- sync and corrections by Zac - - www.addic7ed.com -
_
More wine?
I... N-no.
It is my best Gascon. You do not like it?
No. I mean... y-yes.
Do not fear.
If you deal plainly with me, I will be as gentle as a lamb.
Who wrote the letter?
I know not, sir.
Read it to me again.
"Bring F-F-Father Southwell to the secure house."
Where is the secure house?
I know not.
Justice Young!
Our guest tires of sitting.
- Let's give him a little ease. - No.
No! No, no, please!
Please! No! Please, no!
No, no, no, no!
Will! Will! Will! Will! Will!
Light.
What light through yonder...
Through yonder...
window.
What light through yonder window...
Breaks?
But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
That's good.
A new play?
Something I've had rolling around my head for ages.
It'll probably come to nought.
You're up early.
I needed somewhere quiet to think.
Sleep did not come last night.
Baxter?
Baxter's only concern is obscure Ancient Grecian poetry.
How could he be mixed up in religion and politics?
Who can say what secrets lie within a man's soul?
But do not worry yourself further.
All will be well.
I know it.
How's your hand?
It's improving.
So you no longer need me to scribe.
I'll always have need of thee.
I mean...
I'll always need your help.
Of course.
London is dangerous.
Left to his own devices,
a country bumpkin like you could end up in trouble.
I doubt it not.
But come. Hmm?
Today we will see if anyone shall pay
to see a Shakespeare play.
"Tamburlaine the Ghost"
by William Shakespeare!
Long live your highness!
And happy be his reign!
Long live your highness!
And happy be your reign!
Proud David, King of Scots.
What moved thee to contradict our most royal decree?
No willful disobedience, my Lorrrd.
No willful disobedience,
my Lorrrd!
No willful disobedience, my Lorrrd!
No willful disobedience,
Ooh!
No willful disobedience...
My Lord!
- Amen. - Amen.
- Bless you, Father. - Bless you, Father.
Bless you, Father.
Father Southwell.
Benedicte.
What news of my cousin and the letter?
None.
Sir Francis.
From Mr. Topcliffe.
The warrant is denied.
Lord Walsingham, I wrote to her Majesty personally.
You're acquainted with my nephew, Thomas?
Oh, yes. We've had the pleasure.
Baxter was carrying a letter for the traitor Southwell.
Your evidence is flimsy.
Pity tis you did not surveil the suspect
until you had proof positive.
The future lies not in torture, Mr. Topcliffe,
but intelligence,
something I wish you had a little more of.
How many people's lives might'st thou have saved
that are untimely sunk into their graves?
Ooh, hoo hoo!
Cockerel Tavern, hour of six.
I trust we shall arrive...
three kings, two princes,
and a queen!
Master Burbage...
Out of way.
- Did you see what Richard did? - Boxman, uh, the king's crown.
Richard... Down front... Did you see her?
- Big... - Yes, I saw...
What are we holding a mirror up to?
Nature!
So in what in nature's name made you
deliver the final speech to a woman in the pit?
She was gorgeous.
It was the most... nature-al thing in the world.
Oh, piss off!
Careful, ya heathen!
Anything gets tattered or torn, and it's your neck!
Up your arse, Cyclops!
Mr. Kemp, sir, your jigs are wondrous,
but at the end, the mood is somber,
so perhaps you could be still?
Who do you think you're talking to?
He's killed men for less.
I only suggest that if you suit your action to the play,
your undoubted greatness may yet increase,
as does... as a prince's increases to a king.
I am already king!
Let me illuminate something for you, laddie.
James Burbage and I built this theatre with our bare hands.
Your job is to write parts
that make me shine.
Oh, shite. Oh.
Rent and expenses, 3 pounds.
Share is a tenth share each...
Which leaves... 5 pence.
...5 pence for the hired men.
For you.
Right.
Master Shakespeare.
I should be paid more.
We played my play today.
Your play? No, no. No.
You brought us something... half-good.
We turned it into something half-decent.
Yeah. Helped of course, by poor, dear Baxter,
arrested in strange, mysterious circumstances.
I cannot help Baxter's arrest.
I do not claim you can.
Tis the terrible times we live in.
Yeah. And the show must play on.
Tomorrow, we play "Friar Bacon, Friar Bungay."
What? "Friar Bacon" again?
A comedy! Play to our strengths, Master Kemp.
The theatre was full today.
Of penny-paying groundlings.
But yesterday... Was a free performance.
I play your play again tomorrow, I lose money.
Come with me.
Plays generally run no more than two days in a week.
If it's a good play, we rerun it.
"Friar Bacon" is a reliable classic.
But the public have an insatiable appetite
for the new.
Getting good new plays is a constant bloody nightmare.
Henslowe's got me by the balls.
He has all the best writers on contract.
- I'm left with the dross. - Like me.
Your play's a penny a dozen.
It was mainly Kemp's tricks and jigs that made the crowd happy.
You know, he is our greatest asset.
And instead of criticizing him, you should be grateful.
Audiences want to be entertained.
And I suspect you have some talent.
Write me a new play. If it's good, I'll pay.
Sir, I shall write a play that is both new and good.
And for that play, you shall undoubtedly pay.
Go to it.
I have no money for paper.
Here. Write your masterpiece el reverso this shit.
Richard, I'm going to write you a part to rival the great Tamburlaine.
Then I shall hold a mirror up to...
Nature.
I know.
Alice!
I have a new idea for a play that is both tragic and comic.
Seems like you've been speaking to father.
Alice, I haven't told you the plot.
- This yourn? - Yes.
I catch thee sleeping in the theatre again,
I'll cut your cock off and feed it thee for breakfast.
I need a room.
The Boar's Head.
Recommended by one outstanding quality...
it's cheap.
Hey!
Liars, cheats, thieves,
atheists, perverted, poverty-stricken,
and worst of all... prone to melancholy.
No players.
Dear lady, I am none of these. Hmm.
And quite especially un-melancholic.
He is in fact a genius. Very happy genius.
Well, I am...
sort-hearted...
...when it comes to pretty young men, hmm?
Thank you, sweet lady.
Rent's 2 shillings a month in advance.
I don't have it... quite now.
Ohh.
Then come back when you do.
I'll have it soon. Would you lay hands on me, sir?!
If I profane,
with my unworthiest hand,
this... holy shrine,
the gentle sin is this...
My lips,
two blushing pilgrims, ready stand,
the smooth, rough touch
with a tender kiss.
Ohh.
See? A genius.
And when I sell my play... Then he can pay.
Oh, you naughty boys!
Oh, I'm notoriously yielding.
I'll give you a week's stay on the rent.
And meantime,
you can clean the shit-pots.
We must live fast, die young.
Autolycus is paying.
Wait...
The groundlings today were insufferable.
Dear son-in-law,
your greatness shone
as a rose growing in dung.
Takings are up.
With you as our star,
and all the best playwrights under contract,
it won't be long before Burbage is dead and buried.
I hear he has a new playwright.
Shake... something or other.
Shakedick.
And the good news is, Kemp hates him.
- Really? - Yes.
They've clashed.
Here, my beauty.
Pretend this is Burbage's head.
Like that.
Now is the perfect time to bring Kemp to the Rose.
Pity the idiot's so loyal.
But every man has his weakness.
What do you say, Master Kemp?
Will you come to the Rose?
- Suck my drumstick. - You miserable miscreant.
At the Rose, you shall have free reign.
Just you, alone on stage.
I'll pay you triple what Burbage pays you.
Your true genius will finally be allowed to soar.
You remember our beer merchant, Master Keenan Cooper?
Yes. His wit is even flatter than his ale.
Your wit is unkind.
Poor dear gentleman of late lost his wife.
Hmm. Died of boredom, I suspect.
Do you think to stay unbridled forever?
No. I must be saddled with a husband
to ride me into the ground until I am a useless old nag.
Tomorrow's props are laid out, Miss Alice.
Thank you, Boxman.
Miss Alice!
Is something wrong?
I don't like to get involved
in the business of the likes of Marlowe...
But I warn ye,
be careful of him.
Why? What do you know?
I won't breathe a word.
I saw Marlowe cut Baxter.
Cut him?
Aye. His hand.
Vicious, and with no cause.
Right before Topcliffe dragged him away.
"Dearest Anne,
I write to you from my small but...
charming room.
The writing progresses apace,
but I miss you and the children terribly."
Get thee to a nunnery,
thou pox-ridden, heartless whore!
"Get thee...
to a...
...nunnery."
Alice?
How did you cut your hand?
Ah, my prince, might this noble knight trouble thee for a cup of sack?
- I don't have any wine. Sorry. - Beer?
If you banish plump Jack, my prince, you banish all the world!
- Come on! - Least my neighbors are colorful.
...mouthy, famished plump Jack!
Marlowe cut Baxter's hand.
What?
Before his arrest. The same hand as yours.
Why would he do that?
I don't know.
Are you a spy?
A Catholic?
The truth.
The less you know, the better.
You think that because I'm a woman,
you can smile and smile and play me for a fool?
Believe me,
you bring danger to the theatre or my family,
I will not rest until your head is on a spike.
Alice...
Are we not friends?
Trust me.
Please.
I am Catholic.
How did you cut your hand?
I was robbed.
Of what?
I was carrying a letter for my cousin,
Father Robert Southwell.
Southwell? You are a spy.
It was an unlooked-for obligation. That is all.
I-I don't know why Marlowe cut Baxter, but...
Should have been you who was arrested and not him.
Aah! I'll tell you anything you desire!
Where is the secure house?
I don't know!
Where is Southwell?
I swear, I...
No!
Aah! Aah, please!
Shall we not answer to Walsingham?
I do but set him against the wall.
Tis no torture to make a man feel the weight of his soul.
Aah! Please!
I came to London to find...
greatness.
But my play is no good.
And once again,
I'm dragged back into the eternal question
of God and duty.
There's no point drawing attention to it.
It's healing well.
I must write.
First, I must see Marlowe.
Jesus Christ was a bastard,
Saint Mary a whore,
and the Angel Gabriel a bawd to the Holy Ghost.
The upstart crow.
I hear that Burbage has taken off that stinkard of yours
and put on a real play.
"Friar Bacon, Friar Bungay"?
Thy precious degree was wasted on that.
But my quarrel is not with thee.
- We must speak privately. - Privately?!
He would converse with Marlowe's privates...
We must speak.
Go suck, minstrel.
Why didst thou cut Baxter?
Surely you mean, "I thank thee for my life."
That's not for you to decide.
Thou art aright.
And to remedy my...
mistake,
all you need do is tell Topcliffe the truth.
Yes.
Cowards die many times before their deaths.
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Death will come when it will come.
I saw greatness.
That's why I saved you.
Topcliffe was coming for someone,
and the lesser of two evils was the lesser of two poets.
The lesser of two poets?
A perfectly valid argument if you're a theatre lover.
A man's life is not a toy.
Topcliffe was denied a warrant.
He will soon realize that Baxter knows nothing
and will release him.
But if you admit guilt,
you will be tortured.
And who might Topcliffe come for next?
Friends,
family,
Burbage's pretty daughter.
Would you put them in danger for nought?
Greatness comes at a cost.
Yours is to endure your guilt.
He will be released?
Come.
Drink with me.
She's not coming, Richard.
Of course she is.
Some men are blessed with a seventh sense
- concerning women. - A seventh sense.
It's almost a curse.
I'm guessing you're the actor.
- And who are you? - Molly.
Molly who?
My mistress requests a private performance.
A private performance?
Your mistress?
Shall we?
You see? Seventh sense.
Wow. She really is a lady.
Yeah, you have no idea.
It's all one. Onstage, I can be a king.
Surely you've seen me act?
Men pretending to be something they're not?
- I get that for free. - You're missing out on greatness.
I doubt it.
Once you've seen me act, you'll doubt no more.
Mm-hmm.
The scene is set for greatness.
Hmm. Ehm...
Well, I mean...
what should I do?
Give a wonderful performance.
Hmm.
How many civil towns had stood untouched...
No need for that.
...that now are turned
to ragged heaps of stone?
Don't speak.
- That now... - I said...
don't speak.
Unbutton.
- Uh... - Quickly, my prince.
Uh... yes, my lady.
Take me, my prince.
Conquer me.
So you do like a bit of theatre, eh, Moll?
First, having done my duty
as I... I said...
don't speak.
I am an actor,
and when I act,
I am moved to greatness.
Very well.
How many...
...civil towns had stood untouched...
What are you writing now?
The greatest play to have ever been scribed
by hand mortal...
or divine.
What's it about?
I'm still in the research phase.
Why do you work for Topcliffe?
You work for Southwell.
I work for no one.
Then why risk thy life?
What I am and what I wish to be are not one and the same.
And what do you wish to be?
Hmm?
Successful?
Rich?
Admired?
The spell cannot be cast unless you say the words!
Dost thou desire money? Power?
Greatness?
Oh, speak, coward! Speak!
Yes! Money, power, greatness!
But above all, freedom!
Give me Southwell,
and we'll both be richer than Croesus.
And you...
you shall have all the freedom you desire.
So that is why you saved me?
"Who knows why," said the spider to the fly.
Why dost thou flee, hmm?
If you desire freedom, freedom is before thee!
No.
Tis not.
How did you enjoy your first performance?
What are you talking about?
I saw you.
Where?
It's all right.
She's beautiful and rich,
and I'm, well...
great.
And you're...
you.
You wanted to watch what you couldn't have.
That's what theatre is.
There's no shame in it.
You idiot.
It wasn't me watching.
It was Lord Deveraux, her husband.
Husband?
He...
likes a bit of theatre.
Here's your fee. Fee?
- Do you think I'm a whore? - An actor?
There's a difference?
You played your part, all is well.
I was pretty good.
Come to the theatre tomorrow.
- I told you, I... - As my guest.
I hold the mirror up to nature.
Ooh, mirror up to nature?
It's a new thing I'm doing. Very natural.
Come and see for yourself.
Good night, Richard.
The mirror up to nature!
The letter...
who was it to be delivered to?
Please.
I know not.
Then who cut your hand?
Marlowe, I swear!
Marlowe.
Again you lie. No. No.
No. No!
No.
Aah! No!
Ah!
Of course.
That explains his genius.
Marlowe?
The Crow.
Crow?
Speak! Wait! Wait, speak!
Young! Justice Young!
Get him down.
Wouldst thou die in sin and spend eternity in hell?!
No!
What hast thou written for me?
A lover? A tyrant? A prince?
Uh, all three.
Ah!
Tyrant suits him best.
Alice...
- I have an idea for a scene. - Yes?
Don't worry, Baxter will soon be released.
There's no...
Oh!
Who is the master here?
I am, your lordship.
James Burbage.
Poor man had an apoplexy, or perhaps he died of shame.
An easy thing for a traitorous player.
Mercifully, it spared him a traitor's death,
so you have the whole body to return rather than quarters.
Good day.
Cover him up, someone.
How will we survive?
Who will care for us? Peace. Peace.
My children will starve.
What peace is there in that?
My father died.
Yes.
I'm sorry.
Were you his friend?
Of course.
My dog died, too,
but he was old.
Michael, come here.
Where are you going?
His children are the same age as mine.
You cannot change what is done.
No, but I must do something.
You're the one who should be dead!
- I want gold. - Out of my way.
I'll go to Topcliffe!
Who do you think I work for?
Piss off before you get yourself into more trouble
than you're already in.
It's over.
We had our fun, but the party is done.
We started this place.
We were the first!
And now we're the last.
This place runs like a one-legged blind whore.
Corpses onstage?
My talents are wasted.
- Oh, you ungrateful piece of... - Save the drama, Jimmy.
- What... Your talent... - I'm a man of comedy.
Please, don't do this.
The rat leaves the sinking ship, does it, eh?
Well, stuff me!
He's right!
We're done! We're finished!
- Get out! Get out! - James!
Be still!
It's over.
Richard will play Kemp's part tonight.
Richard?
Baxter's corpse would be funnier than Richard!
Hush now.
Not in front of the company.
Who died?
Baxter did, you idiot.
I know. It's an expression.
Richard.
You will be playing Friar Bacon.
- Ah! But will Master Kemp agree? - Oh.
It is my belief
that true genius cannot be bound.
It must exist in the...
swirling chaos of anarchy.
Do you understand?
Do you?
Yes, of course, Master Marlowe.
A man is dead because of you.
Only one?
I must be more prolific.
An accident.
Fortune and Baxter were never friends.
I want the fee you earned from Baxter,
or I go to Topcliffe.
You won't do that, Master Shakespeare.
I know you.
And if you know anything about Catholics,
you know we must atone for our sins,
one way or another.
You are a curiosit.
- Topcliffe! - Please, my lords. One moment.
- Topcliffe! - Sir Francis.
Do you fish?
You tortured the player, Baxter.
Mm, I did but set him against the wall.
Tis no torture to make a man feel the weight...
Do not equivocate with me.
He is dead, and the treacherous pope
now has one more reason to accuse our majesty of tyranny.
She is, eh...
most displeased.
Our gracious queen knows full well
the love I bear her.
Prove it, Mr. Topcliffe.
Find Southwell,
or I will find one who can serve her better.
What did you get?
Nothing yet, but it's leading to something, sis.
There's Catholic business between Marlowe and Shakespeare,
and when I figure it, we'll have the prize.
Prize? I raise you up after our poor mother died,
and the only prize I get is to suck filthy cock till doomsday.
Sooner I die, the better.
Don't say that!
Better off dead.
Don't cry, sis.
I'll get you out of here.
You'll see.
I don't remember John speaking of you.
We all took up a collection.
Thank you.
He used to fear that he was not... liked.
Yes. Thank you, Master Shakespeare.
- It's not enough. - I agree, but it is something.
Now you must swear that you'll bring
no more danger to The Theatre or my family.
I swear I will never bring danger to you or those you love.
It's a disaster!
Kemp's gone, and Richard's taking his part!
Thou wrongst me in detracting thus!
Get off! Thou wrongst me in detracting thus!
- Go, you bastard! - This is all your fault!
I told you, "Write something funny for Kemp!"
Come on, Richard!
Burbage is dead and buried.
Sir.
I'm lost, sir.
Sir, I am lost.
I am lost, sir.
Sir!
Sir?
I am lost.
Dear child, where are you to be?
My father went drinking.
He forgot to take me home.
Let me help you.
Come with me, hmm?
Come.
You open your mouth like a good girl,
and then I'll see you home.
Go on. That's a girl.
Ah!
Give me your purse, and I'll spare your family jewels.
Dirty old spider!
Piss off, you scrumrat!
Aah!
And stay away from little girls!
Aah! Aah! Got it?! Got it?
We...
are...
done.
Don't bother turning up tomorrow because the audience won't.
Unto you all...
...good night.
Master Kemp!
Jesus Christ. What, what, what, what?!
Master Kemp, I can make you
the greatest comic London has ever seen.
I am already great.
Now piss off.
You can make people laugh,
but what if you could also make them cry?
One day, I will write you such parts
that all the world will scream the name of Kemp.
Such parts as what?
Such... as...
a fat, drunken knight, past his glory,
who loves nothing but to eat, board wenches, and tell tales,
and who is friend to a prince,
whom he loves like a son, but who, when he becomes king,
banishes the fat rogue
for the very knavery he once loved him for.
And when he banishes plump Jack,
he banishes all the world,
and all the world cry for him.
All the world cry...
for him.
Nice.
- Good. - I like that.
Don't! The debt collectors!
- Would you disturb my peace?! - No! Fool!
They'll drag you to prison!
I care not.
What more is left?
The boy's a genius!
I'll make them laugh.
I'll make them cry!
â?ª It's such a perfect day
â?ª I'm glad I spent it with you
â?ª Oh, such a perfect day
â?ª You just keep me hanging on
â?ª You just keep me hanging on â?ª
All's well that ends well.
William the Conqueror.
It's good we're finally friends.
- Master Shakespeare. - â?ª You're going to reap
Talk with me.
â?ª Just what you sow
just what you sow â?ª
No, I just...
- sync and corrections by Zac - - www.addic7ed.com -