SHAKESPEARE [_at the window_]. One of the players. In the town I met him And had some talk, and told him of my play. ANNE. You told a stranger and a player? But I-- I am not told! THE VOICE [_close at hand_]. For sheep can feed And robins breed Without you, without you, And the world get on without you-- Oh, London Town! SHAKESPEARE _goes to the door._ ANNE [_stopping him_]. What brings him here? SHAKESPEARE. I bring him! To my own house. [_He goes out._] MRS. HATHAWAY. Trouble? ANNE. Why no! No trouble! I am not beaten, starved, nor put on the street. MRS. HATHAWAY. Be wise, be wise, for the child’s sake, be wiser! ANNE. What shall I do? Out of your fifty years, What shall I do to hold him? MRS. HATHAWAY. A low voice And a light heart is best--and not to judge. ANNE. Light, Mother, light? Oh, Mother, Mother, Mother! I’m battling on the crumble-edge of loss Against a seaward wind, that drives his ship To fortunate isles, but carries me cliff over, Clutching at flint and thistle-hold, to braise me Upon the barren benches he has left For ever. SHAKESPEARE _and the player_, HENSLOWE, _come in talking._ MRS. HATHAWAY [_at the inner door_]. Come, find my basket for me. Let them be! ANNE. Look at him, how his face lights up! MRS. HATHAWAY. Come now, And leave them to it! ANNE. I dare not, Mother, I dare not. MRS. HATHAWAY. It’s not the way--a little trust-- ANNE. I dare not. MRS. HATHAWAY _goes out at the door by the fire._ HENSLOWE [_in talk. He is a stout, good-humoured, elderly man, with bright eyes and a dancing step. He wears ear-rings, is dressed shabby-handsome, and is splashed with mud. A lute is slung at his shoulder_]. Played? It shall be played. That’s why I’m here. ANNE [_behind them_]. Will! SHAKESPEARE [_turning_]. This is my wife. ANNE [_curtseys. Then, half aside_]. Who is the man? Where from? What is his name? HENSLOWE [_overhearing_]. Proteus, Madonna! A poor son of the god. SHAKESPEARE _laughs._ ANNE. A foreigner?