Shakespeare. Get help!
Mary. I dare not.
Marlowe. Oh!
Shakespeare. What is it?
Marlowe. Oh! My life, my lovely life, and cast away Untasted, wasted— Death, let me go! [He dies.]
Mary. What now? Rouse up! Delay Is dangerous. Wake! Wake! What shall we do?
Shakespeare. O trumpet of the angels lent to a boy, Could I not spare you for the golden blast, For the great sound’s sake? What have I done?
Anne’s Voice. Ah! Done The thing you would not do—
Mary. Rouse! Rouse yourself! What now?
Anne’s Voice. Remember—