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"Well bethought and à propos and a proposito. We were held up in our playwork by the need to work on the Song of Songs that is Solomon's for Dekker that hath an ague. Kitty here gave us a good phrase. Love, she said, is better than wine. Is not that a good phrase?"
"She carries two fair-sized flagons on her, I see. If by love she means comfort more than intoxication, then she is not right."
"Comfort me with flagons," Beaumont said to Fletcher. "Flagons is better than apples. Make a note."
"You may all," Will said, getting up, "comfort your deuteronomies with your right index leviticus. I go now."
"It is jealousy," Ben said when he had gone. "He has no part in the holy work."
Will rode to Stratford nevertheless with three or four psalms in galley proof in his saddlebag, a gift from Ben Jonson. He was to see what he could do with them; to Ben they seemed not to offer matter for further poeticization. But for Will there would be much non-writing work in Stratford, save for the engrossing of signatures. The hundred and twenty acres bought from the Coombes which Gilbert was managing ill: these must be worked well. Gardeners needed for gardens and orchards. The tithes in Old Stratford and Welcombe and Bishopston. He, Will, was now a lay rector, a front-pew gentleman. Thomas Greene, the town clerk, together with his bitch of a wife and the two beefy squallers named Grayston and Hamnet, Gray and Ham, should be out of New Place by now, the lease up on Lady Day, 1610, this year. Forty-six years of age. Four and six make ten. One of the psalms in his saddlebag was number 46.
New Place, when he got there, was bright as a rubbed angel, A
"While I am here," he said, "I will not have it. Tell them that, tell them I will not have it."
"They are godly," she said, "and a blessing on the house."
"I can do without their blessing. Besides, their aliger faces show no warmth of blessing."
"They know what you are."
"I am a gentleman with an escutcheon. I am, moreover, one of the King's servants. I am, I do not deny, also a player and a playmaker, but that was the step to being a gentleman. Will they begrudge me my ambition?"
"Plays are ungodly, as is known. They will have no plays in this town. Nor will it avail you aught to flaunt your king's livery in their faces. They know that kings are mortal men and subject to the will of the Lord."
"Genevan saints, are they? Holy republicans? What do they say of Gunpowder Plot?"
"They said that it showed at least a king might be punished for his sins by an action of the people, though to put down the Scarlet Woman of Rome is no sin and the voice of a papist is no part of the voice of the people."
"God help us, Christ give us all patience."
"You blaspheme, you see, you are in need of the power of prayer."
"I am in need of nothing, woman, save a quiet life after a feverish one. I would have some seedcake with my ale."
"There is no crumb left and there has been no time for baking."
"If you must give up your hussif's duties in the name of dubious godliness, at least there is an idle daughter who could set to and bake."
"Judith hath a green melancholy on her. It is a sad life for the girl. None asks for her hand."
"Ah, they ca
Susa
"Is that from a play?"
"Not yet. The play that it is to be in is not yet writ, but it will be, fear not." "
"I fear not anything," A
"It is the father's office to seek a husband for a daughter. Judith is ripe and over-ripe."
"So ripeness is not after all all," Will sighed. "I will go seek in the taverns and hedgerows, crying Who will wed a player's brat?" He turned to Jack Hall, whose lips were pursed, and said, "Will you come stroll a little in the garden?"
Jack said, after a strolling silence, "Your book has been read here, you may know that."
"What book?"
"The book that is called So
"But God, man, that is old stuff, it came out all of a year ago, and I have disclaimed the book, I did not publish it, it is pirate work. What do they say that read it, not that I care, does it confirm them in their conviction of Black Will Shakebag's damnation?"
"It is a book of things that a man might do in London," Jack Hall said gloomily. "It is pity that Dick Field brought home a copy."
"Ah, poor corrupted Stratford. So you too join the headwaggers?"
"There is such a thing as propriety. Dick Field has been long a London man like yourself, father-in-law, but he has ever shown propriety. He hath printed foul stuff enow in his trade of printing, but he hath not the filthy ink of printed scandal sticking to him. You will, I trust, forgive the observation of one who is, besides your daughter's husband, a professional man and also your physical adviser."
"Dick Field is a man tied to a cold craft, not one like me who has had to make himself a motley to the view and unload his naked soul to the world." Then he said, "What has being my physical adviser to do with the book that is called So
"I have wondered at times about your cough and your premature baldness. Now I read records of licentiousness in that book."
"You mean," groaned Will, then gasped, then growled, then cried aloud, "I have the French pox, the disease of that pretty shepherd Syphilis of Fracastorius of Verona his poem? Oh, this drinks deep, this drinks the cup and all. And what thinks your sainted mother-in-law?"
"She knows nought of it. The book has been kept from her and from her friends the brethren. The bridge of the nose," he said, squinting, "seems soft in the cartilage. That is an infallible sign. Do keep your voice low. It will crack if you shout out so and not easily be mended."
Will howled like a hound and strode into the house to his study, passing his womenfolk on the way. He growled at them, even at gooing little Elizabeth. In his study he took from a drawer the galleys of the psalms that Ben had given him. He took them, waving in the draught of his passage, to shake like little ba