Datasets:
garcianacho
/
Scripts

Dataset card Data Studio Files
xet
 Community
text
stringlengths
1
3.04k
Oh
And that was only my first try.
Well perhaps better than my first.
You would not leave me?
I must. Look how pale the window.
Moonlight!
No, the morning rooster woke me.
It was the owlcome to bed
Oh, let Henslowe wait.
Mr. Henslowe?
Let him be damned for his pages!
Ohno, no!
There is time. It is still dark.
It is broad day! The rooster tells us so!
It was the owl. Believe me, love, it was the owl.
Oh, do not go
I must. I must
Oh, Will!
Yes, some of it is speakable.
"Good night, good night. As sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart as that within my breast. O wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?"
That's my line!
Oh, but it is mine too!
I found something in my sleep. The Friar who married them will take up their destinies.
Oh, but it will end well for love?
In heaven, perhaps. It is not a comedy I am writing now. A broad river divides my loversfamily, duty, fateas unchangeable as nature.
Yes, this is not life, Will. This is a stolen season.
You cannot! Not for the Queen herself!
What will you have me do? Marry you instead?
To be the wife of a poor player?can I wish that for Lady Viola, except in my dreams? And yet I would, if I were free to follow my desire in the harsh light of day.
You follow your desire freely enough in the night. So, if that is all, to Greenwich I go.
Then I will go with you.
You cannot, Wessex will kill you
I know how to fight!
Stage fighting! Oh, Will! As Thomas Kent my heart belongs to you but as Viola the river divides us, and I will marry Wessex a week from Saturday.
Will! What?
A literary feud. Quite normal.
Marlowe's touch was in my Titus Andronicus and my Henry VI was a house built on his foundations.
You never spoke so well of him.
He was not dead before. I would exchange all my plays to come for all of his that will never come.
You lie.
You lie in your meadow as you lied in my bed.
My love is no lie. I have a wife, yes, and I cannot marry the daughter of Sir Robert de Lesseps. It needed no wife come from Stratford to tell you that. And yet you let me come to your bed.
Calf love. I loved the writer, and gave up the prize for a sonnet.
I was the more deceived.
I love you, Will, beyond poetry.
Oh, my love You ran from me before.
You were not dead before. When I thought you dead, I did not care about all the plays that will never come, only that I would never see your face. I saw our end, and it will come.
You cannot marry Wessex!
If not Wessex the Queen will know the cause and there will be no more Will Shakespeare.
Nono.
But I will go to Wessex as a widow from these vows, as solemn as they are unsanctified.
Will you read it for me?
"Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day> It was the nightingale and not the lark That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear. Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree. Believe me, love, it was the nightingale."
"It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die."
"thou need'st not to be gone."
"I have more care to stay than will to go. Come death, and welcome. Juliet wills it so. How is't my soul? Let's talk. It is not day."
A hired player no longer. Fifty pounds, Will, for the poet of true love.
I am done with theatre. The playhouse is for dreamers. Look where the dream has brought us.
It was we ourselves did that. And for my life to come I would not have it otherwise.
I have hurt you and I am sorry for it.
If my hurt is to be that you will write no more, then I shall be the sorrier.
The Queen commands a comedy, Will for Twelfth Night.
A comedy! What will my hero be but the saddest wretch in the kingdom, sick with love?
An excellent beginning Let him bea duke. And your heroine?
Sold in marriage and half way to America.
At sea, thena voyage to a new world?she lands upon a vast and empty shore. She is brought to the dukeOrsino.
Orsinogood name
But fearful of her virtue, she comes to him dressed as a boy
and thus unable to declare her love
But all ends well.
How does it?
I don't know. It's a mystery
You will never age for me, nor fade, nor die.
Nor you for me.
Good bye, my love, a thousand times good bye.
Write me well.
Who are you, master?
I am Ethel, sir, the Pirate's daughter.
I'll be damned if you are!
Better fortune, boy.
I was in a play. They cut my head off in Titus Andronicus. When I write plays, they will be like Titus.
You admire it?
I like it when they cut heads off. And the daughter mutilated with knives.
Oh. What is your name?
Wait, you'll see the cat bites his head off.
I have to get back.
Like you, I found him not at home!
So this is the favour you find in the Chamberlain's Men.
What does Burbage care of that? He is readying the Curtain for Kit Marlowe.
You have opened the playhouses?
I have, Master Shakespeare.
But the plague
Yes, I know. But he was always hanging around the house.
She is a beauty, my lord, as would take a king to church for a dowry of a nutmeg.
My plantations in Virginia are not mortgaged for a nutmeg. I have an ancient name that will bring you preferment when your grandson is a Wessex. Is she fertile?
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 rider her, their are rubies in the saddlebag.
I like her.
"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?"