[George Simmers]

Touchstone and Rosalind have arrived in East London:

Indeed, Princess, 'tis a strange country we are in, for though this be Forest Gate by all the signs, yet I see no forest, nor no gate neither. You bade me enquire for the swain who has despoiled all surfaces hereabouts with his markings and his remarkings, and therefore have I contacted his agent, for he is a graffiti artist much praised here, most expeditiously sought after, and paid more for these his efforts than was the knight who sold his honour thrice over to buy codfish. To this agent I remarked that I thought this art nothing, and that a fool could better it with a greater nothing, whereat he straightway placed me under contract. I too am an artist now, and to that end have taken this Audrey for my muse, or more truly my amusement. 'Tis a strange country indeed, princess, but one where fools thrive wonderfully.