“At the stake?”
“True, at Norwich in February, 1589, for questioning the Divinity of Christ, and giving utterance to other unorthodox views.”[22]
“O Diabole!” muttered Peele.
“Is there any safety in any occupation?” inquired Shakespere.
“Well, there is certainly little in your profession, my good fellow, unless you are licensed, or enrolled.[23] The penalty of being apprehended as a strolling player, or as a common actor of interludes, is probably known to thee, and to thee, too, Peele.”
“Yes; whipping, and burning with a hot iron through the gristle of the right ear,”[24] interrupted Peele, “for I saw the like punishment administered to Endermon, who is now with Henslowe at the Rose.”[25]
“And,” continued Tamworth, “it is because of this act of Elizabeth that you, Shakespere, are enrolled as a servant of Lord Pembroke.”
“A sorry wretch you are,” laughed Peele, looking at Shakespere, “so miserably considered that in order to gain the plaudits of the pit you must attach yourself to a licensed company.”
“And in what better condition are you?” asked Tamworth, with a smile. ou not know that in the law a dramatist is classed with vagrants? That any line of what you, Peele, write, may be interpreted as blasphemy or treason; and that as the judge before whom you may be dragged passes upon the meaning, force or effect of the questionable writing,[26] you are virtually deprived of a trial by jury? And upon what slender thread your liberty would hang! Aye, e’en your life. Moreover, the judge pompously declares that he looks into the spirit instead of the letter, and thus between the lines he reads an avowal of popery and pronounces you a Papist.”
“Aye, then the sentence comes ‘To the Tower,’” exclaimed Shakespere.