74 HOW THE LAST ACT OF HAMLET WAS WRITTEN.

murders, fights, processions, and the like—that they have little
stomach left for delicacies. But what 7s to be done, Burbage ?”

The manager moaned.

“Oh, come! none of that; pluck up a spirit,” said the Earl,
What’s the piece like P—I mean what you’ve got of it.”

“Why, the thing is an odd conceit enough,” replied the manager;
“but of no great merit. There is a quaint part of a mad prince—
nothing in itself, but of which I might make something—if” (and
Master Burbage moaned again) “the scurvy knave would but send
us the finish.”

“ Hath he been sought after?” inquired the Earl, after a pause.

“ High and low.”

“ And he can’t be found ?”

“ Not a sign of him.”

“ Have you tried his own house ?”

“ Even there—as a last resource.”

“ And what said they ?”

“ His ill-favoured wife— Mistress Hathaway that was—said it
was of little use seeking him there, till his money was spent.”

“ Of a verity, a thriftless knave!” muttered the Earl of Essex;
and then, after a few moments’ reflection, he asked—

“ Could n’t Ben finish it ?”

Ben thought he could—certainly. The manager, with equal con-
fidence, thought he could n’t.