luck, and the whole
road rocky! Here's Burbage, Condell, and Will Shakspere ha' rebuilt
Blackfriars play-house in famous shape; and, marry, where are we?"

Nick started. An idea came creeping into his head. Will Shakspere had
married his mother's own cousin, Anne Hathaway of Shottery; and he had
often heard his mother say that Master Shakspere had ever been her own
good friend when they were young.

"He and Jonson be thick as thieves," said Henslowe; "and Chettle says
that Will hath near done the book of a new play for the autumn--a master
fine thing!--'Romulus and Juliana,' or something of that Italian sort,
to follow Ben Jonson's comedy. Ned Alleyn played a sweet fool about
Ben's comedy. Called it monstrous bad; and now it has taken the money
out of our mouths to the tune of nine pound six the day--and here, while
ye were gone, I ha' played my Lord of Pembroke's men in your 'Robin
Hood,' Heywood, to scant twelve shilling in the house!"

Heywood flushed.

"Nay, Tom, don't be nettled; 'tis not the fault of thy play. There's
naught will serve. We've tried old Marlowe and Robin Greene, Peele,
Nash, and all the rest; but, what! they will not do--'tis Shakspere,
Shakspere; our City flat-caps will ha' nothing but Shakspere!"

Nick listened eagerly. Master Will Shakspere must indeed be somebody in
London town! He stared across into the drifting cloud of mist and smoke
which hid the city like a pall, and wondered how and where, in that
terrible hive of more than a hundred thousand men, he could find
one man.

"I tell thee, Tom Heywood, there's some magic in the fellow, or my
name's not Henslowe!" cried the manager. "His very words bewitch one's
wits as nothing else can do. Why, I've tried them with 'Pierce
Penniless,' 'Groat's Worth of Wit,' 'Friar Bacon,' 'Orlando,' and the
'Battle of Alcazar.' Why, tush! they will not even listen! And here I've
put Martin Gosset into purple and gold, and Jemmy Donstall into a
peach-colored gown laid down with silver-gilt, for 'Volteger'; and what?
Why, we play to empty stools; and the rascals owe me for those costumes
yet--sixty shillings full! A murrain on Burbage and Will Shakspere
too!--but I wish we had him back again. We'd make their old Blackfriars
sick!" He shook his fist at a great gray pile of buildings that rose
above the rest out of the fog by the landing-place beyond the river.

Nick stared. _That_ the play-house of Master Shakspere and the Burbages?
Will Shakspere playin