So Shakespeare walks into a pub right? And the landlord turns to him and shouts: "Oi, get out! I thought I told you, you're bard..." Okay, I'm sorry, you've heard it before and it's not that funny anyway, but I'm sure even the Bard of Avon had his days off.
And when he did, he could have done a lot worse than come here. It's handy for the trains, for a start - ideal for a quick stopover between London and Stratford. And there's an air of bookish quiet, at least on this Sunday afternoon, that would suit anyone looking to pen a quick soliloquy or ream of iambic pentameter down to the ground.
There's not the widest choice of beers in the world here - there's two hand pumps and one of them's off when we arrive. But they're friendly enough, and the pint of Adnam's Broadside I get is carefully poured and pretty well priced as well (£2.25).
The surroundings are bright, airy and pleasently eccentric, with mismatched chairs, tables and decorations, and a combination of traditional wood panels and attractive tiling on the walls.
The Shakespeare has been non-smoking since November 2004, beating the censorious government by nearly three years. But in a possibly unforseen twist, that makes it one of the best places for tobacco fans to go, certainly in the city centre, with chairs and tables in a roped-off area of the pedestrianised Lower Temple Street for smokers and al fresco drinkers.
When the sun is out, the wind blows the trees, and if you don't look towards New Street Station, it's almost possible to believe that you've found a slice of the fabled cafe culture lauded by MPs. Watching the shoppers visit the chic boutiques while sipping on a pint of beer, It's like Birmingham meets Barcelona. Well, Brighton at least.
All in all, it's a much more refined establishment than the kind of drinking den in which you'd expect to find Falstaff and a young Prince Hal carousing and plotting.