_ - The theatre... you must go, now.
Let it burn! Let it burn! It's over!
It's imperative you find Southwell's manuscript.
- Seize him! - I've never seen them before, sir.
We haven't lived here... Ohh!
You must see God's larger plan in all this.
Or is it only about your plan? Your glory? Your fame?
- Is hell real? - Very.
Then show me the Devil.
For the lives of my family... all my knowledge is yours.
I see nothing!
Shakespeare saw.
You tore out my heart, and I hate you!
If you ever need to talk, I'm a very good listener.
Do not consider these vermin human!
Southwell's manuscript... where is it?
You are going to write me a play.
The Devil onstage?
It is the greatest part thou will ever play.
- sync and corrections by Zac - - www.addic7ed.com -
_
Padre Robert Southwell, Londra.
Dio sia con te.
- Excuse me? - Yes?
What's the way to London?
It's right this way. Just follow that road.
Good people of England!
Witness the fate
of those who dare challenge the word of God!
Traitor!
Our wondrous Queen has decreed that
we shall not tolerate
those who conspire to corrupt England and her Church!
The false church of Rome plots through terror
to lead you on its fetid path to eternal damnation!
When we stand before the Lord,
we must say that we have done all in our power
to defend God and England!
Thus, Jerome Gregorius Neemes,
you are condemned to death for your treason!
Burn in hell, Catholic!
Traitor!
Credo in Deum Patrem omnipotentum,
Creatorem caeli et terrae.
Descendit ad infernos.
Tertia die resurrexit a mortius,
ascendit ad caelos.
I believe in the Holy Spirit,
the Holy Catholic Church...
the resurrection of the body,
the communion of the saints, the forgiveness of sins,
and life everlasting.
Benedicto te.
Amen.
Lamb's best on Sunday.
Though I eat it when I can, and happy for it.
I would pay a groat for that one.
Were it a shilling, you would own it.
I've come to beg your assistance.
I promised Presto vengeance, but now I must write a play
for the very monster I must defeat.
How may I help?
Urge Hunsdon to have the Queen remove Topcliffe.
If Her Majesty knew the true extent
of the man's depravities...
No.
With these words, I trust you with my life.
Sir Francis Walsingham is gravely ill.
Hunsdon will champion Topcliffe to replace him
as the Queen's spymaster.
Why would he do that?
Greed.
Without Walsingham to restrain him,
Topcliffe will wreak havoc.
Blood will run through the streets.
This cannot happen!
It will happen.
Oh, how this spurs on my dull revenge.
You can only do what you can, Will.
Some fight with a sword. You fight with a pen.
Pathetic.
We must all be the hero we were born to be.
What did you say?
I only meant...
Yes.
Thank you.
It's all about you.
Me?
I explicitly stated I desired a play
to discredit Robert Southwell.
And so it shall,
because you will defeat him.
The hero of this story shall be you.
I need to know everything about you.
"My horse! My horse!
"My fortune for a horse!" I cried.
I rode at breakneck speed through the city
and lead the charge through the door.
Had you no fear?
Fear?
The cause is too great to allow for timidity.
Neemes... huge beast. Fought like the devil.
I bested him man-to-man.
My son was there.
He was quite proud.
Yes. He must've been.
And then, using your techniques...
you broke him.
Yes.
Made him cower, weep,
beg for his life?
For his death.
That must be quite... a feeling.
Well, I hope you do not suggest I enjoy the work
that I carry out in our Queen's name.
All that I do is for God and our reverent Majesty.
Of course.
But to have the ability,
the license to uncover men's secrets,
is something we mortals can only dream of.
I should one day like to have that...
Godly experience.
Mm. Godly.
Yes, for God.
As God.
His instrument.
It must quicken the blood.
Quicken?
Mm, yes, it does.
Tell me.
Mm, they often soil themselves.
They know who their master is.
Hmm. 'Tis I.
Filthy Catholics.
By my troth! You are the spitting image!
No!
Fact! You are the goddess Isis incarnate.
You lie to undress me.
I do, yes, and that's a compliment,
as I am a professional liar
and normally get paid for the service.
Meg, time.
Why so soon?
To avoid regret. Come, Meg. The Watch will be out.
Nay, it's an hour off.
Regret or the Watch?
My friend is enamored of dark, angry ones.
Stay but a moment?
Friend!
There is a beauty asking after you.
You see? She likes you.
I'm content. Thank you, Richard.
Content? We must live fast, die young.
All right! Only if you promise to shut up.
The dark one is yours.
- Nay, you said... - I'm back. Did you miss me?
- Yeah. - A little bit?
Come on...
Good evening.
Best not begin what must inevitably fail.
Shameless as these Catholics are,
they think to shield themselves with the weaker
will weaken my resolve,
that I am too full of the milk of human kindness
to prosecute my duty.
But the weaker my object,
the stronger I must be.
Object.
Not human, but... other.
What are you saying?
Merely that...
you are a special kind of human, sir,
one that must be truly and closely studied.
What?
- Impossible. - I know. You made that clear.
Were you attempting a Bohemian Waxwing?
Shite! Yes.
Shite is right. You're a horrible bird caller.
The Bohemian Waxwing's my fourth favorite bird.
R-really?
What's your third favorite?
The Mistle Thrush.
Have you stashed the little fellow in your throat?
Teach me.
Go on.
Erm, okay.
Push your lips forward.
Like this...
Sort... sort... sort of...
Hmm?
"The weaker the object,
the stronger my resolve."
Bastard.
I supped with Topcliffe.
And live to tell.
I feel...
soiled.
Take off your clothes.
Pardon?
Do as I say.
Terror, in the service of God.
The hypocrite.
He smiles and smiles and talks of God and Queen and country.
I will shine such light into the spider's nest
that all the world will see him
for the deformed pestilence he is.
Hunsdon will no more be able to champion Topcliffe
than if he were riddled with plague.
But how will you have it performed?
The censor would never pass a political play.
I will write it.
And perhaps it will inspire future generations.
Content yourself with that.
I am compelled to make a stand...
by Presto, by Baxter,
by fear that I am a coward,
and by...
By a burning desire
and to prove to your lost muse that you are not
the craven fellow she imagines you to be?
I will find a way.
Now you. Your best nightingale.
Pucker up.
Moll!
I'm bloody starved!
Cravin' a bite after a bit.
Pie shop?
Nous allons!
Not me, friend.
I'll be walking Peg to her door.
It is wholly the wrong direction.
The only direction for me.
What?
This only gets you to the bells.
Father?
Son, what have they done?
They've done nothing.
The days are long.
I spend the time in prayer that I may have the strength
to endure when they come.
Say "if." Say only "if."
If they come.
My boy...
You worry yourself to sickness.
Father, I chose my path.
If God takes me, I shall be blessed.
No.
I will see Father Southwell,
and he will set everything straight.
Time then.
Do not weep for me. I am not afraid.
Big man, let loose now.
Lamb's best on Sunday.
Though I eat it when I can, and happy for it.
I'd pay a groat for that one.
Were it a shilling, you would own it.
Alice.
Must you continually plague me?
Please, a moment.
- I'm busy. - Look, I'd like...
I'd like to apologize,
for everything, for all of it.
And so you have. Now leave me.
I-I was hoping
we might discuss a new play.
Please.
I need your help.
It... it's important, and...
In troth, you are my one true muse.
That no longer interests me. Good day, Will.
I must see the Father.
Man, I do not want to draw on you.
I must see the Father now.
Father Southwell is occupied. You will wait.
Kill me if that's your job. What care I?
Father, I beg you,
save my Owen.
I saw poor Neemes.
Yes.
But he is with the Lord now.
Why does God not know that Owen loves him?
He does, Marcus.
God knows.
Father, you are a holy man.
You are a great man.
I'm just a man, Marcus,
as much or as little as any other.
And no man can see
Almighty God's plan.
How can the slaughter of an innocent be a plan,
and not simple murder?
No more.
Are we great enough to question the Maker of All Things?
No. God will care for Owen, if not in this life, then the next.
You must be strong for your son.
Keep faith, Marcus.
Eternity is in the balance.
Go now. God be with you.
I have it.
The Pope has approved our plan for the Queen.
Every step now may prove more perilous than the last.
Yes, Father.
Are you prepared?
Plague bill! Plague bill!
Wow! 27 dirt nappers!
Every week, he wins.
I am the diviner of death.
You numbskulls!
Three more, and they'll shut our bloody door.
Get to work!
Ooh!
Autolycus!
What of your night with the Angry Maiden?
Did she bite it right off?
I had a wonderful time.
Which part was most filled with wonder?
Her hand? Her mouth?
We only spoke, mostly of birds.
Birds?!
I have been an avid imitator for years,
and you've never noticed.
She did.
Oh, I noticed.
I simply chose to ignore it out of embarrassment for you.
You are simply a stretched child.
Well, good morrow to you, too, Moll.
Do you even know her name?
Of course I know her name.
Peg!
Her name was Peg.
A charming young woman with many fine qualities.
Peg's my girl's name.
Well, didn't they sound similar?
Peg...
Leg? Keg? Beg?
Moll, I was just having a bit of fun.
What's so wrong with that?
Why ask me?
I... I don't know.
Because... I feel like I've let you down.
It's not me you let down.
So, Faustus...
you'll sign now.
Ask thy questions.
So, Faustus,
you've signed your deed.
Now ask your questions.
Tell me, Mephistopheles, what...
what good...
what... good will my soul
do thy lord?
"Tell me, Mephistopheles, what good will my soul do thy lord?"
Enlarge his kingdom.
Is that the reason he tempts us thus?
It is a comfort to the wretched.
"It is a comfort to the wretched
to have companions in misery."
Misery.
Companions in misery.
Yes.
Comfort to the wretched
to have companions in misery.
Oh, come, come, come!
Come, I think hell...
hell was fable.
I think hell's a fable.
Oh, ay.
- Ay. - Think so still.
Think so still,
until experience change thy mind.
"Then tell me, Devil,
where is the place that men call hell?"
Where is the place that men call hell?
Under the Heaven.
Ay. But whereabout?
"Within the depths..."
"Within... the..."
Within the what?
Within the water!
Within the bowels of these elements,
where we are tortured...
Where we are tortured...
And remain for...
and remain forever.
Forever?
Hell hath no limits, Kit,
nor is it circumscribed in one self place.
Where we are is hell,
and where hell is, then we must ever be.
Then we must ever...
Then I am damned.
Do these meet with your approval?
I did not mean to seem unappreciative of your apology,
but you see, there is no need.
I have much to thank you for.
If not for you, I would never have met him.
Him?
Mr. Cotton.
You met with him again?
I have.
Why?
Guidance. Purpose.
Through him, I finally feel free.
Of what?
You.
Alice, the danger is real.
Topcliffe won't hesitate to murder a woman.
I am no coward.
Nor was the man executed yesterday,
also a disciple of your new savior.
If the man had faith, it was of his own volition.
And yet, many are seduced to find ideas
which their own hearts, left untouched,
would never have discovered.
There is no heart untouched by life, Will.
Do not be used, Alice.
Oh, you dare say that to me?
I do not mean...
I told you to st...
Is it thus, coz?
You could have found me with less confrontation.
How many do you need?
Of what?
Bodies.
This is not your place.
I spoke with Alice Burbage.
I hoped you had done with her.
I have, in the way that you mean.
But you have apparently stepped into the void.
Mark your choice of words.
Directly, then. You stand her in harm's way.
It is the contrary.
By seeking me, which she did of her own accord,
though I suspect driven by your misuse of her,
Alice had removed herself from the only danger that matters...
the danger to her soul.
Your confidence exceeds reason.
Do you question my sincerity?
I question your ability to see into a world
no man has visited and returned to tell of.
Christ himself was raised from the dead.
The word of God is explicit.
Why not go yourself then,
armed with such conviction?
You blaspheme.
I wonder how martyrs are made daily,
yet present company excepted.
I am fighting for the eternal soul
of every man and woman in England.
What sacrifice make you for anyone but yourself?
I am fighting the evil that stalks us every day.
How?
By writing a play about me for the Protestant oppressors?
No.
I'm writing a play about Topcliffe
that will destroy the man publicly.
And you accuse me of putting Alice in danger?
I'd rather you kept me the subject of your absurdities.
You are, at best, a hypocrite, William.
And you are a man who, when the arrows fly,
pulls a woman close to receive the barbs.
I did, indeed.
Southwell will not hesitate to sacrifice you.
You do not know that.
He said as much.
- You went to him? - Look, I fear for you, Alice.
Martyrdom is a madness.
I am not mad, nor am I yours to fear for.
Why do you accost me?
I love you.
Well, then stop loving me.
I cannot.
Your love is a changeable thing,
just as your faith is.
You railed against me, rightly so,
for bringing danger to you and the theatre,
but now you walk the same calamitous path.
I was wrong.
It was your changeability I should have rated you for.
You love me, you do not.
You love your wife, you do not. You are Catholic, you are not.
What do you believe in, Will?
- You. - Oh, please.
And my writing.
Oh, "Henry VI, Parts 1, 2, and 3"?
What purpose do they serve the world
other than your vanity?
I'm working on something else. It's...
Oh, really?
Part 4? How meaningful.
Does it have a funny dog in it?
Alice.
Alice!
Go on!
Wreck it all!
You've a gift for riving all you touch.
Now you bring down your precious theatre, and for what?
Your battered conscience?
Piss off!
Don't haunt me with your martyred babbling!
That's it. The Devil's got you now.
Your jaw moves, and his words pour forth.
Off to hell.
I am my own man.
Mad bastard.
Leave it.
I said leave it!
Mad or no, you made me a promise.
If I write a political play, Presto,
I'll put The Theatre
and everyone who works there in danger.
We have to get that bastard Topcliffe!
Since you've been away touring,
Uncle has been trotting me about,
meat for starved maidens
desperate to gobble up my nobility.
Ghastly.
All this pretending. And for what?
Thy neck, thy purse, thy soul.
My soul? And what of yours?
Damned irrevocably.
Undoubtedly.
But at least you get to choose your own destiny,
Christ-opher Marlowe.
You imagine you can follow me?
Abandon the god that made you?
Let's face it, Tommy.
Despite your fake idolatry and girlish protestations,
you shall one day... and soon...
flee this churning quest for freedom
and sell your soul back to Christ.
It won't cost you much, merely yourself.
Her name shall be... Winsome.
She'll lack nothing but the one essential... a cock.
And you shall protest you do not ride,
and beget a whole slew of brats
who look very like the stable boy.
And content with whatever crumbs of authenticity you can lick
from the putrid, midnight grease of the scullery floor,
you shall become fat, sanctimonious,
comfortable, and saved...
and deny that you ever once worshipped at the altar
of Christ-opher Marlowe.
Has thou so little feeling for me?
Let me show thee how little I feel.
- What do you want? - Hello.
Ohh!
- You think that's funny?! - Shut up!
Come on. Come on!
Come on! Uhh!
Get out!
- Uhh! - Ohh!
Why do you push away everyone who loves you?
No one loves the damned, Tommy.
God knows I tried, but I lost thee.
You cannot lose
what you never had.
Do not peek.
I can smell it!
You're gonna toss me in the bloody river.
Wish I'd thought of it.
Now this? This is the best place.
See now.
Isn't it brilliant?
It's beautiful.
They crave the maggots.
Even in lovemaking, you soar like the lark.
Don't be daft.
This is ridiculous.
Because you're not trying.
Will?
Will!
William Shakespeare!
William Shakespeare! Will!
I lost him. I can't get hurt like that again.
I-I-I-I-I can't. I don't have the strength. I need...
- What are you talking about? - I am in hell!
The void within me is bottomless,
and it is black and it is eternal.
I need to believe that there is more to this existence
than this table, than this chair,
more than vain, cruel, lying, cheating,
Christ-opher cocksucking Marlowe!
How do you believe?
I can't stop.
It's a sickness.
Infect me.
You don't want to catch this.
You arrogant shit.
You walk through life,
buoyed by your precious secret,
your faith.
You think you're so special.
I do not.
Take it from someone who contemplates
the terror of nothingness,
every execrable moment of their miserable lives.
You are special.
That's why I saved you.
Your work was rough, but it reeked of faith.
That's why you saved me?
I thought you wanted Southwell.
I do, but not as you imagined.
I saved you. Now you must save me.
Take me to Father Southwell.
I-I want to confess my sins to the One True God.
Bringing blighted souls to God is what you Catholics call
a sacred obligation, is it not?
- Go to hell. - I tried.
Apparently, it is empty, and all the devils are here.
Please, Will.
Just tell him.
He saved your life, didn't he?
The oracle speaks.
Oracles are generally heeded.
Go to the Cross Keys Tavern.
Tell John Wilkes you wish to see a Mr. Cotton.
They'll either kill you for a spy
or take you to Southwell.
Thank you, Will.
Your debt is cleared.
Did he just insult me?
How so?
Calling me that word... "oracle."
An oracle can see things...
things that haven't happened yet.
It's from a myth.
What's a myth?
It's a story set in the past to illuminate something that...
In the what?
In the present.
A story set in the past
to illuminate something in the present.
Of course.
Give me some paper.
Ink.
A horse. A horse.
My... kingdom for a horse.
"And thus I clothe my naked villainy"
"with old odd ends stol'n forth of holy writ.
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil."
This is good. What's it called?
"Richard."
"The Third."
Make sure you get it all.
And the lead character is evil.
- Yes. - What uplifts the play?
Nothing but his death.
Who will see such a play?
Do you want to read more?
Yes. This is very new. Very daring.
More than you realize.
And that is why I must confide in you.
Thou the play purports to offer
the life of long-dead King Richard III,
it is, in fact, a play concerning
the darkest man in our present world...
the Queen's own torturer.
Richard...
Topcliffe?
You plan to write a play
about the most dangerous man in England?
Yes. And if Topcliffe does anything about it,
he will be owning to the fact that he is precisely
such an evil, power-hungry murderer.
It's too dangerous.
The first night we met,
we said there was greatness in our stars.
Do you still believe that?
I'm writing this for you.
This is where we start.
I am but a player, Will,
not a man of politics or religion.
Do you believe in anything?
Of course!
Women! Beer!
Fame! Money!
Did I mention women?
A new play? Ha.
Yes. It is not about swiving, Autolycus,
which seems to be the limit of your world now.
Ah!
I have found love!
Richard. Richard.
Seems...
His neck.
Impossible.
See there? It's a plague.
Friends, why your long faces?
Autolycus...
Perhaps it's a love bite and not...
The fever already.
No.
I knew she was tired.
I thought it only our lovemaking.
Presto, get a doctor!
My Peg.
My Peg!
No! No, no, no doctor.
Whoa.
Please. Please take me to her.
If the Watch arrive first, they'll close up the house.
Please.
Thank you, friends. From here, I go alone.
- I will not leave you! - Nor I.
Nay. Once the Watchmen seal this place, it will become a tomb.
I'm going in with you, and that's an end of it.
- Stay! - Who will care for you?!
My love for you requires I leave you here.
Big Dick Burbage.
Not all of me will die.
Keep my memory.
Autolycus and I were apprenticed together at 12 years.
Write me Topcliffe, and when I get out, I'll play him.
Make sure there's something for Autolycus.
- He likes the handsome types. - No! Richard.
This is what I believe in.
Richard, no!
Richard! Don't be foolish!
Richard!
Richard! There's still time to save yourself!
Please, Richard, think about this!
Richard!
Richard? Richard?
No, Richard, no! Richard, no! Richard!
Pray with me.
Our Father who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done
on Earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread
and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those...
Hello, Father.
I want to meet God.
- sync and corrections by Zac - - www.addic7ed.com -