Free The Betrayal by Mary Hooper

wearing low-cut dresses in violent shades which exposed a considerable amount of bosom. (This was nothing new to me, however, for the ladies at Court, though they spoke in low and cultured voices, were often gowned in a similarly revealing manner.) It was difficult to see if their faces were painted, for almost without exception these were concealed behind elaborate fans, or they wore masks held up by means of a button clenched between their front teeth.
    The play was the same one as before,
The Two Gentlemen of Verona
, and was advertised as being written by one who was a player as well as a playwright, a Mr William Shakespeare. I cannot say whether it was good or not, however, for the audience around me both on and off the stage was so boisterous that I kept losing the sense of the plot. I did discern that it was about two young men who are best friends, and one of them goes travelling while the other stays with his sweetheart, and afterwards they fall in love with different ladies … but then the whole play became a muddle to me. There were some funny speeches and also much bawdiness, causing me to admit to Mistress Midge after that, if I’d been there as my real self, I might have blushed and hung my head for shame at the words used. Seeing as I was a young man named Luke, however, I did not, but instead slapped my thigh and laughed as loudly as everyone else.
    The play ended with enemies being reconciled and lovers reunited, and as a fiddler struck up and the audience began to leave, two men stationed themselves on each side of the courtyard to give out bills advertising the next play in their repertoire.
    I pushed through the crowd, who, seemingly reluctant to leave, were gathered in little groups, posturing and declaiming, and took a leaflet. It was for a performance the following week of a new play named
The Country Husband
, in a building specially constructed for such a purpose and named the Curtain.
    Reading the bill, I thought I’d certainly like to go to such a place – and as long as Dr Dee and his family took their time getting to London, then there was no reason why I shouldn’t.
    ‘Hey, boy!’ someone shouted above the crowd, but, not used to being addressed this way, I didn’t take any notice.
    ‘You in the old man’s cap!’
    I looked around then, knowing it was probably me who was being addressed.
    The speaker was one of the two men standing in the doorway; the man who’d handed me the leaflet. He was tall, with a barrel stomach, a gingery cloud of a beard and one gold earring (which I’d noticed before was the fashion in London).
    ‘Yes, you. Come back here, will you?’ he beckoned.
    I pulled myself up to my full height, which is not so very great, and went to him, trying to look unconcerned. It was not against the law to feign being a man, surely? ‘Do you want something?’ I asked gruffly.
    ‘I saw you looking at the playbill.’
    I was puzzled at this. ‘Yes?’
    ‘You can read?’
    I nodded.
    ‘Could you read and learn a few words?’
    I shrugged. ‘Of course. If I had to.’
    He looked me up and down and nodded approval. ‘I must tell you,’ he said, ‘that youths like you are much sought after.’
    I was a little shocked at this and immediately thought of disappearing into the crowd and getting away. I think he knew how my mind was going, however, because he held up his hand and shook his head.
    ‘Nay,’ he said, ‘don’t think the worst!’
    I blinked at him.
    ‘What I mean is, you are young, and of a girl’s stature. Now you’re close I see your features are delicate, and your voice as light as a damsel’s.’
    Rather alarmed, I cleared my throat and prepared to speak more deeply.
    ‘’Tis no crime if a youth’s voice remains high!’ he said. ‘Indeed, ’tis what every actor yearns for: a girl’s shape and temperament, and a soft and well-modulated voice. With these, a young man may play many parts: a dissembling coxcomb in the morning and a duchess at