Shakespeare:
I know him too little—he’s Jonson’s friend—she denied me, you say, to you?
Herbert:
She did. But now I must dress: you’ll forgive me.
[Takes up his sword-belt and buckles it on: looks for his gloves and cap. Shakespeare in the meantime moves to the table and catches sight of the tablets which Herbert has thrown down.]
Shakespeare:
[Picking up the tablets.] Oh, my divining soul! [Turns to Herbert.] I pray you, of your courtesy; when did you see Miss Fitton last?
Herbert:
[Arranging his doublet before the mirror.] Yesterday, to-day. Why?
Shakespeare: