Henry Lewse. Wow. I can’t believe I have you on my show.”
“It’s good to be here, Rosie.”
“This man is a class act, folks. Henry is known as the Hamlet of his generation.”
“Alas.”
“That’s not good?”
“Oh, I suppose it’s better than being known as the Coriolanus of my generation.”
When the audience only politely chuckled, Rosie laughed for them. “That’s minor Shakespeare,” she explained. “For those of you who, like me, think Shakespeare is just another one of Gwyneth Paltrow’s boyfriends. Did you see Shakespeare in Love?”
“Oh yes. And enjoyed it thoroughly.”
“So what brings you to our side of the herring pond? You’re not doing Shakespeare here. You’re in a very American musical.”
“But it’s all acting, Rosie. Whether you do the Bard or Broadway or soap commercials. Besides, I’ve done Romeo. I’ve done Hamlet. There’s nobody else for me to play until I’m old enough to do Lear.”
“Which is quite a few years yet, isn’t it?”
“You’re too kind.”
“And that’s your next big goal? To play King Lear?”
“Or Prospero. In The Tempest. We Shakespearean blokes are divided between those who hope one day to play a bitter old fool, and those who’d rather play a wise old man.”