Miss Fitton:
I cannot sing it, you know. I have none of women’s little graces.
Shakespeare:
Being grace itself, you can forego graces. But I have Hughes without, if you will hear him.
Miss Fitton:
Willingly; but he must not stay long. [While Shakespeare goes away, L., she reads the words aloud.] “I am my own fever, my own fever and pain.”
[Shakespeare returns with Hughes, who bows to Miss Fitton. Miss Fitton nods negligently, and leaves the spinet, taking a seat, L.C. Shakespeare stands at her side, facing the audience, while Hughes sings.]
Hughes [Sings.)
“I attempt from Love’s sickness to fly in vain,
Since I am myself, my own fever,