Prince-fool, indeed. Which is the better title, I wonder:—prince or fool? [Shakespeare goes to window; opens lattice and looks out.] Hush; hark! [Opens the door, listens; shuts it again.] Curse her!
Jonson:
Be careful of your money, man, and the world will let you play both parts at will.
Shakespeare:
Money! What is money to me?
[Returning into the room again and moving about and then going to the casement.]
Jonson:
Everything, Will, shield and sword; back and front piece. [Shakespeare turns round listening.] You are love’s plaything, Will.
Shakespeare:
[Stopping in front of him.] Love lives on love, Ben; the less she gives me the less I crave. When I saw her every day it was too little, and now I see her twice a month, I’m no longer her slave. ’Tis not worth while to befool oneself for so little.