Mary. Who told you that, Solomon?
Shakespeare. I have had no answer to—
Mary. Five letters, seven sonnets, two catches and a roundelay!
Shakespeare. Love’s Labour Lost!
Mary. Ah, Mr. Shakespeare, you were not a Solomon then! There was too much Rosaline and too little Queen in that labour.
Shakespeare. You’re right! Solomon would have drawn all Rosaline and no Queen at all. I’ll write another play!
Mary. It might pay you better than your sonnets.
Shakespeare. Do you read them—Rosaline?
Mary. Most carefully, Mr. Shakespeare—on Saturday nights! Then I make up my accounts and empty my purse, and wonder—must I pawn my jewels? Then I cry. And then I read your latest sonnet and laugh again.
Shakespeare. You should not laugh.