"They may listen and be glad. I have friends, have I not? Have I not friends here?" he called to the drinkers. "Amigos? There was no response save for a man hawking, though all looked still.

"I am getting out of here," Will said.

"Aye, ever the prudent. Well, there is another word for prudent and you know it well. A plague on all cowards. Why should I not speak aloud my joy in being restored to the one true holy bosom? Is not the Queen's self of the blessed company? I tell you, the day is at hand when we may take the holy body in sunlight before the eyes of all men, not skulking in a dark hole. Hallelujah."

"You know the danger, fool," Will said, sweating. "There was an expectation of tolerance, but it is not fulfilled. The bishops will see it is not. Let us be out of here."

"With this blessed red wine unfinished? With this blood of the grape crimson as the blood of."

"I am going." Will drained the sour stuff and turned down his cup with a clank.

"Well, well, very well, I have told my story. Now, thanks be to God, my true story doth begin." Ben drank straight from the jug, beastlily, emerging spluttering. He wiped his mouth with the dirty back of his hand and nodded in a friendly manner at the company. "Give you good day, all. And God's blessing be ever on your comings and goings and eke your staying where you are."

"Come, idiot."

They left. Ben said, "Aye, aye, we will see how the spirit works. Is anyone following?"

"None. None yet. Do you wish someone to follow?"

"I say no more of it now, Ben Jonson his conversion. Except that you may speak of it to your friends and colleagues and all you will. I care not. I dare all for the lord Jesus. I owe him a death."

"That is mine. I wrote that."

"You did? It is all one. There is a tale they tell of you, do you know that?"

"What tale? Where?"

"Jack Marston told me. It is of Master Shakespeare dead and ascending to heaven's gate and demanding admittance.