MASTER SKYLARK 
 
MASTER SKYLARK 
 
 OR 
 
 WILL SHAKESPEARE'S WARD 
 
 A Dramatization from the Story of the 
 same name by John Bennett 
 
 IN FIVE ACTS 
 BY 
 
 EDGAR WHITE BURRILL 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 REGINALD B. BIRCH 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE CENTURY CO. 
 
 1916 
 
dm 
 
 Copyright, 1909, by 
 John Bennett 
 
 All rights reserved, including rights of production, 
 translation, and adaptation. 
 
To J. E. B. 
 
 Whose unfailing sympathy and encouragement 
 
 Has been an inspiration to so many, 
 
 But most of all to me. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The number of people who have been delighted 
 with Mr. Bennett's charming story of Elizabethan 
 England since it first appeared in the St. Nicho- 
 las magazine nearly twenty years ago continues to 
 increase steadily. No contemporary presenta- 
 tion in fiction of the life of that age is more faith- 
 ful ; no other has succeeded so well in reproducing 
 the atmosphere of the times. To the winsome fig- 
 ure of Nicholas Attwood himself there clings a sort 
 of Peter Pan quality which endears him to old and 
 young alike. It is this fine sentiment that raises 
 " Master Skylark " quite above the level of the 
 ordinary historical romance. 
 
 At the same time it should be remarked that the 
 story has been deemed of such historical accuracy 
 as to warrant its use in colleges and schools in this 
 country to give to students an adequate sense of 
 the local color of the brilliant Elizabethan age; 
 and to many it has had the effect of awakening an 
 appreciation not only of the times, but of the liter- 
 ature of the period as well. So careful has the 
 author been, in fact, that his book has been used 
 
viii PREFACE 
 
 in England as an auxiliary guide to Stratford-on- 
 Avon, while in Berlin, — for the minute study of 
 all pertaining to Will Shakespeare has in some 
 ways been more at heart to the German than to 
 the Briton, — in addition to the regular German 
 edition of the story, there has been issued a school 
 edition with notes, glossary, etc., for German aca- 
 demic use. 
 
 The attempt made here to visualize the story 
 upon the stage has had certain manifest difficulties, 
 yet the continued superiority of this romance to 
 all others in the field has justified such an attempt, 
 particularly on this three-hundredth anniversary 
 of Shakespeare's death, when clubs, high- schools, 
 colleges, communities, and cities everywhere are 
 searching for dramatic material to use in connec- 
 tion with the nation-wide Shakespeare tercente- 
 nary celebration. 
 
 Many critics have felt that in the story which 
 forms the basis of the play Shakespeare the man 
 has for the first time in literature been adequately 
 presented. In the play more prominence might 
 have been given to the part if it had not been the 
 desire of the dramatist to keep as closely as possi- 
 ble to the original version of the story. For the 
 play, like the story, aims to set before the eye the 
 fabric of the times as a whole; and perhaps the 
 proportion is thus historically truer, since, so far 
 
PREFACE ix 
 
 as we can know, Shakespeare did not make 
 any tremendous stir among his contemporaries. 
 Quietly, unostentatiously, he enters upon the scene 
 when the gorgeous pageant of the century is al- 
 ready well unrolled, and always he is turning to 
 materials and types exploited by his predecessors, 
 though transmuting them with genius. And so 
 in the play, as in the story, we find him adapting 
 himself to conditions created largely by antecedent 
 circumstances, yet unobtrusively transforming the 
 very flow of the events themselves by the impress 
 of his own sweet spirit. It is therefore eminently 
 fitting that this gentle personality should follow 
 on the heels of that lovable rascal Gaston Carew, 
 the bold and tragic master-player, an embodiment 
 for all time of the poet-adventurer, who holds the 
 stage for two full acts and more before he makes 
 his quietus. The shift in dramatic interest from 
 such kaleidoscopic emotions as Carew's to the shin- 
 ing peace of Shakespeare's late appearance may 
 violate technic, but what happier ending could be 
 imagined for any play than the solace of a pres- 
 ence such as Will's? E W B 
 New York, December, 1916. 
 
 All communications looking towards production 
 should be referred to E. W. Burrill, 600 West 
 ll*th Street, New York City. 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 "Master Skylark, thou shall have thy wish," Frontispiece 
 said Queen Elizabeth - - - Facing 
 
 Page 
 "What! How now? " cried the stranger sharply. 
 
 "Dost like or like me not? '* - - - - 40 
 
 "Master Nicholas Skylark, the sweetest singer in 
 all the Kingdom of England! " - - . 48 
 
 "Nobody breaks nobody's hearts in old Jo-hn 
 Smithses Sho-op," drawled the smith, in his deep 
 voice; " nor' steals nobody, nother." - - 72 
 
 Cicely darted to his side with a frightened cry. - 88 
 
 " Oh, Nick, thou art most beautiful to see!" cried 
 Cicely. 92 
 
 "God bless thee, Nick! I love thee, lad." - - 132 
 
 Master Shakespeare met them with outstretched 
 hands. 144 
 
MASTER SKYLARK: 
 WILL SHAKESPEARE'S WARD 
 
MASTER SKYLARK: 
 WILL SHAKESPEARE'S WARD 
 
 OUTLINE 
 
 Nick Attwood, a young boy of Stratford-on- 
 Avon and cousin to William Shakespeare, is kid- 
 napped by a company of players that visit the 
 town in 1596. Taken to London, he becomes a 
 famous choir-boy singer, and at last appears be- 
 fore Queen Elizabeth herself. There -he meets 
 Shakespeare, and is eventually restored by him 
 to his humble parents. The action throughout is 
 portrayed with historically accurate setting. 
 
 In Act I the acti< n shows the simple home life 
 in a Stratford tanner's cottage, and the boy's dis- 
 satisfaction with the restrictions of his Puritan- 
 ical father. Nick has decided to leave his school- 
 fellows and run away, when Gaston Carew, the 
 leader of the Admiral's company of players, hears 
 his sweet voice and resolves to kidnap him, partly 
 for revenge on Stratford town for having been 
 himself arrested there. An old thatched cottage 
 by a country lane is the setting. 
 
4c :;;..•./;:; : /. 'OUTLINE 
 
 Act II opens with a jovial tavern scene at Cov- 
 entry, with a typical inn-yard performance of a 
 play, wherein Nick sings. Learning there of his 
 being stolen for good, he tries to escape, is for a 
 time stoutly defended by a blacksmith to whom 
 he flies, but finally is won back again by the blan- 
 dishments of Carew. 
 
 Act III takes place at Carew's house in London, 
 where Nick begins to be attracted by Cicely Carew, 
 the master-player's charming little daughter; he 
 is accepted as head choir-boy after singing for 
 the old precentor of St. Paul's; and is provided 
 for by Carew, whose real affection has been 
 aroused for him. 
 
 In Scene 1 of Act IV, Nick sings at the court 
 of Queen Elizabeth, amidst all the glory and glit- 
 ter of the great Greenwich palace throne-room ; 
 he meets Shakespeare, and is taken under his 
 charge. Carew is taken to Newgate Jail for stab- 
 bing a fellow-player, and in Scene 2 Nick goes 
 to say good-by to him there, in the semi-darkness 
 of a gloomy corridor of cells. At the end of this 
 brief drop-curtain scene, he is again kidnapped hy 
 Carew's disreputable servant. 
 
 Act V occurs in Shakespeare's rose-garden, 
 " New Place," Stratford, at early dawn ; Nick and 
 Cicely find Shakespeare and his friends, and Nick 
 is reunited with his family, while Cicely finds a 
 
OUTLINE 6 
 
 new father and mother in the tanner and his gen- 
 tle wife. 
 
 NOTE 
 
 All the main characters may be taken by seven 
 persons. Carew and Shakespeare, the leading 
 male roles, can be played by one man, since Carew 
 practically disappears after Act III. Queen 
 Elizabeth and Nick's mother may be taken by the 
 same person. Cicely Carew and the tavern maid 
 may be played by the same actress. Schoolboys, 
 pages, and choir boys all played by the same 
 actresses, or by actual choir boys. Goole and 
 Simon Attwood, the same actor; and this actor 
 may also be one of the players in Carew's 
 and Shakespeare's companies. The other parts, 
 Ben Jonson, Tom Heywood, the carpenter, the 
 tavern-keeper, the blacksmith, the butler, the 
 precentor, the ambassador, and the two prison 
 guards — may all be taken successively by two 
 persons. Total necessary characters (includ- 
 ing three actresses for choir boys, pages, and 
 schoolboys) — ten. Courtiers and citizens may be 
 supplied locally, the elaborate, gorgeous, but al- 
 ways beautiful costumes of these brightest and 
 wittiest of all courtly days being the most strik- 
 ing feature necessary for their make-up. 
 
 The part of Nick, a boy of twelve to fourteen 
 
6 OUTLINE 
 
 years, should be taken by an actress possessed of 
 a sweet voice though by no means necessitating 
 a professional singer. Or a choir hoj of some 
 histrionic ability would do. He sings a famous 
 lyric by Shakespeare, Heywood, or some other 
 Elizabethan in each act, and upon the sweetness 
 and childlike charm of these five songs depends 
 much of the effectiveness of the play. 
 
 If it is desired to shorten the acting-time of the 
 play, an abbreviation of the fifth act is included, 
 which is half the length of the regular version. 
 
THE PLAY 
 
CHARACTERS 
 
 SiMOK Attwood, a Stratford tanner 
 
 Margahet Attwood, his wife 
 
 Nicholas Attwood, afterwards called Master Skylark, their 
 
 son 
 Gaston Carew, the Master-Player of the Lord High Ad- 
 miral's Company 
 Cicely Carew, his daughter 
 Gregory Goole, Carew's disreputable servant 
 William Shakespeare, 
 Bek Jonson, 
 Thomas Heywood, 
 
 And other players 
 Queen Elizabeth 
 A carpenter mason; a tavern-keeper; a blacksmith; a butler; 
 
 a maid; a precentor; schoolboys, choir boys, and pages; 
 
 guards; courtiers; citizens; etc. 
 
 SYNOPSIS 
 
 Act I. — A country lane outside the Attwoods' cottage at 
 Stratford-on-Avon, the last of April, 1596. 
 
 Act II. — A tavern room in Coventry. 
 
 Act III. — A room in Carew's house, London. 
 
 Act IV.— 
 
 Scene 1: Throne room of the Greenwich Palace, 
 
 London. 
 Scene 2: A corridor in Newgate Jail (Drop- 
 curtain scene). 
 
 Act V. — The rose-garden back of Shakespeare's hous?, 
 "New Place," Stratford. 
 
 Time Interval: One night passes in Act I, indicated by 
 the descent of the curtain in mid-act, for a moment. 
 Four days between Acts II and III. Eight days be- 
 tween Acts III and IV. Five days between Acts IV 
 and V. 
 
ACT I 
 
 [Late afternoon in 1596, the last day of April, A 
 country lane, running diagonally across the 
 stage, in front of a ihatched cottage, which is 
 to the right. Between the lane and the cottage 
 is a low stone wall, with a loose-hung gate in the 
 middle. Between the wall and the cottage is an 
 open lawn, most of which is visible. On the left 
 of the stage, at the side of the lane, is an Eng^ 
 lish hedge, over the top of which, at some dis^ 
 tance, can be seen the Swan Inn and other 
 houses of Str at ford-on- Avon. 
 
 The cottage has a large, low window and a wide 
 open doorway, through which are visible a plain 
 wooden table, a rough bench, three stools, and 
 a smoldering hearth-fire. The house has no 
 chimney. The black beams of the walls show 
 up against the yellow plaster. There are 
 rushes upon the floor; painted cloth hangings 
 on the wall, representing the Prodigal Son, in 
 a dingy blue coat, and the brownish Red Sea, 
 with Pharaoh* 8 inky hosts; also tlie maxims — 
 " Do No Wrong,** " Bezmre of Sloth,** *' Over- 
 come Pride,** and " Keep am, Eye on the Pence,** 
 
 
10 MASTER SKYLARK Act I 
 
 As the curtain rises y from the highroad — the 
 edge of mhich is barely visible to the audience at 
 the left back corner of the stage — into which 
 this lane evidently leads, comes a confused mur- 
 mur of voices. Distant trumpet heard, Si- 
 lence; then increased excitement. Enter two 
 boys, rurming up the lane.'] 
 
 1 Boy, We be in time ! They be na here yet ! 
 [Enter, another boy,] 
 
 2 Boy. They're coming! they're coming! 
 
 3 Boy. Who? Who? 
 
 1 Boy. The Admiral's Players. Come on! 
 [Exeunt.] 
 
 [The sound of many horses^ hoofs on a bridge 
 not far away, A fanfare of trwmpets. En- 
 ter, Hodge, a clownish lout of a boy, puff- 
 ing up the lane. Enter, at the doorway, 
 from am, inner room, Margaret Attwood, 
 poorly but neatly dressed in a worsted gown 
 with a falling linen collar, and with a soft 
 silken coif upon her grayish hair.] 
 
 Hodge. Be it truly the players, Mistress Att- 
 wood? 
 
 Margaret Attwood. Aye, Hodge ; 't is the 
 players from London, sure enough. See, yon they 
 come. 
 
Act I MASTER SKYLARK 11 
 
 Hodge. Eigh! My stars! There be a heap 
 oh 'em! \^Exit running, and crying out.'\ 
 They 're coming ! They 're coming 1 The play- 
 ers be coming! Hurrah! 
 
 \_Voices cheering. Music of kettledrums , cym- 
 bals, trumpets, flutes, etc., begins, as a line 
 of men in court attire, with resplendent ba/n- 
 ners bearing the legend, " Ye Players of the 
 Lord High Admiral," and long leveled trump- 
 ets, pass along the edge of the highroad 
 across the left back corner of the stage, to 
 the accompaniment of dust and of trampling 
 horses. Then men^s voices singing :'\ 
 
 Song. [Outside, increasing, then dying away.l 
 The hunt is up, the hunt is up, 
 Sing merrily we, the hunt is up! 
 The wild birds sing, 
 The dun deer fling. 
 The forest aisles with music ring! 
 Tantara, tantara, tantara ! 
 
 Then ride along, ride along,. 
 Stout and strong! 
 
 Farewell to grief and care ; 
 With a rollicking cheer 
 For the high dun deer 
 
 And a life in the open air! 
 
1« MASTER SKYLARK Act I 
 
 Tantara, the hunt is up, lads ; 
 
 Tantara, the bugles bray! 
 Tantara, tantara, tantara ! 
 
 Hio, hark away ! 
 
 [The music, cheering, and trampling has nearly 
 died away, when, enter Nicholas Attwoqd, 
 excitedly, rwnning down the lane.^ 
 
 Nick. [Catching his breath.'] Oh, Mbther! 
 
 Maegaeet Attwood. [Embracing him.~\ Aye, 
 Nick. 
 
 Nick. Didst see it, Mother? 
 
 Margaret Attwood. Aye, my lad. — Was it 
 thou by the bridge there, with Robin.'' 
 
 Nick. Yes, Mother. Upon the very highest 
 coping-stones. And I counted two and twenty 
 horses, though Robin saith there were but twenty- 
 one. — Didst see the drummer.'^ — Oh, he was 
 the finest of them all. What fine fellows they be ! 
 — Hurrah for the Lord High Admiral's men! 
 
 [Enter, Simon Attwood, by a flag-stoned path 
 from behind the cottage. He is a gaunt, sul- 
 len man, his doublet of serge, leathern apron, 
 and fustian hose all stavned with liquor from 
 the tannery vats.] 
 
Act I MASTER SKYLARK IS* 
 
 Attwood. Do I hear thee praising these vaga- 
 bond play-actors ? Soul and body o' man, let 's 
 ha' na more on 't. 
 
 Mahgaeet Attwood. Why, Simon, the lad 
 was but — 
 
 Attwood. I know, I know. But we poor, 
 honest folk of Stratford must slave to pay for 
 the new-fangled notions these sorry fools bring 
 up from London-town. 
 
 Margaret Attwood. Why, Simon, what ail- 
 eth thee to-night? 
 
 Attwood. Why, look 'e, now. Here 's all our 
 burgesses o' the town council ordered me to build 
 a chimley on my house, because, forsooth, it is the 
 fashion now in London! I must build my fire in 
 a pipe, or pay ten shillings fine ! Pah ! \^He goes 
 into the cottage.^ 
 
 Margaret Attwood. [Speaki/ng to hhn 
 through the doorway.'] Nay, but Simon; 'twill 
 be very handy when the snows come and the east 
 winds blow. — /Dame Hathaway saith she is as 
 cozy as a chick in an ^gg with hers. 
 
 Nick. Aye, Mother, and 't will be fine to read 
 with thee before a fire that does na fill the room 
 wi' smoke. / 
 

 
 
 
 14 MASTER SKYLARK Act I 
 
 Attwood. IWithin.} Well, this litter wiU 
 ha' to be all took out. Atkins will be here at six 
 i' the morning to do the job. 
 
 Margaret Attwood. The rushes need a 
 changing anyway, Simon. Nick shall take the 
 hangings down to-night, and right things up when 
 the chimley 's done, wilt thou not, Nick? 
 
 Nick. Aye, Mother. 
 
 Attwood. [^Commg out.'\ Then let him be 
 about it. — A man can no more eat his meals in 
 peace in his own house. Things ha' come to a 
 pretty pass — a pretty pass indeed. 
 
 Margaret Attwood. Do na fret thee, Simon. 
 I We '11 sup without, until the work be done. The 
 air is sweet and gentle with the spring. — Come, 
 Nick, we '11 set the table yonder. 
 
 l^Exit Attwoo«>. Margaret Attwood and 
 Nick bring out the table, which is now seen 
 to consist of two trestles and a wide board, 
 and place it out upon the grass. She ten- 
 derly hisses Nick.] 
 
 There ! — Thou art mine own good little son, and 
 I will bake thee a cake in the new chimley on the 
 morrow for thy May-day feast. 
 
Act I MASTER SKYLARK 16 
 
 \^She goes about preparing the swpper, while 
 Nick can be seen inside, putting a stool upon 
 the bench to reach the topmost hangings on 
 the wall. He is humming the air of the play- 
 ers' song.'] 
 
 Nick. [Taking down the hangings and em/- 
 br Older ed maxims.] I wish Father would na be 
 so cross. 
 
 Maegaeet Attwood. Nay, child, he has a true 
 heart. 'T is the spent shillings that worry him. 
 
 Nick. [Gazing ruefully at ** Keep an Eye on 
 the Pence"] Aye, and the pence as well ! But he 
 need na scold so because I cheered the Admiral's 
 men. [Comes to doorway with " OvercoTue 
 Pride " in his hands,] They be dressed as fine as 
 any lord. 
 
 Maegaeet Attwood. [Setting the table.] 
 Wouldst like to be a player, Nick? 
 
 Nick. Oh, Mother, that would I ! — Mother, 
 can I na go to see them play? 
 
 Maegaeet Attwood. Must ask thy father, 
 child. Perchance, an thou art very good, he *11 
 let thee. 
 
 Nick. [Turning joyfully back to his work.] 
 Ah-h, 't would be — Oh/ 
 
16 MASTER SKYLARK Act I 
 
 [As he steps upon the bench, he capsizes the 
 stool, which falls to the floor with a heavy 
 thump. He jumps down, laughing. Reen- 
 ter Attwood, wiping his face and hands on 
 a coarse toztjel.] 
 
 Attwood. What madcap folly art thou up to 
 now? 
 
 Nick. I be up to no folly at all, sir. I upset 
 the stool. There 's no harm done. \^He quickly 
 hides " Beware of Sloth,** which he still holds in 
 his hand.'l 
 
 Attwood. Then be about thy business. — 
 Let us ha' supper quickly, Margaret ; I must away 
 to bargain wi' Atkins. He shall do it more 
 cheaply than he saith. [He seats himself moodily 
 on a bench by the doorway. Margaret Attwood 
 comes out with a jug of mUk, which she adds to 
 the loaf of rye bread, the cheese, and lettuce al- 
 ready on the table. She glances once or twice at 
 Attwood half -fearfully, and with her finger on 
 her lips significantly, she signs to Nick to be care- 
 
 Margaret Attwood. Fetch the stools, Nick. 
 
 Nick. [Entering the cottage and returning 
 with the stools; — to Attwood.] 'T is ready, 
 sir. 
 
Act I MASTER SKYLARK 17 
 
 [Attwoqd seats himself first, Nick waits deftly 
 upon them both, still without a word being 
 said,~\ 
 
 They say — they say, sir — [Stops at sign from 
 his mother.] 
 
 Attwood. Well, hast lost thy tongue? 
 
 Nick. Nay, sir. — They say the players will 
 act a brand-new stage-play at the guild-hall to- 
 morrow. — It is a very good company, they say. 
 
 Margaret Attwood. \_Encouragingly.] 
 Where do they stay the night, Nick? 
 
 Nick. At the Swan Inn. Sir Thomas Lucy 
 would na leave them come to the Peacock Inn, he 
 doth mislike them so. 
 
 Margaret Attwood. [Hurriedly, to check 
 further remarks by Nick along this line,] What 
 is the play called? 
 
 Nick. I canna say surely, Mother — I ha' 
 heard tell 't is one of Ben Jonson's. — \_Tumul- 
 tuously.] The play will be free. Father; it is 
 May-day — may I go, sir? 
 
 Attwood. And lose thy time from school? 
 
 Nick. There is no school to-morrow, sir, after 
 the morning session. 
 
18 MASTER SKYLARK Act I 
 
 Attwood. Then have ye naught to do, that 
 ye waste the afternoon in idle folly? 
 
 Nick. I will do my work beforehand, sir. \_His 
 hand trembles as he refills his father^ s cup,"] 
 
 Margaret Attwood. It is May-day, Simon, 
 and a bit o' pleasure will na harm the lad. 
 
 Attwood. Pleasure? — If he canna find 
 pleasure enough in his work, his book, and his 
 home he shall na seek it of low rogues and stroll- 
 ing scapegraces. 
 
 Margaret Attwood. \_With some spirit,'] 
 But, Simon, surely they are not all graceless! 
 Since mine own cousin, Anne Hathaway, married 
 Will Shakespeare, 't is scarcely kind to call all 
 players rogues. 
 
 Attwood. No more o' this, Margaret! — 
 Thou art ever too ready with the boy's part 
 against me. He shall na go. — I '11 find a thing 
 or two for him to do among the vats that will take 
 this taste for idleness out of his mouth. 
 
 Margaret Attwood. But, Simon — 
 
 Attwood. Nay, that be all there is on 't. 
 \_Exit abruptly,] 
 
 Margaret Attwood. [Softly, to Nick, who 
 stands mth clenched hands.] Nicholas! 
 
Act I MASTER SKYLARK 19 
 
 Nick. He should na flout thee so, Mother! 
 And, Mother, the Queen goes to the play. She — 
 
 Margaret Attwood. \_With a tender smile, 
 drawing him to her.^ Art thou the Queen? 
 
 Nick. Nay. But — the other boys will go 
 and see it all ; and I, on May-day of all the year, 
 to be sousing hides in the tannery vats! — 
 Surely it canna be wrong — 
 
 Margaret Attwood. To honor thy father.? 
 — \_Stroking his hair.'\ Nay, lad; it is thy 
 bounden duty. 
 
 Nick. [Sloxdi/, wonderingly .^ Mother, art 
 thou an angel come down out of heaven.? 
 
 Margaret Attwood. [Patting his -flushed 
 cheek, '\ Nay; I be only the every -day mother of 
 a fierce little son who hath many a hard, hard les- 
 son to learn. — Now eat thy suv)p«^r — 't will soon 
 be growing dark. I must away to cousin Anne 
 Shakespeare's to make her^ comfortable for the 
 night. — Poor soul! she hath been bedridden a 
 se'nnight since. — ■ And do thou, lad, when thou 
 ^.ast finished eating, get thy friend Robin Getley 
 and gather new rushes by the Shottery path. 
 'T will please thy father well, and mayhap on the 
 morrow he '11 let thee go. 
 
«0 MASTER SKYLARK Act I 
 
 Nick. Oh, Mother, thou art good. [Kisses 
 her impetuously.^ 
 
 Margaket Attwood. Nay, but I love thee, 
 child. [Exit.] 
 
 Nick. [Sits down to eat, hut after a moment, 
 stops, pushes the food away, and goes over to the 
 hedge, staring out into the dusk towards the Inn, 
 where lights have now appeared a/nd whence a faint 
 sound of singing comes. ^ I know he will na let 
 me go ! It is na fair 1 It is na fair ! — Heigho ! 
 I '11 go and get the rushes. [Exit.} 
 
 [The distant singing grows more boisterous. 
 Enter soon three burgesses, with a bailiff, 
 who is a regular Dogberry, followed by the 
 nightwatch^ at a little interval behind them, 
 with long staves and lanterns.'\ 
 
 1 Burgess. Aye, Master Bailiff, ye see it hath 
 no chimney, and our order was made known full 
 ten days past. 
 
 Bailiff. We '11 have him i' the stocks by noon- 
 tide if he do na conform. — Muster Attwood! 
 [Knocking.] — Muster ATTWOOD ! — Naught 
 within. 'S at the tannery, no doubt. — Here 's 
 food set out. 'S wife or son should be to home. 
 
 2 Burgess. Perchance they be in the garden. 
 [Exeunt. 1 
 
Act I MASTER SKYLARK 21 
 
 [Enter Carew with two other players, Caeew 
 has a slender, lithe body, rather tally and is 
 dressed in a tawny silk jerkin. Over one 
 shoidder hangs a plum-colored cloak; he 
 wears high-heeled shoes. His bonnet is of 
 tawny velvet , fastened by a jeweled brooch, 
 through which is thrust a curly cock-feather. 
 A broad lace collar is at his throat. He has 
 a little pointed beard, and the ends of his 
 mustache stand up fiercely on each side of his 
 sharp nose. At his side is a long Italian 
 poniard in a sheath of russet leather and sil- 
 ver filagree. He has a reckless high and 
 mighty fling about his stride.^ 
 
 Caeew. By the whistle of the Lord High Ad- 
 miral, this country air doth like me well. Gad's 
 boons, 't is a fair town, in truth. — Methinks 
 Will Shakespeare's wife should live now here- 
 abouts. 
 
 1 AcTOE. Aye ; we should be now near the edge 
 o' the town. — Yon must be the way to Charl- 
 cote. 
 
 2 AcTOE. Where Sir Thomas Lucy liveth? 
 
 Caeew. Aye, that " lowsie " Lucy who hated 
 our sweet Will most bitterly. Yet, had he not 
 sent Will packing for stealing of his deer, the 
 

 m MASTER SKYLARK Act 
 
 Lord Chamberlain had lost a master play- 
 wright, 
 
 '^^ 1 Actor. True; but Sir Thomas hath always 
 been an ass ; in Parliament as well as here. 
 
 Carew. Stratford burgesses are silly sheep 
 for following his fool lead. 
 
 1 Burgess. [^Reappearing, angrily^ followed 
 hy the rest,'\ How? Who calls us silly sheep, 
 thou bold-faced rogue .f^ 
 
 Carew. [Clapping hand on poniard.'\ 
 Rogue.? Gaston Carew, the Lord High Admir- 
 al's master-player, rogue? — Thou 'dst better 
 pick thy words more tenderly, or it will work thee 
 a mischief. 
 
 Baiuff. Sir, ye may na ruffle it like a high 
 duke here. These be burgesses of Stratford 
 Council. 
 
 Carew. I care not who ye be. I say Sir 
 Thomas Lucy is but the stupid old bell-wether of 
 thy flock. Ye let him drive Will Shakespeare 
 out of the town for a pitiful trifling cause. 
 
 1 Burgess. I tell thee, thou strolling fellow. 
 Will Shakespeare was neither more nor less than a 
 deer-stealing gallow's-bird. 
 
Act I MASTER SKYLARK 28 
 
 Carew. How ? By the Lord, sirrah, I tell thee 
 that Will Shakespeare is my own true friend, and 
 the sweetest fellow in all England. Whoever gain- 
 sayeth it, is a hemj>-cracking rascal, and I will 
 prove it on his back with a quarter-staff, when- 
 ever and wherever he may choose, 
 
 1 Actor. Come, Gaston, 't will not serve. 
 Best cool thy blood. Here come others. 
 
 Bailiff. 'T is Sir Tummas himself, from din- 
 ner at the Inn. — Now, fellow, thou 'It hold thy 
 peace. 
 
 Carew. Nay, that I '11 not. Be he Sir Thomas 
 Lucy, St. Greorge and the dragon, and all your 
 silly burgesses, rolled up in one, I dare him come 
 and prove my challenge false. 
 
 Sir Thomas Lucy. [Entering , pompously y 
 like a sort of Sir Toby Belchy with several follow- 
 ers, after whom come, softly at first, more of the 
 players.^ What means this brawling? — Sir- 
 rah, thy fellows are riotously drinking yonder at 
 the Swan. 
 
 Carew. That, sir, is no affair of thine — or 
 mine. The score will be paid. 
 
 LucT. Fie, thou art a saucy varlet. 
 
24 MASTER SKYLARK Act I 
 
 Cabew. \_B owing low, laughing. 1 Sir Thomas, 
 I take no offense from thee for saying that — it 
 cannot be denied. But when, as High Sheriff of 
 Worcester, thou didst condemn my most true 
 friend. Will Shakespeare, as a vagabond thief, and 
 hadst him driven from Stratford, [^shakmg his 
 forefinger under Sir Thomas' nose^ I fling the 
 words back in thy face. 
 
 Lucy. Out upon thee! Thy Shakespeare is 
 the greatest rogue of all ye stage-playing rabble! 
 
 Carew. Thou art a Dorking cock, dost not 
 know the truth from a truckle-bed in broad day- 
 light, and art — to thy teeth! — but the rem- 
 nant of a gentleman to boot ! 
 
 Lucy. [Furiousl^.l Thou — thou bold-faced 
 rascal! — This shall be seen to. — Master 
 Stubbes, as High Bailiff do ye now deny this runa- 
 gate rogue's company licenses to play. 
 
 Bailiff. [Aghast.] Eh? Eh.? Deny the 
 Lord High Admiral's players ? 
 
 Lucy. [Throwing off angrily the restraining 
 hand of a half -fearful follower. 1 Those were my 
 words. Do thy duty, and see to it well. 
 
 Bailiff. But, my master, this will touch Lon- 
 don town. Beware a coil with the Lord High Ad- 
 miral ! 
 
Act I MASTER SKYLARK 26 
 
 Lucy. Beware thou the forty pounds thou 
 owest me. 
 
 Bailiff. [Hastily, deprecatingly.l I have it 
 done e'en now. — Hear ye! Hear ye! [rapidly, 
 and almost inarticidately at first~\ Burgesses as- 
 sembled — in Stratford town, as Bailiff, made and 
 provided, I forthwith, this 30th day of April, Anni 
 Domino 1596, do refuse said company of strollers, 
 mountebanks, and interluders license to play 
 within the walls of Stratford town, in guild-hall, 
 inn-yard or common. 
 
 Carew. a fig for you all, you silly sheep! 
 [Thrormng his glove in the Bailiff's face.'\ 
 
 Players. [Crowding in 6acA:.] Ha! Have 
 at him! 
 
 Buegesses. Fie! For shame! 
 
 Bailiff. Fellow ! for that I seize thee for con- 
 tempt of Stratford Council, and hold thee for 
 triaL 
 
 Carew. [As two of the nightwatch step for- 
 ward to take him.'\ What! wilt take me? Un- 
 hand me, varlet, or by the Lord High Admiral's 
 whistle, thou 'It rue it sorely. 
 
 1 Actor. Nay, Gaston ! Beware. 
 
26 MASTER SKYLARK Act I 
 
 Lucy. Take him, constable. — These stage- 
 players be all upstarts of the same feather. 
 [^Exit, with followers; the actors steal away with 
 a backward glance or two at Carew, who strug- 
 gles violently a moment with the Bailiff and his 
 men; then, being pinioned finally, he says, as ex- 
 eunt :] 
 
 Carew. This will be a black score 'gainst ye 
 all ! I '11 be revenged upon this devil-spotted town 
 if 't costs the last remnant of my tattered honor ! 
 
 [Curtain descends for a moment to denote the 
 passing of one night,'] 
 
 [Same scene, early morning. Noise of a carpen- 
 ter-mason at work inside the cottage. Nick, 
 poring over a book spread upon the grass, is 
 conjugati/ng Latin verbs — " canto, cantas, can- 
 tat . . ."; but the noise of the workman inside 
 distracts him.~\ 
 
 Nick. Master Atkins ! — Master Atkins ! ! 
 — Oh, Master Atkins ! ! I 
 
 Atkins. [Stopping his pounding and coming 
 to the window.} Well, what 's to do.? 
 
 Nick. Canst thou not pound a little, a very 
 tiny little more softly.? A body canna hear him^ 
 self think for thy noise! 
 
Act I MASTER SKYLARK «7 
 
 Atkins. Art sickly that thou canst na bide a 
 good, round, honest noise? 
 
 Nick. I have na got my lesson half; and I 
 canna study in a noise. 
 
 Atkins. Then ye ha' idled, and will be well 
 birched for it at school. 
 
 Nick. Idled! I ha' been at the hides in the 
 tannery vats from first cock-crow till ten min- 
 utes agone. 'T is so I ha' na learned my lesson. 
 \^As pounding recommences^ he claps both hands 
 over his ears, and recites " canto, cantas, can.tat,^* 
 in a dull monotone. Noise ceases suddenly; the 
 workman comes out, making towards tlie rear of 
 the house, Nick, who has slowly risen as in de- 
 spair, slammvng the book shut, turns eagerly. '\ 
 Wilt work no more to-day? 
 
 Atkins. I be but going to mix the mortar. 
 [Exit.] 
 
 [Shrill whistles heard outside. Enter, two 
 Schoolboys, rwwnvng, up the lane. ] 
 
 1 Boy. Hast heard the news ? 
 
 Nick. What 's amiss? 
 
 1 Boy. There 's to be no stage-play after all. 
 
 Nick. No stage play? Why not? 
 
28 MASTER SKYLARK Act I 
 
 1 Boy. Why, the master-player hath been ar- 
 rested for insult to Sir Thomas Lucy — here upon 
 the highroad yesternight, while thou wert with me 
 gathering rushes. 
 
 Nick. Where be the other players? 
 
 1 Boy. Fled out o' town in the night, lest 
 their goods be taken by the law and they be fined. 
 
 Nick. But whither went they.? 
 
 1 Boy. To Coventry; and left the master- 
 player behind in jail. But this morning, my 
 father saith. Master John Shakespeare hath 
 wrought upon the other burgesses to set him free, 
 and to give him a purse of gold beside to soothe 
 him. 
 
 Nick. M-m! I wish / were a master-player! 
 
 2 Boy. Oh, but he swears he '11 walk the whole 
 way to Coventry sooner than straddle the horse 
 the burgesses sent for him to ride. 
 
 Nick. What! He 's still at the Inn ? Let's 
 go down and see him. 
 
 2 Boy. We 'd best be off to school. 
 
 1 Boy. Master Brunswood will birch us if we 
 be late. 
 
Act I MASTER SKYLARK 29 
 
 Nick. He will birch us like enough any- 
 way; a fellow canna slip on a single word without 
 a downright thrashing. — I will na stand it any 
 longer ! 
 
 1 Boy. What wilt do? 
 Nick. I '11 run away ! 
 
 2 Boy. And when the skies fall, we '11 catch 
 sparrows ! Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Nick. Ye think I dare na ? 
 
 1 Boy. Whither wilt run, Nicky? 
 Nick. To Coventry, after the players ! 
 
 2 Boy. Wilt, indeed ! Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Nick. Nay, then ; I '11 show you ! 'T is only a 
 few miles to Warwick, that 's half way ; and I 
 ha' cousins in Coventry. I '11 not be birched at 
 school for naught, nor worked all May-day after- 
 noon. There 's bluebells blowing in the dingle, and 
 birds a-wing in the fields; and while ye are grind- 
 ing at your musty Latin, I shall be roaming over 
 the hills, and I '11 see the stage-play after all. 
 
 2 Boy. Oh, no doubt, no doubt — with a most 
 glorious threshing from thy father when thou 
 comest home to-morrow ! 
 
30 MASTER SKYLARK Act I 
 
 Nick. 'T is a threshing either way : I '11 have 
 my good day's game out first. [^S tarts to go.] 
 
 1 Boy. [Going after Tma.] Wilt truly go to 
 Coventry, Nick? 
 
 Nick. Aye, truly, Robin; that I will. 
 
 2 Boy. [As a distant hell suddenly sounds two 
 or three times.'] Hi! hurry; 'tis growing late. 
 There 't ringeth. . . . [Exit^ running,] 
 
 1 Boy. [Starts; turns hack to Nick, evidently 
 moved a little.] Then farewell, Nick! [Turns, 
 running after 1st Boy; exit.] 
 
 [Again the hell rings once or twice, distinctly, 
 in the distance. Nick pauses irresolutely a 
 moment, looks about him, picks up the hook 
 he had dropped, and, the hell now having 
 stopped, goes slowly, with half-drooped head, 
 into the house. Some one is heard coming 
 slowly up the lane, whistling. It is Hodge, 
 the clownish hoy. He stops, peers around 
 half -stupidly. Nick reappears in the door- 
 way, with a pewter plate of hread am>d cheese 
 m his hand. Hodge shows surprise at seeing 
 Nick.] 
 
 Hodge. Eh! Nicky, be-est late for school. 
 [Nick does not answer, hut hegins to set forth the 
 
Act I MASTER SKYLARK 81 
 
 tablcy putting the food upon it.] — Thy mother 
 maketh rare good sweet-cakes, Nicky! 
 
 Nick. ^With his back still turned.'^ Aye. 
 
 Hodge. Be-eth thy mother at home? 
 
 Nick. \_Covering the table carefully with a red 
 cloth, while he answer s.~\ Nay; she hath gone to 
 nurse Mistress Shakespeare. 
 
 Hodge. Whut hast there, Nicky? [Pointing 
 at table.'] 
 
 Nick. 'T is for my father. 
 
 Hodge. Lazy-bones ! 
 
 Nick. [SharplyS\ He 's at the tannery vats 
 since the very peep o' dawn ! 
 
 Hodge. A 's up betoimes then. A must be 
 af eared o' the light o' day. [Nick has gone inside 
 again, not listening to what Hodge says. The 
 latter now clumsily but quickly steals a cake from 
 the covered table. Nick returns and, cap in hand, 
 without heeding Hodge, looks around a moment, 
 half uncertain; then starts off towards the gate.] 
 — Whur be-est going, Nick ? 
 
 Nick. To Coventry. 
 
 Hodge. To Coventry! — No school to-day? 
 
32 MASTER SKYLARK Act I 
 
 Nick. Nay; not for me. ILooks around the 
 place a little wistfvllyj] 
 
 Hodge. Not for me, nuther. [Watching 
 Nick, cautiously hitvng, and finally cramming the 
 cake, seeing that Nick does not look at him; at the 
 same time continuing:'] Muster Brunswood saith 
 that I ha' learned as much as faither ever knowed, 
 an' 't is enow for I. Faither saith it maketh 
 saucy rogues o' sons to know more than they's 
 own dads. — Why art going to Coventry, Nick? 
 
 Nick. To see the stage-play there. 
 
 Hodge. [Stari/ng.] So! Wilt take a fellow 
 wi' thee? 
 
 Nick. \_His hand on the gate.] Come on. 
 
 Hodge. [Perceiving some lack of enthusiasm 
 in Nick's reply.] And wull I see the play, too? 
 
 Nick. The Mayor's show is free. 
 
 Hodge. [As they come out through the gate, 
 which Nick shuts car ef idly.] Be it a tailor's 
 show, Nick, wi' a Herod the King, and a rope for 
 to hang Judas? [He capers with delight.] 
 
 Nick. Pshaw J no ; none of those old-fashioned 
 things. I hope they '11 play a right good Eng- 
 lish history-play, like our own Master Will 
 
Act I MASTER SKYLARK 3S 
 
 Shakespeare's " King John." — He 's become a 
 great Inan in London town. 
 
 Hodge. Wully Shaxpur a great man ! Hutty- 
 tutty ! he be na great. JVhy, a's name be cut on 
 the old beech-tree up Snitterfield Lane yonder, an' 
 I could do better myself. 
 
 Nick. Aye, but he is great ; he 's called the 
 Swan of Avon. 
 
 Hodge. Hoh! Avon swans be mostly geese* 
 
 Nick. Now look 'e here, Hodge Dawson, Mas- 
 ter Will Shakespeare married my mother's cousin. 
 I will na have him called goose. 
 
 [EnteTy unohservedy Gaston Carew, at the 
 farther end of the lane. He listens a moment, 
 with an expression of delight growing on his 
 face; then steps aside into a gap in the hedge, 
 which conceals him,^ 
 
 Hodge. La, now, 't is nowt to me. But since 
 when hath a been Mtuster Shaxpur? — that ne'er- 
 do-well play-actor? 
 
 Nick. Ne'er-do-well ! It is na true. When he 
 was here last summer, he was as bravely dressed 
 as my Lord Admiral's Master-Player [Carew 
 emerges for a moment, highly pleased] ; and he 
 
o 
 
 34 MASTER SKYLARK Act I 
 
 had a heap of good gold nobles in his purse, and 
 shillings to give away. 
 
 Hodge. A fools an' 's money be soon parted. 
 
 Kick. [^HoUt/.^ Will Shakespeare is no fool. 
 He 's going to buy the Great House in Chapel Lane 
 and come back here to live. 
 
 Hodge. Then a 's a witless zany to leave Lon- 
 don for Stratford. 
 
 Nick. I '11 make thee swallow those words ! 
 
 Hodge. I 'd loike to see thee try — 
 
 Nick. \_KnocTci7ig him down, and bending over 
 hmi.~\ There! Didst see. Now take back thy 
 bluster or I '11 box thine ears besides. 
 
 Hodge. \_Sullenl2/,'] Whoy, if 't is all o' that 
 to thee, I take it back ; but {^rising slowly, as Nick 
 rises; then, svlkilyl^ I '11 na go where I be whupped. 
 [^Backs up the lane, as Carew dodges behind the 
 hedge again.'\ An' what 's more, thy Muster 
 Wully Shaxpur be-eth an old gray goose, an' boo 
 to he, says I ! [Runs up lane, almost into Carew, 
 who makes a feint of stopping him as he dives 
 through the thin hedge. ^ 
 
 Nick. \_Callmg after him J] Mind ye this, 
 thou lout : when I come back, I '11 teach thee who 
 
Act I MASTER SKYLARK 86 
 
 thy thousand-time betters be — Will Shakespeare 
 first of all. 
 
 Carew. ^Striding down the la/ne.l Well 
 crowed, well crowed, my jolly cockerel! I thank 
 thee for it in Will Shakespeare's name. ^As Nick 
 still stares at him, Carew's manner changes to 
 fierceness.^ — What! How now! Dost like or 
 like me not? 
 
 Nick. Why, sir — why, sir — [Takes off his 
 cap and bows in boyish confusion,^ 
 
 Caeew. [Dramatically, stamping his foot.~\ 
 Come, come, I am a swashing, ruffling, desperate 
 Dick, and not to be made a common jest for 
 Stratford dolts to giggle at. What! these legs 
 laid in the common stocks? Nay, nay [putting his 
 hand to his poniard], some one should taste old 
 Bless-his-heart here first ! — Dost take me, boy ? 
 
 Nick. [Hesitating.] Why, sir — ye surely 
 are the Master-Player. 
 
 Carew. There! Who said I could not act? 
 [Laughs.] Why, boy, I say I love thee now for 
 this, since what hath passed in Stratford. A mur- 
 rain on the town! A black murrain, I say! 
 [Nick draws back afraid.] Nay, lad, look not so 
 dashed. That was only old Burbage's tragic 
 
Se MASTER SKYLARK Act I 
 
 style; and I — I am only Gaston Carew, hail-fel- 
 low-well-met with all true hearts. Be known to 
 me, lad; thi/ name? 
 
 Nick. Nicholas Attwood, sir. 
 
 Carew. Nicholas Attwood ? Why, 't is a good 
 name ; Nick — ^^I hope old Nick will never catch thee 
 — upon my word I do, and on the remnant of mine 
 honor I — Thou 'rt going a piece by yonder high- 
 road.? 
 
 Nick. Aye, sir ; to Coventry, to see thy fellow- 
 players act. 
 
 Caeew. Why, come, thou 'It go along with me, 
 then, and dine with us this night at the Blue Boar 
 Inn ; wilt not ? 
 
 Nick. [Bowing, overwhelmed. 1 Indeed, sir, 
 indeed I will, and that right gladly. 
 
 Cakew. [Putting his hand on Nick's shoulder, 
 and laughing gently.'] Nay, Nick, put on thy 
 cap ; we are but two good friends and equal faring- 
 fellowshere. {J^icm puts on his cap shyly. ~\ Thy 
 parents, — [turns as if to approach the cottage] 
 good souls — I '11 speak a word with them — God 
 save them, for your courtesy! [tahes a few steps 
 I toward the house] . 
 
Act I MASTER SKYLARK 37 
 
 Nick. [Confusedly.^ Nay, nay, sir; they be 
 both away from home. — And — and my father, 
 sir, caretli not for stage-players. He would na 
 leave me go. 
 
 Cakew. Not leave thee go.^* Why, then, I '11 
 take thee, lad. — But we be ill equipped, i' faith, 
 for a long journey. Zooks! I have not broken 
 fast this day. Couldst find some barley cakes and 
 a Banbury cheese to feed this empty pocket? 
 'T will be high noon and more before we see the 
 spires of Coventry. 
 
 Nick. Aye, surely, sir, I '11 fetch some. 
 [Goes into the house. '[ 
 
 Caeew. [Walking over to the hedge and look- 
 ing off, shading his eyes with one hand.~\ Upon 
 my word, 't is as fair a town as the heart of man 
 could wish. Wish? — I wish 't were sunken in 
 the sea! Faugh! they could not buy my silence 
 with two score gold rose nobles. [He lets fall 
 again into his wallet a heavy purse which he has 
 just removed.^ I '11 have my vengeance on them 
 all. 
 
 Nick. [Inside the cottage, singing joyously an 
 old-fashioned madrigal with a warbling refrain^ 
 like a lark*s song, which may he done mechanically 
 behind the scenes :] 
 
88 MASTER SKYLARK Act I 
 
 Hey, laddie, hark to the merry, merry lark ! 
 
 How high he singeth clear : 
 Oh, a morn in spring is the sweetest thing 
 
 That Cometh in all the year. 
 
 I 
 
 Carew. [Starting.'] My soul! my soul! — 
 It is not — nay, it cannot be — why, 't is — it is 
 the boy! Upon my heart, he hath a skylark 
 prisoned in his throat! 
 
 Nick. [StUl singing:'] 
 
 Ring, ting, it is the merry springtime ; 
 
 How full of heart a body feels! 
 Sing hey, trolly-lolly! oh, to live is to be jolly, 
 
 When springtime cometh with the summer at 
 her heels. 
 
 Carew. Why, there 's melting gold in the 
 lad's sweet voice! In London he would soon — 
 Nay — What ! — By my soul ! 
 
 Nick. [Still inside, but coming out at the last 
 of his warbling trill:] 
 
 God save us all, my jolly gentlemen. 
 
 We '11 merry be to-day ; 
 For the cuckoo sings till the greenwood rings. 
 
 And it is the month of May ! 
 Ring, ting . . . [etc.] 
 
Act I MASTER SKYLARK 89 
 
 Caeew. lAs Nick comes toward him with a 
 crock ful of barley cakes.] Well sung, well sung, 
 Master Skylark! Where didst thou learn that 
 wonder-song? 
 
 Nick. Why, Mother learned me part, and the 
 rest — just came, I think, sir. 
 
 Caeew. Why, lad, thy voice — But, soft — 
 l_Looks sharply around. '] Thy father is not near? 
 Thou 'rt sure? 
 
 Nick. Nay, sir ; he 's off at the tannery. 
 
 Caeew. Dost know any other songs ? 
 
 Nick. I know Master Will Shakespeare's 
 " Hark, hark, the lark," and " The ousel-cock so 
 black of hue, with orange-tawny bill," and the 
 throstle's song that goes with it. 
 
 Caeew. Why, to be sure thou knowest old 
 Nick Bottom's song; for is not thy name Nick? 
 Well met, well met, I say. 
 
 Nick. Oh, sir — I — 
 
 Caeew. Nay, I do not care to hear thee talk. 
 Sing. Sing all thy songs. I am hungry as a wolf 
 for songs, dear Nick, and thou wilt sing them all 
 for me? 
 
40 MASTER SKYLARK Act I 
 
 Nick. Aye, surely, sir. But wilt thou have 
 the barley cakes ? 
 
 Caeew. My soul, I had forgot the cakes. 
 l^Takes them, and Nick carries back the empty 
 crock,~\ pz- I '11 do it ! I '11 do it if I dance on air 
 for it ! \ I '11 have it out of canting Stratford town, 
 or ffiajr I never thrive ! My soul ! the very thing. 
 His eyes are like twin holidays and he breathes the 
 breath of spring. Nicholas, Nick Skylark — ^| 
 Master Skylark —^ why, 'tis just the name. — ^| 
 I '11 do it, upon my word, and on the remnant of 
 mine honor ! 
 
 Nick. [Having come out again, as he speaks 
 the last words. 1^ Did ye speak to me, sir? 
 
 Carew. Nay, Nicholas, I was talking to the 
 man i' the moon. 
 
 Nick. Why, sir, the moon is not up yet. 
 
 Carew. [Laughing.'] To be sure ; the silvery 
 jade has missed the first act. 
 
 Nick. The first act.? What will ye play for 
 the Mayor's show, in Coventry.? 
 
 Carew. [StUl staring at him.] I know not, 
 — something to catch the pence of the Mayday 
 crowd. 
 
"What! How now?" cried the «tranL'<'r, sliiiiplv 
 like me not?" 
 
 |)<)>i lik.- or 
 
Act I MASTER SKYLARK 41 
 
 Nick. [Greatly distressed.] Why, I thought 
 the May-day play 'd be free — I have not a 
 farthing ! 
 
 Carew. Tut, tut, thou silly lad! Am I thy 
 friend for naught ? Why, Nick, I love thine open, 
 pretty face. — Canst thou speak lines by heart? 
 — Here, scan this paper o'er. [Gives him a 
 paper from a roll that he takes out of one side of 
 his wallet. 1 
 
 Nick. Why, sir, it is a part ! 
 
 Caeew. A part, to be sure — and a part of a 
 very good whole, too; and do thou just learn that 
 part, good Master Skylark, as we walk along to- 
 gether, and thou shalt say it in the day's play. 
 
 Nick. [Gasping.] What, Master Carew! 
 I? With the Lord Admiral's players? 
 
 Caeew. [Clapping Nick on the bach, as 
 Hodge, unobserved, thrusts his head through the 
 hedge and gapes in astonishment.] Why, surely; 
 and thou shalt sing Tom Heywood's newest song ; 
 it is a lark-song like thine own. 
 
 Nick. [Still amazed with joy, and hesitating.] 
 But — will they have me, sir ? 
 
 Caeew. Have thee? What! I am master 
 here. And I tell thee, Nick, that thou shalt see 
 
42 MASTER SKYLARK Act I 
 
 the play to-day, and be the play, in part — to- 
 day, aye ; — and perchance thereafter, too ! — 
 But, come. Master Skylark; let us jog along for 
 Coventry. [Exeunt; Carew buoyantly^ one arm 
 lightly resting upon the lad's shoulders.^ 
 
 Hodge. [Emerging from the hedge, staring 
 for a moment after the retreating figures and shak- 
 ing his fist at tJiem, now rwns hack of the cottage 
 in the direction of the tannery, shoutvng.~\ Mus- 
 ter Attwood! Muster Attwood! Oh-ee, Muster 
 Attwood! [Exit,'] 
 
 Margaret Attwood. [Entering from the far 
 end of the lane, and coming down to enter the cot- 
 tage gate.] Now, who can that be calling Simon? 
 [Sloxdy coming on.] 'T was foolish of me to for- 
 get that brew of herbs. [Seeing the untouched 
 table.] What's here? He hath not had his 
 breakfast yet; but Nick hath laid it out for him 
 before he left for school, — my good, dear lad! 
 
 [Cries outside. Enter Attwood, from the 
 rear of the cottage, holding Hodge by the ear.] 
 
 Attwood. He said to thee he was na going to 
 school na more? 
 
 Hodge. Aye, sir, that a did. And a went 
 away wi' a play-actorin' fellow in a plum-colored 
 
Act I MASTER SKYLARK 43 
 
 cloak; and play-actorin' fellow said a loved un 
 like a's own, an' — 
 
 Attwood. He went towards Coventry? 
 
 Hodge. Aye ; an' play-actorin' fellow said a 'd 
 put un in the play, an' he should sing a song. — 
 Now, le' me go. Muster Attwood ; cross my heart, 
 't is all I know. \_He is released, and exit hur- 
 riedly.] 
 
 Attwood. [Slowly, raising his hand, and let- 
 ting it fall.} He hath gone his own wilful way. 
 Let him follow it to the end. 
 
 Margaret Attwood. [Breathlessly, coming 
 to Attwood.] Simon! Is 't my Nicholas ye 
 mean? 
 
 Attwood. Aye; never speak to me of him 
 again. [Thrusts her from him sternly with a 
 gesture of his hand, — not physical violence, how- 
 ever; he is an unhappy Puritan, but not a brute.] 
 
 Margaret Attwood. [Still clinging, a/nd 
 reaching as if to catch his hand or arm, pressing 
 towards him piteously, pleading.] Oh, Simon! 
 Be not so hard ! 
 
 Attwood. He hath gone away to join a pack 
 of stage-playing rascals and vagabonds — 
 
1 
 
 44 MASTER SKYLARK Act I 
 
 Margaret Attwood. [Supplicatingli/y but 
 hesitating, pausing, no longer striving to cling 
 upon his arm.^ But, Simon! 
 
 Attwood. ^He checks her again with a ges- 
 ture, impressive and forbidding. '\ Nay. He 's 
 no longer son of mine. This house shall ne'er be 
 home for him again ! [He goes into the cottage, 
 takes down a huge leather Bible from the shelf, and 
 sits down blindly with it unopened in his lap.] 
 
 Margaret Attwood. [Sinking on the door- 
 siU, sobbing.'\ Oh, Nick! My little Nicholas! 
 
 [Curtain] 
 
 [End of Act I] 
 
ACT II 
 
 [Mid-afternoon, same day, A tavern room in 
 Coventry (the Blue Boar Inn), -filled with the 
 Lord Admiral's players, drinking, dicing, play- 
 ing at cards, and talking loudly, at several 
 rough tables. A landlord and barmaid hustling 
 about, supplying flagons and mugs of wine and 
 ale from a quaint small bar at the rear. The 
 hack wall of the room runs diagonally across 
 the stage, from left center hack to right 
 front. One door, to the left, opens evi- 
 dently upon the street, for frequently there is 
 heard in its vicinity the disturbing clang of a 
 smithy^s anvU. Another door, in the hack wall, 
 to the right, opens upon the inn-yard, where 
 there has been rigged up a rude stage. This is 
 visible partially through the three large, low, 
 small-paned windows, set in the back wall; hut 
 later, the tapestries in front of the windows are 
 pulled back sufficiently to allow the audience to 
 see fully the players outside upon the stage. The 
 interior stage seen through the three windows, 
 
 should he very brilliantly lighted from overhead, 
 45 
 
46 MASTER SKYLARK Act II 
 
 as if hy the sun from the open sky. The fore-^ 
 ■front stagey the tavern-room, should he less 
 brightly lighted, particularly at the time when 
 the principal action is beyond the windoixh 
 openings. 
 
 Laughter as the curtain rises. Business with 
 bar-maid and players,^ 
 
 1 Playee. Well, Tom, I wonder how bold 
 Gaston fares. 
 
 Heywooi>. 'T was a scurvy trick to take hia 
 horse away. 
 
 1 Player. Nay, Tom Heywood; Gaston hath 
 earned naught but his just deserts for his high and 
 mighty speech. 
 
 2 Player. Aye ; we need not rack our brains ; 
 trust that same nimble tongue to fetch him forth. 
 
 1 Player. I '11 wager he 's now upon the 
 way l^rising and striding fiercely about, to imitate 
 Carew] , cursing Stratford at every step he takes, 
 for a vile, moth-eaten, moldy town with whey- 
 brained, slop-jawed, shovel-faced fools for bur- 
 gesses ! [Laughter,^ 
 
 2 Player. [To Goole.] Look 'e, Gregory, 
 dost not think that thy sweet master will be here 
 anonP 
 
Act II MASTER SKYLARK 47 
 
 GooLE. l^Sullenli/.l Nay, I trow not. 
 
 2 Player. Perchance thou dost not think at 
 all! ILcmghter,} 
 
 GooLE. [Angrily. '\ How should I know? 
 
 1 Player. Why shouldst thou know? Gad- 
 zooks, art not his groom? Was it not thou that 
 took his horse ? Methinks thou 'st served him long 
 enow to be hard put to dodge the hangman thine 
 own self. [Prolonged laughter. '\ — [To Land- 
 lord.] More wine here, sirrah. 
 
 Heywood. But truly if he come not, we '11 have 
 a sweet to-do to fiU his place this day. 
 
 1 Player. Oh, trust Phil Henslowe for all 
 that. 
 
 Henslowe. Nay, we cannot stand his loss one 
 little day, since Burbage weaned Will Shakespeare 
 from us. 
 
 2 Player. Gaston will be here in time. Didst 
 not see how Master John Shakespeare, for sweet 
 Will's sake, didst stand by Gaston in the fracas? 
 
 1 Player. Aye, truly — and, pat, he comes ! 
 [Enter Carew, zcith Nick.] What, ho! [All 
 look up and shout loudly, raising their flagons,] 
 We missed ye, Gaston ! 
 
48 MASTER SKYLARK Act II 
 
 Caeew. [Stepping forward, ironic ally. '\ 
 Thanks for these plaudits, gentle friends. I have 
 returned. 
 
 1 AND 2 Players. Aye. We see that ye have, 
 Gaston. [Laughter. ~\ 
 
 Carew. Ye fled, and left me to be spoiled by 
 the spoiler; but I have left the spoiler spoiled. 
 [He displays the purse given him by the burgesses. 
 Then, laying his hand on Nick's shoulder and bow- 
 ing to them all graciously.^ Be known, be known 
 all ! Gentlemen, my Lord Admiral's Players, Mas- 
 ter Nicholas Skylark, the sweetest singer in all 
 England! [Nick hangs his head in confusion as 
 the players stare at him, vn surprise at first, and 
 then with grins and wmks at Carew. Some begin 
 to laugh.^ It is no jest. He hath a sweeter voice 
 than Colley Cyril's, the best in London. I '11 stake 
 my honor on it ! Jfl 
 
 2 Player. Hast any, Gaston.? [Laughter. '\ 
 
 Carew. [In a high voice. ^ Now, hark 'e, 
 Fulk Sandells; what I say is so, upon my word, 
 and on the remnant of mine honor ! ; And this very 
 hour ye shall see, for he is to sing in the play with 
 us. — Come, Nick. 
 
 [They stare curiously at Nick again, but Carew 
 takes him over to a table where Heywood and 
 
Act II MASTER SKYLARK 49 
 
 Henslowe are seated, Nick hows to them 
 politely.^ 
 
 Heywood. {^Kindly J\ Wilt drink with me, 
 my lad? 
 
 Nick. [Hesitatingly.'] Nay, — if you please, 
 sir. I do na care for it. 
 
 Several Players. [Coming towards the 
 table. Same one speaks first and last phrases.] 
 What ! a player, and no wine ? — Will he not 
 drink? — Here, thou shalt drink, boy. 
 
 Carew. [Scowling^ and clapping his hand on 
 his poniard.] Nay, Fulk; we '11 have no more o' 
 that. [They laugh. Sandells, who has drawn 
 himself up, as if to face Carew, thinks better of 
 it and draws back.] Be off, and make ready for 
 the play. The gentry were crowding up the lane 
 even as we entered. 
 
 [A player goes to the inn-yard door and opens 
 it a crack, whereat a hum of voices becomes 
 audible for a moment. He closes the door.] 
 
 Nick. But, kind gentlemen, I wHl drink with 
 ye. 
 
 Caeew. There, sirs! — Spoken like a man, 
 Nick. 
 
60 MASTER SKYLARK Act II 
 
 Nick. Only, if ye please, sirs, I should like it 
 to be a mug — o' milk. 
 
 Carew. Good for thee, my Skylark. We will 
 not have thee burn thy tender throat. [^Calling 
 aside.^ Here, Landlord, milk. — We '11 sup 
 more heartily after thy part in the play. ^Exit 
 Landlord.] 
 
 2 Player. But, Gaston, he should sing for 
 us now. 
 
 Carew. Nay, but he '11 not. He must have 
 rest before his turn comes. If any of ye had 
 left a beast for us to ride upon, he should have 
 sung for thee an hour agone. Now ye must wait. 
 
 Henslowe. But, Gaston, hast heard him sing 
 upon a stage? 
 
 Carew. [Shortly. } Hark 'e, Phil Henslowe, 
 and all of ye. I say the boy can sing. And sing 
 he shall, shortly, in the play. — And Hey- 
 wood, he hath learned thy latest song. — But not 
 a whit before 't is time. Do ye take me.'' 
 
 [The other players withdraw, and make ready 
 for the play. The tables are pushed back, 
 some musical instruments made ready y and 
 their costumes furbished up and embellished 
 from wallets and saddle-bags. The Land- 
 
Act II MASTER SKYLARK 61 
 
 LORD brmgs Nick his mug of milky mean- 
 whUcy and some sweet-cakes. The hoy bends 
 his head and murmurs a grace, at which 
 Carew and Heywood look at him curiously. 
 The other players stare and smile; but no 
 one laughs, 
 A player opens the inn-yard door again. Ex- 
 eunt others with -flute, viol, gittern, cymbals, 
 fiddles, to take their places in the outer bal- 
 cony overlooking the inn-yard stage. There 
 are outside steps to this, which can be seen 
 as another player inside draws back the win- 
 dow tapestries. Three or four dandies can 
 be seen assembling upon the stage and seat- 
 ing themselves upon stools. A girl moves 
 among them with cherries for sale. Their 
 voices are plainly audible as long as the door 
 remains ajar.] 
 
 Voices. Good-day, fair Master Harrington! 
 — Good-day, Sir Thomas Parks! 
 
 Girl. Cherry ripe, cherry ripe ! Who '11 buy 
 my sweet May cherries? 
 
 Voices. Good-day, sweet Master Nettleby! — 
 Good-day, good-day! 
 
 Girl. Here, sirs, sweet sugared cakes and gin- 
 ger nuts. 
 
52 MASTER SKYLARK Act II 
 
 Voice. Way, sirs, way for my lord, the Earl 
 of Warwick! 
 
 Another Voice. Room here! Room here!! 
 
 \_The player lets the tapestry fall agam, and 
 the door is also shut.'l 
 
 Carew. [To Heywoo'B.] Upon my soul, 
 Tom, 't would seem that Puck had burst a honey- 
 bag in his throat. 
 
 Heywood. No doubt, no doubt. He hath a 
 sweet face, too. But where didst find him, Gas- 
 ton .^^ 
 
 Carew. [Rising. '\ That were too long a tale. 
 — 'T is time for the prologue's signal. 
 
 Heywood. \_To Nick, who is finishing his 
 lunch.~\ We shall seem rough fellows to such as 
 thee, my lad. 
 
 [Carew has opened the door, and as he gives 
 the signal to the Prologue, there is a crash of 
 rmisic'l 
 
 A Voice. Good citizens of Coventry and high- 
 born gentles all : know ye now that we, the players 
 of the company of his Grace, Charles, Lord How- 
 ard, High Admiral of England, Ireland, Wales, 
 Calais, and Boulogne, the marches of Normandy, 
 Gascony, and Acquitaine, Captain-General of the 
 
Act II MASTER SKYLARK 53 
 
 Navy and the Seas of Her Gracious Majesty the 
 Queen — [cheers from the inn-yard, and pro- 
 longed shouting, " God save good Queen Bess! "] 
 — will, with your kind permission, play forthwith 
 the laughable comedy of " The Three Gray 
 Gowns," by Master Thomas Heywood, in which 
 will be spoken many good things, old and new, 
 and a brand-new song will be sung. Now, harken 
 all ; — the play begins. 
 
 [A crash of music, as Carew shuts the door 
 again. He ha>s been exchanging words with 
 Henslowe during the preceding, while keep- 
 ing an eye on the stage without. '\ 
 
 Carew. Nay, I say one fourth of the whole 
 receipts, over and above my old share. 
 
 Henslowe. Zounds, man, do ye think we have 
 a spigot in El Dorado.'* This trip has lost us a 
 bagful of shillings already. There 's naught we 
 play will please ; — 't is " Shakespeare, Shake- 
 speare ! " everywhere. I wish we had him back ! 
 
 Carew. But, man, ye 've heard Will say him- 
 self, "There's a tide leads on to fortune if ye 
 but take it at the flood." Come, one fourth over 
 my old share, and I will fill your purse so full of 
 gold that it will gape like a stuffed toad. His is 
 the sweetest voice that ever su^^ared ears. 
 
54 MASTER SKYLARK Act II 
 
 Henslowe. [^Looking at Nick, who is fur- 
 tively studying his lines, since Heywood left him 
 to go upon the stage J\ But, man, man, one 
 fourth ! 
 
 Carew. Better one fourth than lose it all. — 
 But, pshaw, Nat Gyles will take him on to lead the 
 choir boys of St. Paul's. \^He strides over to 
 Nick.] Well, Nicholas, hast all in mind.^^ 
 
 Nick. I think so, sir. — It goes, " Good my 
 lord, I bring a letter from the Duke — " 
 
 Carew. [Laughing. '\ Nay, nay; not so. 
 Now mark ; " Good my lord, I bring a letter from 
 the Duke " — as if thou hadst indeed a letter, see, 
 as I told thee, and not an empty fist. And when 
 thou dost hand it to him, do it thus — and not as 
 if thou wert about to stab him in the paunch with 
 a cheese knife! 
 
 Nick. " Good my lord, I bring a letter from 
 the Duke — " 
 
 Caeew. Excellent, i' faith! [Clapping him 
 on the shoulder. 1^ 'T is nearly time for thee. 
 [He strides to the door again, gnawing his mus- 
 tache. He comes hurrying back.J — Ready 
 now, lad. [They pass over to the door, and 
 Carew listens a moment. 'I Go straight down 
 
Act II MASTER SKYLARK 65 
 
 front now as I told thee — mind thy cues — 
 speak boldly — sing as thou didst sing for me, — 
 and if thou wouldst not break thy mother's heart 
 and mine, do not fail me now! \_He opens the 
 door,] 
 
 A Voice. " How now, who comes? " 
 
 Carew. [Softly.] Now. Go! 
 
 [Exit Nick. At the same timey ttxH) other play- 
 ers slip over to the windows and push hack 
 the tapestries farther^ to gaze out themr 
 selvesy thus revealing to the audience the 
 larger part of the play-stage^ which should 
 now he very hrUliantly lighted, while the 
 lights of the fore-stage are turned down a hit. 
 There is a painted sign visible at the rear, 
 reading, in olden lettering, " This is a room 
 in Master Jonah Jackdawe's House.''* Nick 
 comes into view, hesitatingly.] 
 
 A Flayer. [Upon the rude stage.] " I '11 
 match him for the ale ! " ) 
 
 Nick. Good my lord, I bring a letter — a let- 
 ter — a letter from the Duke — 
 
 A Voice. [Rudely mocking as Nick pauses in 
 confusion,] Whoy, bullies, there be hayseed in 
 his hair. I' fecks they 've plucked him green ! 
 
56 MASTER SKYLARK Act II 
 
 [Boisterous laiighter. Carew claps his hand 
 upon his poniard and scowls through the door- 
 way. One of the players behind Nick whis- 
 pers i/n his ear to prompt him. Nick is more 
 confused.'] 
 
 Nick. I bring — a good letter from my lord 
 the Duke — [The crowd jeers as he stops 
 again.] 
 
 Carew. \_Calling softly, but fiercely.] Sing 
 up, thou little fool! 
 
 Nick. \_As music of a viol and gittern breaks 
 in upon the growing disturbance of the crowd; 
 straightening up and beginning to sing:] 
 
 Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day ; 
 
 With night we banish sorrow; 
 Sweet air, blow soft; mount, larks, aloft. 
 
 To give my Love good-morrow! 
 Wings from the wind to please her mind. 
 
 Notes from the lark I '11 borrow ; 
 Bird, prune thy wing, nightingale sing, 
 
 To give my Love good-morrow; 
 To give my Love good-morrow 
 Notes from the lark I '11 borrow. 
 
 \_A warbling bird-like trill here, similar to that 
 in Act I, zvith appropriate music. Silence. 
 
Act II MASTER SKYLARK 67 
 
 Then a great shout of applause. Heywood, 
 on the stagey jumps to his feet, Nick, 
 frightened, runs hack, through the stage- 
 door, into Carew's arms.^ 
 
 Carew. Quick, quick! Go back. Dost thou 
 not hear them call? 
 
 [Nick, thrust out upon the play-stage again, 
 stands bewildered. Heywood comes up and 
 slips a coin into his hand. Then Carew 
 leads him down tlie stage, bowing. Shouting 
 and applause. '\ 
 
 A Voice. [As before.^ Whoy, bullies! did a 
 not say 't was catched out in the fields ? It be a 
 skylark sure enough. 
 
 Voices. Sing it again! The Skylark — the 
 Skylark! 
 
 Nick. [To Carew.] Why, Master Carew, 
 do they mean me ? 
 
 Caeew. Aye, Nick ; 't is thou. 
 [Music as before, and song again :'\ 
 
 Wake from thy nest, Robin-red-breast, 
 
 Sing, birds, in every furrow ; 
 And from each hill, let music shrill 
 
 Give my fair love good-morrow ! 
 
58 MASTER SKYLARK Act II 
 
 Blackbird and thrush in every bush, 
 
 Stare, linnet, and cock-sparrow! 
 
 You pretty elves, amongst yourselves 
 
 Sing my fair Love good-morrow; 
 
 To give my Love good-morrow 
 
 Sing, birds, in every furrow. 
 
 [Applause, Nick cmd Carew come back mto the 
 tavern room, while the play goes on. The 
 door is now closed, and the curtains partly 
 drazim.'\ 
 
 Carew. \_With his arm around Nick's shoul- 
 ders,^ Now, lad, we '11 have the finest supper in 
 the town. — Landlord, what, ho! 
 
 Players. [Three or four of them, already in 
 the tavern room and waiting for further cues, 
 come crowding around Nick, slapping each other 
 on the back and clapping him gently on the shoul- 
 ders.] Good boy! — Thou'rt a rare and 
 golden Skylark ! — 'T is true. 
 
 Landlord. [Bobbing in obsequiously,'] Didst 
 call, sir? 
 
 Carew. [Haughtily,] Here, sirrah, fetch 
 the boy some fine repast, I care not what, so it be 
 wholesome food — a green Banbury cheese, some 
 sinnel bread and oat-cakes; a pudding, hark 'e. 
 
Act II MASTER SKYLARK 69 
 
 sweet and full of plums, with honey, and a pasty 
 — a meat pasty, marry, a pasty made of fat and 
 toothsome eels ; and, moreover, fellow, ale to wash 
 it down — none of thy penny ale, but snapping 
 good brew — dost take me ? — with beef and mus- 
 tard, tripe, herring, and a fat roast capon, stuffed 
 with spiced carrots and broiled to a turn! 
 
 Landlord. [^Gapmg.l But, Master — 
 
 Carew. How now! Dost think I cannot pay 
 the score? 
 
 Landlord. Nay, nay ; but, sir, where — where 
 will he put it all without bursting into bits? 
 
 Carew. [Sharply,] Be off with thee. We '11 
 manage it. [Laughingly, to Nick.] Nay, Nick ; 
 the more we leave from supper, the more we '11 
 have for breakfast. And thou 'It need a good 
 breakfast to ride on all day long. 
 
 Nick. Ride? Why, sir, I was minded to walk 
 back to Stratford, and keep my gold rose-noble 
 whole. [Looking at the com which Heywood had 
 given him.] 
 
 Carew. [Scornfully.] Walk? Thou, with 
 thy golden throat? Nay, Nicholas [chuckling, 
 as Landlord brings in ju^ and mugs and "fills one 
 for Carew, who drinks], thou 'It ride to-morrow 
 
60 MASTER SKYLARK Act II 
 
 like a king, and have all Stratford wait for thee. 
 \_Chuckles agam.'\ 
 
 Nick. \_Bowmg,'\ Why, Master Carew, thou 
 art kind. I thank ye, sir. 
 
 Carew. Art welcome. — What sayest? — 
 I '11 ride a ten-mile race with thee to-morrow as 
 we go? 
 
 Nick. Why, are ye going back to Stratford 
 to play, after all? 
 
 Carew. Nay, not for a bushel of good gold 
 Harry shovel-boards. But we shall ride a piece 
 with thee, Nicholas; we shall ride a piece with 
 thee. 
 
 Nick, And ye will tell me when to turn into 
 the Stratford road? 
 
 Carew. Aye, that will I. I know the road 
 thou art to ride much better than thou dost thy- 
 self. [ChucMes, as part of the feast is brought 
 in and set before Nick. Heywood, with another 
 player, enters from the stage-door, the former ap- 
 proaching Nick quietly. 1 — Now, thou songster 
 of the silver tongue, break thy fast. 
 
 Heywood. [Standing with his feet apart and 
 still staring at Nick, with pity in his voice. ^ And 
 
Act n MASTER SKYLARK 61 
 
 I have writ two hundred plays-, yet never saw thy 
 like. Lad, lad, thou 'rt a jewel in a wild swine's 
 snout. 
 
 Caeew. Come, Heywood; we are all in the 
 same sty. 
 
 Heywood. IFirmli/.] Speak for thyself, Gat 
 Carew. I '11 have no hand in this. [Carew 
 scowls, Heywood, sitting down beside Nick, 
 puts his arm arownd the hoy^s shoulders.^ — 
 So we are to have thee with us awhile. 
 
 Nick. Just for to-night, sir. I am going home 
 to-morrow, sir. 
 
 Carew. But, Nick, let me ask one favor of thee 
 first. To-morrow night we play in old St. Al- 
 bans' town, and I have promised Tom Heywood 
 here that thou shouldst sing his song again for us. 
 'T will break our hearts if thou wilt not. [Nick 
 shakes his head. Carew, coaxingly,'] Come, 
 Nick, thou 'It sing it once again, and set old Al- 
 bans' town afire? 
 
 Nick. Nay, sir; I could na stay from home 
 80 long. 
 
 Carew. Why, Nick, we're fain to hear thy 
 clear, sweet voice once more. Sing us one little 
 song again, as thou alone in all the world canst 
 
62 MASTER SKYLARK Act II 
 
 sing, and on my word, and on the remnant of mine 
 honor, I '11 see thee safe to Stratford town the 
 next bright morning after. 
 
 Nick. lHesitatmgl2/.~\ But can ye send my 
 mother word that I be safe? 
 
 Carew. Aye, marry, that we can, by the next 
 carrier. 
 
 [Heywood has not heard the last two remarks, 
 as a player had come up to him to ask a ques- 
 tion about some of the stage property. Now 
 he turns back in time to hear the next 
 speech.^ 
 
 Nick. And thou wilt let me go the morrow 
 after next? 
 
 Carew. Aye, verily. 
 
 Heywood. Carew, how can ye have the heart? 
 
 Carew. [Curtly. '\ Come, Heywood, I have 
 heard enough from thee. 
 
 Heywood. [Quietly, lifting his brows. "\ Very 
 well; but [turning to Nick], lad, Tom Heywood 's 
 a friend will never speak thee false. 
 
 Carew. [Clapping his hand upon his pon- 
 iard.} Sir! 
 
Act II MASTER SKYLARK 68 
 
 Heywood. ^Looking at him steadUt^,'] Wilt 
 quarrel with me, Carew — with me who took thy 
 new-born child from her dying mother's arms when 
 thou wert fast in Newgate jail? 
 
 Cabew. \_As if sxiddenly stricken, shutting his 
 eyes, and pushing out his hand in the air as if to 
 stop HsnrwooD, groaning.} Ahl 
 
 Heywood. ^With deep feeling. '\ Thou canst 
 not quarrel with me. 'T would be a sorry story 
 for my soul or thine to tell to hers. 
 
 Carew. Don't, Tom, don't. 
 
 Heywood. Then how can ye have the heart? 
 
 Carew. [Lifting up his head, with lips trenv- 
 bling.] 'T is not the heart, Tom [bitterly] ; it 
 is the head which doeth this. But, Tom, thou 
 hast just heard him sing: 'tis worth a thousand 
 pounds. How can I leave him go? 
 
 Heywood. Oh, fie, for shame upon the man I 
 took thee for! 
 
 Nick. [Wretchedly.] But, sir, ye have just 
 promised I should go. 
 
 Caeew. [Pleadingly.] Why, Nick, I told 
 thee if thou wouldst sing one little song, I 'd send 
 thee back the next bright morning after. But, 
 
64 MASTER SKYLARK Act II 
 
 lad, thou sure canst see if thou shouldst leave us 
 now so soon, there 'd never again come a single 
 bright good morrow. 
 
 Nick. J^Despairingly.l Oh, Master Carew, 
 ye said but now that ye would leave me go, and 
 then ye say ye will na. There is a falsehood — 
 a wicked black falsehood — somewhere betwixt you 
 and me, sir; and ye know I have na lied to you. 
 [Sohs.'] 
 
 Heywood. Carew, thou surely canst not mean 
 to keep him for good and all? Wouldst spoil 
 his sweet young soul among wild blades like us? 
 
 Carew. But, look it straightly in the face, 
 Tom : I 'm no such player as I was — and here 
 ruin stares us in the eye. We storm town after 
 town for scant twelve shillings clear. There 's 
 naught will serve : we 've tried old Marlowe, Robin 
 Greene, and all ; but now from pit to stall the peo- 
 ple clamor out for Shakespeare. I tell thee, Tom, 
 there 's magic in the fellow. Why, we must often 
 play to empty stools, while their new Blackfriars' 
 playhouse doth take ten pounds the night. And, 
 Tom, there 's Cicely, — - not one penny laid by 
 for her against a rainy day ; and some time I '11 
 be gone, Tom; it is not morning all day long. — 
 Nay, I cannot leave him go. 
 
Act II MASTER SKYLARK 65 
 
 Nick. \^Wretchedli/, holding fast to Hey- 
 wood's arm.^ But, sir, my mother — my moth- 
 er's heart will surely break if I do na come home. 
 
 Heywood. Why, Gaston, hath the boy a 
 mother, too? 
 
 Cakew. Now, Heywood, on thy soul, no more ! 
 Ye '11 make me out a fiend. I cannot let him go 
 — I wiU not. And, Tom, there 's that within me 
 will not abide even thy pestering. \_He strides 
 over to the stage-door, gnawing his mustache^ 
 After a moment, a player comes through tlie door, 
 letting in the sownd of laughter and cheers, Nick 
 is sobbing, his liead upon the table, Caeew soon 
 goes out himself upon the play-stage.'\ 
 
 Heywood. [Bending over Nick, gently,"] 
 Nay, Nick, my lad, don't cry. Never 's a weary 
 while ; but the longest lane will turn at last : some 
 day thou 'It find thy home again all in a twinkling. 
 [Taking a knife in his hand.] Come, lad, taste 
 this mutton pie. 'T is excellently spiced, I war- 
 rant thee. [Nick shakes his head.] The good 
 God made the sheep that 's in this pie, not 
 Gaston Carew. Eat it — come, 't will do thee 
 good. Thy tired and empty stomach hath 
 need of the savory cheer that 's locked herein. 
 [Nick begins to eat, more heartily after the first 
 
66 MASTER SKYLARK Act II 
 
 taste.] There! Why, Nick, 'tis England still, 
 and thou an Englishman. Come, give the world 
 as good as it can send. [Nick raises his head, 
 amd, throwing the hair hack from his eyes, winks 
 the tears from them bravely.] Sing thou my 
 songs, dear lad, and I will be thy friend — let this 
 be for an earnest. [He slips a small seal-ring 
 from his little finger upon Nick's middle finger, 
 then rises and, going to the stage-door, presently, 
 exit. Nick sniffs once or twice, hut after looking 
 at the ring, goes on eating. Reenter Carew.] 
 
 Carew. [Half jestingly.] Come, cheer up, 
 lad, that I may know thou lov'st me. 
 
 Nick. [Indignantly.] But I do na love thee. 
 
 Carew. Tut, tut, lad. Be fair. I '11 feed 
 thee full and dress thee well and treat thee true 
 — all for that song of thine. Thou 'It be the pet 
 of every high-born dame in London. 
 
 Nick. I 'd rather be with mother, and hear 
 the birds along the Avon sing. 
 
 Carew. Best learn to like us, but — I must 
 away to do my turn again. Gregory Goole will 
 keep thee company, lad, till we have put a finish to 
 the play. [Moves toward the door, and says to 
 Goole;] Do not let the boy from thy sight. 
 
Act II MASTER SKYLARK 67 
 
 Watch him as thou wouldst thy precious life, or 
 — tsst ! l^Makes a threatening gesture, and exit, 
 with two or three other players, leaving Nick and 
 GooLE alone. ^ 
 
 GooLE. [^Sitting at a table facing Nick, and 
 playing with dice. '\ Threes. Pah! — Four and 
 two.— 'Slife! Curse the dice ! — Fives! ^He 
 gradually becomes engrossed vn the game. The 
 clang of the smithy* s anvil is heard agam.l A 
 plague on the bedlam dice! I think they be be- 
 witched. — Can I throw nothing but threes and 
 fours ? 
 
 Nick. lAside.'\ If I could only slip away and 
 find my cousin's house! {^Edges towards the 
 door.'\ 
 
 GooLE. A murrain on the luck ! — Ah, 't is 
 dry work. — What! [Springing up suddenly. 1 
 Thou little imp! [Drawvng his knife.^ Don't 
 try this on again ! [Catches Nick by the throat. '\ 
 
 Nick. [Gasping.] Oh, Master Goole, thou 'rt 
 choking me! 
 
 Goole. [Savagely. "] If thou triest this sort o' 
 caper on again, thy life 's not worth a rotten peas- 
 cod. [Nick is speechless with terror, and cowers 
 down upon a stool. Goole swaggers to a table and 
 
68 MASTER SKYLARK Act II 
 
 lays his dagger down upon it. Then, pickvng up 
 an ale-can, he takes a little drmk. Smacking his 
 lips, he looks at Nick, makes a horrible face as if 
 to threaten him, then turns the ale-can up and 
 drinks again, long and deeply, with his face half 
 buried in the pot, Nick slips out of the door into 
 the street,^ What, ho! the devil! [To Land- 
 LOED, who enters.^ Didst see him, there? 
 
 Landlord. Nay, sir ; see who ? 
 
 GooLE. God's footstool ! I '11 catch it now ! 
 [Runs to the door and exit, shouting:^ Stop 
 him there! A shilling to the man '11 catch the 
 rogue. Hath snatched a fortune from my hands. 
 
 Voices. [Outside, mimgled with noise and 
 shouts.^ Catch the knave! — Head him off 
 there ! — Stop, thief ! 
 
 [A brawny blacksmith appears through the 
 doorway, with a red-hot horseshoe held in his 
 forge-pincers.'] 
 
 Smith. [Calling to Landlord.] What hath 
 the varlet stolen, Ned? 
 
 Landlord. I know not ; not I. He 's with the 
 players. 
 
 Smith. Little good he '11 come to, then. — 
 Ah, they have him. Adrad, no ! He 's off again. 
 
Act II MASTER SKYLARK 69 
 
 {^Increasing noise, tumult, and sound of men run- 
 ning. '\ Whoy, 'tis well run. See him dodge! 
 Eigh ! he 's slipped 'em down an alley. [Nick ap- 
 pears in the street, rwnning, followed hy a crowd 
 of citizens, Goole entering last. Nick runs to 
 the Smith, who has just entered the tavern room, 
 and dodges behind him, cli/nging to his leather 
 apron.'] — Hoo, man, what a dickens ! {Snort- 
 ing m surprise, and dropping the hissing shoe.] 
 
 Nick. {Panting.] Do na leave them take 
 me ! — They ha' stolen me — from Stratford 
 town — and will na leave me go ! 
 
 A Citizen. {Rushing up to Nick, and trying 
 to take him by the collar.] Thou young rascal, 
 I have thee now! 
 
 Smith. So-oftly, so-oftly. {He tweaks up 
 the glowing shoe in his pincers and sweeps a sput- 
 tering half -circle vn front of the cowering Nick.] 
 What hath youngster here did now? 
 
 Citizen. He hath stolen a fortune from his 
 master — and the shilling for him 's mine. 
 
 Smith. Hath stealed a fortune? Whoy 
 {scratching his head in a puzzled way and turning 
 upon Nick, who is still dodging around himt], lad, 
 where hast putten it? 
 
70 MASTER SKYLARK Act II 
 
 Nick. I ha' stolen naught. They ha' stolen 
 me. 
 
 Carew. IBurstmg in through the stage-door^ 
 with the rest of the players and some of the crowd 
 behind hkm.^ How, now ! What meaneth this 
 disturbance of the play.? [^Seeing Goole.] 
 What 's this to-do, I say ? 
 
 Goole. Thy boy hath tried to 'scape. 
 
 Carew. Hast not caught him? [^Seevng 
 Nick.] Fetch him forth. 
 
 GooLE* [Stammervng, as the Smith stolidly 
 mows the air m front of himself and Nick again 
 with the sputtering shoe.^ But he will na be 
 fetched. [Crowd shout s.lj^ 
 
 Carew. [Fiercely, elbowing his way towards 
 Nick.] Nicholas Attwood, come hither. 
 
 Nick. [To Smith.] He is not my master: I 
 be not bound out apprentice — he is stealing me 
 away from my own home, and it will break my 
 mother's heart. 
 
 Smith. [Drawling, in his deep voice. ~\ No- 
 body breaks nobody's hearts when old John 
 Smith 's around ; we be honest-dealing folk in Cov- 
 entry — an' makes as good horseshoes as be forged 
 
Act II MASTER SKYLARK 71 
 
 in all England. \_He placidly goes on mowing the 
 air with the glimmering shoe.^ 
 
 Carew. [HaughtUy, zdth hand on poniard.^ 
 Here, fellow, stand aside and let me pass. [Crowd 
 falls hachJ] 
 
 Smith. [Pwffing out his sooty cheeks. "l 
 Droive slow through the crowd, muster. I be a 
 free-born Englishman, and I '11 stand aside for no 
 ruffling it here. Come, now, speak thee fair what 
 thou wilt o' the lad, or thou 'It get a dab o' the 
 red-hot shoe. [Gripping the tongs with an extra 
 twirl,'] What wilt thou o' the lad? 
 
 Carew. [Changing his tone to a burlesque of 
 the Smith's.] What will I o' the lad ? [ Winks at 
 the crowd,] What will I o' the lad? 
 
 Crowd. [Laughing.'] Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Carew. Why, bless thy gentle heart, good 
 man, I want to turn his farthings into round, red, 
 golden crowns — if thou and thine infernsJly hot 
 shoe do not make zanies of us all. Why, Master 
 Smith, 't is to London town I '11 take him, to fill 
 his hands with more shillings than there be horse- 
 shoe nails in thy whole shop. But now the child 
 hath only gone a trifle sick for home, and whimpers 
 for his minnie. 
 
12 MASTER SKYLARK Act II 
 
 Smith. But the lad saith thou hast stealed 
 him away from 's ho-ome ; and we '11 ha' no steal- 
 ing o' lads in Coventry town. 
 
 Crowd. Nay, that we won't, John Smith. Fair 
 play, fair play! [Threatenmg gestures and mur- 
 muring s.^ 
 
 Carew. \Turnmg so sharply on them, with 
 hand on poniard, that the crowd falls hach.'\ 
 What! fair play? Why, sirs, what if I took any 
 one of ye out of your poverty and common clothes 
 down into London, horseback like a king, and had 
 ye sing before the Queen, and play for earls, and 
 talk with the highest dames in all the land; and 
 fed ye well, and spoke ye fair, and lodged ye soft, 
 and clad ye fine, and wrought the whole town on 
 to cheer ye and to fill your purses full of gold? 
 [Turning to Smith.] What, sir, what if I prom- 
 ised thee to turn thy every word to a silver six- 
 pence and thy smutty grins to golden angels — 
 what wouldst thou ? — Knock me in the head with 
 thy dirty tongs, and bawl " foul play " ? 
 
 Smith. [Stupidly, scratching his head.^ 
 Nay, that I'd not.— I'd say, "Go it, buUy, 
 and a plague on him that says thee nay ! " 
 
 Carew. And yet, when I would fill this silly 
 fellow's jerkin full of good gold Harry shovel- 
 
Act n MASTER SKYLARK 7S 
 
 boards for the simple drawing of his breath, ye 
 bawl "Foul play!" 
 
 Smith. ^Laughing hoarsely, and striking 
 Nick jovially between the shoulders.^ What, 
 here! come out, lad, and go along o' the muster 
 here — 't is for thy good, — and ho-ome wull keep, 
 I trow. 
 
 Nick. [Hanging hack, amd clinging to the 
 Smith's arm despairingly,'] I will na — oh, I 
 will na. 
 
 Carew. Tut, tut! Nicholas. Come; I mean 
 thee well, I '11 speak thee fair, and treat thee true. 
 ISmUing frankly and zeminingly.'] I '11 swear it 
 on mine honor as an Englishman. What, how, 
 bullies? Upon mine honor as an Englishman! 
 
 — how is 'it? Here we be, all Englishmen to- 
 gether. [Clapping his hand to the first Citizen's 
 shoulder, wjio thereupon straightens up proudly.] 
 What! — ye are all for fair play? — and so am 
 I, and good master Smith here, too! Why, sirs, 
 we stand all together then, and what more can a 
 man ask than good, downright English fair play? 
 [Waving his hand,] Hurrah for good old Eng- 
 lish fair play! 
 
 Ceowd. Hurrah, hurrah ! Fair play, says we 
 
 — English fair play! Hurrah! [Waving of 
 hands and tossing up of caps,] 
 
74 MASTER SKYLARK Act II 
 
 Carew. Hurrah, my bullies ! That 's the cry. 
 Why, we 're the very best of friends ! Come now, 
 all of you, and douse a can of brown March brew 
 at my expense. Landlord, serve every one of my 
 dear fellows here with good brown British ale. 
 [Landlord bustles about, fUli/ng mugs for the 
 crotg^d.^ — We '11 drink to the Queen, to good 
 fair play, and to all the fine fellows in Coventry 
 town. 
 
 Crowd. l^Roaring, crowding about the tables 
 and Smith, raisvng mugs, etc.'\ Hurrah, hurrah! 
 Fair play! fair play! 
 
 GooLE. [Seizing Nick by the hand and lead- 
 ing him away, unnoticed by the crowd.'\ Thou 
 little, foul-chanced imp! 
 
 Carew. [Joining them, grimly.^ Now, Nich- 
 olas Attwood, hark 'e well to what I have to say. 
 I am willed to take thee to London town — dost 
 mark me ? — and, by the whistle of the Lord High 
 Admiral, to London town thou shalt go, warm or 
 cold. [Claps hand on poniard, and stares at 
 Nick sternly, opening and shutti/p^g his eyelids. 
 Nick is speechless with terror,'] 
 
 Crowd. [Laughing, drinking, and shouting to- 
 gether.] Ha ! ha ! ha ! — Whooee ! — Hurray ! 
 
Act II MASTER SKYLARK 75 
 
 Carew. \_StUl unnoticed, exit with Nick, fol- 
 lowed hy GooLE. At the door, he pauses to look 
 back contemptuously, and snaps his fingers at the 
 crowd in scorn.] Bubble-minded fools ! 
 
 [Cuetain] 
 
 [End of Act II] 
 
ACT III 
 
 [Room m Gaston Cabew's house, London. Four 
 days later. Late afternoon. 
 
 Large open fireplace, with heavy wooden carved 
 work. Wainscoted, paneled wulls, with two 
 portieres, concealing doorways, at the back. A 
 heavy oak door opens to the left, and a passage- 
 way to the right; and high windows give a 
 glimpse of chimney-pots and roofs beyond. 
 
 An old, black, brass-bound Spanish sea-chest by 
 one wall. An ancient table, two heavy chairs, 
 an arm-chair, and a stoOl are near the fireplace. 
 A burnished copper brazier burns at the rear, 
 near which is a low couch, half -hidden by a mov- 
 able screen. 
 
 Enter Carew with Nick.] 
 
 Carew. Now, Sir Jackanapes, sit down awhile 
 and cool thy silly pate. When thou hast found 
 thy common sense, perchance thou 'It find thy 
 freedom, not before. [Exit, bolting the door with 
 a bang.l^ 
 
 76 
 
Act III MASTER SKYLARK 77 
 
 Nick. [Rwnnmg to the door.~\ Oh, Master 
 Carew, let me out — please let me go home ! 
 \^Sound of retreating footsteps. Nick pounds on 
 the door.l Let me out! Let me out, I say! 
 
 [He runs to the windows and peers out, finally 
 standing with fists clenched, hut looking 
 about uncertainly. Enter, cautiously, a 
 BuTLEE, with a howl of hread and milk, just 
 as Nick carries the stool to a window, climhs 
 up, and tries to undo the fastening J\ 
 
 Butler. [Hurriedly setting down the howl of 
 milk a/nd the quarter loaf of bread, and waddling 
 to the window.'l Here, here, odzookens, lad! 
 Ztop un, ztop un ; do now. If thou couldst pry it 
 loose, and out, the drop would break thy neck. 
 Come sit ye here, and eat a bit. 
 
 Nick. [Coming do7tm.'\ I will na eat a bite 
 here in this house. I 'd sooner starve. 
 
 Butler. Now, now! Talk not so bitterly. 
 My muster meaneth well by 'e. — Rest thee a bit 
 yon. 
 
 Nick. I '11 neither eat nor sleep till I get word 
 to Master Shakespeare to come and set me free. 
 
 Butler. Whoy, dost know Muster WuU 
 2Jhacksper? 
 
18 MASTER SKYLARK Act III 
 
 Nick. He 's mj mother's cousin. 
 
 Butler. Zo-o! Muster Zhacksper be-eth a 
 famous man. Liveth in a fine large house on this 
 zame street, but vurther down. 
 
 Nick. Oh, is it true.? Oh, wilt thou tell him 
 where I be, and how I am not free ? — Here, I 
 have a gold rose-noble that Master Hey wood gave 
 me. 
 
 Butler, Noa, I canna. Muster WuU beant 
 there. 
 
 Nick. Where is he then? 
 
 Butler. Gone awa-ay. 
 
 Nick. Away ! Whither ? 
 
 Butler, A 's gone to court at Greenwich 
 where the Queen doth stay — a went yesterday. 
 
 Nick. Yesterday! Just yesterday! \_Sits 
 down, despairmgly ; but as Butler looks at him 
 curiously/, braces up a little.'\ Is — is Master 
 Richard Burbage of Stratford town at the Black- 
 friars' Theater now? 
 
 Butler. Noa; Muster Bubbage beant there, 
 nuther. A wun't play-act no more avore next 
 Martlemas. 
 
Act m MASTER SKYLARK 79 
 
 A Voice. \_CalUng harshly , outsid€.'\ Jem!' 
 Jem Barstow! 
 
 Butler. iReplymg.l Aye, aye, Gregory. 
 
 GooLE. [StUl outside; more sharply.'] Leave 
 the varlet and come down. There 's work to do. 
 
 Butler. Coming. [Eooit hurriedly.] 
 
 [Nick, after a moment of uncertainty^ in which 
 he tries hard to keep from breaking down, 
 throws himself upon the cou^h in utter de- 
 spair. Through the windows, out over the 
 roofs of the nearer London, lights appear 
 one by one in the houses. 
 
 A soft knock is heard at the door. Nick does 
 not hear it. The bolt is drawn softly, arid 
 Cicely Carew, with a lighted candle, stands 
 in the doorway. She is a pretty girl, about 
 Nick's ozim age, some twelve years.] 
 
 Cicely. [Softly.] Boy! [Nick turns and 
 ttares as if she were a princess in a dream. Slowly 
 he gets up and stands amazedly. Then Cicely, 
 with a quaint little air of reproof, but gently:] 
 Where are thy manners? [Nick quickly bows, 
 stares wonderingly, and bows again, more slowly. 
 Cicely, with naive surprise.] Why, thou art a 
 pretty boy. But why wilt be so bad and break 
 my father's heart? 
 
80 MASTER SKYLARK Act III 
 
 Nick. Break thy father's heart? [Stammer- 
 ing. ~\ Why, why, pr'ythee, who is thy father, 
 Mistress Princess? 
 
 Cicely. [Simpli/.'\ Nay, I am no princess. 
 I am Cicely Carew. 
 
 Nick. [Clenching his ■fists.'] Cicely Carew? 
 Art thou the daughter of that wicked man? 
 
 Cicely. My father is not wicked. [Passion- 
 ately^ draximig hack to the threshold, with her hand 
 trembling on the latch.] I will not speak with 
 thee at all. 
 
 Nick. I do na care ! If Master Gaston Carew 
 is thy father, he is the wickedest man in the world. 
 
 Cicely. Fie, for shame! [Stamping her 
 foot.] How darest thou say such a thing? 
 
 Nick. [Indignantly.] He hath stolen me 
 from home. 
 
 Cicely. [Looking at him in troubled surprise, 
 she comes into the room, sets down her candle, and 
 touches him on the arm.] There, don't cry. — 
 Thou must be ill. My father would not steal a 
 pin. [Soothingly, stroking his forehead gently.] 
 He will send thee to thy home and to thy mother, 
 I know; for he is very kind and good. — Don't 
 cry any more. 
 
Act III MASTER SKYLARK 81 
 
 Nick. \_Stoutly.'\ I 'm not crying. 
 
 Cicely. Then it is the roof leaks. [Pretend- 
 ing not to see his tear-blinded eyes, site looks up, 
 and then around the room, seeing the bread and 
 the bold pnally,~\ Come, thou art hungry, and it 
 hath made thee cross. [She leads him by the 
 hand to a chair by the table, and lights another 
 candle,'] 
 
 Nick. [Peering up at the windows,] Is Lon- 
 don town all smoke-pipes? 
 
 Cicely. Nay, there be people down under the 
 chimney-pots. And in the streets, hundreds and 
 hundreds more. It is the biggest city in the 
 world. 
 
 Nick. I canna breathe here. It is na like 
 our Stratford. 
 
 Cicely. And is thy Stratford a pretty town? 
 
 Nick. Aye. [He looks into the "fire dream- 
 ily,] The air is ever sweet, and the wind makes 
 all the Avon river ripple in the sun, like — like 
 twinkling stars, so that it dazzles one to look. 
 And, oh, there be red and white wild roses in the 
 hedges, and in the air a smell of clover and of new- 
 mown hay. The mowers will be working in the 
 clover even now, in the bright moonlight. Canst 
 not almost see the sweep of the shining scythes 
 
-82 MASTER SKYLARK Act III 
 
 and hear the chink-a-chank, chink-a-chank of the 
 whetstone on the long, curving blades? Chink-a- 
 chank, chink-a-chank, it goes, until I fall asleep. 
 And then I wake to hear a throstle piping to the 
 daisies on the hill, or a lark song far up in the 
 blue air. -And then I hear the voice of some one 
 calling me — my mother — 
 
 Cicely. ^Leaning forward.'^ Oh, boy; dear 
 boy ! — Thou shalt have some of the nfew pasty 
 to eat and a cake that 's in the buttery. \_She 
 pulls a tall, curiously made stool to the other side 
 of the table, and perches herself upon it, calling 
 imperiously. 1 Greg! Greg! What, how! Greg- 
 ory Goole, I say ! 
 
 GooLE. [Without, hoarsely, from the doorJ] 
 Yes, ma'm'selle. [Enters, sees Nick near the 
 half -open door. Sourly.^ Tut, tut! thy father 
 will not like this. [Closes the door,^ 
 
 Cicely. [Scornfully.'] Dost think I do not 
 know my father's likes and dislikes better than 
 thou? Wouldst starve him here? [Severely.] 
 Go tell Jem to fetch the pasty and the little cake 
 from the buttery, with a glass of cordial, or 
 I will tell my father what thou wottest of. 
 
 GooLE. [Fawning, hut with poor grace.] 
 Very good, ma'm'selle. [Scowling blackly at 
 
Act III MASTER SKYLARK 88 
 
 Nick, and snarling as he turns awayj^ But, 
 knave, if thou dost venture any scurvy pranks 
 while I be gone, I '11 break thy pate. [Exit.^ 
 
 Cicely. 'T is a saucy rogue, but he doth but- 
 ter his tongue with smooth words when he hath 
 speech with me: I caught him once at the Spanish 
 wine behind my father's back. — I am the lady 
 of the house, for my mother is dead ; and oh, boy, 
 when one's mother is gone, there is a hurting- 
 place that naught doth ever heal. — She was a 
 Frenchwoman, the loveliest that ever lived, al- 
 though I never saw her. [She clasps her ha/nds, 
 and moves her lips. Nick, seeing that she is pray- 
 ing y bends his head also.} Thou art a good boy 
 [softly] ; my father will like that. [Going on 
 quietly.] But I am a right English girl, for all 
 that Gregory doth call me " ma'm'selle " ; and 
 when they shout " God save the Queen 1 " at the 
 play, why, I do, too. [Clapping her hands, with 
 sparkling eyes.] Hast ever seen the Queen? 
 
 Nick. Nay; hast thou? 
 
 Cicely. Nay, but my father hath often prom- 
 ised me that I should go to court when I am a 
 little older. — And, oh, he hath bought thee a 
 fine new suit, for he saith perhaps thou 'It go to 
 see the Queen thyself. 
 
84 MASTER SKYLARK Act III 
 
 GooLE. {^Appearing at the door.'\ Ma'm'- 
 selle, thy father cometh ; 't were best to wait be- 
 fore I serve the pasty. \_Ea:it.'] 
 
 Cicely. Canst wait a moment longer, boy? 
 
 Nick. Aye, truly. — But dost think thy 
 father will truly leave me go? 
 
 Cicely. Of course he will. I cannot see why 
 thou dost hate him so. 
 
 Nick. Why, truly [hesitatingli/l, if he would 
 but leave me go, I 'd not : perhaps I 'd love him 
 very much indeed. 
 
 Carew. \_Enteringy and holding out his hands 
 genially, '[ Good, Nick! 'tis spoken like a gen- 
 tleman. Nay, I will kiss thee — for I love thee, ^| 
 Nick, upon my word, and on the remnant of mine 
 honor ! [Taking Nick's half-trnwUling hands in 
 his ozmiy he stoops and kisses him upon the f ore- 
 head. '\ 
 
 Cicely. [Graveli/.'] Father, hast thou for- 
 gotten me? 
 
 Carew. [With a wonderfully affectionate 
 laughy turning quickly a/nd kissing her most ten- 
 derly, while she twines her arms about his neck, 
 and lies hack with her head upon his shoulder,^ 
 Nay, sweetheart, nay. 
 
Act III MASTER SKYLARK 86 
 
 Cicely. \_Patting his cheeh,'] Daddy, some 
 one hath told him naughty things of thee. Come, 
 say they are not so. 
 
 Carew. [Uneasily, coughing, and looking up 
 among the roof -beams,] Why, of course they 're 
 not. 
 
 Cicely. There, boy! I told thee. — Why, 
 they said thou 'dst stolen him away from home ! 
 [Enter Butler.] 
 
 Carew. Ho, Jem, — we '11 have the supper here 
 together now. Bring in the pasty and some cakes 
 and honey, and a cordial, also. [Exit Butler.] 
 Thou 'It have a draught of cordial, Nick, to 
 pledge me in, I know [lights more candles as he 
 speaks], for thou art on the threshold of a golden- 
 lined success. [Enter Butler Tenth food.] — 
 Hullo, what a hole thou hast made in the pasty ! 
 
 Cicely. [Soberly.] Ay, Daddy, and what a 
 hole it would make in his mother's heart if he had 
 been stolen away! 
 
 Carew. [Hurriedly, reaching for the tall 
 fagon, with a trembling hand.] Wilt take a lit- 
 tle, lad? See, Nick, how the light shines through? 
 [Tilting up the flagon.] 
 
 CtCELY. Thou 'It send him home again, Daddy ? 
 
80 MASTER SKYLARK Act III 
 
 Carew. '[His hand spUling some wine as he 
 pours it out, nervotisly, and setting the glass 
 -flagon down hard upon the table.'\ Yes, yes, to 
 be sure — we '11 send him anywhere thou dost say, 
 Goldenheart. 
 
 Nick. \_Falteringlt/.'\ And will ye truly leave 
 me go, sir? 
 
 Carew. Why, yes, yes. But, Nick, thou 
 couldst not walk it, lad, in six whole days; there 
 will be carriers anon. Come, stay awhile with 
 Cicely and me — we will make thee a right wel- 
 come guest. 
 
 Cicely. [Clapping her hands, "] Oh, do stay ; 
 I am so lonely here, and the rats run in the wall. 
 
 Carew. And thou wilt sing for London town 
 before thou goest. The Queen should hear thee 
 sing. 
 
 Cicely, [Leaning on the arm of her chair, 
 devouring Nick mth her great, dark eyes.'] 
 Dost truly, truly sing? 
 
 Carew. [As Nick laughs and appears embar- 
 rassed.] What? Why, Goldenheart, he singeth 
 like a skylark. 
 
 Cicely. Thou 'It sing for me — when thou 
 hast finished? — my mother used to sing. 
 
Act III MASTER SKYLARK 87 
 
 [Carew turns pale, und puts his hand quickly 
 up to his face. Cicely darts to his side with 
 a frightened cry, and catches his hand away^l 
 
 Carew. [Trying to smile.'\ Tush, tush, little 
 one; 't was something stung me. [Huskily, and 
 with great weariness and sadness. 1 Stay, Nich- 
 olas, I beg of thee. And sing for us here — even 
 for me whom thou hatest! We need thee sadly. 
 Cicely and I. We be both too much alone. 
 [After a pause, softly. '\ Nick, I wonder if thou 
 couldst play as well as sing.? 
 
 Nick. What, sir, do ye mean? A game? 
 
 Carew. Nay, lad ; a gittern. 
 
 Nick. [In some surprise.'] Why, sir, I do na 
 know the knack. I ha' heard one played but once ; 
 yet 't was passing sweet. 
 
 Carew. Aye, lad, 't is passing sweet. — I 
 heard one first in France, a many years ago. Ai, 
 but that is a land of dreams, my lad and lass, a 
 land of dreams, I say. 'T is there the lilies grow 
 even in the ditches, and the tall trees stand 
 by the roadsides, and the wine has sunshine 
 'prisoned in it that sets the pulses dancing to a 
 music such as we can never even dream of here. 
 And the women are all radiant as queens, with hair 
 
88 
 
 MASTER SKYLARK 
 
 Act III 
 
 like night, and eyes like the summer stars. — 
 Thou wilt be like them, sweetheart; thou wilt be 
 like the fairest of them all. ^He stops suddenly 
 and stares out of the window into the night. ~\ 
 
 Cicely. Is thy mother like that, Nick ? 
 
 Nick. Nay ; I would na call her so ; her hair is 
 partly gray, but her eyes do often shine. 
 
 Cicely. And is thy mother a good woman, 
 Nick.? 
 
 Carew. Aye, Sweetheart [putting out a hand 
 to each~\ ; none but a good mother could have so 
 good a son. 
 
 Cicely. Then thou wilt send him home. 
 Daddy? 
 
 Carew. Aye, my lass. All in good time. In 
 good time, I promise thee. — But, nay. Golden- 
 heart, no more questions now. — Come, why 
 should we be sad.? I tell thee, Nick, thou shalt be 
 a fairy prince for us and make us all forget the 
 past. Thou 'It look the part, forsooth, when thou 
 art dressed in thy new skylark feathers — will he 
 not. Cicely Goldenheart? What, ho, Gregory! 
 fetch the bundle. — Gregory ! what, ho ! [Enttr 
 GooLE.] The new suit, sirrah. [Exit Goole.] 
 Nick, thou art to be one of Paul's boys. 
 
Cicily darted to his side with a frightened cry. 
 
Act III MASTER SKYLARK 89 
 
 Nick. Paul who? 
 
 Carew. [Laughing.'] "Paul who?" — [Goole 
 brings in a bundle^ and exit, Cakew opens it, 
 displaying the new suit.] Paul! Why, Saint 
 Paul, Nick — 't is Paul's Cathedral boys, I mean. 
 — Marry, what dost say to this? 
 
 Nick. \^Slowly.] I 'd like another barley 
 cake. 
 
 Cabew. [Dropping the garments, as if in sur- 
 prise.] You 'd what? 
 
 Nick. I 'd like another barley-cake. 
 [Quietly, helping himself to the honey.] 
 
 Caeew. Upon my word, and on the remnant of 
 mine honor ! Why, thou 'dst say " Pooh ! " to a 
 cannon-ball ! My faith, boy, thou 'rt to sing with 
 the children of Paul's; to play with the cathedral 
 company; to be a bright particular star in the 
 sweetest galaxy that ever shone in English skyf 
 Dost take me yet? 
 
 Nick. [Busily sopping the honey with his 
 cake.] Aye. 
 
 Cabew. [Playing with his glass uneasily, a/nd 
 tapping his heel upon the floor.] 'T is the flood- 
 tide of thy fortune, boy! [Nick does not an- 
 
90 MASTER SKYLARK Act III 
 
 swer,'\ Thou 'rt foolishly stubborn-hearted. 
 But, marry come up: thou art to sing here to- 
 night before the old precentor of St. Paul's, Mas- 
 ter Nathaniel Gyles, that he may take thy range 
 and worth. Now, truly, thou wilt do thy very 
 best? [Enter the Butler with soTne water in a 
 ewer which he pours into a basin for Nick to wash 
 his hands, Nick wipes his hands in silence. ^ 
 Come [sharply~\^ thou 'It sing thy very best? 
 
 Nick. [^Doggedly. '\ There 's nothing else to 
 do. 
 
 Cicely. Daddy ! 
 
 Carew. Nay, child. — He will be here 
 shortly. — Hark ! He is even now at the door. — 
 Go, Nick, and don thy new costume. Gregory 
 [enter Goole], do you and Jem here help the lad 
 to don his suit in a trice. [Exeunt Nick with 
 GooLE and bundle, followed by the Butler. En- 
 ter Gyles, an old man, with thin legs, wrinkled, 
 yellow face, thin, sandy hair, and keen eyes; with 
 a broad gold chain about his neck. He is pom- 
 pously pedantic. Good even, Master Gyles. 
 Thou 'rt good to come. 
 
 Gyles. [Puffing.'] Pouf! Thy stairs be 
 steep. Master Carew. — God give ye good even. 
 Mistress Cicely. — Zounds, sir, I 'd climb a stair- 
 
Act III MASTER SKYLARK 91 
 
 way forty paces long to hear a clear tone sung. 
 Thou saidst thy lad could out-sing all of mine. 
 Sir, ye touch me near home there. 
 
 Carew. I '11 prove my words, Master Na- 
 thaniel Gyles, or pay thee forfeit of forty golden 
 pounds. 
 
 Gyles. Let 's have no more of boasts. Let 's 
 hear the lad. 
 
 Carew. He '11 be here anon, as soon as his new 
 clothes be donned. And now. Master Gyles, let 
 us finish the matter. Ye clearly understand, 
 if ye take the lad, thine ancient right as master of 
 the school, to seize for St. Paul's choir whatever 
 voices please thee, will not serve with me. Ye have 
 sworn he shall still be mine, to have and to hold, 
 with all his earnings, in spite of thy royal preroga- 
 tives. 
 
 Gyles. [Hatightilt/.'\ Thou hadst mine oath 
 this afternoon before I have even seen the boy. 
 Dost think me perjured? Me? Pouf! I know 
 my place : one peg below the Dean, sir. My oath 's 
 my oath. 
 
 Carew. Good ! — I will teach him how to act 
 myself. He stays with me, you understand. I '11 
 dress him, too; for students' robes be shabby 
 stuff. But for the rest — 
 
9^ MASTER SKYLARK Act III 
 
 Gyles. Trust me. 
 
 Carew. Aye, verily. But have a care, Master 
 Gyles — one cannot teach the lark its song : — 
 change not his warbling skylark notes. 
 
 Gyi^s. Sir! I studied in the best schools in 
 the world. 
 
 Carew. Soft ! — Enough — here 's the boy. 
 lEnter Nick, dressed in the new suit: There 
 is a fine white shirt of Holland linen, and long 
 hose of grayish blue, with 'puffed and slashed 
 trunks of velvet so blue as to he almost black; and 
 a sleeveless jerkin of the same color, with roses 
 embroidered in silk, made loose from breast to col- 
 lar, which is itself of broad white lace, so that the 
 waistcoat of dull silk beneath may show; and then 
 a cloak of damask with a silver clasp; a buff leather 
 belt with a chubby purse hung to it by a chain; tan 
 colored slippers; and a jaunty velvet cap with a 
 short white plume,'\ 
 
 Gyles, A skylark? A popinjay! 
 
 Cicely. \_Dancing toward Nick, from her re- 
 treat by the window, and clapping her hands as 
 she circles around hinh.~\ Oh, brave, brave, brave ! 
 Why, 't is a prince, a king ! Oh, Nick, I told 
 thee thou 'd be beautiful to see ! 
 
"Oh, Nick, Ihou art most beautiful to see!" cried Cicely. 
 
Act III MASTER SKYLARK 93 
 
 Carew. My soul! [^Steps back and snaps his 
 fingers m delight. 1 Why, lad, thou art the brav- 
 est bird ever broke shell! — Master Nathaniel 
 Gyles, Nick. [Nick boms.'] 
 
 Gyles. ICrustUi/.l Pouf! Pouf! Tempus 
 fugit — that is to say, we have no time to waste. 
 Marry, boy, if thou hast merit, let us now enjoy 
 it. — Come, first of all I bid thee sing this song 
 [wnrollvng a parchment for Nick]. 
 
 Nick. But, sir, I do na know how to sing from 
 paper. 
 
 Gyles. What ! canst not read music ? 
 
 Nick. Nay, sir, I never learned. 
 
 Gyles. Pouf! So? Canst run the scale? 
 
 Nick. I think so, sir. [Singing.] Do, re, 
 mi, fa, sol, la, si, do. — Do, si, la, sol, — re — 
 nay, 't is fa — fa — 
 
 Gyles. Tut, tut ! Thou 'st ruined it. — 
 Come, dost know the new Italian coranto ? 
 
 Nick. Nay, sir, I never heard of it. 
 
 Gyles. Hast learned perchance to dance the 
 galliard ? 
 
 Nick. Nay, sir ; I do not know that either. 
 
94 MASTER SKYLARK Act III 
 
 Gyles. Pouf! pouf ! Canst act at all? 
 
 Nick. Why, sir, Master Carew hath taught 
 me lines from Master Heywood's play, " The 
 Three Gray Gowns " — " Good my lord, I bring 
 a letter — " 
 
 Gyles. Nay, 't is too stiff. Canst make a 
 court-like bow? [Nick hows awkwardly. ~\ — 
 Nay, nay; that way thou trippest over thine own 
 feet. Not so; but so. [^Bows.~\ Now, look 'e, 
 dost know any dance at all? 
 
 Nick. Nay, sir; father would na have it. 
 
 Gyles. [Impatiently, to Carew.] Why, sir, 
 what doth he know? Ye have misrepresented this 
 boy to me, to the waste of much good time. He 
 cannot dance, nor act, nor read a note ; he cannot 
 even sing a scale. 
 
 Carew. [Haughtily.'] Soft, Master Gyles — 
 Dost mean to say I lied to thee? Marry, sir, I 
 told thee only the boy could sing ; and sing he can. 
 
 Gyles. Pouf, sir — words ! I know my place : 
 " Primus M agister Scholarum " — nothing less — 
 't is so set down. And I tell thee, sir, he can't tell 
 a prick-song from a bottle of hay, or a triolet from 
 a violet ; he would not know a canon from a croco- 
 dile, or a fugue from a hole in the ground. ^ 
 
 1 
 
Act III PIASTER SKYLARK 96 
 
 Carew. Oh, fol-de-riddle de f ol-de-rol ! What 
 has that to do with it? I tell thee still the boy can 
 sing. 
 
 Gyles. And I say, sir, that music does not 
 grow like weeds. 
 
 Carew. Nor fa-la-las make up a voice. 
 
 Gyles. What! How? Wilt thou teach me? 
 Thou, who knowest not a staccato from a stick of 
 licorice? — Why! I 'd best be going, sir. My 
 cloak there, without! 
 
 Cab^w. [Shrugging his shoulders^ impa- 
 tientlyj] Come, Master Gyles, we waste words. 
 Thou knowest me no simple gull. And I tell 
 thee, sir, he has the voice that thou dost need to 
 win the favor of the Queen. Just hear him once 
 sing his own song in his own way — thou 'It pawn 
 thine ears to hear him twice. 
 
 Gyles. Come, boy, sing, and that forthwith — 
 if thou canst sing at all. 
 
 Caee\7. [In a low, hard tone to Nick.] 
 Thou 'It do thy level best ! [Claps his hand 
 threateningly upon his dagger. Nick cringes 
 shrinking from him as in fear. Cicely darts to 
 his side,} 
 
96 MASTER SKYLARK Act III 
 
 Cicely. Don't mind their harsh words, Nick. 
 But sing for me. Remember what thou toldst me 
 of thy home in Stratford, with the birds all sing- 
 ing by the river, the mowers in the fields, and the 
 clover and wild-roses in the hedgerows. — Nay, 
 Nick, I know thou 'It sing thy lark-song just for 
 me! 
 
 Carew. [Seated, with his head in his hands, 
 waiting, now looks up quickly thinking Nick is not 
 going to sing.'\ By the whistle of the Lord High 
 Admiral ! — 
 
 Nick. [Beginning to sing, with a distant look 
 in his eyes:'\ 
 
 Hark, hark ! the lark at heaven's gate sings. 
 
 And Phoebus 'gins arise 
 His steeds to water at those springs 
 
 On chalic'd flowers that lies ; 
 And winking Mary-buds begin 
 
 To ope their golden eyes ; 
 With everything that pretty is, 
 
 My lady sweet, arise. 
 Arise, arise. 
 
 [The song ends with the bird-trill as before. 
 Cicely watches Nick with shining eyes. 
 Carew's face is buried in his hands. Gyles 
 starts from his chair, his wrinkled hands 
 
Act III MASTER SKYLARK 97 
 
 pressed together against his breast almost as 
 if in prayer. The Butlee peeps m at the 
 door.'\ 
 
 BuTLEE. Do, now, harken to un ! 
 
 Gyles. {^Panting, '\ That voice ! that voice ! 
 
 Caeew. [Brokenly, '\ I '11 leave thee go, lad, 
 — ma foiy I '11 leave thee go ! But nay, I dare not 
 leave thee go. [^Dram/ng his hand hastily over his 
 face.l 
 
 Cicely. Oh, Nick, I love thee ! I '11 make a 
 home forever for thee here. 
 
 Gyles. MirabUe! It is impossible, and I have 
 dreamed. Soft as a flute and silver clear. — 
 Nay, Carew, 't was a soul I heard; the lad's own 
 white young soul. 'T was his soul that set a song 
 on fire in the sky, and dropped it quivering and 
 bright into our shadow world. — My faith, 
 there 's a sour bug flown in mine eye that makes 
 it water so. 
 
 Caeew. Thou 'It take him then? 
 
 Gyles. Take him ? Marry, I '11 make him first 
 singer of them all ! — \^There comes the sound of 
 boys* voices singing, in the street below,'\ What 's 
 here? — My lads — and out in the street? 
 
98 MASTER SKYLARK Act III 
 
 Voices. lSmging:'\ 
 
 Down-a-down, hey, down-a-down, 
 Hey derry derry down-a-down! 
 
 Cold 's the wind, and wet 's the rain ; 
 
 Saint Hugh, be our good speed ! 
 Ill is the weather that bringeth no gain, 
 
 Nor helps good hearts in need. 
 
 Down-a-down, hey, down-a-down, 
 Hey derry derry down-a-down! 
 
 [Still outside, calling. '\ Master Gyles! Master 
 Gyles ! Where art thou, Master Gyles ? 
 
 Gyles. [Goes to window.l Marry, come up. 
 — They 've traced me hither. What news 
 there.? \_At the window.^ What news.? Belike 
 the Queen's message hath come. [Turns toward 
 stair.^ 
 
 CoLLEY. [Outside at first, ru/rming up the 
 stairs, and entering the room out of breath.^ 
 What, there, — oh. Master Gyles — Master 
 Carew [bozmng] ! — Mistress [bomngi ! 
 
 Nick. [As through the open window two books 
 come thumping past his ears.^ Whatever in the 
 world ! 
 
Act III MASTER SKYLARK 99 
 
 Gyles. What's to do? 
 
 CoLLEY. [As he hands Gyles a stamped and 
 sealed parchment. '\ A man-at-arms of the Queen's 
 own yeomen of the guard hath brought this from 
 the Palace, sir. [To Carew, excitedli/,]^ Good 
 news — good news, sir 1 Have ye heard the news ? 
 [Shouting continues below.'] We're going to 
 court. Hurrah ! 
 
 Carew. [IU at ease.] How say you? 
 
 CoLLEY. Nay, 't is true, sir. [To Nick.] 
 Art thou the new boy? Come down and help us 
 sing. Come down and shout with us in the street. 
 [Other boys enter, clustering around the door,] 
 
 Nick. [Staring at Colley.] Thou look'st 
 like Robin Getley of Stratford town. Art his 
 twin? 
 
 Collet. [Laughing.] Nay, I was not 
 hatched from a Robin's egg. — 'T is Nicholas 
 Skylark, boys. 
 
 Boys. Come on, Nick. — Come with us. The 
 Queen hath sent for us ! 
 
 Nick. The Queen — hath sent — for us? 
 
 Collet. For thee and me and all of us, to come 
 to Court and sing. Hurrah for good Queen Bess ! 
 
100 MASTER SKYLARK Act III 
 
 Boys. Hurrah, hurrah, for good Queen 
 Bess ! — Come on, Nick ! — Help us sing in the 
 street. [They suddenly stop, and cheer:^ 
 Hurrah for Master Gyles ! 
 
 Gyles. [F aiding up the message, slowly. 1 
 Master Carew, the Queen hath summoned mj lads, 
 to sing before the court of her Gracious Majesty, 
 a week to-morrow day ; — for the first time, sir, in 
 a good six years. Thy boy, sir, — his fortune 's 
 made. Here 's my hand on it ! 
 
 Boys. Hurrah for Nick Skylark! 
 
 Gyles. Be off, ye rogues ! Ye frisk like fishes 
 in the depths of the briny sea. 
 
 Boys. Hurrah for the fishes in the sea ! Hur- 
 rah! 
 
 Gyles. Soft, ye knaves ! Save thy throats for 
 good Queen Bess. 
 
 Boys. Hurrah for good Queen Bess! 
 
 Gyles. Be still, I say, ye good-for-nothing 
 varlets ; or ye sha'n't have pie and ale to-morrow 
 night. — But, marry, now, ye shall have pie and 
 ale — aye, pie and ale without stint ; for ye are 
 good lads, and have pleased the Queen at last ; and 
 I am as proud of ye as a peacock is of his own tail. 
 
Act III MASTER SKYtARK l{« 
 
 Boys. Hurrah for the Queen — and the pie — 
 and the ale! Hurrah for the peacock and his 
 tail. — Ho, a rime ! — Now, all together : 
 
 Hurrah for the Queen, and the pie, and the ale! 
 Hurrah for the peacock ; hurrah for his tail ! 
 Hurrah for hurrah, and again hurray — 
 We 're going to Court in a week and a day 
 To sing before the Queen ! 
 
 Cicely. [Leavi/ng her place hy her father's 
 chair. '\ Art going, Nick? 
 
 Nick. May I go.'* 
 
 Caeew. Aye, but be not long. 
 
 Nick. I '11 not. 
 
 Gyles. And watch that honey-throat of thine 
 lest the night-wind steal its sweetness. 
 
 Nick. I '11 watch, sir. 
 
 GooLE. [^Who has come in sourly at the noise; 
 to Caeew.] I '11 watch, too ! 
 
 Caeew. It matters little now — they 've took 
 the boy. 
 
 GooLE. I know a dingy lane down Billingsgate, 
 where the lad could ne'er be found — by the ware- 
 
l(k MASTER SKYLARK Act III 
 
 house sheds along the water-front, under Fish- 
 street Hill. I could hide him well enough. 
 
 Carew. Nay, it will not need, my pretty knave. 
 That play is done. 
 
 [Nick goes out with the hoys, all singing as 
 they go — their music fading away. Goole 
 exit after them.^ 
 
 Gyles. Good lads, good lads. — Well, Mas- 
 ter Carew, thy boy must be ready to go to prac- 
 tise at nine in the morning. — 'T is a happy 
 night for me, sir, and well for thee the day thou 
 plucked this jewel of a skylark. — I bid ye 
 good even, sir. Good even. Mistress Cicely. 
 [^Exity muttering :~\ Primus M agister Scho- 
 larum. , . . 
 
 Cicely. [^Coming to Carew, who has been 
 staring after the precentor, with a troubled look 
 upon his face; softly.} Oh, Daddy, will he sing 
 before the Queen herself.? 
 
 Carew. Aye, lass. I fear we 've lost the lad 
 I brought to be thy playmate. He will be famous 
 in the twinkling of an eye. 
 
 Cicely. But, Daddy, will he come no more to 
 sing for thee and me ? 
 
Act III MASTER SKYLARK 103 
 
 Carew. I fear me, little one. Truly, I fear 
 me, he '11 not. 
 
 Cicely. And why not, Daddy ? 
 
 Caeew. Why, dear lass, that silver throat of 
 his wiU so charm the Queen she '11 never let him 
 out of her hearing again. 
 
 Cicely. But he wiU come back to stay with us ? 
 
 Caeew. That, I cannot tell. 
 
 Cicely. Then what will his mother do ? Thou 
 wast going to send him back to Stratford. 
 
 Carew. I know, I know. — But come, thou 
 must be trotting off to bed. [He srvuffs out all 
 hut two candles^ and the room grows darky except 
 for the fire on the hearth.^ 
 
 Cicely. [YaTtming.'] Aye, I be very full o' 
 dreams ; that is because last night I sat up half the 
 night to wait for thee. Thou must not dice so 
 late again. [She puts her arms around his neckJ] 
 
 Carew. [Kissmg her.'\ Thou art thine own 
 sweet mother's child. — Nay, I '11 kiss away thy 
 yawns. [Enter Nick.] 
 
 Cicely. [Leaping up as Nick enters, radiant, 
 and rushing towards him.] Oh, Nick! dear Nick, 
 how long thou hast been gone ! 
 
104 MASTER SKYLARK Act III 
 
 Nick. And, Cicely, to-morrow week I go to see 
 the Queen. To-morrow week we sing at Court be- 
 fore good Queen Bess. 
 
 Cicely. 'T will be lonely here without thee. 
 
 Nick. I '11 soon be back again. 
 
 Carew. \_Sadlt/.'\ But what of Stratford, 
 Nick.? 
 
 Nick. Why — why. Master Carew, thou 'It let 
 me go and see my mother now, for I will sing my 
 very best, to bring thee credit and the Queen's 
 good will, and then thou canst not say me nay. 
 
 Carew. And will not neither, lad. Thou wilt 
 come to see us soon again, my lad ? 
 
 Nick. Why, to be sure I will. 
 
 Cicely. ISoftly.l If thou shouldst not, I 'd 
 run to thee. 
 
 Nick. Wouldst truly, Cicely ? I '11 come 
 again to fetch thee by and by. When I ha' told 
 my mother all, she '11 be thy mother, too. 
 
 Carew. \_As Cicely puts her head on her arm 
 against his shoulder, and begins to sob.^ Why, 
 Cicely lass, be not so sad. [To Nick.] Thou 
 makest both our hearts to ache, we love thee so. 
 
Act III MASTER SKYLARK 105 
 
 Nay, lass, thou 'It see him again in the morning. — 
 There, peace; and he shall sing for thee again, if 
 thou wilt smile. — Wilt not, Nick? 
 
 Nick. Aye, Master Carew. 
 
 Carew. Then off with thee to slumberland, and 
 Nick will speed thee thither with his song, whilst 
 I sit here awhile and mend this dying fire. 
 
 [Cicely kisses Carew and Nick good night, 
 and exit slowly to her little room behind one 
 of the portieres. Nick follows, to the 
 screened couch, after Carew has kissed him 
 tenderly upon the forehead, Carew lights 
 another candle. Cicely having taken one of 
 the two remaining lighted ones, and sits down 
 wearily by the fireside, alone. Nick sings a 
 bar or two of the madrigal; but at length his 
 voice dies down drowsily, and he is still. 
 Carew gets up, takes one of the candles, and, 
 going softly to the screen, moves it partially 
 aside and gazes in upon the boy, shading the 
 candle with his hand. Nick has laid his cloak 
 and outer clothes at the foot of the bed, and 
 is fast asleep in bed,'] 
 
 Thou dear-beloved, foolish lad ! To dream that 
 / could keep thee when once the Queen hath heard 
 thee sing! A freed skylark come back to its cage? 
 
106 MASTER SKYLARK Act III 
 
 No, never. Thou 'It catch the skirts of glory in 
 thine hand, and tread the heels of happy chance, 
 but not come back again to me. — Ai, lad, I would 
 thou wert my son! 
 
 \^He takes in some sweetmeats to lay beside 
 Nick's pillow; then comes out hurriedly, 
 replacing the screen; stops to look in affec- 
 tionately at Cicely, who is also fast asleep; 
 throws her a kiss silently, and draws the por- 
 tiere there. Then he goes to the outer 
 door, listens a moment, bars it carefully; he 
 comes to a secret panel in the wall, carved with 
 a cherub's head, and stands before it with a 
 queer, hesitating look upon his face. Silently 
 slipping aside the carved panel, he takes from 
 the hollow wall an inlaid rosewood box, a 
 woman's slipper, and a dusty gittern tied with 
 a faded ribbon about its neck. Gazing at 
 these, he starts to tune the gittern, but a 
 string snaps. li 
 
 Aye, the string is snapped ; — my strings all are 
 snapped 1 \_He opens the box and takes out a 
 woman's riding glove and a miniature upon ivory, 
 which he holds up to the light. ~\ Eyes like her 
 mother's, and her voice, too. [Then he takes out 
 a bag of money from the wall, goes to the nearest 
 door and cautiously tries the latch. Then spread- 
 
Act III MASTER SKYLARK 107 
 
 ing the heap of coins upon the tahle^ he counts 
 them into three piles, saying over and over:^ One 
 for me, and one for thee, and two for Cicely 
 Carew. — One for me, and one for thee, and two 
 for Cicely Carew. — One for me, and one for 
 thee, and two for Cicely Carew. [Goes on piling 
 the coins.~\ — I must win to-night. Gad's boons! 
 I cannot lose unless the dice be cogged. Aye, but 
 Fulk Sandells is a silky rogue at the dice. — Ha ! 
 [Claps his hand to his poniard.^ — One for me, 
 and one for thee, and two for Cicely Carew. — 
 Ah ! — none for me, but one for thee, and two for 
 Cicely Carew! 
 
 [As he sweeps two of the piles into bright yellow 
 buckskin bags, a coin drops noisily upon the 
 floor. He starts, and closes the panel like a 
 flash. Then, peering right and left, he blows 
 ant the candles. The panel is heard opened 
 softly again, a chink of money, the closing of 
 the panel. He is heard sweeping the other 
 pile of coins into his wallet. The outer door 
 is tmlocked and closed again. A stairway 
 creaks. Silence. 
 
 Absolute darkness as the Cuetain slowly 
 faUs.] 
 
 [End of Act IH] 
 
ACT IV 
 
 SCENE 1 
 
 \_Throne room of the royal palace, Greenwich, 
 An afternoon of the week following. Magnifi- 
 cent appointments, curtained entrances, and 
 splendid throne to the left, with a velvet 
 canopy under which, in pearls, " Vivat Regina 
 Elizabetha.'* A large double curtain at the 
 back of the room, which, when parted, discloses 
 a small practical platform and a larger one with 
 extensive room painted in perspective. Over 
 the doorway here and also over the great door 
 to the right, a great golden rose, with the motto 
 below, " Dieu et mon droit J"^ 
 
 Queen Elizabeth is on the throne, with attendants, 
 courtiers, a Venetian ambassador, pages, 
 Shakespeare, Jonson, and other players. 
 Two guards, with halberds, stand at the heavy 
 door to the right. 
 
 Scene opens with orchestral curtain music of an 
 old English aria. As curtain rises, orchestra 
 music ceases, the inner curtain is parted, and 
 108 
 
Act IV MASTER SKYLARK 109 
 
 CoLLEY, dressed as a girl, comes forward on 
 the small platform at the rear.] 
 
 Collet. And so doth end this masque of Sum- 
 mertime and Spring, wherein both claimed to be 
 best loved. They 've had their say of wit and 
 humor, and each her part of songs and dance ; and 
 win who may, fair Summertime or merry Spring, 
 the winner is but that ^snapping his fingers] be- 
 side our Queen! God save Queen Bess! 
 
 [Court laughs and claps, Nick appears beside 
 Collet, and they sing a duet, as a flute, 
 viol, and harp, on the stage (within), strike 
 in with the same aria played previously by the 
 orchestra, accompanying them. 
 
 For the song, unless some especially appropriate 
 Elizabethan lyric is used, it would be perhaps 
 best to use " Hey, laddie, hark to the merry, 
 merry lark! " or " Pack, clouds, away,'* or 
 " Hark, hark! the lark,** as before, since the 
 duet effect will avoid any monotony of repeti- 
 tion. 
 
 Skylark warbling at the end. Animated ap- 
 plause by the Court as they bow, and, with a 
 final flourish of the instruments, exeunt. 
 Then the applause bursts out tumultuously as 
 Elizabeth, dropping her fan, leads it heart- 
 
110 MASTER SKYLARK Act IV 
 
 ily again. Nick and Colley reappear ^ how 
 once more, and exeunt. 1^ 
 
 Queen. [With bright eyes, laughing, to the 
 Venetian ambassador, who seems to be in a dream.^ 
 It is a good song, signor ! 
 
 Ambassador. [Bowing low.^ A very good 
 song, your Majesty. 
 
 Queen. Ah, there are no songs like English 
 songs — there is no land like England — my Eng- 
 land! [To Page.] Attend! I will speak with 
 those lads. 
 
 [Pages run behind scenes. Audience whispers. 
 Ambassador stoops to pick up the Queen's 
 fan. Enter Nick aTid Colley, kneel before 
 the Queen, bowing before J^r on the dais. 
 As they come in, all applaud, calling " Bravo! 
 Bravo! — ' Well done, lads!'' The Queen 
 leans forward slightly to raise them, smiling, 
 saying heartily :'\ 
 
 Stand, dear lads. Be lifted up by thine own 
 singing, as our hearts have been uplifted by thy 
 songs. And name me the price of thy sweet 
 song. [Tapping Colmey's cheek with her fan.^ 
 Come, what wilt thou have of me, fair lad in-^jwnti-'s 
 
Act IV MASTER SKYLARK 111 
 
 CoLLEY. [Tremhlmgly.'] That I may stay in 
 the palace forever and sing for your Majesty. 
 
 Queen. That is right prettily asked. Thou 
 shalt indeed, my singing page. — And thou, Mas- 
 ter Lark [fanning the hair hack from Nick's fore- 
 head with her heautifvl fan'\ with thy song of the 
 sky — wilt thou too be of our choir and house- 
 hold? 
 
 Nick. [Looking up at the burning torches on 
 the wall, and drawing a long breath, as the Queen 
 speaks, and then looking down again as if with 
 dazzled eyes.} Nay. Let me go home. 
 
 Queen. [After a surprised pause.'\ Surely, 
 boy, 't is an ill-considered speech, or else this home 
 of thine must be a famous place. 
 
 Nick. [As some of the maids of honor titter, 
 and a courtier laughs, he looks up quickly, squar- 
 ing his shoulders; half -defiantly. '\ I would rather 
 be there than here. 
 
 Queen. [Visibly an/noyed.'\ Thou art more 
 curt than courteous. Is it not good enough for 
 thee here? 
 
 Nick. I could na live in such a place. 
 
 Queen. [With a dangerous light in her eyes.] 
 Marry, art thou so choice? These others find no 
 fault with the life. 
 
112 MASTER SKYLARK Act IV 
 
 Nick. Then they be born to it, or they could 
 abide it no more than I — they would na fit. 
 
 A Courtier. ^Laughing.'] Haw, haw! 
 
 Queen. \_With a quick glance at him.^ Old 
 pegs have been made to fit new holes before to-day, 
 and the trick can be done again. — But what hath 
 put thee so out of conceit with our best-beloved 
 palace ? 
 
 Nick. I canna bide in a place so fine. 'T is 
 not homelike. I could na sleep in the bed last 
 night. 
 
 Queen. \_AngrU2/, as the Venetian ambassador 
 smiles in his beard.l What, we commanded good 
 beds ! This shall be seen to. 
 
 Nick. \^Hastili/.'\ Oh, it mas a good bed — a 
 very good bed, your Majesty! But the mattress 
 puff^ed up like a cloud in a bag, and almost smoth- 
 ered me; and it was so soft and hot that it gave 
 me a fever. 
 
 Queen. [Leaning hack vn her seat and laugh- 
 ing, at which the whole court joins m.] Upon my 
 word, it is an odd skylark cannot sleep in feathers. 
 What didst thou do, forsooth? 
 
 Nick. I slept in the coverlid on the floor. It is 
 na hurt — I dusted the place well, — and I slept 
 like a top. 
 
Act IV MASTER SKYLARK 113 
 
 Queen. ILaiighing.'] Now, verily, if it be 
 floors, we have acres to spare. Come, we are ill 
 used to begging — thou 'It stay ? [Nick shakes 
 his head J] Ma foil What is it sticks in thy 
 throat? \_She taps with her fan, as he still stands 
 silent. ~\ Thou art bedazzled like. Think twice — 
 preferment does not bloom on hedgerows every 
 day; thou wilt accept? [Nick slowly shakes his 
 head.^ Go then. \_She shrugs her shoulders, Uly 
 pleased, and turning toward Colley, takes him by 
 the hand and draws him closer to her, smiling at his 
 guise^l Thy comrade hath more wit. 
 
 Nick. [Quietly, loosing his hold at last on Col- 
 ley's ^tiJ.] He hath no mother. I would rather 
 have my mother than his wit. 
 
 Queen. [Turning sharply hack, her keen eyes 
 sparkling, yet soft.] Thou art no fool. [A little 
 murmur runs through the room. She sits a mo- 
 ment, silent, studying his face.'] Or if thou art, 
 upon my word I like the breed. — Aye, sirs [sit- 
 ting up very straight and looking into the faces of 
 her court], a lad who loves his mother thus doth 
 make a man who loves his native land — 't is no bad 
 streak in the blood. 'Master Skylark, home to 
 London thou shalt go this very night. 
 
 Nick. I do na live in London — 
 
-I 
 
 114 MASTER SICy^LARK Act IV 
 
 Queen. What matters the place ? Live where- 
 soever thine heart doth please. It is enough — so. 
 Thou mayst kiss our hand. 
 
 [Nick kneels and kisses her hand as if in a 
 dream. Then a page touches his arm as he 
 arises, and homing backward from the throne, 
 comes with him to the dovhle curtain. There 
 Master Gyles meets him with the torn manu/- 
 script of the nvusic in his hand, and laying his 
 hand upon the boy's head, says as they exeunt 
 and the curtain comes together again :'\ 
 
 Gyles. Thy cake is burned to a coal. 
 
 Queen. And now, my lords, 't is two hours yet 
 till Master Shakespeare and his friends act for 
 us his Dream play of Midsummer. ^She holds out 
 her hand commundingly. Shakespeare bows low, 
 steps forward, kneels upon one knee, and kisses her 
 hand.^ Arise, thou Prince of Players! Anon 
 we '11 sue thee to write a special play for us. 
 We would see that jovial fat man Falstaff lost in 
 love. 'T would make rare sport. But more of 
 this to-night. — I bid ye all make merry. 
 
 [Queen rises. Exeunt ceremoniously. Queen 
 and court, except Shakespeare, Jonson, and 
 two players. Guards remain also. As 
 exeunt, choir-boys may be partially re- 
 
Act IV MASTER SKYLARK 115 
 
 vealed on platform stage, singing a reces- 
 sional] 
 
 JoNsoN. [Clapping Shakespeare on the shoul- 
 der.] Fie upon thee, Will! Royal favor at last, 
 and sober as a church? 
 
 Shakespeare. Aye, Ben ; but Fame 's a can- 
 dle's gleam. My heart is dark. 
 
 JoNSON. What, Will ! Thy son ? 
 
 Shakespeare. Aye. All on a sudden. 
 
 JoNsoN. [Feelingly.] Ah, Will; the sweetest 
 glory hath then a bitter taste. — Heigho! But 
 Will, thou still must come and see my little Ben? 
 He 's plump as a cannon ball. 
 
 Shakespeare. I '11 come — some day. [Smil- 
 ing.] Give him my love. [A page enter Sy and 
 whispers to one of the players,] What is it, lad? 
 
 1 Player. A boy who saith that he must see 
 thee. Master, on his life. 
 
 2 Player. Nay, Will, he '11 only pluck thy 
 pocket with a doleful lie. 
 
 Shakespeare. There 's naught in it, Ned, to 
 pick. 
 
 Page. He saith he comes from Stratford 
 town — 
 
116 MASTER SKYLARK Act IV 
 
 JoNSON. Then tell him to go back again. 
 We 've sucked the sweets from Stratford. 
 
 Shakespeare. Go bring him in. 
 
 JoNsoN. Nay, Will ; this makes the third with- 
 in the month. — Here, boy, give him this shilling, 
 and tell him to be off. 
 
 Shakespeare. [Stopping the other's 
 with his hand.} We'll see him first. [Exit 
 Page.] 
 
 JoNSON. Oh, Willy, nilly! Wilt be a kite to 
 float all the draggle-tails that flutter down from 
 Warwickshire ? 
 
 Shakespeare. Why, Ben, 't is not the kite that 
 floats the tail, but the wind which floats both kite 
 and tail. Thank God, we 've caught the rising 
 wind ; so, hey for draggle-tails ! — we '11 take up 
 all we can. 
 
 JoNsoN. [Laughing a greats bluff-hearted 
 laugh.] Tush, Will, as always thou hast taken 
 the wind out of my kite. [Reenter Page, zdth 
 Nick.] Nayl Why, 'tis the lad who sang. 
 And round-eyed as the moon. 
 
 Nick. [Excitedli/.} Master Will — Master 
 Will Shakespeare! 
 
Act IV MASTER SKYLARK 117 
 
 Shakespeare. Well, my lad, what wilt thou 
 have of me? 
 
 Nick. Oh, sir, I only want to go home. Will 
 ye not take me home ? 
 
 Shakespeare. Why, iad, canst not go of thine 
 own sweet will? 
 
 JoNsoN. 'Stead of making our sweet Will take 
 thee? 
 
 Nick. Sirs, I do still fear that Master Carew 
 will na leave me go. 
 
 JoNsoN. Why! What! art thou Carew's 
 silver-throated lark? 
 
 Nick. Aye, masters; he hath stolen me from 
 home a long fortnight, and I — and I — I do na 
 know — my mother may be dead by now. 
 
 JoNsoN. This shall be seen to. 
 
 Shakespeare. Who is thy mother, lad? 
 
 Nick. Dame Margaret Attwood, sir. 
 
 Shakespeare. [Startled.l What? Mar- 
 garet Attwood? of Stratford? Art thou her 
 ' Nicholas? Why, lad, I know her passing well. 
 [Significantly and reminiscently.^ Margery, 
 sweet Margery ! — How came Carew to take you 
 from her? 
 
Vf 
 
 118 MASTER SKYLARK Act IV 
 
 Nick. Why, sir, at first, I ran away, because 
 my father would na leave me see the Admiral's 
 Company play. 
 
 Shakespeare. {Under his breath.^ Aye, I 
 know the man. {To Jonson.] As hard as iron, 
 but true as steel. — 
 
 Nick. Then Master Carew kept me for my 
 voice, and had me sing with Paul's boys. He hath 
 kept me ever in duress; and I be still afeard he 
 will na — 
 
 Shakespeare. Have no fear, my lad; he shall 
 not stay thee more. 
 
 Nick. I will never leave my mother again! 
 
 Shakespeare. Right, lad; do not leave her 
 till thou must. 
 
 Nick. If I had never run away ! — 
 
 Shakespeare. [Putting both arms around the 
 lad, and looJcmg down into his face.'] Nay, then : 
 we will amend thy trouble speedily. All birds hie 
 home in spring — and I do, too. 
 
 Nick. And wilt thou — 
 
 Shakespeare. Take thee home to thy mother? 
 Aye, marry, that will I. 
 
Act IV MASTER SKYLARK 119 
 
 ' Nick. [^Breathlessly.'] Oh, when, sir? 
 
 Shakespeare. We shall start for Stratford 
 to-morrow. 
 
 A Voice. [Outside^ calling sharply.^ What, 
 ho ! What, ho ! Within ; what, ho ! 
 
 Guard. [Repli/ing.l Who calls? 
 
 Voice. lShouting.'\ A message for players. 
 
 Guard. Enter, message. 
 
 JoNSON. What's this? Hullo! Tom Hey- 
 wood! 
 
 Heywood.. [Entering breathlessly. '^ What, 
 there! — Will; — and thou, Ben, — both — ! 
 Why, Nick, art thou still here ? 
 
 JoNSON. How now? What's thy wild news, 
 brings thee so quickly back to the Queen's gate? 
 
 Heywood. Oh, there 's to-do — for players 
 — at the Falcon Inn. — Gaston Carew hath — 
 stabbed Fulk Sandells — ^dead as a door-nail — 
 for cheating at the dice — and hath been taken 
 by the watch! — 
 
 Shakespeare. Is this the very truth ? 
 
 Heywood. Dear Will, the very truth. — Dick 
 Jones was there — and saw it done. — They 've 
 
120 MASTER SKYLARK Act IV 
 
 haled him off to Newgate Gaol! — And, lad [fo 
 Nick], he would see thee — and begs thou wouldst 
 come at once to him — 
 
 Nick. \_Drarmng closer to Shakespeare.] 
 Master Carew? 
 
 Heywood. Lad, he cannot harm nor take thee 
 if he would. Wilt come? 
 
 Nick. Oh, Master Heywood, I dare na. 
 
 Heywood. I '11 fetch thee safely back. 'T is 
 the last thing he '11 ever ask of thee ; there 's some- 
 thing he would say to thee he cannot leave unsaid. 
 And, lad, he '11 go unshrif t, he sweareth, if thou 
 wilt not come. 
 
 JoNSON. An' thou hast peace to lend the dy- 
 ing— 
 
 Shakespeare. Lend it. Best so, Nicholas. 
 
 Nick. I '11 go, then. — But 't is more for 
 Cicely's sake than his. 
 
 Shakespeare. \^As exeunt Nick and Hey- 
 wood.] I hope no harm may come to him. 
 
 JoNSON. A most sweet lad. 
 
 Shakespeare. The son of gentle Margaret 
 Page, who married the sulky tanner. 
 
Act IV MASTER SKYLARK 1«1 
 
 JoNsoN. With Carew gone, the Admiral's men 
 will lack their master-spirit. 
 
 Shakespeare. True, Ben. — A brave heart 
 and a bold tongue, but a wild life to boot. — Yet 
 many a weary day he cheered me on when skies 
 hung leaden o'er us both. But Carew hath a 
 daughter. We must send at once for Cicely, and 
 see her well bestowed. 
 
 JoNsoN. Aye, she should be fetched straight 
 away. 
 
 Shakespeare. I '11 take the lass home to 
 Stratford town with me, to be a sister to mine own 
 Susanna. — Ned Hawthorn, thou wilt go for her, 
 I know. Thou canst return in time? 
 
 2 Player. [Quickly.'] Right gladly. Aye, 
 I 'm off. [Exit.] 
 
 Shakespeare. 'T was just four years ago saw 
 Marlowe's bright flame quenched. And now 
 Carew will travel to that undiscovered country 
 from whose bourn not even a son returns to tell 
 us aught — 
 
 JoNSON. Dear Will ; tak' 't not so to heart. — 
 Come, read us the new-made lines from thy Summer 
 Dream. Hast it by thee ? 
 

 122 MASTER SKYLARK Act IV 
 
 Shakespeare. Aye. [Unfolds the manu- 
 script.^ — All our life 's a dream, Ben. But 
 there are better dreams, thank God! Aye, there 
 are better dreams. In that we still do hope. — 
 There 's a device of magic in this Midsummer fan- 
 tasy of mine ; — in the world there 's magic, too. 
 A true friend, a simple faith, a warm heart, 
 and a merry face like thine, old Jolly-Jest, are 
 medicine for woe. — I have retouched it here. — 
 You call to mind the fairy King command- 
 eth Puck to fetch a magic flower; and Puck re- 
 plieth : 
 
 " I '11 put a girdle round about the earth 
 In forty minutes. — " 
 
 JoNsoN. Aye, and still I say thy forty min- 
 utes is too soon. Thy fairies are but human forms 
 at best. Say ten-score minutes mayhap; not a 
 paltry forty. 
 
 Shakespeare. Nay ; rather, it should be more 
 quick, not more slow — thought flies quicker than 
 the lightning's flash. May not thy mind e'en now 
 dart to far Cathay and come again whilst one may 
 twink an eye? And fairies are but thoughts; 
 thoughts, fairies — good and ill. Come, now, 
 't were best to cut the term in two and leave but 
 twenty there. 
 
Act IV MASTER SKYLARK 123 
 
 JoNSON. Tush! Fie upon thee, Will. Ha, 
 ha, ha! Thou art a regular flibbertigibbet. But 
 I '11 catch thee napping yet, old gossip, and fill thee 
 so full of pepper-holes that thou wilt leak epigrams, 
 — Nay, leave thy forty be. — What more? 
 
 Shakespeare. I told thee thoughts are fairies 
 all, the messengers of our living dreams. I tell 
 thee now that thou and I and all of us scribblers 
 are makers of dream-worlds, and every one we 
 make is neither more nor less substantial than our- 
 selves. [Turning pages. '\ I put it thus, from 
 Duke Theseus' lips : 
 
 " The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling. 
 
 Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to 
 
 heaven, 
 And as imagination bodies forth 
 The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 
 Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing 
 A local habitation and a name." 
 
 JoNsoN. Aye, Will, 't is true ; most true, and 
 none so ill expressed. — But look, what now? 
 
 Shakespeare. Ill tidings, from his face. 
 [2 Player, Hawthorn, enters hastily ^ with But- 
 ler.] What news, Ned, what news ! 
 
 2 Player. I was but halfway to the river, my 
 masters, when I ran full upon Carew's own but- 
 
I'l 
 
 IM MASTER SKYLARK Act IV 
 
 ler, Jem Barstow here. — He saith the con- 
 stables have taken charge in the house already, 
 and that the varlet, Gregory Goole, came in great 
 haste an hour before, and without a word of what 
 had befallen Carew, took Cicely away. 
 
 Butler. A did na question un much, Zurs, for 
 a feared the rogue summat and judged un to have 
 authority. 
 
 JoNsoN. There 's villainy doing. 
 
 Shakespeare. 'T is bad indeed. He hath her 
 'prisoned in some foul den, I warrant, waiting on 
 ransom. 
 
 7<^ 2 Player. I fear it. Will. 
 
 ^ / Butler. Aye, Zurs. — An' he said beside, 
 
 Carew 'd told un to fetch the Skylark lad from 
 Court as soon as un 'd finished here. 
 
 ^ / JoNSON. Then we may trap him. 
 
 Shakespeare. I fear me now the boy will come 
 to harm. 
 
 JoNSON. The rascal means no good. 
 
 Page. [Entering. '\ Master Will Shakespeare ! 
 K . Her Majesty the Queen will see thee in her garden. 
 ^ \j Follow me. ^Trumpet without,'] 
 
Act IV MASTER SKYLARK 1«6 
 
 JoNSON. We '11 search the town until we find 
 the maid. 
 
 Shakespeaee. And then, with lad and lass, 
 j(^ away for Stratford town! 
 
 [Complete darkness. Drop Curtain at once 
 descends for the next scene. No pause for 
 curtain, however.^ 
 
 Scene 2 
 
 \_A dungeon corridor in Newgate prison. Rough, 
 flagstone floor, or simply rushes, strewn 
 thickly. All is painted upon a drop-curtain, 
 so that there is no interruption of the action 
 from the previous scene; but there are prac- 
 tical barred openings in the cell doors. At the 
 extreme right is a heavy outer door at right an- 
 gles, front, to the drop-curtain, and this door 
 swings inward. At the cell to the extreme 
 left is a prisoner within, who is later visible. 
 Next to this is Caeew's cell. Black backing for 
 the cells, 
 
 Sou/nds of quarreling, people moving restlessly 
 about, murmurs, groans, and clanking of chains. 
 Knocking at outer door. 
 
 The complete darkness which closed the preced- 
 
1 
 
 126 MASTER SKYLARK Act IV 
 
 ing scene persists, until a gitard enters, left, with 
 a torch, changing it to a dim light. He sticks 
 the torch into a bracket on the wall.'\ 
 
 ^ Guard. [Gruffly.] Hullo! What, ho ! Who 
 
 calls ? 
 
 Voice. [Without.] A visitor for Carew. 
 Admit us — here 's a permit. 
 
 Guard. [Unlocks door. Enter Hi^ywood with 
 Nick.] Advance! [Looks at paper which Hey- 
 wooD gives him.] Gaston Carew the player.f^ 
 
 Heywood. Faugh ! 'T is dark and foul as a 
 pestilence. No windows here, save yon barred 
 breathing-hole. [Lookijig up to the left.] 
 
 A Prisoner. [Appearing at bars, scream- 
 ing.] God curse ye! God curse ye all there! 
 
 Heyvtood. Be not afraid, my lad. None can 
 harm you here. 
 
 Guard. The permit says but one. It was a 
 boy he said would come, so just the boy comes in. 
 
 L/ Heywood. Nay, I must stay here, too. 
 
 Guard. Must? I am the only one who dare 
 say " must " in Newgate. Out with thee ; but a 
 shilling first for the boy. [Heywood hands him 
 
Act IV MASTER SKYLARK 127 
 
 a shilling; then is led tmgently to the door, which 
 shuts upon him with a bang. As the guard locks 
 it, sounds of ribald singing are heardy the dragging 
 of chains again^ and quarreling.'] 
 
 Prisoner. [Visible again, moaning,] Cesare 
 el Moro ! Cesare el Moro ! To hang on Tyburn. 
 God ! I '11 hang in hell forever*! [^S creaming.] 
 I '11 hang in hell for ye all, I say, God curse ye 1 
 
 Guard. [Savagely.] Peace, thou murdering 
 Spaniard, or I '11 cu.t thy throat ! [Approaching 
 the next cell door, he rattles the bars and chains, 
 roughly shouting :] Here, wake up, within there ! 
 [Carew appears, ironed hand and foot, with hag- 
 gard face.] A shilling's worth, ye mind, and not 
 another wink. [He retires to outer door.] 
 
 Carew. And thou hast truly come, to say 
 farewell to him thou hatest so? — To reach the 
 courts of glory and the Queen's bright grace, and 
 yet come here to ill-starred twilight and to me ! — 
 Ai, lad, I would thou wert mine own, own son ; yet 
 Heaven spare thee father such as I ! — But, Nick, 
 thou wilt not hate me any more. 'Twill not be 
 worth thy while ; the night is coming fast. 
 
 Nick. Why, sir, 't will soon be day again ; and 
 thou It again be out. 
 
128 MASTER SKYLARK Act IV 
 
 Carew. Out? Aye, on Tyburn gallows. — 
 I have taken my last cue ; the play is nearly out, 
 and the people will be going home. It has been 
 a wild play, Nick, and ill-played. 
 
 Guard. IGruffl^.'] Here, if ye 've anything 
 to say, be saying it. 'T is a shilling's worth, ye 
 mind. 
 
 Carew. \_Lifting up Ms head in the old 
 haughty way, he claps his hand to his hip for his 
 poniard. It is no longer there. He wipes his 
 hand hurriedly upon his jerkin; then hangs his 
 head dejectedly, and a shudder passes over him.^ 
 Ah-h ; — I had forgot I 
 
 Nick. Ye sent for me, sir. 
 
 Carew. Yes, yes ; I sent for thee. I have 
 something to tell thee, Nick. — Thou 'It deal 
 fairly with my Cicely ? Aye, surely ; yes. I trust 
 thee, Nick. — There 's money, much good gold. 
 \_At sudden clank of chains in the next cell, Carew 
 turns quickly around.l Tsst! What's that? — 
 'T is my sick fancy. — Well, then. — [More 
 softly. '\ Hark 'e — thou knowest the old oak 
 wainscot in the dining-hall, and the carven panel 
 by the Spanish chest? [Nick nods.'\ Good, 
 then. Upon the panel is a cherub, and — tsst ! 
 what 's that, I say ? 
 
Act IV MASTER SKYLARK 129 
 
 Nick. I know not, sir ; I think some one is lis- 
 tening there. 
 
 Carew. [Movmg a few feet with difficulty, his 
 own being two of them,^ I say [^whispersl^, upon 
 the panel there — 
 
 Prisonee. [Abandoning his Ustening posture, 
 and shouting. 1 Yah, yah, yah! thou gallows' 
 bird! 
 
 Carew. Peace, thou dog! Thou Spanish in- 
 fidel! 
 
 Prisoner. Curse thee, curse thee ! Thou 'rt 
 damned as black as hell. "^ .,; 
 
 Carew. Be quiet, thou cut-throat ! — I dare 
 not let him hear. [Giiard approaches.'] The 
 very walls of Newgate leak. 
 
 Prisoner. Yah, yah, yah; God curse ye 
 doubly black. 
 
 Carew. Yet I must tell thee, Nick — 
 
 GuABD. Don't be all night. 
 
 Carew. — Or stay ! Would Will Shakespeare 
 come? Why, here, I '11 send him word. 
 
 Nick. I '11 tell him, sir. He 's promised me to 
 take me home to Stratford, 
 
130 MASTER SKYLARK Act IV 
 
 Caeew. God bless him, now, for that. — 
 He '11 come ; — Will Shakespeare never bore a 
 grudge; and I shall so soon go where are no 
 grudges, envy, storms, nor noise, but silence and 
 the soft lap of everlasting sleep. \_Huskily.'\ 
 Nick, last night I dreamed I heard thee singing; 
 but 't was where green fields and murmuring 
 streams went circling round a little town; there 
 was a rustic cottage — methought 't was Strat- 
 ford, Nick. 'T was there I heard thee sing first, 
 lad. Thou 'It go there soon again, now ; and, 
 Nick, for thine own mother's sake, do not alto- 
 gether hate Gaston Carew; he was not so bad a 
 man as he might easily have been. 
 
 Guard. [Growling.'] Come ; have done. 'T is 
 a fat shilling's worth. [Noise of quarreling and 
 groaning renewed. Guard sharpens his pike on 
 a stone, with a rasping sovmd. Another guard 
 comes into the corridor from an unseen door to 
 the left, letting in a flood of curses, groans, and 
 noise as he does so. He goes toward first guard 
 and talks with him.] 
 
 Carew. [Holding Nick's hands.] God bless 
 thee, Nick ! I love thee, lad. Dost thou not love 
 me just a little? Come, say thou lovest me. 
 
Act IV MASTER SKYLARK 181 
 
 Nick. [Soherli/.l Nay, Master Carew; I do 
 na love thee, and I will na say I do, sir; but I 
 pity thee with all my heart. And, sir, if thy be- 
 ing out would keep me stolen, still I think I 'd 
 wish thee out — for Cicely's sake. — But, Mas- 
 ter Carew, do na break my hands. 
 
 Carew. [HuskHy, releasing Nick's hands,'] 
 I will not seek to be excused to thee. I 've pris- 
 oned thee as that clod prisons me; yet, Nick, it 
 makes my heart ache now, that 'twas not I who 
 set thee free. For, truly, lad, I meant to send 
 thee home. I did, upon my word, and on the rem- 
 nant of mine honor. 
 
 1 Guard. [As a heavy bell begins to tolly very 
 slowly.] Quick! 'Tis the signal to bar the 
 gates. 
 
 Carew. Wilt kiss me, lad? — Thou 'It send 
 Will Shakespeare ! And, oh, Nick, thou 'It keep 
 my Cicely from all harm? 
 
 Nick. I '11 do my best. 
 
 1 Guard. I '11 ding thee out of this. [Raises 
 lieavy bunch of keys threateningly. Pushes him 
 towards the door, as Carew waves his hand 
 through the bars. Then exit through unseen door 
 to the left,] 
 
im MASTER SKYLARK Act IV 
 
 2 Guard. [Taking Nick, whose eyes are 
 blinded with tears, towards the heavy oiUer door.^ 
 Didst come alone? 
 
 Nick. Nay. With Master Heywood. 
 
 2 Guard. A-a. Yon without. He '11 pay an- 
 other shilling first, to get ye back. [Unbars door 
 and swings it open. Enter GoolEs, m Hey- 
 wood's cloak and cap. Nick does not recognize 
 him at first, and going to him, tear-blinded, takes 
 the hand he stretches out. 2 Guard staiids in 
 the doorway.^ Another shilling, sir. 'T was 
 over time. 
 
 GooLE. [Paying. 1 Aye, two ; with thanks. 
 
 Nick. [Starting back.'\ Why, where is Mas- 
 ter Hey wood .^^ 
 
 GooLE. He could na wait for thee. I 'm sent 
 to bring thee back. 
 
 Nick. Nay; thou liest, rogue! I will na go 
 with thee. 
 
 2 Guard. Get along, Jackanapes, or spend the 
 night in gaol. 
 
 Nick. But, sir, 't was not he brought me here. 
 There is some trick. I fear foul play.— Master 
 Carew f 
 
•God bless thee, Nick! I love thee, lad 
 
Act IV MASTER SKYLARK 133 
 
 Caeew. [Whose white face has been barely 
 znsible against the bars of his cell, sternly to 
 GooLE, who shrinks back against the wall at his 
 voice.^ — Beware, Gregory Goole 1 Beware 1 If 
 thou doest aught of ill to him I '11 put a spell upon 
 thee that will send thy soul to hell ! 
 
 2 GuAED. Out ye go now, both of ye. 
 
 GooLE. Best come quietly. She will na like 
 thee with a bloody face. 
 
 Nick. She? Who? Thou rogue! Hast thou 
 got Cicely? 
 
 GooLE. Aye, marry ; that I have. Ye '11 each 
 fetch a pretty penny by and by. And hark 'e ; be 
 less glib with that " rogue " of thine, or I will 
 baste thy back. 
 
 Nick. I be na feared of thee, thou rogue ! 
 
 Goole. [^Strikvng him across the face,'\ Thou 
 little imp! 
 
 Caeew. [In a hissing whisper.'] By my soul, 
 'fore God, I swear — [The rest is unintelligible 
 muttering^ and only his hands are seen, clutching 
 the bars.] 
 
 Nick. [Throwing back his shoulders ^ hotly.] 
 Do na dare to strike me again, thou rogue! 
 
134 MASTER SKYLARK Act IV 
 
 Thou 'It pay dear for this, when Master Shake- 
 speare comes for me. I say I be na feared of 
 thee ; and if thou harmest Cicely, thou 'It rue it 
 sorely. \_Exit, with Goole. Caeew's hands 
 vanish from the hars^l 
 
 Guard. [Swinging the door upon them.] 
 Ods bobs! A pretty lad, and spirited. — Two 
 paltry shillings I I would I had the buckle off his 
 cloak. 
 
 Prisoner. [^Groanmg.'\ 'T is bitter cold. 
 All 's dark and cold. Curse ye, the wind is cold, 
 I say. — 
 
 Guard. [Kiching cell door savagely. 1 Peace, 
 cur! 
 
 [Curtain] 
 
 [End of Act IV] 
 
ACT V 
 
 [Shakespeare's garden, at New Place, Stratford, 
 Five days later. Early morning; pinkish light. 
 
 The " Great House " at back of stage, with gable 
 end in the center, and windows each side. 
 Paths to left mid right. Rose-trees and shrub- 
 bery and a little arbor in the foregroimd. A 
 table, sheltered under a tree, with fruit, trays 
 of nuts and raisins and little cakes, silver cups 
 and decanters set thereon. A bench and two 
 stools elsewhere. 
 
 Shakespeare discovered, partly hidden among 
 bushes, with a pair of pruning -shears, trim- 
 ming the rose-trees. He seems worried at first, 
 but changes to good cheer when Heywood ap- 
 pears, 
 
 A casement in the gable opens wide, and Hey- 
 wood's head and shoulders appear. His head 
 is bandaged; but this bandage is concealed later 
 7vhen he reappears with his hat on.] 
 
 Shakespeare. Grood morrow, Master Early- 
 bird! [Tosses him a rose.'] Hast rested well? 
 135 
 
136 MASTER SKYLARK Act V 
 
 Heywood. Aye, Will. — But what news 
 more? 
 
 Shakespeare. If no news be good news, Tom, 
 all is yet well. [Aside,] And yet my — [shakes 
 his head] — messenger hath not come. He should 
 be here by sun-up, for he was to ride all night. — 
 How comes the sun ? 
 
 Heywood, Just up; the river is afire with it 
 now. [Simlight strikes the gable.] 'T would be 
 a lovely day indeed if the Skylark were here to sing. 
 
 Shakespeare. Take it not so to heart that 
 thou wast tricked. Thank God, the dagger struck 
 not home. — ■ We 've done our best to find them, 
 and now must trust to higher powers. And 
 truly, Tom, so fair a morning should not bring 
 foul news. The day dawns, beautiful indeed. — 
 Ah! [Stretching himself to his full height, and 
 laughvng softly.] It is the sweetest music in the 
 world — morning, spring, and God's dear sun- 
 shine; it bringeth hope; fills full the soul; starts 
 kindness brewing in the heart, like sap in a with- 
 ered bud. Thank God for life ! 
 
 Heywood. Had the rascal not struck me from 
 behind — 
 
 Shakespeare. Peace, Tom. Think ill no 
 more of him. He '11 reap his harvest soon. — 
 
Act V MASTER SKYLARK 137 
 
 Thou 'dst better have thy breakfast. 'T will ease 
 thy brooding mind. Shall 't be sent up ? 
 
 Heywood. Nay ; I '11 come down. [Exit, 
 from wmdow.'] 
 
 [Shakespeaee htjusy about the rose-trees again 
 for a moment. Then, the sound of rapid 
 hoof -heat s^ growing louder. He listens in- 
 tently till the sounds stop just off-stage.'] 
 
 Messenger. ^Entering vn costume of a post- 
 rider, horse-hootSy mud-spattered coat, gloves, 
 spurSy whip, and messenger^s leathern budget 
 swinging on strap over shoulder.] Sir! To you. 
 
 Shakespeare. Thy news. 
 
 Messenger. They cannot be in London. We 
 have sought both high and low. 
 
 Shakespeare. Along the river front? 
 
 Messenger. Aye. They were lodged one 
 night where Gaston told thee ; but neither lad nor 
 lass hath been seen since. 
 
 Shakespeare. 'T is passing strange. And we 
 have hunted after them the whole way up from 
 London town, but never found a trace. A con- 
 stable of Billingsgate brought word that they were 
 seen to start for Stratford with a man of Coven- 
 
138 MASTER SKYLARK Act V 
 
 try, and so we left at once. We came straight on 
 through Coventry, yet found them neither there 
 nor here. 
 
 Messenger. What says old Simon Attwood? 
 
 Shakespeare. It seems he hath disowned the 
 boy, and so before we went to him we waited for 
 thy word. 
 
 JoNsoN. \_Entering from the hotise.'] What 
 news ? 
 
 Shakespeare. They 've found naught yet. 
 
 JoNsoN. 'T is ill luck sure. 
 
 Shakespeare. What sayest, Ben? To-mor- 
 row we '11 go back ourselves to search until we find 
 them. 
 
 JoNsoN. Agreed. — But, sirrah, \_to Mes- 
 senger] thy message in detail. 
 
 Messenger. My fellows have sought every- 
 where. It is not possible they be still hid in Lon- 
 don. But I have one sound grain of comfort. 
 Three days ago — the day before I left — Goole 
 was found drowned, dead, floating in the Thames 
 by Barge-house Stairs. 
 
 JoNSON. What? 
 
Act V MASTER SKYLARK 1S9 
 
 Messenger. The children had not been with 
 him for four days, we found. 
 
 Shakespeare. Then they had 'scaped from 
 him before. That 's sure. They must be still 
 upon the way, but by the Warwick road. — 
 Thanks for thy news, fellow. Thou 'st ridden 
 well. Go to the buttery, man, and break thy fast. 
 Then I '11 send to Warwick straight. — But, 
 hold ; what news of Gaston ? 
 
 Messenger. I started two days since [iw^ 
 pressively'i, an hour before the crack o' dawn, and 
 on my way past Tyburn Hill, a black cart passed 
 me with a man in irons and gyves upon his 
 wrists. — I waved my hand. \_Raismg his hand 
 high as one signals a friend in a throng, 1 " Fare- 
 well," said he. " Good night ! " 
 
 JoNsoN. God rest his soulf 
 
 Shakespeare. Amen ! [Exit Messenger, into 
 the hoiise. Jonson turns to the refreshment 
 table.'] 
 
 Jonson. Where 's Burbage and the rest? 
 
 Shakespeare. Gone for an appetizing walk, 
 old hurly-burly Ben, whilst thou lay snoozing the 
 dew-gemmed hours away. Art sure thou 'rt yet 
 awake? 
 
140 MASTER SKYLARK Act V 
 
 JoNsoN. Ah, Will, thou gentle, thieving rogue ! 
 [Catching his hands. 1 — How thou stealest one's 
 heart with a glance of thine eye! One look of 
 thine doth warm my soul. — Why, Will, thy quiet 
 eye doth sparkle more than this good wine. — A 
 verse! — Hold. — Softly — I have it now, en- 
 tire. [Recites, dramatically , or sings, with a cup 
 of wine in his hand:^ 
 
 Drink to me only with thine eyes, 
 
 And I will pledge with mine ; 
 Or leave a kiss but in the cup 
 
 And I '11 not look for wine. 
 The thirst that from the soul doth rise 
 
 Doth ask a drink divine; 
 But might I of Jove's nectar sup, 
 
 I would not change for thine. 
 
 Shakespeare. Go sing it to some Warwick 
 maid, thou moonlight versifier. 
 
 JoNSON. Be thou she, then. — Hearken again. 
 — [Plucking a rose,} I 'U rime of this to thee. 
 [As before:} 
 
 I sent thee late a rosy wreath. 
 
 Not so much honoring thee 
 As giving it a hope that there 
 
 It could not withered be ; 
 
Act V MASTER SKYLARK 141 
 
 But thou thereon didst only breathe 
 
 And sent'st it back to me ; 
 Since when it glows, and smells, I swear, 
 
 Not of itself but thee! 
 
 l^BowSy kissing the rose, and puts it in his breast. "l 
 Whatever falls this day we '11 celebrate thy pur- 
 chase of this New Place here, in revelry most rare. 
 New songs shall spring from every cup, — 
 
 Shakespeaue. Nay, but the children first, old 
 friend. Then to our merriment. ^Sound of 
 voices up the path.] 
 
 1 Playee. [Entering briskly, with others.] 
 News, Will! Great news J [This actor should be 
 the man who previously has played Goole's part, 
 for reasons that will be apparent later; but now, 
 acting as quite a different individual, both in man- 
 ner and make-up.] 
 
 2 Player. Jove, the best that was ever baked ! 
 Shakespeaee. Hast found them? 
 
 1 Playee. Aye, that we have. They lodged 
 o'er night at Warwick, having trudged from 
 Coventry. 
 
 2 PlaYEE. The weekly carrier 'd fetched them 
 up as far as Coventry by his wagon-train from 
 London. 
 
142 MASTER SKYLARK Act V 
 
 JoNSON. Where be they now? 
 
 1 Player. We met them hard by the Warwick 
 road, faring across the fields. We hailed them in 
 thy name, and begged them come with us ; but the 
 lad would only stop to send his love to thee, likewise 
 the little maid, and flinging us a promise to come 
 to see thee soon, they both trudged on. 
 
 2 Player. 'T was a winsome sight to see the 
 Skylark's shining eyes as he hurried on towards 
 Attwood's lane, with the little maid by his side. 
 
 Shakespeare. [Enter Heywood, limping, with 
 a cap upon his head.^ Tom, a good investment 
 for thine ears ! 
 
 Heywood. Out with it, Will. 
 
 Shakespeare. They 're found, man. They 're 
 here. They '11 grace our feast this very day. 
 
 JoNSON. Merry hearts ! What a feast 't will 
 be, with a Skylark for center-piece! 
 
 Shakespeare. We'll feast on reason — 
 
 JoNSON. Reason on the feast; toast the com- 
 pany with wit — 
 
 Shakespeare. And company the wit with 
 toast. — But, look! [Enter Nick and Cicely, 
 
Act V MASTER SKYLARK 143 
 
 hand m hand. All move towards them. Shake- 
 SPEABC meets them with out-stretched hands. '\ 
 Welcome, most welcome, Nicholas and Cicely 1 
 
 JoNsoN. Lad, thou 'rt a credit to this old town 
 of thine. 
 
 Heywood. a plucky fellow, I say, right 
 plucky, to bring the lass safe, too. 
 
 Nick. [To Heywood,] Then Gregory did na 
 kill thee, sir ! 
 
 Heywood. Nay, lad ; thank God, he missed his 
 aim! 
 
 JoNsoN. [To Cicely.] And thou art Gas- 
 ton's httle daughter. I knew thy father well. 
 [Continues to talk to her. She tells him of their 
 adventures, animatedly. '^ 
 
 Shakespeare. [To Nick.] Thou young 
 rogue, how thou hast forestalled us! Why, here 
 we have been weeping for thee as lost or stolen 
 again ; and all the while thou wert coming straight 
 to thine own sweet nest. How is thy beloved 
 mother? 
 
 Nick. I ha' na seen my mother, sir. Father 
 will na let me in. 
 
 Shakespeabjb. Eh ! what ? 
 
144 MASTER SKYLARK Act V 
 
 JoNsoN. What! how? 
 
 Nick. My father will na have me any more, 
 sir — saith I shall never be his son again. Oh, 
 Master Shakespeare, why did they ever steal me 
 away from home? 
 
 Heywood. What means all this? 
 
 Nick. He was working in the yard, sirs; and 
 he — he said he was na father to stage-playing 
 vagabond rogues; and closed the gate upon us 
 both. 
 
 Cicely. He is a wicked, wicked man. 
 
 Nick. He is my father, Cicely. 
 
 Cicely. And thou dost hate my father so? 
 Oh, Nick! [To Jonson.] He said he'd set the 
 constables on us if wfe would not be gone. I am 
 too tired to go back that long and weary way. 
 [2 Player brings up two stools for them to sit 
 upon,~\ 
 
 Heywood. Why, this is a sorry tale. Does 
 the man not know thou 'rt kept against thy will? 
 
 Nick. He will na leave me tell him. He would 
 na even listen. 
 
 JoNsoN. The muckle shrew ! Why, I '11 have 
 this out with him. By Jupiter, I '11 read him rea- 
 son with a vengeance! [Hand on rapier. \ 
 
Master Shakcspero iii. t th. tn with outstretched hands. 
 
Act V MASTER SKYLARK 145 
 
 Shakespeare. Nay, Ben; a quarrel will not 
 serve. This tanner is a bitter-minded, heavy- 
 handed man ; — he 'd only throw thee in a pickling- 
 vat. 
 
 JoNSON. What? Then he M never tan an- 
 other hide. 
 
 Shakespeare. And would that serve the pur- 
 pose, Ben? The cure should better the disease: 
 — the children must be thought about. 
 
 JoNsON. The children? Why, then, this tan- 
 ner calls us vagabonds. Yet vagabonds are gal- 
 lows-birds, and gallows-birds are ravens. And 
 ravens, men say, do foster forlorn children. Let 
 us ravenous vagabonds, then, take these children 
 for our own — Will, thou one, I t' other — and 
 foster them praiseworthily. 
 
 Heywood. Why, here, Ben Jonson, this is all 
 .very well for Will and thee ; but where do I come 
 in? 
 
 Others. [Respectively.'] Or Burbage? — 
 Or Hemynge? — Or Condell? 
 
 Shakespeare. ISimlmg.] Aye. 'T is a pity 
 if we cannot all stand together in this real 
 play as well as in the make-believe. Kind hearts 
 are trumps — make it a stock company, and let 
 us all be in. 
 
14?6 MASTER SKYLARK Act V 
 
 JoNSON. Well, Tom, we cannot bar thee out. — 
 Ye know, lads, Heywood comes to us, now that — 
 [Shakespeare checks him, warnmgly'] — now that 
 his contract with Carew binds him no more. 
 
 Othehs. Why, good ! Good, Tom ! — Good, 
 I say. — Hurrah! 
 
 1 Player. With Will and Ben for meat and 
 crust, Tom Heywood for the sauce, and us for 
 seasoning, the Court shall say it never ate such 
 master-pie. 
 
 2 Player. We '11 make the halls of Whitehall 
 ring, come New Year next, or Twelfth Night. 
 
 3 Player. Aye, that we will, old gossip. — 
 Here 's to th' immortal three, the Queen's bright 
 triad of stars I [All seize cups of •wine.'] 
 
 1 Player. Here 's to the company all ! 
 
 2 Player. And a health to our new Lord 
 Chamberlain ! 
 
 3 Player. A toast to the twinkling trio ! 
 
 Heywood. And here 's to lad and lass ! 
 
 Shakespeare. [Most solemnly and slowly.] 
 To Gaston Carew ! [One or two cross themselves 
 quickly, while lifting their glasses; some bow their 
 
Act V MASTER SKYLARK 147 
 
 heads. There is a sudden hush, TheUy brightly, 
 hut with deep feeling still:'] 
 
 JoNsON. And then — God save the Queen! 
 [All drink,'] — Come, a new trio, Will. \_ Join- 
 ing hands with Heywood and Shakespeare, 
 sings:] 
 
 Three merry men, and three merry men, 
 
 And three merry men be we 
 As e'er did sing on a day in Spring 
 
 Beneath a Stratford tree ! 
 
 [Laughter, as he comically dances at the -finish, 
 and cries of " Bravo, Ben! — 'Well done! — 
 Bravo! — To *t again! " But Jonson only 
 smiles and shakes his head, " Nay,^* still holding 
 Shakespeare by the arm, and releasing Heywood, 
 addresses the former:] — Seriously, Will, be- 
 sides his song, the lad will make a better Rosalind 
 than Roger Prynne, for thy new play. 
 
 Shakespeare. So he would. But before we 
 put him into " As You Like It," suppose we ask 
 him how he would like it. — Nick, thou hast 
 heard what all these gentlemen have said — what 
 hast thou to say, my lad? 
 
 Nick. Why, sirs, ye are all very kind, — very 
 kind indeed, sirs; but ^ I — I just want to go 
 
148 MASTER SKYLARK Act V 
 
 home, sirs ; — oh, masters, I do want to see my 
 mother ! 
 
 [Shakespeare draws Nick to him comfortingly. 
 As he does sOy Heywood slips out by the 
 path, making a significa/nt gesture,^ 
 
 Shakespeare. Come, lad, we '11 take thee home 
 now soon. All will be well, in time ; in God's good 
 time. — Come, tell us, Nick, how fared ye in thy 
 wanderings ? 
 
 Nick. ^As the others gather roundS\ Why, 
 sirs, 't were not so much to tell. Only — 
 
 Cicely. Only Nick was most brave and kind 
 through all. He was a very prince. 
 
 JoNSON. Good, sweetheart! And thou the 
 princess then. 
 
 Nick. Gregory kept us locked up in a horrible 
 place, by the river bank, where all was dirty alley- 
 ways and wharf-sheds strewn with bits of fish, and 
 people past description — cold, hard, cruel folk. 
 
 Cicely. I canna bear to think of them! 
 [Shudders, shrinking close to Jonson, mho puts 
 his arm around her protectvngly, smiling in his 
 big way.'\ 
 
 Shakespeare. But how did ye escape? 
 
Act V MASTER SKYLARK 149 
 
 Nick. T was this way, sir. — He took us out 
 next morning, bound, he said, to flee away to 
 France; but on the way — well — on the way — 
 I — that is — we — 
 
 JoNSON. [^Heartily, laughmg, yet admiringly. '\ 
 Eh! Catch his blush? The lad's too modest to 
 tell his own brave deeds. — What say'st, lads — 
 we '11 act it out for him. 'T will make right stir- 
 ring action; — this garden for the stage, the 
 nodding flowers all about, an audience sweet to 
 our impromptu play. — Diccon Burbage, thou 
 famous crook-backed Richard, thou 'It be the vil- 
 lain, Goole. I will represent the carrier. Thou 
 art the prompter. Will. \_He briskly indicates 
 their places, while Shakespeaee beckons Nick to 
 him, who nods and whispers rapidly, 1 And the 
 rest of ye, the throngs upon the street. So ! Art 
 ready all? Now, lad and lass, remember Gregory 
 Goole there hath kidnapped both of ye, and is 
 a-spiriting ye off" to France. 
 
 Cicely. [Daaicing around.'\ Aye, that we 
 will. [As Nick whispers to Shakespeaee again,'\ 
 'T will be a very play ! 
 
 1 Playee [as Goole]. [Since this actor is the 
 one who has played the part of Goole in the pre- 
 ceding acts, the similitude is startlingly apparent 
 
150 MASTER SKYLARK Act V 
 
 now that he has reswmed his former make-up and 
 manner. As he finishes tying a hit of ribbon 
 round one ear, after the manner of Goole:] 
 " Take the other hand of her, thou jackanapes 
 [dragging Cicely by the hand'\, and fetch a bet- 
 ter pace than this — I '11 not be followed again." 
 
 Cicely. " Oh, Gregory, go slow ! " [Half 
 pam,ting. Half laughing, '\ 
 
 JoNSON. The cue. Will, the cue ! [Nick whis- 
 pers to JoNsoN.] — Aye, — Come here, ye 
 idle passing throng ! — Now : — " What there, 
 Tom Webster, I say, seest yonder sweet princess ? " 
 
 2 Playee. " My faith, Jem Armstrong, 't is 
 the truth — for once in thy life. [Staring at 
 Cicely.] Her face be as fair as a K in a copy- 
 book. Hey, bullies, what ^ Let 's make her our 
 Holiday Queen." 
 
 Other Players. " A Queen.? " — " What 
 
 queen.?" — "Where is a queen.?" — "I 
 granny, Tom Webster hath catched a queen ! " — 
 
 " Where is she, Tom .? " — " Up with her, mate, 
 and let a fellow see." 
 
 1 Player. [Snarling, 1 "Hands off there." 
 
 JoNSON. " Up with her, then. A queen it is." 
 
 1 Player. " Stand back, and let us pass. — 
 Stand back, ye apprenticed rogues." 
 
Act V MASTER SKYLARK 151 
 
 2 Player. " Rogues ? Rogues ! Who calls 
 us apprentices and rogues? " 
 
 3 Player. " Crack me his brown, Martin Alls- 
 ton." 
 
 1 Player. [Faltering,] "Good masters, I 
 meant ye no offense. I prythee, do not keep a 
 father and his children from their dying mother's 
 bed." 
 
 ** JoNSON. " Nay — is that so ? Here, lads, 
 give way — their mother be a-dying." 
 
 1 Player. \_As others fall back.] " Ah, sirs, 
 she '11 thank ye with her dying breath. — Get on, 
 thou knave." [To Nick.] 
 
 Cicely. [To Shakespeare.] Oh, 't is very 
 like the truth! — Now, Nick! 
 
 Nick. " The fellow lieth ! My mother is in 
 Stratford town ; and Cicely's mother is dead." 
 
 1 Player. "Thou whelp! [As if to strike 
 him,1 I '11 teach thee to hold thy tongue." 
 
 JoNsON. " Oh, no, ye won't. [Thrusting 
 Mm away rotighly.'\ Dost take me? — say? — 
 Now, Jacky Sprat, what's all the coil about? 
 Hath this sweet fellow kidnapped thee ? " 
 
162 MASTER SKYLARK Act Y 
 
 Nick. " Nay, sir, not me, but Cicely ; and do 
 na leave him take her, sir, for he treats her very 
 ill." 
 
 Cicely. \_Shivermg.'\ Oh, 't is much too 
 true ! 
 
 1 Player. [Sneering,'] " The little rascal 
 lies. I am her legal guardian." 
 
 JoNSON. *'What! How? Thou wast her fa- 
 ther but a moment since 1 " 
 
 Shakespeaee. [As one of the crowd,'] Nay; 
 her father's dearest friend, he said. 
 
 1 Playee. " Aye ; her father's dearest friend, 
 I said — he gave her in my charge." 
 
 Cicely. [With spirit.] " My father's friend! 
 Thou? His common groom! Why, he would not 
 give my little finger in thy charge." 
 
 Shakespeaee. He is the wiser daddy, then. 
 
 JoNSON. [Lcmghing.] "Most true! Why, 
 the fellow hath a T for Tyburn writ upon his 
 face." 
 
 1 Playee. "Stand ofF. Thou 'It pay the 
 piper dear for this. The knave is a lying vaga- 
 bond, and a thief as well." 
 
Act V MASTER SKYLARK 15S 
 
 Cicely. " Why, fie, for shame ! [Stamping 
 her foot.li Nick doth not steal, and thou knowest 
 it, Gregory Goole. It is thou who hast stolen my 
 pretty clothes, and the wine from my father's 
 house." 
 
 Shakespeake. Good, sweetheart. 
 
 JoNSON. [Eying 1 Player sharply.'\ " So 
 the rascal hath stolen other things than thee? I 
 thought that yellow bow of his was tied tremendous 
 high. Why, mates, the dog is a branded rogue — 
 that ribbon is tied through the hole in his ear. 
 [JoNsoN pursues 1 Player.] Hi!" [The ac- 
 tor of GooLE then stops, laughing y and, pulling the 
 bit of ribbon from his ear, otherwise transforms 
 himself into one of the throng.^ 
 
 JoNSON. [Returning, as himself, puffing. 1 
 Good, lads, good ! 
 
 Shakespeare. 'T is well acted, all. 
 
 Cicely. Wait, sirs. I '11 dance the coranto 
 as we danced it on our way. — Nick, call " Sa- 
 sa ! " and give me the time of the coup d'archet? 
 
 Nick. Aye ; then, 't is off ; 't is off ! [Snapping 
 his fingers m time to the lilt of a lively tune he 
 hums. She dances, a quaint running step, for- 
 ward and back across the grass, balancing archly. 
 
164 MASTER SKYLARK Act V 
 
 zoith her hands upon her hips and a little smile 
 upon her lips, in the swaying motion of the coupee, 
 courtesying gracefully several times, and then 
 bowing breathlessly at the end,'] 
 
 JoNSON. Why, Will, 't is fairy-like — she does 
 not even touch the ground. 
 
 Cicely. [Running to Nick.] Was it all 
 right, Nick? 
 
 Nick. [Tahing her hands.'] Right? 'T was 
 better than thou didst ever dance before. 
 
 Cicely. [With a quick light in her eyes,] 
 For why ? for why ? — because this time I danced 
 for thee ! 
 
 [Enter Simon Attwood, up the path, Hey- 
 wooD appears a moment later behind him, 
 but stands unobtrusively in the background 
 with the other players. — Cicely clings to 
 Nick's arm, Shakespeare crosses over to- 
 wards Simon, who slowly comes into the cen- 
 ter. Nick stands half-startled, half-eager, 
 watching his father,] 
 
 Attwood. [Hoarsely.] Master Shakespeare, 
 I ha' come about a matter — [Stops.] 
 
 Shakespeaee. In truth, there is much the mat- 
 ter. 
 
Act V MASTER SKYLARK 156 
 
 Attwood. I ha' summat to say to thee. 
 
 Shakespeare. There is much here needs be 
 said. 
 
 JoNSON. Out with it, then. 
 
 Attwood. [Looking around slowly. 1 There 's 
 naught that I can say, but that I be sorry, and I 
 want my son. — Nick ! Nick ! [falters brokenly] 
 I be wrung for thee ; will ye na come home — just 
 for thy mother's sake, Nick, if na for mine.? 
 
 Nick. [Startmg up with a glad cry.'] Fa- 
 ther!. [Seeing Cicely at his side, he stops.] 
 But Cicely.? 
 
 Attwood. [Wringing his hat within his hands 
 — then stoutly.] Bring her along. I ha' little 
 enow ; but we '11 make out, lad, we '11 make out. 
 [Holding out his hands.] Wilt come, lad? 
 
 Nick. [Walking over to hvm, blindly.] Oh, 
 Father! 
 
 [SmoN Attwood holds him closely and caress- 
 ingly, Shakespeake, with his arm about 
 Cicely, turns and makes a sign to Jonson. 
 JoNsoN nods^ and goes into the house, reap- 
 pearing instantly with two bags of bright 
 yellow buckskin^ which he holds behind his 
 back.] 
 
166 MASTER SKYLARK Act V 
 
 Attwood. \^As Nick looks up into his face, 
 curiously. '\ Well, lad, what be it? 
 
 Nick. [^Smiling. 1 Nothing, only Mother will 
 be glad to have Cicely, won't she ? 
 
 Shakespeare. I have a little story to tell ye 
 all. [All surprised, except Jonson, mho smiles 
 knowingly. '\ — When I went to see Gaston Carew 
 seeking news of the missing boy, he made known to 
 me a secret panel in the wainscot of his house, 
 wherein was hidden all he had on earth to leave to 
 those he loved the best, and who, he hoped, loved 
 him. 
 
 Cicely. [Aside to Shakespeare.] Every- 
 body loves my father. 
 
 Shakespeare. [Putting his hcmd for a mo- 
 ment gently on her head.'] He sent his love for- 
 ever to his only daughter Cicely [Cicely nods 
 and smUes], and then he said he trusted me to see 
 this little fortune safe bestowed. [Slozdy.] 
 This done, we parted. [Pauses. 1 Within the 
 wall, as he had said, we found these bags [takes 
 them from Jonson], one marked " For my beloved 
 daughter Cicely," and the other, "For Nicholas 
 Attwood." [Turns to Attwood, smiling geni- 
 ally.] Four hundred fifty gold rose-nobles. 
 Neighbor Attwood, we shall have no paupers here ! 
 
Act V MASTER SKYLARK 157 
 
 [^Clapping of hands ^ as he places the hags in 
 Simon's hands. ^ And what is more, I '11 need a 
 tenant for this Place while I 'm away at London. 
 What say you, Attwood? Wilt be my man? 
 
 Cicely. \_Gomg to Nick, qwiclcly.'l Now I 
 can stay with thee till Daddy comes, and be thine 
 own sister forever. 
 
 Attwood. [Brokenly. '[ Why, sir — why, sirs, 
 all of ye — I ha' been a hard man, and sum- 
 mat of a fool, sirs. I ha' misthought and mis- 
 called ye play-actors many and many a time ; but, 
 God knoweth well, I be sorry for it from the bot- 
 tom o' my heart. [Hangs his head.] 
 
 Shakespeaee. [Crossing, and putting his hand 
 on the tanner* s shoulder. 'I Nay, Simon Attwood, 
 thou hast only been mistaken, that is all. And to 
 see thyself mistaken is but to be the wiser. Why, 
 never the wisest man but saw himself a fool a thou- 
 sand times. 
 
 JoNSON. Come, Neighbor Attwood, sit thee up 
 and eat with us. 
 
 Attwood. I thank ye, sirs. Ye ha' all been 
 good to my boy. But, masters, I '11 go home to 
 my wife. There be things to say before my boy 
 comes home; and I ha' muckle need to tell her 
 
158 MASTER SKYLARK Act V 
 
 that I love her — I ha' na done so these many 
 years. 
 
 JoNSON. Why, Will, 't is altogether like a Mid- 
 summer Night's Dream. 
 
 Shakespeare. Aye, Ben ; and 't is a good 
 place to end, where all ends well. — Come, Neigh- 
 bor, do not go at least until thou drinkest one good 
 toast with us, for we are all good friends and true 
 from this day forth. — Come, Ben, a toast to fit 
 the cue. 
 
 JoNsON. Why, then, — here 's to all kind 
 hearts ! 
 
 Shakespeare. Wherever they may be ! — 
 'T is a good toast, and we will drink it all to- 
 gether. 
 
 JoNSON. [Going over to Nick, as Shake- 
 speare pours out the glasses, '\ Nick, my lad, 
 sing some words for me.'' [Whispers some words 
 to him.'] 
 
 Others. [Callvng.] Master Skylark! — Yes, 
 the Skylark! — Sing for us now. 
 
 Shakespeare. Yes, Nicholas ! 
 
 Cicely. Aye, Nick ! 
 
Act V MASTER SKYLARK 169 
 
 Nick. [Sings :} 
 
 Then here 's a health to all kind hearts 
 
 Wherever they may be ; 
 For kindly hearts make but one kin 
 
 Of all humanity. 
 
 And here 's a rouse to all kind hearts 
 
 Wherever they be found; 
 For 't is the throb of kindred hearts 
 
 Doth make the world go round. 
 
 lAs all raise their glasses, Nick having now 
 stepped behind the others — enter Margaret 
 Attwood, hurriedly, by the path.'\ 
 
 Mabgabet Attwood. Your pardon, kind sirs, 
 but Anne Shakespeare hath said — Why, Simon, 
 what hath come over thee? What hath happened? 
 
 Attwood. Naught, lass, but that our lad is 
 coming home, and that I love thee. Is it too late 
 to tell thee so? 
 
 Mabgabet Attwood. Nay, Simon, 't is never 
 too late to mend. But \^turns'\ — oh, Nick! 
 
 Nick. [Rtmning toher arms.'] Mother I Oh, 
 Mother dear ! 
 
 Cicely. [Going affectionately to Attwood, 
 who holds out his arms pleadingly to her,'] Oh, 
 
160 MASTER SKYLARK Act V 
 
 she will be my mother, too ! And thou my foster 
 daddy ! 
 
 Margaeet Attwood. My boy, my boy! — 
 my little boy ! 
 
 [Curtain] 
 
 [End of Act V] 
 
ALTERNATIVE FIFTH ACT. 
 Abbreviated to one half the original version. 
 
ACT V y 
 
 [Shakespeare's garden, at New Place, Stratford, 
 Five days later. Early morning; pinkish light. 
 
 The " Great House " at hack of stage, with gahle 
 end in the center, and windows each side. Paths 
 to left and right. Rose-trees and shrubbery 
 and a little arbor in the foreground. A table, 
 sheltered wnder a tree, with fruit, trays of nuts 
 and raisins and little cakes, silver cups and de- 
 canters set thereon, A bench amd two stools 
 elsewhere, 
 
 Shakespeaee discovered, partly hidden among the 
 bu>shes, with a pair of pruning-shears, trimming 
 the rose-trees, 
 
 A casement in the gable opens wide, and HjEY- 
 wood's head and shoulders appear. His head is 
 bandaged; but this bandage is concealed later 
 when he puts his hat on.] 
 
 Shakespeaee. Good morrow, Master Early- 
 bird! ^Tosses him a rose,] Hast rested well? 
 
 163 
 
164 MASTER SKYLARK Act V 
 
 Heywood. Aye, Will. \_Stt7dight strikes the 
 gable.'i 'T would be a lovely day if the Skylark 
 were here to sing. 
 
 Shakespeare. Yet, truly, Tom, so fair a morn- 
 ing cannot bring foul news. — Ah 1 [^Stretching 
 himself to his fvll height and laughing softly.'] It 
 is the sweetest music in the world — morning, 
 spring, and God's dear sunshine ; it bringeth hope, 
 fills full the soul, starts kindness brewing in the 
 heart, like sap in a withered bud. Thank God for 
 life! 
 
 JoNsoN. [Entering from the house,'] What 
 news. Will, from thy daybreak messenger.? 
 
 Shakespeare. There 's naught found yet. 
 But he reporteth they cannot be in London, for 
 't is sure they left with the carrier for Coven- 
 try the day before Goole was found drowned in the 
 Thames by Barge-house Stairs. 
 
 JoNSON. So \ — Where 's Burbage and the 
 rest.? 
 
 Shakespeare. Gone for an appetizing walk, 
 old hurly-burly Ben, whilst thou lay snoozing the 
 dew-gemmed hours away. Art sure thou 'rt yet 
 awake ? 
 
 JoNSON. Ah, Will, thou gentle rogue! 
 [Catching his hamds.] How thou stealest one's 
 
Act V MASTER SKYLARK 165 
 
 heart with the glance of thine eyel One look of 
 thine doth warm the soul. 
 
 Heywood. [^* the sownd of voices comes up 
 the path,'\ Here 's Burbage and the rest. 
 
 1 Playek. [Entering hrisMy, with others.^ 
 News, Will ! Great news ! 
 
 2 Player. Jove ! the best that was ever baked. 
 Shakespeare. Hast found them.? 
 
 1 Player. Aye, that we have. They *re here ! 
 They lodged o'er night at Warwick, having 
 trudged from Coventry. 
 
 2 Player. The weekly carrier fetched them to 
 Coventry on yester-noon. 
 
 JoNSON. Where be they now? 
 
 1 Player. Hard by the lane to Simon Att- 
 wood's. — The lad sent thee his love and will 
 come soon, he saith, to see thee here. 
 
 Shakespeare. I warrant ye. — 'T is good we 
 kept our former news from Margaret Attwood 
 now. 
 
 Heywood. [TF^o has just disappeared from 
 the wmdoWf to reappear now, among the others.^ 
 Hey ! what a feast we '11 have ! 
 
166 MASTER SKYLARK Act V 
 
 JoNsoN. Why, Will, we '11 doubly celebrate thy 
 purchase of this New Place here. 'T will be rev- 
 elry most rare. 
 
 Shakespeare. But look! {Enter Nick and 
 Cicely, hand in hand.] The children! [All 
 move towards them. Shakespeare meets them 
 with outstretched hands. '[ Welcome, most wel- 
 come, Nicholas and Cicely. 
 
 JoNsoN. Lad, thou 'rt a credit to this old 
 town of thine. 
 
 Heywood. a plucky fellow, Nick, I say, right 
 plucky to bring the lass safe too. 
 
 Nick. [To Heywood.] Then Gregory did na 
 kill thee, sir. f^ 
 
 Heywood. Nay, lad ; thank God, he missed his 
 aim. 
 
 JoNsoN. [To Cicely.] And thou art Gas- 
 ton's little daughter. Why, lass, I knew thy 
 father well. 
 
 Shakespeare. [To Nick.] Thou young 
 rogue, how thou hast forestalled us ! Why, here 
 we have been weeping for thee as lost or stolen 
 again ; and all the while thou wert coming straight 
 to thine own sweet nest. How is thy beloved 
 mother.'' 
 
Act V MASTER SKYLARK 167 
 
 Nick. I ha' na seen my mother, sir. Father 
 will na let me in. 
 
 Shakespeare. Eh; what? 
 
 Nick. He was working in the yard, and he — 
 he said he was na father to stage-playing, vaga- 
 bond rogues ; and closed the gate upon us both. 
 
 Cicely. He is a wicked, wicked man ! 
 
 Nick. He is my father. Cicely. 
 
 Cicely. And thou dost hate my father so? 
 Oh, Nick!— [To Jonson.] He said he'd set 
 the constables on us if we would not be gone! 
 
 [2 Playee brings up two stools for them to sit 
 upon.l 
 
 Heywood. Why, this is a sorry tale. Doth 
 he not know thou 'rt kept against thy will ? 
 
 Nick. He will na leave me tell him. He 
 would na even listen. He saith I '11 never be his 
 son again. 
 
 JoNsoN. The muckle shrew ! Why, thou hadst 
 best disown him ! — We '11 read him reason with 
 a vengeance. — What say'st. Will? We '11 take 
 the children for our own — thou one, 1 1' other — 
 and by praiseworthy fostering singe this sullen 
 fellow's very brain with shame. 
 
168 MASTER SKYLARK Act V 
 
 Heywood. Why, here, Ben Jonson, wait. 
 Pray, where do I come in ? 
 
 Others. lRespectiveli/,'\ Or I? — Or I? — 
 Don't leave us out. 
 
 Shakespeaee. ISmiling.'] Aye. 'T is a. pity 
 if we cannot all stand together in this real play as 
 well as in the make-believe. — Kind hearts are 
 trumps — make it a stock company, and let us all 
 be in, 
 
 JoNSON. Well, Tom, we cannot bar thee out. — 
 Ye know, lads, Heywood comes to us, now that — 
 [Shakespeare checks him, warnmglif] — now that 
 his contract with Carew binds him no more. 
 
 Others. Hurrah! — Good, Tom! 
 
 1 Player. With Will and Ben for meat and 
 crust, Tom Heywood for the sauce, and us for 
 seasoning, the Court shall say it never ate such 
 master-pie ! 
 
 2 Player. Here 's a toast to the twinkling 
 trio, the Queen's immortal stars ! 
 
 3 Player, [As all seize cups of wine.] And a 
 health to our new Lord Chamberlain ! 
 
 1 Player. Here 's to the company all ! 
 
 Heywood. And here 's to lad and lass ! 
 
Act V MASTER SKYLARK 169 
 
 Shakespeaee. l^Most solemnly/ and slowli/.^ 
 To Gaston Carew ! [^One or two cross themselves 
 quickly y while lifting their glasses; some how their 
 heads. There is a sudden hush. Then, brightly, 
 hut with deep feeling still:'] 
 
 JoNSON. And then — God save the Queen! 
 [All drink.] — And, Will, besides his song, the 
 lad will make a better Rosalind than Roger 
 Prynne, for thy new play. 
 
 Shakespeare. So he would. But before we 
 put him into " As You Like It," suppose we ask 
 him how he would like it. — Nick, thou hast heard 
 what all these gentlemen have said — what hast 
 thou to say, my lad.? 
 
 Nick. Why, sirs, ye are all very kind — very 
 kind indeed; but — I — I just want to go home, 
 sirs ; — oh, masters, I do want to see my mother \ 
 
 Shakespeare. [Drawing Nick to him, comr 
 fortingly, as Heywood slips out hy the path, mak- 
 ing a significant gesture.] We '11 take thee home 
 soon. All will be well, in time; in God's good 
 time. — But, come, tell us, Nick, how fared ye 
 both with Goole? 
 
 Nick. [As the others gather rou/nd.] Why, 
 sirs, 't were not so much to tell. Only — 
 
170 MASTER SKYLARK Act V 
 
 Cicely. Only Nick was most brave and kind 
 through all — a very prince. 
 
 JoNSON. Good, sweetheart 1 And thou the 
 princess then. 
 
 Nick. Gregory kept us locked up in a horrible 
 place, by the river bank, where all was dirty alley- 
 Ways and wharf-sheds, and people past descrip- 
 tion — cold, cruel folk. 
 
 Cicely. I canna bear to think of them! 
 \_Sh7idders, shrinkmg close to Jonson, who puts his 
 arm around her protectmgly^ smiling in his big 
 way,] 
 
 Shakespeare. And how did ye escape.? 
 
 Nick. 'T was this way, sir. — He took us out 
 next morning, bound, he said, to flee away to 
 France ; but on the way we met a crowd of 'pren- 
 tices out for a holiday. When they caught sight 
 of Cicely they called to us to stop ; said they must 
 kiss so fair a maid. — 
 
 JoNSON. Truly, though I fain would have said 
 them nay, I do not wonder at their wish. 
 [Laughs, '\ Eh! catch the blushes? 
 
 Nick. Then, sire, said Gregory, " Stand back, 
 and let us pass. Wouldst keep a father and his 
 children from their dying mother's bed? " 
 
Act V MASTER SKYLARK 171 
 
 Cicely. Then Nick cried out most manfully, 
 " The fellow lieth ! My mother is in Stratford 
 town ; and Cicely's mother is dead." 
 
 Nick. Then Gregory tried to hit me, but at 
 that they all closed in, and some of them struck 
 him sorely as he fled away. Some others went with 
 us to the carrier's wagon-train, which was about to 
 start. 
 
 JoNsoN. Brave little lad and lass. 
 
 Cicely. I let them kiss my hand, but first I 
 made them wipe their faxres clean. 
 
 Nick. She danced the coranto for them. 
 
 Cicely. And I '11 dance it now as I danced for 
 them, Nick, if thou wilt call " Sa-sa ! " and give me 
 the time of the coup d'archet, 
 
 Nick. Aye; then, 't is off, 't is off! [Snap- 
 pmg his fingers in time to the lilt of a lively time 
 he hums. She dances y a quaint running step, for- 
 ward and backward across the grass, balancing 
 archly, with her hands upon her hips and a little 
 smile upon her lips, i/n the swaying motion of the 
 coupee, courtesymg gracefully several times, and 
 then bowing breathlessly at the end.'] 
 
 JoNsoN. Why, Will, 't is fairy-like — she does 
 not even touch the ground. 
 
17« MASTER SKYLARK Act V 
 
 Cicely, [^Who has mm to Nick at once, disre- 
 garding the applause of the others,'^ Was it all 
 right, Nick? 
 
 Nick. [Takmg her hands,'] 'Twas better 
 than thou didst ever dance before. 
 
 Cicely. [With a quick light in her eyes.] 
 For why ? for why ? — because this time I danced 
 for thee! 
 
 [Enter Simon Attwood, up the path, Hey- 
 wooD appears a moment later behind him, hut 
 standing unobtrusively in the background with 
 the other players, — Cicely clings to Nick's 
 arm. Shakespeaee crosses over towards 
 Simon, who slowly comes into the center. 
 Nick stands half-startled, half-eager, watch- 
 ing his father.] 
 
 Attwood. \_Hoarsely.] Master Shakespeare, 
 I ha' come about a matter — \_Stops.] 
 
 Shakespeaee. In truth, there is much the mat- 
 ter. 
 
 Attwood. I ha' summat to say to thee. 
 
 Shakespeare, There is much here needs be 
 said. 
 
 Attwood. [Looking around slowly.] There 's 
 naught that I can say, but that I be sorry, and 
 
Act V MASTER SKYLARK 178 
 
 I want mj son. — Nick! Nick! {falters hrok- 
 erdy^ I be wrung for thee; will ye na come home 
 for thy mother's sake, if na for mine? 
 
 Nick. [^Starting up with a glad cry,'] Father I 
 [Seeing Cicely at his sid^, he stops.] But 
 Cicely.? 
 
 Attwood. [Wrvngi/ng his hat withm his hands 
 — then stoutly.] Bring her along. I ha' little 
 enow ; but we '11 make out, lad, we '11 make out. 
 [Holding out his hands.] 
 
 Nick. [Rushing over to him, hli/ndly.] 
 Father! 
 
 [SiMON Attwood holds him closely and caress- 
 ingly. Shakespeake, with his arm about 
 Cicely, turns and makes a sign to Jonson. 
 The latter nods, and goes into the house, re- 
 appearing instantly with two hags of bright 
 yellow buckskin, which he holds behind his 
 back.] 
 
 Attwood. [As Nick looks up into his face.] 
 Well, lad, what be it? 
 
 Nick. [SmUing.] Mother will be glad to have 
 Cicely, won't she? 
 
 Shakespeake. I have a little story to tell ye 
 all. [Jonson smiles knowingly at Cicely.] 
 
174 MASTER SKYLARK Act V 
 
 When I went to Gaston Carew for news of the miss- 
 ing boy, he made known to me a secret panel in 
 the wainscot of his house, wherein was hidden all 
 he had on earth to leave to those he loved the best, 
 and who, he hoped, loved him. 
 
 Cicely. [Softly, and confidently.'] Every- 
 body loves my father. 
 
 Shakespeare. [Putting his hand for a moment 
 gently on her head,] He sent his love forever to 
 his only daughter Cicely [Cicely nods and smiles], 
 and he trusted me to see this little fortune safe be- 
 stowed. [Slowly.] This done, we parted. — 
 [Pauses.] — Within the wall, as he had said, we 
 found these bags [takes them from Jonson], one 
 marked " For my beloved daughter Cicely," and 
 the other, " For Nicholas Attwoodl " [Turns to 
 Attwood, smiling genially, and places the bags in 
 Simon's hands.] Four hundred fifty gold rose- 
 nobles. Neighbor Attwood, we shall have no 
 paupers herel [Clafpvng of hands.] And what 
 is more, I need a tenant for this Place while I 'm 
 away in London. What say you, Simon Att- 
 wood? Wilt be my man? 
 
 Cicely, [Going to Nick, quiclcly*.] Now I 
 can stay with thee till Daddy comes, and be thine 
 own sister forever. 
 
Act V MASTER SKYLARK 175 
 
 Attwooc. ^Brokenly.} Why, sir — why, sirs, 
 all o' ye — I ha' been a hard man, and sum- 
 mat of a foo4. I ha' misthought and miscalled ye 
 play-actors many and many a time; but, God 
 knoweth, I be sorry for it from the bottom o' my 
 heart. 
 
 Shakespeaee. ^Putting his hand on the tan- 
 ner's shoulder. '\ Nay, Simon Attwood, thou hast 
 only been mistaken, that is all. And to see thyself 
 mistaken is but to be the wiser. Why, never the 
 wisest man but saw himself a fool a thousand 
 times. 
 
 JoNsoN. Come, Neighbor tanner, sit thee up 
 and eat with us. 
 
 Attwood. I thank ye, sirs. Ye ha' all been 
 good to my boy. But, masters, I'll go home, to 
 my wife. There be things to say before my boy ^ 
 comes home ; and I ha' muckle need to tell her that ' A^ 
 I love her. — I ha' na done so these many years. 
 
 JoNsoN. Why, Will, 'tis altogether like a 
 IVIidsummer Night's Dream. 
 
 Shakespeare. Aye, Ben ; and 't is a good place 
 to end, where all end's well. — Come, Neighbor, 
 do not go at least until thou drinkest one good 
 toast with us, for we are all good friends and true 
 
176 MASTER SKYLARK Act V 
 
 from this day forth. — Come, Ben, a toast to fit 
 the cue. 
 
 JoNSON. Why, then — here's to all kind 
 hearts ! 
 
 Skakespeaee. Wherever they may be! — 
 'T is a good toast, and we will drink it all together. 
 
 JoNSON. \_Gomg over to Nick, as Shaket 
 SPEARE pours out the glasses. 1 Nick, my lad, 
 sing some words for me? \_WMspers some mords 
 to him.] 
 
 Others. [Callmg.'] Master Skylark! — Yes, 
 the Skylark. — Sing for us now. 
 
 Shakespeare. Aye, Nicholas ! 
 
 Cicely. Nick, dear! 
 
 NlcK. [Smgmg:'\ 
 
 Then here 's a health to all kind hearts 
 
 Wherever they may be; 
 For kindly hearts make but one kin 
 
 Of all humanity. 
 
 And here's a rouse to all kind hearts 
 
 Wherever they be found; 
 For 't is the throb of kindred hearts 
 
 Doth make the world go round. 
 
Act V MASTER SKYLARK 177 
 
 lAs all raise their glasses, Nick having stepped 
 behind the others — enter Mabgaeet Att- 
 wooD, hurriedly, by the path.^ 
 
 Margaret Attwood. Your pardon, kind sirs, 
 but Anne Shakespeare hath said — Why, Simon, 
 what hath come over thee? What 's happened? 
 
 Attwood. Naught, lass, but that our lad is 
 coming home, and that I love thee. Is it too late 
 to tell thee so? 
 
 Margaret Attwood. [Simply, with a little 
 smile.] Nay, Simon, 't is never too late to mend. 
 But [turns] — oh, Nick! 
 
 Nick. [Rtmning to her arms.] Mother! Oh, 
 Mother dear! 
 
 Cicely. [Going affectionately to Attwood, 
 who holds out his arms pleadingly to her.] Oh, 
 she will be my mother, too ! And thou my foster 
 Daddy! 
 
 Margaret Attwood. My boy, my boy ! — my 
 little boy! 
 
 [Curtain] 
 
 [End of Act V] L^ 
 
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