Will

I will write the greatest plays this world has ever seen.

What the hell has gotten into you? It is a work day, Thomas.

Write a damn play!

I came to London to write.

For God.

- You do the Devil's bidding! - Leave him! Stop him!

How may I speak with Father Southwell?

Evil times allow evil men like Topcliffe to flourish.

I'm working on an enterprise of great import.

This is my entreaty to Her Majesty. Keep it safe.

The hard part is finding the hero

and the quest and the setting. Steal them.

Difficult week. - Stop that girl!

Did she, um, react to my, um, interest?

Marcus: Ah, a moment if you will, Will. You saw my play?

Aye. And I never saw a dog cause so much merriment.

But I thought little of those two sighing lack-galls.

- You didn't like the lovers? - You've met my son, Owen.

I've known old women less tedious.

Woman: Baby.

Mmm. Mmm.

What's wrong?

Nothing.

Meet me in hell?

And I'll take you to heaven.

One hit, and he thinks himself the new Marlowe.

Longevity. That's what you need in this business.

We're the toast of London!

Oh, spare a few shillings

while the sun shines on you, Master William?

I'm momentarily short.

The sparkling fairy's knob in your ear would say otherwise.

Will...

tell me more about this fat knight you're writing me.

Ah, it's a wondrous part.

He gets more greatness,

and I'm stuck with the limp-dicked lover.

Valentine is a very fine role.

For the likes of Autolycus, perhaps. Thanks, Richard.

Willy Shakeshaft rises while Big Dick falls.

I have a new role to sear thee into the minds of the masses. What is it?

Ah... Weekly plague deaths! Weekly plague deaths!

Ooh! Ooh! How many?

- Weekly plague deaths! - I bet 24.

- Man: I bet 28. - Man: I bet 20.

- Weekly plague deaths! - Damn it! Only 16.

Ha ha!

16 poxy deaduns. Pay up, losers!

Will? I need to...

Are the lovers tedious?

What?

Not us. In the play.

Oh, they're fine.

Fine? "Except I be by Silvia in the night",

"there is no music in the nightingale.

"Unless I look on Silvia in the day,

"there is no day for me to look upon.

She is my essence."

I wrote that for you.

That bit's good.

Now shut up and swive me.

Shh, shh.

Shh. Shh.

Imagine the thrill of standing on this stage,

cheered by thousands.

I was hoping to see Alice.

She must have run an errand.

I have a gift for her, a book of poetry.

Outlandish, I know, to put poetry into a...

a book.

But I'm told it's all the fashion.

Do you think she'll like it?

Oh, she'll be ecstatic.

What in God's name was that?

Ah... they're just the, eh...

old bones of the theatre creaking.

I recall now that Alice is out collecting alms

for the feast of St. Mark.

Perhaps we might visit... tomorrow?

Lunch? Mother will be delighted.

Alice will be thrilled.

You should warn that girl

against giving herself too freely.

- She'll be worn thin. - Yeah.

What are you doing?

Ah, looking for inspiration.

In hell?

By examining the inner workings of the stage, I hope to...

access my own... machinery.

Mr. Cotton saw the play.

Alice was telling me how the two of you worked on it together.

She's an excellent copyist.

I have a good hand. Nothing more.

The ideas are all Master Shakespeare's.

Your mother's looking for you.

Quickly. It seemed urgent.

I will go, Mr. Cotton. It seems I have outstayed my welcome.

Not possible, Madam.

I was going to ask how the lust goes,

but my question is answered.

It burns hot as hell.

I know not of what you speak.

Thou art arright, cousin. Lust is no laughing matter.

Walk with me.

Topcliffe: Matthew, how wonderful to share

my other passion with you... The art of angling.

One must be perfectly still.

You feel the twitch in the line.

Murmur, "God save the Queen,"

then strike like the Devil himself.

Feel it. God save the Queen.

Where is Robert Southwell?

Somewhere safe, I pray.

Help! Help!

Aah!

Your god's magic is a fiction.

Aah!

I am a fisherman

and also a fisher of men.

And soon, I will hook

the traitorous, murderous Southwell.

God save the Queen.

If ye be needed elsewhere, madam,

we'll do just as well without you.

If that were true,

we wouldn't be missing our most expensive gown.

I'd part with me right hand to know what became of that dress.

You'll part with a lot more if another one goes missing.

You need help?

Where were you?

I went for some air.

We are dining with Keenan and his mother tomorrow.

- Oh. - Don't look at me like that.

He's a very nice man. And rich.

And you are merely a player's daughter.

Thank you, Mother.

And despite our momentary success,

this theatre barely survives.

A match with Keenan would secure all our futures.

And I must be the sacrificial lamb. Hmm?

One luncheon. Is that too much to ask?

You embarrassed me today.

I'll think on it.

Alice.

I'll think on it.

I see by your appurtenances

that you're a lover of your own swelling legend.

Ah... my name is now somewhat known,

amongst lovers of theatre.

You've read my manuscript?

I have.

I've not read it.

My every moment is stolen by my play.

The violence and torture grow daily.

How many more innocents like Baxter must die

before you apprehend the urgency of our cause?

I apprehend all too well.

To work with you would bring danger to others.

Alice.

And her family,

and all those in the theatre who have given me a home.

Your play was a very fine comedy.

Thank you.

Your writing speaks to the common man.

Use it for peace.

Until we have that, all are in danger.

I have written to the Pope himself,

and I'm expecting word at any moment

that he has approved our plan

to deliver my manuscript to the Queen.

It must be perfect.

It must penetrate her soul,

like a bullet shot from the deadly level of a gun.

Together, we could write such a work.

Read the manuscript,

then come to 15 Silver Street tomorrow, ready to work.

We will bring an end to terror and bloodshed in England.

You have hit your mark.

"In humble supplication to Her Majesty,."

Most mighty and most faithful,

"most feared and best beloved..."

A good fisherman

only takes what he needs, Mathew.

Give me the information I seek,

and I shall release you.

Withhold it,

and I shall pluck it out...

bone by bone.

Catholics, Protestants alike

should now exist...

in harmony of society.

Ugh.

Shit.

Alice: And do you still believe that?

You are quite insane, Will Shakespeare.

I'll take you to heaven.

"Alice...