Will Shakespeare: An Invention in Four ActsDane, Clemence
General
Will Shakespeare: An Invention in Four Acts
Dane, Clemence
Dramatists -- Drama; Historical drama; Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616 -- Drama
SHAKESPEARE. I see your pine,
Your branching solitude, your evening tree,
With high, untroubled head, that meets the eye
As lips meet unseen kisses in the night--
A perfumed dusk, a canopy of dreams
And chapel of ease, a harp for summer airs
To tremble in--
ANNE. Barren the ground beneath,
No flowers, no grass, the needles lying thick,
Spent arrows--
SHAKESPEARE. Yes, she knows--we know how women
Can prick a man to death with needle stabs.
ANNE. O God!
HENSLOWE. Your wife! She’s ill!
SHAKESPEARE. Anne?
ANNE. Let me be!
SHAKESPEARE. Come to your mother--take my arm--
ANNE. I’ll sit.
I have no strength.
SHAKESPEARE. I’ll call her to you. [_He goes out._]
ANNE. Quick!
Before he comes, what is her name? her name?
Her mood? her mind? In all the town of Stratford
Was there no door but this to pound at? Quick!
You know her? Did you see his look? O God!
The last rope parts. He’s like a boat that strains,
Strains at her moorings. Why did you praise her so?
And talk of London? What’s it all to you?
Tall, is she? Yes, like a tree--a block of wood--
You said so! (Is he coming?) Tell me quick!
I’ve never seen a London lady close.
She’s lovely? So are many! How?
HENSLOWE. She’s new!
She’s gallant, like a tall ship setting sail,
And boasts she fears no man. Say “woman” though--
ANNE. What woman does this woman fear?
HENSLOWE. The Queen.
I’ve seen it in her eye.
ANNE. I should not fear.
HENSLOWE. You never saw the Queen of England smile
And crook her finger, once--and the fate falls.
ANNE. I’ve seen her picture. She’s eaten of a worm
As I am eaten. I’d not fear the Queen.
Her snake would know its fellow in my heart
And pass me. But this woman--what’s her name?
HENSLOWE. Mary--
ANNE. That’s “bitter.” I shall find her so.
SHAKESPEARE _comes in with_ MRS. HATHAWAY.
Look at him! Fear the Queen? Did not the Queen,
My sister, meet a Mary long ago
That bruised her in the heel?
HENSLOWE. Man, your wife’s mad!
She says the Queen’s her sister.
ANNE. Mad, noble Festus?
Not I! But tell him so--he’ll kiss you for it.
HENSLOWE. I’ll meet you, friend, some other time or place--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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