Will

I'm married.

"What light through yonder window..." Breaks?

I'll always have need of thee.

I mean, I'll always need your help.

Baxter was carrying a letter for the traitor Southwell.

What news of my cousin in the letter?

I should be paid more. You brought us something half good.

We turn it into something half decent,

helped, of course, by poor, dear Baxter.

Perhaps he died of shame...

An easy thing for a traitorous player.

I am Catholic. I don't know why Marlowe cut Baxter, but...

Should've been you who was arrested,

and not him.

I saw greatness. That's why I saved you.

And who are you? My mistress requests a private performance.

- I'm an actor. - It wasn't me watching.

Dost thou desire money, power?

Oh, speak, coward! Speak!

Yes! Money, power, greatness!

But above all, freedom!

The lesser of two poets...

And that means he deserves to die for you?

The torments of hell are real...

God is merciful.

Absolve yourself, would you, sinner?

Are you a priest?

Please... take me to Mr Cotton.

Around the back.

Who are you?! I am kin to Father Robert Southwell!

In my... my pocket, the rosary!

- Tell me your catechism! - Credo in unum Deum,

Patrem omnipotentem, Factorem caeli et...

Visibilium omnium...

Good cousin.

I see you are in need.

Yes.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

It has been 12 months since my last confession.

I let another man take my place.

He had a wife and children.

He should, by rights, be living,

and I should be dead.

A sin of omission,

but you did not directly lie.

Carrying that letter was God's work.

And that pretty, pretty girl.

And then...

there is...

God already knows what you have done.

Make your peace with Him.

A woman...

I feel such passion that I'm afraid to be near her.

She is young?

Beautiful? Yes.

Of course.

She is but a toy, sent to test you.

These feelings will pass if you are strong.

Yes.

For your penance,

15 rosaries.

Pater noster, qui es in caelis,

sanctificertur nomen tuum...

This portable press is a modern marvel.

Catholics worship in secret,

priests hide in holes,

but this machine enables my humble writings

to be broadcast throughout our network.

And now God has led you here.

It is as we dreamed of as boys.

We will claim victory for the One True Religion,

or lay down our small lives trying.

I...

I came to London to write.

For God!

I want to touch people's souls in another way.

With plays?

How?

I don't know.

That is my struggle.

Struggle?

Catholic priests are outlawed unto death.

Your friend Baxter was killed

because evil times allow evil men like Topcliffe

to flourish.

I need men like you,

men of talent and conviction to fight with me.

I will help.

I'll come again, soon.

To mass, Sunday.

Yes.

May God shine upon you, cousin.

Yeah!

Whoo-hoo!

Excuse me, Your Wondrousness.

It may be the hour

when Lord of the Chamber Pot has his yelling time,

but there be others still abed, meditating on the day ahead.

Apologies to every sleeper,

beauteous tavern keeper.

Where is thy coin?

Here, and will be translated

into the heavier kind this very day.

This is the last day, or our business is finished, you and I.

The glory of my words shall save me from the turds.

Shit be your poetry, and shit still your duty.

Sweet Prince, an offering.

Ugh!

A turd by any other name...

does not smell sweet.

Beloved Magdalen weeps forever.

Her heroic captain lost to watery depths,

her love as brief as lightning which doth cease to be,

her grief as deep as the sea which bore it.

She will mourn forever more,

and always and anon

and anon.

The end.

Burbage: That is...

pure, gleaming, glistening,

steaming, unadulterated...

Shit!

Shit?

Did you not mark the poetry?

Poetry? Where's the comedy!?

Where are these towering roles you said you'd write me?

I never thought I'd say this, but...

I pine for Baxter, God rest his soul.

Barnaby: There's promise in the dog.

And the Captain could be heroic.

Autolycus: And Horatio, loyal.

And if we shortened the end... Augustine: And added a song...

Shut up!

A pig's ear is still a pig's ear!

You're out. Out?

Father! I can't feed stray dogs.

Sir, my very first play...

Was part Baxter's, and Baxter is no more.

I have a queer feeling about you, Master Shakespeare.

All I would do is write.

Bad luck is like the plague... Contagious.

Stay away from my theatre!

Kemp: Make 'em laugh, make 'em cry.

That'll make 'em snore.

I'll, eh...

see you.

Your father's a fool. Normally, yes,

but today, he's right.

You, too, Alice?

The poetry and passion are good.

The story is not good.

You're wrong. You must work at your craft.

You just need time. I don't have time!

Well, I can help you.

I have no time for toys.

Toys?

I have a family to feed.

I'll take it to Henslowe.

He's a man of business. He'll see.

Take it to Henslowe.

I wish you every success.

Wake up. Up. Come on.

Get up.

Get out.

Marlowe: Day!

Light!

Rouse yourselves! Come on!

Out of bed.

Out of bed. Leave me be.

Huh? Up!

I must go wrestle with that bitch, the muse.

Hmm?

Now, begone.

Begone!

Come on.

Begone!

It is a work day, Thomas.

Horrible... chair!

Horrible... paper!

Write a damned play...

you tragic degenerate!

No!

Aah!

Only babies cry when they don't get what they want.

Man: Gratia Plena... Dominus tecum.

Benedicta tu in mulieribus

et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Jesus.

Sancta Maria, Mater Dei,

ora pro nobis peccatoribus nunc et in hora mortis nostrae.

Amen.

Priest: Dearly beloved brethren,

the scriptures move us in sundry places,

to acknowledge and confess our manifold sins.

The only word of God...

Oh! Is the One True Religion!

Oh! Oh! Is the One True Religion!

Woman: Leave him! Not him!