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Shakespeare
has
left
the
huguenot
s
house
in
Silver
street
and
walks
by
the
swanmews
along
the
riverbank
.
But
he
does
not
stay
to
feed
the
pen
chivying
her
game
of
cygnets
towards
the
rushes
.
The
swan
of
Avon
has
other
thoughts
.
Composition
of
place
.
Ignatius
Loyola
,
make
haste
to
help
me
!
The
play
begins
.
A
player
comes
on
under
the
shadow
,
made
up
in
the
castoff
mail
of
a
court
buck
,
a
wellset
man
with
a
bass
voice
.
It
is
the
ghost
,
the
king
,
a
king
and
no
king
,
and
the
player
is
Shakespeare
who
has
studied
Hamlet
all
the
years
of
his
life
which
were
not
vanity
in
order
to
play
the
part
of
the
spectre
.
He
speaks
the
words
to
Burbage
,
the
young
player
who
stands
before
him
beyond
the
rack
of
cerecloth
,
calling
him
by
a
name
:
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Hamlet
,
I
am
thy
father
s
spirit
,
bidding
him
list
.
To
a
son
he
speaks
,
the
son
of
his
soul
,
the
prince
,
young
Hamlet
and
to
the
son
of
his
body
,
Hamnet
Shakespeare
,
who
has
died
in
Stratford
that
his
namesake
may
live
for
ever
.
Is
it
possible
that
that
player
Shakespeare
,
a
ghost
by
absence
,
and
in
the
vesture
of
buried
Denmark
,
a
ghost
by
death
,
speaking
his
own
words
to
his
own
son
s
name
(
had
Hamnet
Shakespeare
lived
he
would
have
been
prince
Hamlet
s
twin
)
,
is
it
possible
,
I
want
to
know
,
or
probable
that
he
did
not
draw
or
foresee
the
logical
conclusion
of
those
premises
:
you
are
the
dispossessed
son
:
I
am
the
murdered
father
:
your
mother
is
the
guilty
queen
,
Ann
Shakespeare
,
born
Hathaway
?
But
this
prying
into
the
family
life
of
a
great
man
,
Russell
began
impatiently
.
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Art
thou
there
,
truepenny
?
Interesting
only
to
the
parish
clerk
.
I
mean
,
we
have
the
plays
.
I
mean
when
we
read
the
poetry
of
King
Lear
what
is
it
to
us
how
the
poet
lived
?
As
for
living
our
servants
can
do
that
for
us
,
Villiers
de
l
Isle
has
said
.
Peeping
and
prying
into
greenroom
gossip
of
the
day
,
the
poet
s
drinking
,
the
poet
s
debts
.
We
have
King
Lear
:
and
it
is
immortal
.
Mr
Best
s
face
,
appealed
to
,
agreed
.