William stuck to home and hearth, but eventually prospered as a merchant and property owner. He now has disposable income, spare time, and is looking for diverting interests.
Perhaps he's always been a theatre fan, but travelling troupes seldom visit Stratford. London's the place.
And who does he know who can put him up and introduce him to the bright lights but his old boyhood friend, Richard Field, who by now owns the printer's shop where he began his apprenticeship?
The visit goes down a treat and Will binges on the latest shows. Richard knows plenty of theatre people through his work, so Will gets first-hand introductions.
One of the actors he meets even has a similar name - a name not uncommon and often spelt different ways anyway, even for the same person. Stratford Will's marriage licence, for example, was under Shagspere, and he was known locally as Shakspere.
Will's London jaunts become so frequent he rents temporary accommodations rather than pay expensive tavern rates.
A law suit concerning one of these ex-landlords requires the Stratford Will to make a statement and sign the deposition.
Eventually, for his London base, Will buys a property near the popular Blackfriars theatre. Documents for this property bear his signatures - or, at least, signatures similar to those on his final will.
Stratford Will is now a regular, if only occasional, part of the London theatre social scene, often chug-a-lugging at the local with new mates like theatre men Richard Burbage, John Heminge and Henry Condell.
Will's a popular boy - the flush Stratford wheeler-dealer always seems to be good for another round.
These are the same "fellows" Will eventually bequests 28s and 6d each to for memorial rings, and to maybe toast the good times. Some have taken use of the term "fellows" to mean they were theatre colleagues.
But "fellow" in Elizabethan times was more akin to "pal" today.
Will doesn't use his new Blackfriars property much, though. He's fading fast - perhaps hastened by his demanding London jaunts.
And Stratford's a tiring two-day horse journey from London. So Will parks up in his comfortable Stratford manor, and in a few years expires.
The register of Stratford's Holy Trinity Church simply records the burial of "Wil Shakspere gent". Of his whole life in Stratford (or London), there remains not one piece of evidence associating him with any literary activity whatsoever - only records of rural and mercantile matters.
So much for Stratford Will, but what about the London one? Gadzooks! Last week I said I'd wrap things up this week.
But 400-year-old mysteries are complicated things - another week is a small price to pay in the interests of settling this thing once and for all. You can never get too economical with a truth that must out!