MARY. He shall not break his heart! This is our play! Back to your Juliet-boy, Strip off his wear and never heed his arm! Bid them play on and bring me Juliet’s robes! I’ll put them on and put on Juliet too. Quick, Henslowe! HENSLOWE. What! a woman play on the stage? MARY. Ay, when the men fail! Quick! I say I’ll do it! SHAKESPEARE [_entering_]. Here still? You’ve heard? MARY [_on the threshold_]. And heeded. Never stop me! You shall have Juliet. You shall have your play. _She and_ HENSLOWE _hurry out._ MARLOWE. There goes a man’s master! But does she know the part? SHAKESPEARE. She knows each line, she knows each word, she breathed them Into my heart long ere I wrote them down. MARLOWE. But to act! Can you trust her? SHAKESPEARE. She? Go and watch! I need not. MARLOWE. But is it in her? She’s Julia not Juliet, not your young Juliet, not your June morning--or is she? SHAKESPEARE. You talk! You talk! You talk! What do you know of her? MARLOWE. Or you, old Will? SHAKESPEARE. I dream her. MARLOWE. Well, pleasant dreams! SHAKESPEARE. No more. I’m black awake. MARLOWE. What’s wrong? Ill news? SHAKESPEARE. From Stratford. Yes, yes, yes, Kit! And it must come now, just now, after ten dumb years! MARLOWE. Stratford? Whew! I’d forgotten your nettle-bed. What does she want of you? SHAKESPEARE. Hark! Mary’s on. MARLOWE. It’s a voice like the drip of a honey-comb. SHAKESPEARE. Can she play Juliet, man? Can she play Juliet? I think she can. Kit? MARLOWE. Ay? SHAKESPEARE. Oh, is there peace Anywhere, Kit, in any, any world? MARLOWE. What is it, peace? SHAKESPEARE. It passeth understanding. They round the sermon off on Sunday with it, Laugh in their sleeves and send us parching home. This is a dew that dries ere Monday comes, And oh, the heat of the seven days! MARLOWE. I like it! The smell of dust, the shouting, and the glare Of crowded noon in cities, and such nights As this night, crowning labour. What is--peace? STAGE HAND [_entering_]. Sir, sir, sir, will you come down, sir, says Mr. Henslowe. The end’s near and the house half mad. We’ve not seen a night like this since--since _your_ night, sir! Your first night, sir, your roaring Tamburlaine night! Never anything like it and I’ve seen many. Will you come, sirs? SHAKESPEARE. You go, Marlowe!