit buys popularity, honesty shall win fortune, and constancy love: the golden days are long past, I fear. [_Turns from Chettle, who goes out, taking Burbage and Selden with him._] SCENE III. SOUTHAMPTON: The play was excellent. LACY: A carcanet of diverse colours—of absolute favour. SOUTHAMPTON: But the playwrights are not your friends. SHAKESPEARE: I have befriended most of them. LACY: A double reason for repugnance—ingratitude the point, envy the barb!