Elizabeth. It will not lighten.
Shakespeare. Go! [She goes out.] I had a word to say. Oh, spark that burned but now—!
Anne’s Voice. It dips, it dies—
Shakespeare. A night-light, fool, and not a star. I grope Giddily in the dark. I shall grow old. What is my sum? I have made seven plays, Two poems and some sonnets. I have friends So long as I write poems, sonnets, plays. Earn then your loves, and as you like it—write! Come, what’s your will? Three sets of lovers and a duke or two, Courtiers and fool—We’ll set it in a wood, Half park, half orchard, like the woods at home. See the house rustle, pit gape, boxes thrill, As through the trees, boyishly, hand on hip, Knee-deep in grass, zone-deep in margarets, Comes to us—Mary!
Anne’s Voice. Under the apple-trees, In the spring, in the long grass—Will!
Shakespeare. Still the old shame Hangs round my neck with withered arms and chokes Endeavour.
Anne’s Voice. Will!
Shakespeare. At right wing enter ghost! It should be Marlowe with his parted mouth And sweep of arm. Why should he wake for me? That would be friendship, and what a friend was I! Well—to the work!
Anne’s Voice. Will! Will!
Shakespeare. What, ghost? still there? Must I speak first? That’s manners with the dead; But this haunt lives—at Stratford, by the river. Maggot, come out of my brain! Girl! Echo! Wraith! You’ve had free lodging, like a rat, too long. I need my room. Come, show yourself and go! “Changed?” “But I knew her!”—Say your say and go! You’d a tongue once.