MARY. Here’s a proxy silver-tongue! Are you Mr. Marlowe?
MARY. That you were somebody’s brother-in-art! What have you heard of me?
MARLOWE. That you were his sister-in-art.
MARY. A man’s sister! I’d as soon be a cold pudding! What did he say of his sister, brother?
MARLOWE. Like the blind man’s lucky sixpence that the Jew stole when he put a penny in his plate.
A STAGE HAND [_in the passage_]. Last act, please! Last act! Last act!
MARY. Oh, by heart! Yet I must sisterly watch it.
MARY. Till he comes? Then I shall miss all, for he’ll keep me.
MARY. I wonder if you could! I wonder--how?
MARLOWE. Too long to tell you here, and--curtain’s up!
MARY. Come to my house one lazy day and tell me!
MARLOWE. Hark! That’s more noise than curtain!
HENSLOWE’S VOICE. Shakespeare! Shakespeare! [_Entering._] Here’s a calamity! Where’s Shakespeare? He should be in the green-room! Why does he tuck away in this rat-hole when he’s wanted? And what’s to be done? Where in God’s name is Shakespeare?
MARLOWE. The curtain’s up; he’ll be here in a minute.
HENSLOWE. Everything! Juliet! The clumsy beasts! They let him fall from the bier: they let him fall on his arm! Now he’s moaning and wincing and swears he can’t go on, though he has but to speak his death scene. I’ve bid them cut the afterwards.
MARY. Let it be broken! Say he must go on! What? Spoil the play? These baby-men!
HENSLOWE. Playing Paris. Where’s Shakespeare? What’s to be done? The play’s spoiled.
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.
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.
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?