If you, reader, were here with me now,
well, for one thing, you’d be gaping like a codfish, but the main thing you’d
notice would be the smell. I used to live in your neck of time. I know how
clean and flat everything smells. People don’t smell like people. Streets smell
like ghost towns. Here, come through, I’ll show you. Now that I’m used to this,
I don’t think I could go back to that. But, as you’ve only just arrived, we’ll
get you a pomander and a scarf to tie over your nose – probably best, anyway. Wandering
around Southwark with that unmarked skin, mouth agape, you’d be begging for
robbery, at best. Here, now, here’s a hat – what were you thinking walking
around everywhen with your head uncovered? – pull it down a bit, like so.
Perfect, not so conspicuous, as long as you keep quiet.
Now, I have a treat for you. You see this
building? See the shape? Any guesses on where we might be? Good! You’re not
completely hopeless, then. This is indeed the Globe Theatre. And I suspect
you’re familiar with the play we’re about to see, King Lear. First performance
is today. I don’t think we’ll be able to get seats, but standing among the
groundlings is its own experience. Well, yes, it’s loud, but surely you don’t
expect people to stand silently watching. Ah, perhaps you do. If you decide to
stay, perhaps we shall come again, and sit up with the quality. It’s quieter up
there. Oooh, let’s get some cockles to enjoy during the show. Oh. Oh dear. Have
you died, or merely fainted?
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