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of himself. Ah, Willy, Willy, ye’re four hundred years gone and the whole world thinks this is what ye looked like.” He clapped his hands like a little kid.
    “What’s the matter?” I said.
    “Nothing at all—nothing whatever. ’Tis the best of time’s revenges. Ah, Willy, Willy, ye pompous fool, I could almost feel sorry for ye.”
    “Not a good picture, I’m guessing?”
    “If ye take away his hair and add a calf’s-worth of weight, and a life of years spent in hard drinking, ’tis like enough to him,” Edmund said. “But when I saw him Tuesday he was a handsome fellow still, with a full head of hair, and a beard that curled over his jaw, and a jewel hanging from his ear. And very vain he is of his appearance.”
    “So anyway, now you believe I’m not a witch, or a spirit, or anything but what I said I was, right?” I asked.
    “I know nothing for sure any more. Save that in a world where my brother is accounted great and Doctor Dee is for.gotten, anything is possible, fair or foul. The seacoast of Bohemia could be no stranger. And Bohemia has never a yard of seacoast.”
    He put the book on the coffee table. “What more magics will ye show me, Miranda Hoberman?”
    “Would you like to see the rest of the play?” I said.
    “I would not,” he said. “’Tis too unnatural watching the poppets do it.”
    “You probably saw it done in London, huh?”
    “I have been in it. Will is not the only actor in the fam.ily.”
    “You’re kidding,” I said. “Who did you play?”
    “’Twas three years ago, so there was only one part I could play, of course,” Edmund said. “Juliet.”
    “You are kidding me,” I said.
    “I am what?”
    “You actually played Juliet?”
    “The first time anyone ever did. Since my voice changed, I’ve done some of the servants, and the Count Paris. Last time I did the Chorus, as well.”
    “Ever play Romeo?” I asked.
    “Ha! As if Dick Burbage would let anyone else play him,” he snorted. “Will did it once when Burbage was sick, and Burbage still hasn’t forgiven him. Not that Will gives a fart. But little a chance has any hired actor of playing such a role as that. Not unless the play be done a good long way from London where the Lord Chamberlain’s Men will never hear of it until ’tis too late.”
    I knew some of what he was talking about. Gillinger had made us study some background material on Shakespeare’s times. Richard Burbage was the leading actor in the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, which was also the acting company Shakespeare belonged to. The plays he wrote were their property, but other acting companies would steal a popular play if they could get away with it. And Romeo and Juliet had been very popular.
    “You know,” I said, “I just read for Juliet this afternoon.”
    Edmund shook his head. “Ye did what for her?”
    “I read for the part. We’re doing it here, in town.”
    “But girls cannot appear on stage. ’Twould be filthy.”
    “No it isn’t. I know you guys used guys to play girls all the time. But we think that’s weird. There’s nothing wrong with having girls play girls.”
    “Women on the stage. ’Tis something too French,” Edmund said.
    “Well, maybe the French are just smarter than you En.glish,” I said. “Anyway, there’s a lot of great English actresses now.”
    “Even in England they do this?” Edmund said.
    “Yep. That version of Romeo and Juliet I tried to show you has women playing all the women’s parts. Juliet, the Nurse, Lady Capulet, Romeo’s mother. And I’ll tell you something else. In our production some of the servants will probably be played by girls playing guys. ’Cause guys don’t come out for drama much.”
    Edmund shook his head again. “’Tis strange. ’Tis mickle strange. Me best role ever, played by—a woman.”
    “You know,” I said, “we’ve been talking a long time. Would you like dinner?”
    “I do not feel hungry,” he said. “But perhaps I should eat.”
    “Let me