I thought only of doing what I had been hired to do. I meant to retrieve my table-book or, failing that, to seek an opportunity to transcribe the play again. Better yet, I might manage to make off with the theatre’s copy, saving myself a good deal of toil and trouble.“Now,” Mr. Heminges said. “Who would like to b-be responsible for this b-boy?”Mr. Pope clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder. “I suppose I can make room for one more. He’s not very large. You don’t eat much, do you, lad?”“I hardly ken, sir. I’ve never had the chance to find out.” This, said in all seriousness, earned me a laugh from the players. I had been laughed at for being a fool, but never for being witty. I found it pleased me.“Well answered,” Mr. Pope said. “Come then. Goodwife Willingson will be waiting supper for us.” As he ushered me through the door, he called over his shoulder, “Sander!”“Coming!” a voice from the far side of the room replied. As we passed behind the stage, I glanced furtively about for the incriminating table-book.
What do You think about The Shakespeare Stealer (1998)?
