SHAKESPEARE. Sweetheart, you stay the light.
ANNE. The pane is cool. _She moves to one side._ Can you see now?
SHAKESPEARE. That’s better. _The twang of a lute is heard._
A VOICE [_singing_]. Come with me to London, Folly, come away! I’ll make your fortune On a fine day--
ANNE. A stranger with my mother at the gate!
_She opens the door to_ MRS. HATHAWAY, _who enters._
THE VOICE [_nearer_]. Daisy leave and buttercup! Pick your gold and silver up, In London, in London, Oh, London Town!
ANNE. What have you brought us, Mother, unawares?
MRS. HATHAWAY. Why, I met the man in the lane and he asked his way here. He wants Will.
SHAKESPEARE [_at the window_]. One of the players. In the town I met him And had some talk, and told him of my play.
ANNE. You told a stranger and a player? But I-- I am not told!
THE VOICE [_close at hand_]. For sheep can feed And robins breed Without you, without you, And the world get on without you-- Oh, London Town!
ANNE [_stopping him_]. What brings him here?
SHAKESPEARE. I bring him! To my own house. [_He goes out._]
ANNE. Why no! No trouble! I am not beaten, starved, nor put on the street.
MRS. HATHAWAY. Be wise, be wise, for the child’s sake, be wiser!
ANNE. What shall I do? Out of your fifty years, What shall I do to hold him?
MRS. HATHAWAY. A low voice And a light heart is best--and not to judge.
ANNE. Light, Mother, light? Oh, Mother, Mother, Mother! I’m battling on the crumble-edge of loss Against a seaward wind, that drives his ship To fortunate isles, but carries me cliff over, Clutching at flint and thistle-hold, to braise me Upon the barren benches he has left For ever.
SHAKESPEARE _and the player_, HENSLOWE, _come in talking._
MRS. HATHAWAY [_at the inner door_]. Come, find my basket for me. Let them be!
ANNE. Look at him, how his face lights up!
MRS. HATHAWAY. Come now, And leave them to it!
MRS. HATHAWAY. It’s not the way--a little trust--
ANNE. I dare not. MRS. HATHAWAY _goes out at the door by the fire._
HENSLOWE [_in talk. He is a stout, good-humoured, elderly man, with bright eyes and a dancing step. He wears ear-rings, is dressed shabby-handsome, and is splashed with mud. A lute is slung at his shoulder_]. Played? It shall be played. That’s why I’m here.