They exchanged the histories of their respective fathers. His was a mournful tale of a gradual descent into poverty, and he ended:
“I suppose I shall be a clerk all my life, unless I run away and become an actor.”
“An actor?”
“Yes. I should go to London. I might starve in the beginning, but I’d be a great man in the end. I’d play Shakespeare. Don’t you love Shakespeare?”
“I’ve never read any of his plays.”
“I’d like to read you some. I know some of the speeches by heart.”
And he delivered himself of the oration of Henry V before Harfleur. When that was done he plunged into the address of Othello to the most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, warmed to the words, lost himself, and came to a triumphant close with: “This was the only witchcraft that I used.”
“Who was she?”
“Desdemona. And in the end he smothered her because a beast called Iago told lies about her.”
“You do recite well.”