“Fine. We are agreed then that he is a liar and a worthless bastard,” Smythe said. “The question is, what do we do about it?”
“Well, we try to find a way to prove he is a liar,” Shakespeare said. “Or, failing that, ‘twould serve your lady’s purposes as well if we could devise some way to thwart the marriage.”
“Agreed. But we have yet to determine what his motives may be. If we knew that, it might help us to devise a plan of action.”
“Perhaps. You say the lady’s parents are well off?”
“Her father is a wealthy merchant who desires to advance himself socially.”
“Hmmm. A lot of that going around these days. ‘Tis all rubbish if you ask me. If you have a lot of money, society eventually comes to you. There is no need to go fawning upon them.”
“That is what Sir William said, though not in so many words,” Smythe agreed. “In the old days, he said, a man won his spurs upon the battlefield. Nowadays, he simply buys them.”
“Which is what Elizabeth Darcie’s father hopes to do,” said Shakespeare. “She is the bait with which he hopes to snare a gentleman of rank. And, of course, the bait is made more tempting with a dowry, which as a wealthy merchant, he can easily afford. But suppose our Mr. Gresham happens to be particularly greedy?”
“What do you mean?”
“We were talking earlier about how Miss Darcie seemed distressed, but not unbalanced,” Shakespeare said. “But what if she did seem to be unbalanced?”
“She certainly did not strike me that way.”
“No, no, of course not. But suppose she was. Not completely out of her mind, you know, but nevertheless, a little touched.” The poet tapped his temple with his forefinger. “Or if she were one of those shrewish women who tend to lie and shout and throw tantrums whenever they are not given their way. ‘Twould make her far less desirable as a wife, I should think. Especially if she had a reputation for such behavior.”
“I see!” said Smythe, realizing where the poet was going. “And if her father were a very wealthy man, then he might well be moved to increase the size of her dowry considerably, as an incentive for a prospective husband to take her off his hands!”
“You get my drift,” said Shakespeare.
“I do, indeed. Gresham makes her out to be touched in the head, or else failing that, a shrewish maid who would be nothing but a trial to her husband. He plays at following through with the arrangement, but at the last moment, seems to hesitate, as if having second thoughts as a result of Elizabeth ’s behavior. And her father, desperate to see them married so that he can make use of Gresham’s social stature, offers him more money to recompense him for the inconvenience he shall experience in trying to tame this shrew. The result: Gresham gets himself a pretty wife and a pretty windfall!”
“Perhaps even a piece of Darcie’s business, if he plays his cards right,” said Shakespeare. “You know, in a perverse sort of way, there is a kind of symmetry to all this. Darcie wants to marry off his daughter to a gentleman so that he can take advantage of the connection to advance himself, and Gresham wants to marry money. Each gets what he wants.”
“Except Elizabeth,” said Smythe, “who only gets used by both.”
“True, true,” said Shakespeare, nodding. “It really is too bad that you are not a gentleman. You think you could get Sir William to adopt you? If you could manage that, then you might just displace Gresham and the two of you could live happily ever after, even with her father’s blessing.”
“Were you planning on drinking that pot of ale or wearing it?” asked Smythe.
“Now you see how you are?” Shakespeare replied. “I do my utmost to help you with your lady’s problem, and arrange for your debut as a player, too, and you threaten to upend a pot of ale over my head. There’s gratitude for you.”
“I am grateful, Will,” said Smythe. “Truly. But… wait. What did you say just now? My debut as a player?”
“Well, ‘tis a walk-on, really, and only one line, but everyone has to start somewhere,” Shakespeare said.
“You got me a part in a play?” Smythe said, with disbelief.
“A very small part,” Shakespeare said, holding his thumb and forefinger about an inch ap
art.
“Will! An actual part in a play? However did you do it?”
“No need to get carried away now,” Shakespeare said. “They were very pleased with the job I did for them, as you just saw. And I wrote in a small part for you and asked if you could play it. They were dubious until I said that ‘twas only a small part in the second act, and they would not need to add another hired man. You could perform your duties as an ostler before the play begins, have plenty of time to come inside and change, come onstage, do your part, and then go back outside and help with the horses at the close. They were quite amenable, especially when they saw that you are a great, hulking, handsome chap who will doubtless make the ladies in the audience go all aflutter. And not only ladies. There is always a place in the theatre for tall, strapping fellows. With Alleyn gone, they need someone for the audience to gawk at, and while young Burbage is a decent looking sort, he is not the manly brute that you are.”
“I never know if you are serious or if you are teasing me,” said Smythe, with a grimace.
“I do both,” said Shakespeare, with a smile. He lifted his pot of ale. “Here’s to your debut.”
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