HENSLOWE. Why, man, it’s common! Or too light, too low, Not once in a golden age love’s scale trims level. SHAKESPEARE. I read of lovers once in Italy-- HENSLOWE. You’ll write of lovers too, not once nor twice. SHAKESPEARE. Their scales were level ere they died of love, In Italy-- HENSLOWE. But if instead they had lived--in Stratford--there’d have been such a see-saw in six months as-- SHAKESPEARE. As what? HENSLOWE. As there has been, eh? “See-saw! Margery Daw! She sold her bed to lie upon straw.” And so--poor Margery! Though she counts me an enemy--poor Margery! SHAKESPEARE. What help for Margery--and her Jack? HENSLOWE. None, friend, in Stratford. SHAKESPEARE. Do I not know it? HENSLOWE. Then--tell Margery! SHAKESPEARE. Deaf, deaf! HENSLOWE. Not if you tell her how all heels in London (And the Queen dances!) So trip to the Stratford tune that I hot-haste Am sent to fetch the fiddler-- SHAKESPEARE. Man, is it true? True that the Queen--? HENSLOWE. I say--tell Margery! What! is she a woman, a wife, and will not further her man? I say to you--tell Margery, as I tell you-- SHAKESPEARE. You do? HENSLOWE. I do. I do tell you that if you can come away with us now with your ‘Dream’ in your pocket, and teach it to us and learn of us while you teach, and strike London in time for the Queen’s birthday--I tell you and I tell her, Jack’s a made man. See what Margery says to that, and give me the answer, stay or come, as I pass here to-night! And now let me go; for if I do not soon whip my company clear of apple-juice and apple-bloom, clear, that is to say, of Stratford wine and Stratford women, we shall not pass here to-night. [_He goes out._] SHAKESPEARE. To-night! [_Calling_] Anne! Anne! [_He walks up and down._] Oh, to be one of them to-night on the silver road--to smell the steaming frost and listen to men’s voices and the ring of iron on the London road! [_Calling_] Anne! ANNE [_entering_]. You called? He’s gone? You’re angry? Oh, not now, No anger now; for, Will, to-night in the sky, Our sky, a new star shines. SHAKESPEARE. What’s that? You know? ANNE. I know, and oh, my heart sings. SHAKESPEARE. Anne, dear Anne, You know? No frets? You wish it? Oh, dear Anne, How did you guess and know? ANNE. My mother told me.