said, "Why,
Iris Nefer, decked out as Good Queen Bess, will speak a prologue to
the play--a prologue which I have myself but last week writ." He owled
his eyes. "'Tis an experiment in the new theater."

I said, "Siddy, prologues were nothing new to Shakespeare. He had them
on half his other plays. Besides, it doesn't make sense to use Queen
Elizabeth. She was dead by the time he whipped up _Macbeth_, which is
all about witchcraft and directed at King James."

He growled a little at me and demanded, "Prithee, how comes it your
peewit-brain bears such a ballast of fusty book-knowledge, chit?"

I said softly, "Siddy, you don't camp in a Shakespearean dressing room
for a year, tete-a-teting with some of the wisest actors ever, without
learning a little. Sure I'm a mental case, a poor little A & A
existing on your sweet charity, and don't think I don't appreciate it,
but--"

"A-_and_-A, thou sayest?" he frowned. "Methinks the gladsome new
forswearers of sack and ale call themselves AA."

"Agoraphobe and Amnesiac," I told him. "But look, Siddy, I was going
to sayest that I do know the plays. Having Queen Elizabeth speak a
prologue to _Macbeth_ is as much an anachronism as if you put her on
the gantry of the British moonship, busting a bottle of champagne over
its schnozzle."

"Ha!" he cried as if he'd caught me out. "And saying there's a new
Elizabeth, wouldn't that be the bravest advertisement ever for the
Empire?--perchance rechristening the pilot, copilot and astrogator
Drake, Hawkins and Raleigh? And the ship _The Golden Hind_? Tilly
fally, lady!"

He went on, "My prologue an anachronism, quotha! The groundlings will
never mark it. Think'st thou wisdom came to mankind with the stenchful
rocket and the sundered atomy? More, the Bard himself was topfull of
anachronism. He put spectacles on King Lear, had clocks tolling the
hour in Caesar's Rome, buried that Roman 'stead o' burning him and
gave Czechoslovakia a seacoast. Go to, doll."

"Czechoslovakia, Siddy?"

"Bohemia, then, what skills it? Leave me now, sweet poppet. Go thy
ways. I have matters of import to ponder. There's more to running a
repertory company than reading the footnotes to Furness."

* * * * *

Martin had just slouched by calling the Half Hour and looking in his
solemnity, sneakers, levis and dirty T-shirt more like an underage
refugee from Skid Row than Sid's newest recruit, assistant stage
manager and hardest-