SHAKESPEARE. What’s this? You’re leaving us? HENSLOWE. Your wife’s too ill-- SHAKESPEARE. Too ill to stand, yet not too ill to--[_Aside_] Anne! Why does he stare? What have you told my friend? ANNE. Your friend! SHAKESPEARE. My friend! ANNE. This once-met Londoner! What does he want of you, in spite of me? This bribing tramp, this palpable decoy-- SHAKESPEARE. Be silent in my house before my friends! Be silent! ANNE. This your friend! SHAKESPEARE. Silent, I say! ANNE. I _will_ not! Blows? Would you do that to me, Husband? SHAKESPEARE. I never touched you! ANNE. What! No blow? Here, where I felt it--here? Is there no wound, No black mark? MRS. HATHAWAY. Oh, she’s wild! I’ll take her. Come! Come, Anne! It’s naught! I know the signs. [_To_ SHAKESPEARE]. Stay you! ANNE. O Mother, there befell me a strange pang Here at my heart--[_The two go out together._] SHAKESPEARE. O women! women! women! They slink about you, noiseless as a cat, With ready smiles and ready silences. These women are too humble and too wise In pricking needle-ways: they drive you mad With fibs and slips and kisses out of time: And if you do not trip and feign as they And cover all with kisses, do but wince Once in your soul (the soul they shall not touch, Never, I tell you, never! Sooner the smeared, The old-time honey death from a thousand stings, Than let their tongue prick patterns on your soul!) Then, then all’s cat-like clamour and annoy! HENSLOWE. Cry, “Shoo!” and clap your hands; for so are all Familiar women. These are but interludes In the march of the play, and should be taken so, Lightly, as food for laughter, not for rage. SHAKESPEARE. My mother-- HENSLOWE [_shrugging_]. Ah, your mother!