[1789 in The White Horse Tavern] That lad, Will Shakespeare. He turned out to be a half-decent playwright after all. You made some kind of deal with him, didn't you?
Perhaps.
What kind of deal? His soul?
Nothing so crude.
Four hundred years now, I've been meeting you here and there is so much I still don't know. Who are you? Truly? What's your name?
I might ask both of you that same question, gentlemen.
Please, please, do not trouble yourselves to rise. These are Michael and Tobias. Smugglers by trade. Although, they're only too glad to augment their earnings by slitting throats. If you move, they'll slit yours.
They tell of a tale in these London parts, that the Devil and the Wandering Jew meet once every century in a tavern. Two years past, sewn into the shirt of a dead man, I found this. [sets down a drawing of them made at their last meeting]
Is that meant to be me? Oh, I look terrible. You look worse.
You return to this pub every 100 years, striking bargains with men, sharing gifts, immortality, which you will now share with me. … Well, have you nothing to say?
I am no Devil.
And I'm not Jewish.
Fie. … What manner of creatures are you then?
Who wants to know?
I'm Lady Johanna Constantine. You will both follow me, sirs. My coach is without. I can see there is so much you can tell me. So much I can learn.
No. … No, I think not.
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