MARLOWE. Landlord, pour ale for a dozen, and these friends will drink to her, name or no name--in the next room.
THE MAN. Kit, you’re a man of tact! I’m a man of tact. We’re all men of tact!
Ho, boys! Hey, boys! Come this way, boys! Who’ll have a drink with me?
MARY. Well, did you ever see a better boy? My hair was the only trouble.
MARY. What I said! [_singing_]. Moth, where are you flown? To burn in a flame! Moth, I lie alone-- You’ve not been near me these four days.
MARY. Are you burned, moth? Are the poor wings a-frizzle?
MARLOWE. Not mine, dear candle, but a king of moths, But a great hawk-moth, velvet as the night He beats with twilight wings, he, he is singed, Fallen to earth and pitiful.
MARY. Oh, Shakespeare! My dear, I’ve run away because I hate The smell of burning.
He was to come to me to-night to tell me his tragedies and his comedies and--oh, I yawn! And I played her so well too at the first--
MARY. The cool nymph under Tiber stairs--what’s her name?--Egeria. Am I your Egeria, Marlowe?
MARY. Oh, she was fun to play--first to please the Queen and then to please myself. For I was caught, you know. It’s something to be hung among the stars, something to say--“I was his Juliet!”
MARY. Why, I’m a woman! that is--fifty women! While he played Romeo to my Juliet I could be anything he chose. O Kit! I sucked his great soul out. You never lit the blaze I was for half an hour: then--out I went!
MARY. But ashes fanned Fly from their centre, lighter than a kiss, And settle--where they please! [_She kisses him._] D’you love me?
MARY [_singing_]. Go to church, sweetheart, A flower in your coat! Your wedding bells shall prove The death of love! The death of love! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! The death of love! Or so Will says.
MARY. Married! He shall pay me. Married! I guessed it--but he shall pay me. A country girl?
MARLOWE. If you must know! He has not seen her these ten years. She sent for him the night of ‘Juliet.’
MARY. Why now all’s plain. So she’s the canker that hath drooped our rose! If I had loved him--I do not love him, Marlowe-- This would have fanned a flame. Well, we’re all cheats! But now I cheat with better conscience. Married! Lord, I could laugh! He must not know I know it.