Shakespeare in Love Page #3

Master Kent...

is my nephew.

I will wait.

Much good may it do you.

"Romeo Montague...

a Young Man of Verona".

Verona again?

"A comedy of quarreling families...

"reconciled in the discovery

of Romeo...

"to be the very same Capulet cousin...

"stolen from the cradle and fostered

to manhood by his Montague mother...

"that was robbed of her own child

by the pirate king".

Your mother and your father...

From tomorrow,

away in the country for three weeks!

Is Master Shakespeare not handsome?

-He looks well enough for a charlatan.

-Oh, Nurse!

He would give Thomas Kent the life

of Viola De Lesseps' dreaming.

My lady, when your parents return,

I will tell.

You will not tell.

As I love you and you love me...

you will bind my breast

and buy me a boys wig.

- Master Plum. What business here?

-The 5 schilling business, Will.

We play for the dancing.

-I seek Master Thomas Kent.

-Musicians dont eat.

Sir Roberts orders.

Shes a beauty, my lord,

as would take...

a king to church

for the dowry of a nutmeg.

My plantations in Virginia

are not mortgaged for a nutmeg.

I have an ancient name

which will bring you preferment...

when your grandson is a Wessex.

-Is she fertile?

-Oh, she will breed.

-If she do not, send her back.

-Is she obedient?

As any mule in Christendom.

But if you are the man to ride her...

there are rubies in the saddlebag.

I like her.

By all the stars in heaven.

Who is she?

Viola De Lesseps?

Dream on, Will.

Master Shakespeare.

-My lady Viola.

-My lord.

I have spoken with your father.

So, my lord?

I speak with him every day.

Good sir.

I heard you were a poet.

A poet of no words?

Poet?

I was a poet till now, but Ive seen

beauty that puts...

my poems at one with

the talking ravens in the Tower.

-How do I offend, my lord?

-By coveting my property.

I cannot shed blood in her house,

but I will cut your throat...

anon.

Do you have a name?

Christopher Marlowe,

at your service.

Romeo! Romeo!

A Young Man of Verona.

A comedy by William Shakespeare.

-My lady!

-Who is there?

-Will Shakespeare.

-Madam!

Anon, good nurse,

anon.

-Master Shakespeare?

-The same, alas.

-But why alas?

-A lowly player.

Alas, indeed, for I thought you

the highest poet of my esteem...

and a writer of plays

that capture my heart.

-I am him too.

-Madam!

Anon!

I will come again.

Oh, I am fortunes fool.

I will be punished for this.

Oh, my lady, my love!

If they find you here, they will kill you.

-You can bring them with a word.

-Oh, not for the world.

-Madam!

-Anon!

Draw, if you be men!

Gregory,

remember thy swashing blow!

Part, fools! Put up your swords.

You know not what you do.

It starts well, then its all long-faced

about some Rosaline.

Wheres the comedy, Will?

Wheres the dog?

Do you think its funny?

I was a pirate king, now Im a nurse.

Thats funny.

We are 6 men short, and those we

have will be over parted ranters...

and stutterers who should be

sent back to the stews.

My Romeos let me down.

I see disaster.

We are 4 acts short,

if youre looking for disaster.

-Sir!

-Who are you, master?

Im Ethel, sir, the pirates daughter.

I'll be damned if you are!

Your attention, please!

-Gentlemen, thank you!

-You are welcome.

-Whos that?

-Nobody. Hes the author.

We are about to embark on a great voyage.

It is customary to make a little speech

on the first day.

It does no harm.

Authors like it.

You want to know what parts you are

to receive. All will be settled as we...

Ill do it.

Now listen to me, you dregs.

Actors are 10 a penny...

and I, Hugh Fennyman,

hold your nuts in my hand.

Huzzah!

The Admirals Men

are returned to the house!

Huzzah!

Ned!

Henslowe!

Earl! Good to see you.

Who is this?

Silence, you dog!

I am "Hieronimo".

I am "Tamburlaine".

I am "Faustus".

I am "Barabbas",

the Jew of Malta.

Oh, yes, Master Will.

I am "Henry the 6th".

What is the play,

and what is my part?

-Uh, one moment, sir...

-Who are you?

Im, um... Im the money.

Then you may remain,

so long as you remain silent.

Pay attention. You will see

how genius creates a legend.

-Thank you, sir.

-We are in desperate want...

of a "Mercutio", Ned.

A young nobleman of Verona.

-And the title of this piece?

-"Mercutio".

Is it?

I will play him.

Mr. Pope. Mr. Philips.

Welcome.

George Bryan.

James Armitage.

Sam, my pretty one!

-Are you ready to fall in love again?

-I am, Master Shakespeare.

Your voice.

Have they dropped?

No! No.

A touch of cold only.

Master Henslowe, you have your actors,

except Thomas Kent.

I saw his "Tamburlaine", you know.

-It was wonderful.

-Yes, I saw it.

Of course, such mighty writing.

Theres no one like Marlowe.

Better fortune, boy.

I was in a play.

They cut my head off

in "Titus Andronicus".

When I write plays,

theyll be like "Titus".

You admire it.

I liked it when they cut heads off,

and the daughter mutilated with knives.

-Whats your name?

-John Webster.

Here, kitty, kitty.

Plenty of blood.

Thats the only writing.

I have to get back.

See, where he comes.

So please you step aside.

Ill know his grievance,

or be much denied.

I would thou wert so happy by thy stay

to hear true shrift. Come, madam.

Cut around him for now.

-What? Who?

-Romeo.

-The one who came with your letter.

-What?

Good morrow, cousin.

-Is the day so young?

-But new struck nine.

Ay me.

Sad hours seem long.

What sadness

lengthens Romeos hours?

Not having that which having

makes them short.

Good!

-In love?

-Out.

-Of love?

-Out of her favour where I am in love.

No, no, dont spend it all at once.

Yes, sir.

-Do you understand me?

-No, sir.

Youre speaking about

a baggage we never even meet.

What will be left in his purse

when he meets his Juliet?

-Juliet? You mean Ethel.

-Gods teeth!

Am I to suffer this constant stream

of interruption?

What will he do in Act Two,

when he meets the love of his life?

Im very sorry, sir.

I have not seen Act Two.

Of course you have not.

I have not written it. Go once more.

Will.

Where is Mercutio?

Locked safe in here. Ill leave

the scene in your safekeeping, Ned.

I have a sonnet to write.

Sonnet?

You mean a play!

" For Lady Viola De Lesseps,

by the hand of Thomas Kent.

" Shall I compare thee to a summers day?

" Thou art more lovely

and more temperate.

" Rough winds do shake

the darling buds of May... "

Two hours at prayer!

-Lady Viola is pious, my lord.

-Piety is for Sunday!

And 2 hours of prayer is not piety,

it is self-importance.

It would be better that you return

tomorrow, my lord.

It would be better if youd tell her

to get off her knees and show...

some civility to her 6day

lord and master!

Mmmph!

My lady Viola.

Lord Wessex.

Youve been waiting.

I am aware of it.

But it is beautys privilege.

You flatter, my lord.

No. I have spoken to the queen.

Her Majestys consent is requisite

when a Wessex takes a wife...

and once given,

her consent is her command.

Rate this script:4.0 / 1 vote