The Audition

"Thou looks like thoust spent a sleepless night, Lord. Saw thee in yon tavern with that strangely-attired wench."

"Aye, trollop spuneth a yarn! Saith part thereof a 'Hen Party' from future Essex, desireth holiday romance with 'someone of little consequence'. [whispers] She was as hairless as a baby! Gross piercings, don't ... even ... ask!"

"Harlot!"

"Saw a young man tearfully exiting ye theatre. How goeth?"

"Done. First Auditions you've missed. Naught interesting, ye latter a poetic turn you'd favour, but ridiculous Brummie accent!"

"Ha! Where was he sent packing to, [turns] Clerk?"

"Stratford-Upon-Avon, my Lord Chamberlain."