MARY. Are you mad to keep her waiting? She has favours up her sleeve. You are to write her a play for the summer revels. Quick now, ere the last act begins! Off with you! [SHAKESPEARE _goes out._] Look how he drags away! What’s come to the man to fling aside his luck? MARLOWE. He has left it behind him. MARY. Here’s a proxy silver-tongue! Are you Mr. Marlowe? MARLOWE. Are you Mistress Fitton? MARY. So we’ve heard of each other! MARLOWE. What have you heard of me? MARY. That you were somebody’s brother-in-art! What have you heard of me? MARLOWE. That you were his sister-in-art. MARY. A man’s sister! I’d as soon be a cold pudding! What did he say of his sister, brother? MARLOWE. That you brought him luck. MARY. That he leaves behind him! MARLOWE. Like the blind man’s lucky sixpence that the Jew stole when he put a penny in his plate. MARY. A Jew of Malta? MARLOWE. What, do _you_ read me? You? A STAGE HAND [_in the passage_]. Last act, please! Last act! Last act! MARY. I must go watch it. MARLOWE. Don’t you know it? MARY. Oh, by heart! Yet I must sisterly watch it. MARLOWE. Stay a little. MARY. Till he comes? Then I shall miss all, for he’ll keep me. MARLOWE. Against your will? MARY. No, with my Will. MARLOWE. Is it he or his plays? MARY. Not sure. MARLOWE. If I were he I’d make you sure. MARY. I wonder if you could! I wonder--how? MARLOWE. Too long to tell you here, and--curtain’s up! MARY. Come to my house one lazy day and tell me! MARLOWE. Hark! That’s more noise than curtain! HENSLOWE’S VOICE. Shakespeare! Shakespeare! [_Entering._] Here’s a calamity! Where’s Shakespeare? He should be in the green-room! Why does he tuck away in this rat-hole when he’s wanted? And what’s to be done? Where in God’s name is Shakespeare? MARY. With the Queen. MARLOWE. The curtain’s up; he’ll be here in a minute. MARY. What’s wrong? HENSLOWE. Everything! Juliet! The clumsy beasts! They let him fall from the bier: they let him fall on his arm! Now he’s moaning and wincing and swears he can’t go on, though he has but to speak his death scene. I’ve bid them cut the afterwards. MARLOWE. Broken? HENSLOWE. I fear so. MARY. Let it be broken! Say he must go on! What? Spoil the play? These baby-men! HENSLOWE. He will not. MARLOWE. The understudy? HENSLOWE. Playing Paris. Where’s Shakespeare? What’s to be done? The play’s spoiled. MARLOWE. He’ll break his heart.