rs, with Master Tom Heywood at their head, frolicking and
cantering along like so many overgrown school-boys.

"So we are to have thee with us awhile?" said Heywood, and put his arm
around Nick's shoulders as they trooped along.

"Awhile, sir, yes," replied Nick, nodding; "but I am going home soon,
Master Carew says."

"Carew," said Heywood, suddenly turning, "how can ye have the heart?"

"Come, Heywood," quoth the master-player, curtly, though his whole face
colored up, "I have heard enough of this. Will ye please to mind your
own affairs?"

The writer of comedies lifted his brows, "Very well," he answered
quietly; "but, lad, this much for thee," said he, turning to Nick, "if
ever thou dost need a friend, Tom Heywood's one will never speak
thee false."

"Sir!" cried Carew, clapping his hand upon his poniard Heywood looked
up steadily. "How? Wilt thou quarrel with me, Carew? What ugly poison
hath been filtered through thy wits? Why, thou art even falser than I
thought! Quarrel with me, who took thy new-born child from her dying
mother's arms when thou wert fast in Newgate gaol?"

Carew's angry face turned sickly gray. He made as if to speak, but no
sound came. He shut his eyes and pushed out his hand in the air as if to
stop the voice of the writer of comedies.

"Come," said Heywood, with deep feeling; "thou canst not quarrel with me
yet--nay, though thou dost try thy very worst. It would be a sorry story
for my soul or thine to tell to hers."

Carew groaned. The rest of the players had passed on, and the three
stood there alone. "Don't, Tom, don't!" he cried.

"Then how can ye have the heart?" the other asked again.

The master-player lifted up his head, and his lips were trembling. "'T
is not the heart, Tom," he cried bitterly, "upon my word, and on the
remnant of mine honour! 'Tis the head which doeth this. For, Tom, I
cannot leave him go. Why, Tom, hast thou not heard him sing? A voice
which would call back the very dead that we have loved if they might
only hear. Why, Tom, 'tis worth a thousand pound! How can I leave
him go?"

"Oh, fie for shame upon the man I took thee for!" cried Heywood.

"But, Tom," cried Carew, brokenly, "look it straightly in the face; I
am no such player as I was,--this reckless life hath done the trick for
me, Tom,--and here is ruin staring Henslowe and Alleyn in the eye. They
cannot keep me master if their luck doth not change soon; and Burbage
would not have me as a gift.