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“Take in a play!” Thomas Pope exclaimed with a grin.
“Ah, but the playhouses are all still closed by order of the city council,” Shakespeare said, with an elaborate shrug. “Whatever is a rich young gentleman to do?”
“He could always try to bribe a councilman or two,” said young George Bryan, with a grin.
“Why, George, I am deeply shocked at your suggestion!” Shakespeare said, gazing at him with mock outrage. “I will have you know that the members of our august and honored London city council are all fine, upstanding citizens of absolutely impeccable character and reputation!”
“How many have been bribed thus far?” asked Burbage, dryly.
“About half of them, I’m told,” said Shakespeare.
Smythe joined in the laughter, gladdened to see that everybody’s spirits were so much improved. “And from whence comes this most welcome news, Will?” he asked.
“From a certain young nobleman who would prefer not to be known to share such confidences with a mere poet,” Shakespeare replied. “And as my present livelihood-to say nothing of our suppers, my dear friends-depends to a large degree upon his generosity, I am bound and beholden to be respectful of his wishes.”
“So then it would appear that you have found yourself a patron,” said Burbage.
“Well, in truth, I would not say so,” Shakespeare replied. “At the least, not yet. This gentleman is merely one of several who has commissioned sonnets from me. He has introduced to me to some friends of his, and has taken an interest in my work, though he prefers to remain anonymous, at present. A true patron would not hesitate to have his name attached to those who would benefit from his support. He enjoys having it be known that he is a benefactor of the arts. Such is the nature of that sort of relationship.”
“Perhaps Will has found another sort of relationship entirely,” said Molly, with a sly smile and a wink, as she set fresh tankards full of ale before them.
“Why, you cheeky wench!” Shakespeare exclaimed, as the others burst out laughing. “I have a mind to turn you over my knee for that!”
Molly gave him a saucy grin and tossed her fiery red hair back out of her face. “I may have a mind to let you,” she replied.
“Well, if I tried, then you would probably just run away,” said Shakespeare.
Molly looked him up and down. “Nay, good sir, methinks I’d stand and fight.”
The other players laughed again. “Looks like she’s got your measure, Will,” said Speed.
“Aye, and a very small measure it is, too,” Molly added, holding her thumb and forefinger about two inches apart.
“Mayhap a measure large enough to fill your cup may one day come along,” said Shakespeare, with a bow, “but until then, ‘twould seem that none may measure up to you, milady.”
The players laughed at the riposte, but before Molly could reply, Shakespeare continued, adding in a casual tone, “None, that is, save perhaps for a certain former armorer’s apprentice recently returned to England from the wars.”
Smythe noticed that Molly looked completely taken aback for a moment, then as quickly as the reaction had come over her, she recovered her habitual pose of saucy insolence and went on wiping off the table.
“And what would I have to do with foolish young apprentices who knew no better than to leave their trades and go running off to war?” she asked.
“Well, far be it from me to know, Mistress Molly Beatrice O’Flannery,” said Shakespeare, “save that ‘twould seem I had heard in passing somewhere that you once had a deal to do with this particular apprentice… or former apprentice, I should say, as he has by all reports proven himself a brave and stalwart soldier, having much distinguished himself in feats of arms on foreign soil.”
“Good Lord! You are not speaking of Ben Dickens?” asked Will Kemp.
“Indeed, I do believe that was his name,” Shakespeare replied.
“What, our own Ben Dickens?” asked John Fleming.
“The very same, by his own report,” Shakespeare responded.
“You saw him, then?” said Speed. “You spoke with him?”
“I did, indeed, both see and speak with him,” said Shakespeare, “and you may know he did inquire after all of you, as well, and did bid me give you all his warm regard and, furthermore, this message: that he would come here and call upon you all this very evening.”
“Oh, now that is good news, indeed!” said Burbage.
“By God, that calls for another round of drinks!” said Speed. And then he glanced uncertainly at Shakespeare, all too mindful of his own empty purse. “That is, of course, assuming your good graces…”
