Mary. Sugar-sweet, isn’t it? But that’s nothing. That’s the mob. That’s your friends. They’ll clap you. But the Queen, if she claps, claps your play.
Shakespeare. Your play!
Mary. Is it mine? Earnest?
Shakespeare. My earnest, but your play.
Mary. Well, good luck to my play!
Shakespeare. Give me—
Mary. Oh, so it’s not a free gift?
Shakespeare. Give me a finger-tip of thanks!
Mary. In advance? Not I! But if the Queen likes it—I’m her obedient servant. If the Queen opens her hand I shan’t shut mine. Where she claps once I’ll clap twice. Where she gives you a hand to kiss, I’ll give you—There! Curtain’s down! I must go.
Shakespeare. Mary!