STAGE HAND. There’s nothing to fear, sir! It runs like clockwork. The lady died well, sir! Lord, who’d think she was a woman! There, there, it breaks out. Listen to ’em! Come, sir, come, come! MARLOWE. We’ll come! We’ll come! _The man goes out._ SHAKESPEARE. Not I! Oh, if you love me, Marlowe, swear I’m ill, gone away, dead, what you please, but keep them away! I can stand no more. MARLOWE. It’s as she said--mad--mad--to fling your luck away. SHAKESPEARE. A frost has touched me, Marlowe, my fruit’s black. Help me now! Go, go! Say I’m gone, as I shall be when I’ve seen Mary-- MARLOWE. A back stairs? Now I understand. SHAKESPEARE. Oh, stop your laughter! I’m to leave London in half an hour. MARLOWE. Earnest? For long? SHAKESPEARE. Little or long, what matter? I’ve missed the moment. Who has his moment twice? MARLOWE. Shall you tell her why you go? SHAKESPEARE. Mary? God forbid! VOICES. Shakespeare! Call Shakespeare! SHAKESPEARE. D’you hear them? Help me! Say I am gone! Oh, go, go! MARLOWE. Well, if you wish it! _He goes out leaving the door ajar. As_ SHAKESPEARE _goes on speaking the murmurs and claps die away and the noises of the stage are heard, the shouts of the scene-shifters, directions being given, and so on. Finally there is silence._ SHAKESPEARE. Wish it? I wish it? Have you no more for me Of comfort, Marlowe? Oh, what a dumb and measureless gulf divides Star from twin star, and friend from closest friend! Women, they say, can bridge it when they will: As seamen rope a ship with grappling irons These spinners of strong cords invisible Make fast and draw the drifting glory home In the name of love. I know not. Better go! I am not for this harbour-- _There is a sound of hasty footsteps and_ MARY FITTON _enters in Juliet’s robes. She stands in the doorway, panting, exalted, with arms outstretched. The door swings to behind her, shutting out all sound._ MARY. Oh, I faced The peacock of the world, the arch of eyes That watched me love a god, the eyes, eyes, eyes, That watched me die of love. Wake me again, O soul that did inhabit me, O husband Whose mind I uttered, to whose will I swayed, Whose self of love I was! Wake me again To die of love in earnest! SHAKESPEARE. Mary! Mary!