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[SIRENS WAILING]
[CAR HORNS HONKING]
MAN 1: Yeah, hold on a second. MAN 2: What were you saying?
Taxi! Taxi! MAN 1: All right, what are you saying?
WOMAN 1: I'm asking why you thought you didn't have to be on time.
[Jw]
[BELL RINGING]
WOMAN 2: Finally. God, come on.
[PEOPLE CHATTERING]
[PANTING] Sorry.
Yeah. At last.
Good. Great.
Alex, cue three. Sound, cue four and tabs, go.
Soul of the age
The applause, delight
The wonder of our stage
Our Shakespeare, rise!
Our Shakespeare.
For he is all of ours, is he not?
The most performed playwright of all time.
The author of 37 plays,
a hundred and fifty-four Sonnets,
and several narrative poems that are collectively known
as the ultimate expressions of humanity in the English language.
And yet...
And yet,
not a single manuscript of any kind
has ever been found written in Shakespeare's own hand.
In 400 years, not one document.
He was born the son of a glove maker,
and at some unknown time, armed
[THUNDER CRASHING OVER SPEAKERS]
but with a grammar-school education,
he went to London,
where, the story goes, he became an actor,
and, eventually, a playwright.
He died at the age of 52.
And he was survived by his wife and two daughters,
who, like Shakespeare's own father, were irrefutably illiterate.
His will famously left his second-best bed to his widow.
But it made no mention of a single book
or manuscript.
Our Shakespeare
is a cipher. A ghost.
So let me offer you a different story.
A darker story, of quills and swords.
Of power and betrayal.
Of a stage conquered and a throne lost.
[JONSON PANTING]
MAN: After him!
GUARD 1: There he is!
POLE: Get him!
GUARD 2: Over there!
GUARD 3: Hurry!
[GRUNTING]
Break it down! GUARD 2: Go, lads!
POLE: Put your back into it!
[GUARDS GRUNTING]
POLE: Search the place!
Jonson!
GUARD 4: That way!
POLE: I know you're in here!
Jonson, show yourself!
GUARD 5: Come out!
POLE: Gut with you, Jonson!
I'll smoke you out like a rat!
Torch it! GUARD 6: Give it up!
Torch it!
GUARD 7: Burn everything!
POLE: Do you smell that, Jonson?
That's the smell of your theater going up in flames!
[COUGHING]
[JONSON YELLS]
Arrest him!
GUARD 8: Shall we to the Tower?
POLE: Make way! This is none of your concern!
[FIRECRACKERS WHISTLING AND POPPING]
[CROWD YELLING]
Chain him here, then leave us.
He was carrying nothing but a quill and some empty pages.
You are Benjamin Jonson, playwright.
Son of William Jonson, glassblower.
JONSON: Yeah.
INTERROGATOR: And have you ever been arrested before, Mr. Jonson?
I'm a writer, aren't I? Of course I've bloody well been arrested.
Ask him about the plays.
Plays?
Oh, which would you prefer, Sir Robert Cecil? A pastoral?
An historical? An historical pastoral? An hysterical historical pastoral?
[CROWD LAUGHING]
We are not interested in your plays, Mr. Jonson.
We're interested in the plays given to you by Edward de Vere,
Earl of Oxford.
Um... I am sorry, sir.
I am not sure I know whereof you speak.
[CROWD LAUGHS]
[GROANING]
Where are the plays?
[PANTING]
What plays?
[CROWD LAUGHING]
[MUSICIANS PLAYING]
SOUTHAMPTON: Wonderful, isn't it?
Well, it's certainly big.
I promise you, Edward, you've seen nothing like it!
Mm. There won't be puppets, will there?
USHER: Step aside, step aside! Make way for my Lords of Oxford and Southampton!
[CROWD CHEERING]
And here come the fool and the jester again, methinks.
The stagecraft is quite spectacular.
Far more elaborate than anything I've seen at court.
SPENCER [AS FASTIDIOUS]: Sheart, what a damn'd witty rogue's this!
How he confounds with his similes!
SHAKESPEARE [AS CARLO]: Better with similes than smiles.
And whither were you riding now, signior?
[CROWD LAUGHING]
Whither should I ride but to the court?
[IN HIGH-PITCHED VOICE] Oh! Pardon me, sir.
SPENCER: Thou never saw'st my gray hobby yet.
SHAKESPEARE: Have you such a one?
SPENCER [IMITATING HORSE]: No!
[CROWD LAUGHING]
Pbbt!
Ha-ha-ha. WOMAN: Ale!
Marlowe, spot me a few pence, will you?
Henslowe owes me for Shoemaker's Holiday.
That's because no one saw Shoemaker's Holiday.
Ale!
Kit, isn't that one of your unrequited loves in the box?
The Earl of Southampton? But with whom?
NASHE: By the beard, that's Edward de Vere, the Earl of Oxford.
Had his own acting troupe for private court performances.
I wonder if he needs any material. Certainly not yours.
What, the noble, there? Ha-ha. Why, he's a gull! He's a fool! Aah!
[IN NORMAL VOICE] The poor man's brain is lighter than his feather!
CROWD: Ha-ha-ha. Enough!
[CROWD CLAMORING]
[MUSICIANS PLAYING UPBEAT MUSIC]
Jonson, wonderful dialogue.
It's absolutely wonderful. Shh.
Oh. OW!
Sorry, sire. Will.
Will Shakespeare. That is not ale in that goblet, is it?
Ale?
Me?
Drink during a performance? I am a professional, Mr. Henslowe.
POLE: Make way! SHAKESPEARE: Utter professional.
POLE: Stand aside!
WOMAN 1: You stand aside! WOMAN 2: Watch yourself!
This play has been declared seditious
[CROWD GASPS THEN BOOS]
by Lord William Cecil!
Why don't you disperse William Cecil's arse?
Arrest that man!
Disperse!
This play is seditious
and will not continue! Seditious?
It's a comedy! There's nothing seditious about it!
Is that right? And you know this because...'?
Because I wrote the bloody thing.
Arrest this man as well! What? No, wait--
Please! I'm a poet, for God's sake! I'm not a criminal!
Thus endeth the brief career of one Ben Jonson.
POLE: Disperse!
MAN: William Cecil, you're an arsehole!
Well, off to Essex House, then.
WOMAN 3: I'd like to see his arse dispersed!
POLE: Disperse!
[GRUNTING]
Gut. Henry, how many people were at that play?
I'm not sure.
Two thousand? Maybe more.
How many performances are there of a play like that?
Five or six, I suppose.
New service. By the beard.
Ten thousand souls, all listening to the writings, the ideas of one man.
That's power, Essex.
And if there's one thing the Cecile understand, it's power.
New service!
And since when did words ever win a kingdom?
I'll keep my sword, thank you very much.
Gut.
Henry, some of my men have
intercepted some of William Cecil's correspondence
with King James of Scotland.
Cecil's all but promising him the throne.
To James? Elizabeth would never--
Elizabeth is Old. III.
And yet she refuses to name an heir.
SOUTHAMPTON: But a Scotsman? On the Tudor throne?
ESSEX: That is why we must do everything in our power to ensure
the right man succeeds Elizabeth.
A man deserving of the Tudor crown.
I ask you for the support of you and your men, Henry,
if it comes to a fight, for me to seize the throne.
You know you need not ask.
I stand with you, as I always have.
OXFORD: Be careful, Henry.
Always concerned for me. What would you have me do?
Deny him. The son of the queen?
That is rumor alone, Henry.
Rumor?
All you have to do is look at Essex to see the queen's reflection.
Everyone thinks he's her son. My lords.
And I, for one,
would rather bow to a Tudor, bastard though he may be, than a Scotsman.
My only desire is to see the next king be the rightful king.
But what Essex contemplates will lead to civil war. No.
If this is to be done,
it must be done carefully.
[MUSICIANS PLAYING]
MAN: Tie her off there.
WOMAN 1: I agree, my lord. My Lord of Southampton.
Sir Robert Cecil.
Have you seen Lord Essex?
He is in the viewing chamber with Her Majesty.
ROBERT: Alone?
SOUTHAMPTON: With your father in London dealing with troubles in Ireland,
who else should the queen turn to but Essex?
[STAFF THUMPING THEN DOOR OPENS]
By the grace of God, Her Majesty, Elizabeth,
Queen of England Wales and Ireland.
WOMAN 2: Your Majesty. WOMAN 3: Your Majesty.
MAN 1: Your Majesty. MAN 2: Your Majesty.
MAN 3: Your Majesty. MAN 4: Your Majesty.
MAN 5: Your Majesty. MAN 6: God bless Your Majesty.
MAN 7: God bless Your Majesty.
Ah. Your Majesty, my Lord of Southampton has a gift for you.
A gift?
Yes, Your Grace. Though not from me.
[MUSICIANS PLAYING]
[PERFORMERS WHOOPING]
[GASPS]
[LAUGHS]
ELIZABETH: Are you the gift, my gracious little man?
No, no, my most majestic Majesty.
I am a free man. My gift is a play.
A play?
Plays are the work of the devil,
born from a cesspool of plague, whoredom, thievery,
fornication and heresy.
Tell your master that Her Majesty-- Will gladly accept.
That is, of course, if Your Majesty so desires.
Comedy or tragedy?
DWARF: Comedy, Majesty. Comedy. By whom?
By Anonymous, Your Majesty.
Anonymous.
I so admire his verse.
Lead us to this play.
[BOTTOM HUMMING IN HIGH-PITCHED VOICE]
[BOTTOM HUMMING IN LOW-PITCHED VOICE]
BOTTOM: J' The woosel cock so black of hue J'
J' With orange-tawny bill J'
.P The throstle with his note so true J'
J' The wren with little quill J'
[AUDIENCE LAUGHING]
What angel
wakes me from my flow'ry bed?
BOTTOM: .P The finch, the Sparrow and the lark J'
J' The plain-song cuckoo gray J'
If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended.
That you have but slumber'd here while these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream.
Gentles, do not reprehend. If you pardon, we will mend.
So good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
and Robin shall restore amends.
[ELIZABETH LAUGHS]
Wonderful, wonderful.
Most wonderful.
[APPLAUSE CONTINUES]
[ELIZABETH CHUCKLES]
It was so funny. She really loved the donkey.
Edward, Edward, when can we do it again?
Ah. There he is.
Your father tells me you wrote this evening's play yourself.
I did indeed, Your Majesty.
ELIZABETH: You sport with me.
Compose something.
Now? Yes, now.
On what subject, Your Grace?
On truth.
For truth,
is truth,
though never so old,
and time cannot make that false which once was true.
My Lord of Oxford, it seems you have added a poet
to your family's line of warriors.
I am as accomplished with sword and musket as I am in verse.
Are you indeed?
It is my only desire to be Your Majesty's most trusted servant
in matters both of war and state, if you will but have me.
Why, Lord Cecil, we may very well have found your replacement.
We hope not too soon, Your Majesty.
And what thought you of our young lord's play, William?
[CLEARS THROAT]
ELIZABETH [WHISPERING]: If plays are indeed
such a sin, I pray that I do not find my salvation until very late in life.
[DOOR THUDS]
MAN: Jonson!
Benjamin Jonson!
You have been released.
Got powerful friends now, don't you?
MAN: Ship oars!
Ahem. My lord.
The Tudor rose.
The most beautiful of flowers, do you not think?
I assume I owe my freedom to you. That is true.
And it was hard to come by.
One does not cross my father-in-law lightly.
Lord William Cecil.
I have the questionable distinction to be married to his only daughter.
It was helpful when I wrote to your jailers
to release you in my father-in-law's name.
My release was not officially sanctioned?
Don't be an idiot. Of course it wasn't. But you are free, are you not?
I enjoyed your little comedy, Jonson. You have great potential.
Thank you, my lord.
But its politics did have quite an effect on the Tower.
My father-in-law's men felt it quite seditious.
Politics. My play has nothing to do with politics.
It's just a simple comedy.
That showed your betters as fools who would barely get food
from plate to mouth without the cleverness of their servants.
All art is political, Jonson. Otherwise, it would just be decoration.
And all artists have something to say. Otherwise, they'd make shoes.
And you are not a Cobbler, are you, Jonson?
Francesco?
A play, my lord.
One you shall stage Bankside.
JONSON: Stage?
Under your name.
My name, my lord?
I can't very well use my name, can I?
I'm the 17th Earl of Oxford.
The Lord Great Chamberlain of England, Viscount Bolebec,
Lord of Escales, Sanford and Badlesmere, etc. No.
I have a reputation to protect.
In my world, one does not write plays, Jonson.
People like you do.
Yes, my lord.
My lord, you wrote an entire play. I know how difficult that is.
Not an play, Jonson. I've written many.
No doubt many more than you yourself.
A good number performed years ago, others never seen by a living soul.
And you want me to put my name to this play?
No, I mean you to put your name to all of them.
All of them? Don't look at me
like I just gutted your pet dog.
I mean to make you the most popular,
and therefore most monetarily successful playwright in London.
I wish you Godspeed and good morrow.
My lord, I really--
This is for your trouble, Signor Jonson.
And for your silence.
If you break that silence, mm, not so good for Signor Jonson.
WILLIAM: Tell me about this play.
It was an anonymous gift.
Essex insisted it be performed just to spite me in front of court.
Of course he did. What was it about?
Some nonsense about fairies and Cherubs.
And dancing asses.
Edward, our poet earl, has returned to court.
Father,
it was just a play.
Know how long it took to banish them from her presence?
She adores them! And Edward knows it!
Mark my words, he has done this to spite us.
Edward wishes to choose the next king.
Haven't you convinced the Privy Council
to crown James of Scotland the next king?
Nobody has a better claim.
Except one of Elizabeth's bastards.
You mean Essex.
He despises us.
We shall lose all of our royal licenses, our property!
I shall convince her to send Essex to Ireland
to quell the Catholic rebellion.
Southampton will follow.
And if God is watching, neither will return alive. And if he is not...
[HORSES NEIGHING]
WILLIAM: Robert!
Robert, come here!
I am sorry, my Lord of Oxford.
My son prefers the company of himself.
May I present to you my wife,
Lady Cecil, and my daughter, Anne?
I am sorry for your loss, my lord.
The realm lost a great man with your father's death.
We hope you will be happy in our house.
Are you going to live here forever?
No. Only until I reach my maturity.
Why? Because the queen has bade it so.
My lord, when we first met,
you said you wished to become a great man of state.
The queen and I hope to make that so.
To that end, I have the honor of introducing you to your tutors.
From 7 to 8, you will be tutored in French by Mr. Crane.
CRANE: My Lord of Oxford.
[SPEAKING IN FRENCH]
Nine to 10 is Greek with Mr. Simmons.
[OXFORD SPEAKING IN GREEK]
Is that Homer? No. Plato.
[SIGHS]
Then cosmography with Dr. Richards. RICHARDS: My lord.
Two to 3 is geography and history.
And 4 to 5, fencing.
And, uh, composition? Poetry?
This is a Puritan home, my lord.
We believe such activities to be the worship of false idols,
and therefore a sin before the eyes of God.
A sin?
Surely there must be room for beauty and art in life, my lord?
Not in this household.
[SWORDS CLANGING]
[OXFORD & TUTOR GRUNTING]
[GASPS]
You were losing anyway.
I was also winning.
Unh. Really?
OXFORD: I think we can assume I've mastered the Punta Riversa.
Now I think we should move on to the Punta Sopramano.
Perchance with that, you will best me.
TUTOR: Yes, my lord.
[PAPERS RUSTLING]
[LATCH CLICKS]
[SERVANT SCREAMS]
[SERVANT GROANING]
[CROWD CLAPPING AND CHEERING]
Apple for you, sir? There we are.
Was it any good? How should I know?
You haven't read it?
I promised I'd finish Eastward Ho.
He's a nobleman, you say? Well, is he powerful, rich?
Ooh. Then you have to do it then, don't you?
JONSON: Will, I came to London to be a great and soaring poet.
To be the conscience of our times. The soul of the age.
To ch-change the world, not--
Ch-change the world? What, with rhyme?
Yes. Why not? Why can't a man change the world with words?
"I'll make you the richest and most popular playwright in London."
Bollocks. I can do that myself, thank you very much.
JONSON: He's an amateur.
A complete and utter amateur.
Last week, gardening. This week, writing. Next, hawking.
No. No, I won't do it. It would be an affront against the Muses.
How much money did you say he gave you?
You think my name can be bought?
No, no, no, not at all. No.
I think we should keep your good name quite intact.
WILLIAM: King Philip of Spain sees the current Catholic revolt in Ireland
as a weakness of ours.
A weakness to be exploited.
ELIZABETH: Ireland?
There are reports of his sending financial aid, even troops.
We must act quickly. We must replace the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland,
and send additional troops-- Replace?
With whom? I would recommend
his lordship,
the Earl of Essex.
No, that's impossible. He cannot be spared.
We value his counsel greatly.
WILLIAM: Essex's martial abilities are,
in my opinion, the only antidote to the plague of Spain.
Essex could not, unfortunately,
remain in the Privy Council while he is in Ireland.
And who would you advise to replace him?
Sir Robert Cecil.
ELIZABETH: Your son?
Yes.
Though he is my own adviser first, Your Majesty, my son second.
Yes. Yes, yes.
Ah. Very well. Send Essex
to Ireland.
And we will place Robert on our Privy Council.
I saw a play this last weekend, William.
It made me think of...
many things long past.
I'd like to see more of them.
Has Edward been happy,
William...
with your daughter?
WILLIAM: Murdered?!
By your own hand. He was stealing my poems.
He was doing my bidding! Yours?
Of course! As soon as Robert told me you were ignoring my express orders--
Robert? Robert told? Enough!
Thou shalt not worship false idols in my household.
Your everlasting soul hangs in the balance, not poems.
My poems are my soul.
[THUNDER RUMBLING]
You have placed me in a grave position, Edward.
I cannot have my reputation soiled
by this regrettable lack of control on your part.
We can claim self-defense.
He drew sword first.
But there is something I wish in return.
My daughter is young and impressionable.
She has feelings for you, Edward.
It is to be expected, living in such close quarters.
Sir, for the last three years, you have seized much of my inheritance.
Hold your tongue, lest you make a claim you cannot retract.
I was legally reimbursed for your education and living expenses.
You suggest you be reimbursed the rest of my estate through your daughter's bed.
No.
This is how I suggest
we keep your noble head from the executioner's block.
BISHOP: --duly considering the causes for which matrimony was ordained.
One was the procreation of children,
to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord and faith of God.
Secondly, for the mutual society, health and comfort
that the one ought to have of the other in prosperity,
into the which holiest state these two persons
here present come now to be joined.
[MOZART'S "REQUIEM" PLAYS]
NASHE: Henry the Fifth, by...
[MUSICIANS PLAYING]
no one? Why would any of you
admit to trying to better me in historical drama?
Comedy, yes. Tragedy, perhaps.
Ben, waiting to see how it's received before you lay claim?
[TRUMPETS PLAYING FAN FARE]
0 for a Muse of fire,
that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention,
a kingdom for a stage, princes to act,
and monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
Then should the warlike Harry, like himself,
assume the port of Mars, and at his heels
should famine, sword,
and fire Crouch for employment.
The flat unraised spirits
that have dared on this unworthy scaffold
to bring forth so great an object:
Can this cockpit hold the vasty fields of France?
Or may we cram within this wooden 0,
the very casques that:
[MIMICS EXPLOSIONS]
CONDELL [AS CHORUS]: Suppose within the girdle of these walls
are now confined two mighty monarchies
whose high, upreared and abutting fronts,
the perilous narrow ocean parts asunder.
SOLDIER: Hyah! Make way!
CONDELL: Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts.
Into a thousand parts divide one man
and make imaginary puissance. Think when we talk of horses--
[CROWD LAUGHING]
[MIMICS HORSE NEIGHING]
--that you see them, printing their proud hoofs
in the receiving earth.
For 'tis
your thoughts,
your thoughts that now must deck our kings. 关注 新浪微博 @行尸走肉TWD
SOLDIER: Make way!
SPENCER [AS HENRY V]: This story shall the good man teach his son.
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
from this day to the ending of the world,
but we in it shall be remembered.
We few, we happy few,
we band of brothers.
For he today that sheds his blood with me,
shall be my brother, be he ne'er so vile,
this day shall gentle his condition.
[CROWD MURMURING]
And gentlemen in England now a-bed,
shall think themselves accursed they were not here!
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks,
that fought with us upon Saint Crispin's Day!
[CROWD CHEERING]
My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed.
The French are bravely in their battles set
and will with all expedience charge on us!
All things are ready, if our minds be so!
Perish the man whose mind is backward now!
You know your places.
God be with you all!
[TRUMPETS PLAYING FAN FARE]
[ACTORS YELLING]
[GRUNTING]
Francesco, do you see?!
Do you see?! Si, signor.
[LAUGHING]
MAN: Kill the Frenchmen!
Death to the French!
[ALL YELLING]
Down with the French! Down with the French!
Your sword!
WOMAN: We'll follow you!
[CONDELL YELLS]
[CROWD CHEERING AND WHISTLING]
SOUTHAMPTON: Edward!
William Cecil convinced the queen
that only Essex can save Ireland from revolt.
I've pledged to go with him.
I, for one, wish to see this anonymous colleague of ours.
[CROWD YELLING]
NASHE: Playwright!
CROWD [CHANTING]: Playwright! Playwright!
Playwright! Playwright! Playwright!
I ask for your blessing, Edward. I cannot give it.
If he is to be my king, it is my duty to be with him in battle.
[CROWD CHEERING]
[SHOUTING INDISTINCTLY]
Will?
Sorry to disturb your entertainment.
Henry!
Thank you. And it's all written in verse. Thank you.
Got it, got it, got it.
[STAMMERING] it's just-- it's just been...
Phew. Only-- I--
I want to thank my actors,
whose great, great acting
has brought my words to life
due to their most wonderful acting.
Um... And, uh, thank you!
[CHEERING]
OXFORD: An actor!
An actor, for God's sake!
My lord, I thought that-- You presume to think on my behalf?
My lord, your voice is completely different from mine.
Voice? You have no voice! That's why I chose you!
You, um...
You at least kept my name from him?
And will continue to do so?
[BIRD SQUAWKS]
A romantic tragedy.
In iambic pentameter.
All of it? Is that possible?
Of course it is.
My lord.
Will Shakespeare.
William...
Shake...
Speare.
My lady.
Who was that man? I've seen him here before.
Edward.
We must discuss our daughter's dowry.
Dowry? She cannot marry
without a dowry becoming to the daughter of the Earl of Oxford.
I can give her Brooke House and 100 pounds.
A hundred pounds, Father? Mother?
That is all we have to give at the moment.
Leave us, Bridget.
Edward, our family
is in financial ruins, and you--
You...
play the flute while Rome burns.
Nero fiddled whilst Rome burned.
My God.
You're...
writing again.
After you promised.
Anne, you should have seen them, the mob.
They didn't sit there like the reptilia of court,
faces motionless, fangs momentarily retracted.
No! They climbed the stage! They fought the French!
Stop it! Stop this at once!
Why must you write?
Why must you continue to humiliate my family?
[ANNE SOBBING]
The voices, Anne.
The voices, I can't stop them. They come to me.
When I sleep, when I wake, when I sup. When I walk down the hall.
The sweet longings of a maiden, the surging ambitions of a courtier,
the designs of a murderer, the pleas of his victims.
Only when I put their words, their voices, to parchment
are they cast loose, freed.
Only then is my mind quieted.
At peace.
I would go mad if I didn't write down the voices.
Are you possessed?
Maybe I am.
SHAKESPEARE: This is incredible, Ben.
The whole bloody thing in verse.
It's really not that difficult if you try.
Oh, and have you ever tried?
Ahh. But soft!
What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
I'll have little trouble parting the legs of barmaids.
You cannot play Romeo.
What? Why not? I'm perfect for the role.
I will not let that oaf Spencer have another go at one of my roles.
Only Will Shakespeare can pump the life into Romeo's veins.
And his codpiece. No, Ben.
Ben, I'm an actor. Every inch of me,
right down to my very toes. I want to...
No, I crave to act.
So bloody well act like a writer.
And, for God's sake, keep off the stage.
Writers do not have time to act.
[SIGHS]
SPENCER [AS ROMEO]: What lady's that, which doth enrich the hand of yonder knight?
I know not, sir.
O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright.
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night,
like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear.
[GROANS]
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear.
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
as yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.
The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
and, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
Hmph.
Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight!
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
[MUSICIANS PLAYING]
My Lord of Oxford.
WOMAN 1: That's the Earl of Oxford. OXFORD: Majesty.
WOMAN 2: Yes, and doesn't he look handsome?
WOMAN 1 : Most definitely.
We very much liked your play tonight.
Your young King Henry reminded us of you.
Did he?
ELIZABETH: Brash, yet brave.
A boy and yet a man.
Fair on the eyes.
Fairer to the ear.
We are glad of your return from the continent.
Two years is too long without such excellent amusements.
Had I known my absence would have caused Your Grace so much longing,
I would have returned much, much sooner.
Your wife must be pleased to have you once more present at her side.
It is but a small comfort to me.
I am returned only under my father-in-law's insistence.
Cecil told me your match was one of love.
So he would wish.
But how could one love the moon after having seen the sun?
[ELIZABETH LAUGHS]
ELIZABETH: Which country did you like the best on your travels, my lord?
Italy, Your Grace.
Hmm. Italy. And why is that?
The weather? Or the food?
No, no. Their theater,
which they call Ia commedia dell'arte.
And, of course,
the women.
The women?
They were more, uh, clear...
with their desires. When they want something, they take it.
They do not wait to be taken.
[BOTH PLANTING]
ELIZABETH: I can't decide.
Are you Prince Hal?
Gr Romeo?
No.
You're Puck.
Puck? Yes, Puck.
[BOTH CHUCKLE]
Puck would never fight for you in the Netherlands.
The Netherlands?
Well, why not?
It's an open secret you support the rebels against Spain.
You are commissioning Englishmen to help fight their cause.
Spain's loss is England's gain.
Is this why you bedded me? For a commission?
No, no, it's just-- Leave me.
How dare you? How dare you? I command you to leave my presence!
0 mistress mine,
where are you roaming?
O, stay,
and hear,
your true love's coming.
That can kiss,
both nigh,
and low.
No further, pretty sweeting.
Journeys end in lovers' meeting,
every wise man's son doth know.
What is love?
'Tis not hereafter.
Present mirth hath present laughter.
What's to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty.
Then come,
kiss me,
sweet and twenty.
Youth's a stuff will not endure.
[MOANS]
You will stay in England,
and in my chambers.
NASHE: I could do it if I wanted to.
MARLOWE: Do what?
A play in bic-- In bia--
In iambic pentameter. It's not that hard.
Think so? Have you ever tried?
Of course not. But I could if I wanted.
Well, it wasn't all in verse.
Ah. You see? Even easier.
Henslowe wants Romeo to run for a fortnight. A fortnight!
Innkeeper! Drinks for everybody!
[CROWD CHEERS]
Innkeeper! Billy!
A fortnight?
The maids love the romantic tragedies.
Precisely why I avoid them.
Oh, well, worry not. A one-trick pony. He'll never do it again.
HEMINGE [AS ANTONIO]: How have you made division of yourself?
An apple, cleft in twain
is not more twin than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?
Most wonderful!
[CROWD LAUGHING]
[CROWD CHEERING]
DECIUS BRUTUS: Great Caesar--
CAESAR: Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?
CASCA: Speak, hands for me!
[CROWD GASPS AND SCREAMS]
[CAESAR GRUNTING]
Et tu, Brute! Then fall, Caesar.
CINNA: Tyranny is dead!
Freedom, liberty, and enfranchisement!
WOMAN 1: Death to tyranny! WOMAN 2: Freedom!
Yes! Freedom! Freedom!
[CHEERING]
MAN: Liberty!
MAN 1: He was Scottish, wasn't he? MAN 2: Yeah.
Round about the cauldron go.
In the poison'd entrails throw.
[CROWD GASPS]
Toad, that under cold stone,
days and nights has thirty-one.
WITCH ES: Double, double, toil and trouble.
Fire burn!
[CROWD GASPS]
Beware
of entrance to a quarrel, but being in,
bear't that the opposed may beware of thee.
[CROWD CHUCKLING]
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice.
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
but not express'd in fancy:
Rich, not gaudy.
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
Come, come, and sit you down. You shall not budge!
[CROWD GASPS]
SPENCER [AS HAMLET]: You go not till I set you up a glass
where you may see the inmost part of you.
What wilt thou do? Thou wilt not murder me?
Help, help, ho! What, ho! Help!
How now! A rat? Dead, for a ducat, dead!
Ah! CROWD: Oh!
[GRUNTS]
[GROANING]
[CROWD GASPS AND SHRIEKS]
I am slain!
O me, what hast thou done?
SPENCER: Nay, I know not. Is it the king?
[GROANING]
Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!
Not a day too soon for Cecil!
[CROWD MURMURING]
[CROWD CLAPPlNG]
[SIGHS]
To be, or not to be,
that is the question.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer,
the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
and by opposing end them.
[THUNDER RUMBLING]
To die: to sleep, no more,
and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache,
and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.
'Tis a consummation,
devoutly to be wished.
To die, to sleep,
to sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub.
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause.
There's the respect that makes calamity of so long life.
[CROWD CHEERING]
[sofas]
[GASPING]
Ah!
MAN 1: Give it good heat. MAN 2: This hot enough?
[BELL ToLLlNG]
You're certain of this? William Cecil was murdered.
Not literally, of course.
He was a character.
Fictional character.
But the metaphor was clear for anyone to see. And see, they did.
Will you shut it down?
Your service to his lordship is once again greatly appreciated.
He butchered you! Not only in front of court but the entire city as well!
We must arrest this Shakespeare and--
No, Robert.
If he really is as popular as you say,
we would only anger the mob.
We cannot maintain authority if we are laughingstocks!
Our authority comes from Elizabeth and from God.
You must think more deeply, Robert.
You must compensate for your malformations.
You must compensate with the gifts God did give you.
With cunning. With ruthlessness.
It's from
King James of Scotland.
James is aware of the queen's affections for Essex
and of the rumors of his birth, and he is justly concerned.
You will write to James.
You will tell him that I am gravely ill, but that all is in hand.
[PANTING]
And then tell him,
Essex will not return from Ireland alive.
God does indeed require our help in this matter.
This is how kings are made, my son.
So it was with Elizabeth, so it shall ever be.
James will expect you to do the same for him and he will reward you for it.
[GRUNTS]
But we must
do one thing more.
Like Essex,
Edward must be removed.
Edward? You must bribe someone.
His fencing master, perhaps.
Promise him a fortune if he kills him.
I am with child.
Are you certain?
Two cycles have passed, my lord.
And I wish to marry him. Marry him?
Your Grace, he is already married.
I can do what I want.
Can you?
Most of the Catholic princes of Europe seek to topple you
and end your Protestant reign. All that stop them are the Channel
and the hope they marry you and end your realm by other means.
I love him!
[GROANS]
Would you risk your throne for him? Hm?
Would you risk England for him?
[YELLS]
We must do as we have done before. You must go on progress,
somewhere isolated, accompanied by only those whom you most trust. 关注 新浪微博 @行尸走肉TWD
After the birth, I shall find a suitable house for the child to be reared in.
And Edward?
He must never know.
What have you done?
I am praying.
She will not see me!
I've gone to her, she will not receive me, and now she's gone!
She is on progress.
Where?
Where did she go?
What did you say to her?
She does not ask my advice on matters of the heart.
If she did, she would not have chosen you.
You must've known she would go elsewhere.
You're neither the first nor the last of her lovers!
Go back to my daughter, Edward.
She will accept you with open arms.
Behave as your great title demands you behave.
Tend to your estates, your investments.
And make me a grandson.
An heir.
It's difficult to write, is it not?
After something like Hamlet?
It eats at you.
At your soul.
Why do you think Will hasn't been arrested?
He murders a caricature of old William Cecil himself,
and still whores it all the way to Westminster and back.
Ahem. Perhaps they haven't noticed. I made sure they did.
You informed on one of your own? To the Tower?
Watch who you judge, Ben.
We do what we have to to survive and survive well in this life. All of us.
And Will is definitely not one of us.
You know he's illiterate, don't you?
Oh, he can read well enough. How else could he learn his lines?
But the man never actually learned to form his letters.
So who did write Hamlet?
A nobleman.
Yes, but which? You know, don't you, Ben?
Careful, Kit.
You sound like one of your plays.
MARLOWE: Ben! Tell me. We can go to him together.
Guarantee his anonymity.
For a price.
You reported on me as well, didn't you, Kit?
Last year. For Every Man.
That's why I was arrested. Wasn't it?
I had nothing to do with that.
Ben. I'll just go to Will.
And he'll tell me because he has so much more to lose than you.
[GRUNTS]
And you'll profit nothing from it.
Nothing.
[HORSE NEIGHS AND MAN SHOUTS lNDlSTINCTLY]
ESSEX: Rebels have stripped the northern borders.
Then we must march south and take Cahir Castle.
My lord, it is a well-defended fortress.
Holy Mary, mother of God.
GENERAL: A thousand men, maybe more. We cannot attack such a force.
So, what would you have me do? Spend the entire spring encamped?
[ESSEX SCOFFS]
I am sent to Ireland to end this infernal rebellion, not to idle--
Robert!
[GROANING]
[MEN SHOUTING INDISTINCTLY]
Must have been a cutpurse.
Nowhere is bloody safe any more, I'll tell you that.
What's happened?
Dead body.
[FLIES BUZZlNG]
Now my tooth hurts.
The stench. He's done.
[WOMAN GASPS]
WOMAN: it's that playwright. MAN: Kit Marlowe.
It's not right. No, it's not.
[BOTH GRUNTING]
[SPEAKING IN FRENCH]
What's going on, Beaulieu?
[MUTTERS INDISTINCTLY]
[OXFORD 8. BEAULIEU GRUNTING] 关注 新浪微博 @行尸走肉TWD