Mary. Sent away Because of you, because my name is Mary!
Shakespeare. Go to my lodging! Wait for me! I’ll follow, For where you go I go.
Mary. Ay, bring your wife! This act is over! There are other men! She goes out.
Shakespeare. Mary! Love, life, the breath I breathe, come back! Mary, you have not heard me! Mary! Mary Come back! [The door shuts with a clang.]
Anne’s Voice. Come back!
Elizabeth. Never in any world! Fasten the door there!
Shakespeare [struggling to open it]. Open! Open, I say!
Elizabeth. Beat, beat your heart out! Let me watch you beat Those servants of your soul until they bleed, Mash, agonise, against a senseless door! Beat, beat your weaker hands than that dead tree, Tear, tear your nails upon its nails in vain. Beat, beat your heart out—you’ll not pass the door! Can you not come at her? She goes—beat, beat! The distance widens, like a ship she goes Utterly from you. Follow! Beat your hands! What? Are you held, you who bow men with words Windily down like corn-fields? Is she gone? Call up the clouds to carry you who walk Sky-high, star-level, eyeing the naked sun. Where are your wings? Beat, beat your heart out! Beat! Where is your strength? Will not the wood be moved? Cannot your love-call reach her, you who know The heart of the lark and how the warm throat thrills At mating-time? Is there a living thing You do not dwell in, cannot stir, and yet You cannot move this door?
Shakespeare. I am not so bound—
Elizabeth. Why, yes, there’s the window! You may cast down and be done with it all—done with it all! I’ll not stop you. Who am I to keep a man from his sweet rest? And yet—what of me, my son, before you do it? What of me and this England that I am?