Jacconot.
Go! Aha!—I remember the word—same tone, same gesture—or as like as the two profiles of a monkey, or as two squeaks for one pinch. Go!—not I—here's to all your healths! One pull more! There, I've done—take it, Master Marlowe; and pledge me as the true knight of London's rarest beauties!
Marlowe.
I will! (Dashes the tankard at his head.)
Jacconot (stooping quickly).
A miss, 'fore-gad!—the wall has got it! See where it trickles down like the long robe of some dainty fair one! And look you here—and there again, look you!—what make you of the picture he hath presented?
Marlowe (staggers as he stares at the wall).
O subtle Nature! who hath so compounded
Our senses, playing into each other's wheels,
That feeling oft acts substitute for sight,