Elizabeth. Bid him hurry! [Mary turns to the door.] Mary!
Mary. Madam?
Elizabeth. What did I tell you but now?
Mary. Madam, to bid him hurry.
Henslowe [recognising the voice]. “Hurry!”
Elizabeth. Wait. Daylight, Henslowe? Girl, you’re slow. You go heavily. Have you not slept? Let Henslowe do your errand! [To Henslowe.] Let him wait at hand!
Mary. Madam, I can well go.
Elizabeth. No hurry now. [Henslowe goes out.] D’you guess why I send for your teller of tales?
Mary. No, Madam.
Elizabeth. He has told a tale, it seems, that I’d hear told again.