In the antechamber a number of petitions were presented to Her Majesty, who received them graciously amid acclamations of “Long live our Queen!” to which she replied, smiling, “I thank you, my good people!”
Upon the return of the royal party from the chapel, Sir Francis Walsingham ordered a meal, of which the principal features were roast beef and ale, to be set before Doctor Hollister and his charges. They were hungry and did ample justice to the minister’s hospitality. Sir Francis then handed the Doctor his papers and wished the travelers godspeed and a safe return.
It was high noon and the sight-seers still had a good half of the day before them. The boys had never been to a theatre—indeed, there were none outside of London—and the Doctor determined to take them to the Globe which, under the management of William Shakespeare, was fast becoming famous. The playhouse stood on the Surrey side of the river a short distance above the bridge. The party took boat at the palace stairs and were quickly rowed down and across the stream. They landed near a circular tower-like building, topped by a flag-staff and ensign, which the Doctor informed them was their destination. At that period plays were performed only in the daytime and the party was just in time for a performance. The enclosure—for it could hardly be called a building—was open to the sky. Around the sides were tiers of seats which accommodated the better class of spectators whilst the “groundlings” stood in the central space before the booth-like erection which contained the stage. There was no scenery, though the costumes were rich and various, and the back and sides of the stage were occupied by young gallants seated upon stools, for which privilege they paid sixpence extra. The audience commented freely and loudly upon the play and the acting and not infrequently the actors replied. Boys took the female parts and bouquets had not come into use to express favor, but an unpopular actor was sometimes subjected to a shower of ancient eggs and rotten vegetables from the pit.
No doubt the play, crude as we should consider it, was a source of wonder and delight to Jack and Peregrine who had never seen acting more pretentious than the antics of the village mummers at the New Year festival.
On the return home the party walked over London Bridge. At the entrance tower they were startled to see the heads of some eight or ten criminals stuck on the ends of spears. Two of these were quite fresh and had a peculiarly ghastly appearance with their eyes staring open and hair blowing in the breeze. But their attention was soon distracted from this gruesome sight to the bridge itself which was one of the most extraordinary structures in the country. It was entirely built over by houses two and three stories in height. Through the centre ran an arcade like a tunnel lined with shops. This strange viaduct, therefore, was at once a bridge and a street as well as a roadway for heavy wagons. In the stories above the shops, lived the owners of the latter. They were also occupied by offices and in a few instances as private lodgings.
Tired as the boys were when they reached their beds that night, they lay talking for hours of the wonderful sights they had seen. At length their remarks came in snatches and with mumbled speech as sleep overtook them against their will.
“Jack,” said Peregrine, drowsily, “if you were Lord Mayor of London, what would you do?”
“Give myself leave to fight a prentice,” muttered our hero, with closed eyes.