(Evening. A young man playing a lute and serenading
a woman who is leaning out of an upstairs
window. Very Romeo and Juliet.)
WIGGINS: (sings) Her face was like a winter's moon that lights the
traveller's way. Her smile was like a summer bloom that bursts then
fades away. My love is night, my love is day. My love she is my world.
LILITH: Such sweet music shows your blood to be afire. Why wait we on
stale custom for consummation?
WIGGINS: Oh, yes. Tonight's the night.
LILITH: Would you enter, bold sir?
WIGGINS: Oh, I would.
(The room has an assortment of herbs and things hanging from
WIGGINS: Lilith, this cannot be the home of one so beautiful. Forgive
me, this is foul.
LILITH: Shush. Sad words suit not upon a lover's tongue.
(She kisses him. Her face turns changes to one with a hooked nose and
deep lines, and pointed teeth, and her voice is higher pitched. Very
LILITH: Oh, your kiss transformed me. A suitor should meet his
beloved's parents. Mother Doomfinger?
(A sour-faced old woman stands up behind Wiggins.)
LILITH: And Mother Bloodtide.
(Another woman jumps down from a rafter, cackling. They all pounce upon
Wiggins. There are some nasty squishy sounds, then Lilith speaks
directly to us.)
LILITH: Soon, at the hour of woven words, we shall rise again, and this
fleeting Earth will perish!
(The Tardis is still bucking, and Martha is hanging
on to the console.)
MARTHA: But how do you travel in time? What makes it go?
DOCTOR: Oh, let's take the fun and mystery out of everything. Martha,
you don't want to know. It just does. Hold on tight.
(The Tardis comes to a halt, and Martha falls to the floor.)
MARTHA: Blimey. Do you have to pass a test to fly this thing?
DOCTOR: Yes, and I failed it. Now, make the most of it. I promised you
one trip, and one trip only. Outside this door, brave new world.
MARTHA: Where are we?
DOCTOR: Take a look. After you.
(Washing hanging on lines below the overhanging
eaves, scruffy urchins running
MARTHA: Oh, you are kidding me. You are so kidding me. Oh, my God, we
did it. We travelled in time. Where are we? No, sorry. I got to get
used to this whole new language. When are we?
DOCTOR: Mind out.
(He pulls Martha back as a man empties his slop bucket from an upstairs
MAN: Gardez l'eau!
DOCTOR: Somewhere before the invention of the toilet. Sorry about that.
MARTHA: I've seen worse. I've worked the late night shift A+E. But are
we safe? I mean, can we move around and stuff?
DOCTOR: Of course we can. Why do you ask?
MARTHA: It's like in the films. You step on a butterfly, you change the
future of the human race.
DOCTOR: Tell you what then, don't step on any butterflies. What have
butterflies ever done to you?
MARTHA: What if, I don't know, what if I kill my grandfather?
DOCTOR: Are you planning to?
DOCTOR: Well, then.
MARTHA: And this is London?
DOCTOR: I think so. Round about 1599.
MARTHA: Oh, but hold on. Am I all right? I'm not going to get carted
off as a slave, am I?
DOCTOR: Why would they do that?
MARTHA: Not exactly white, in case you haven't noticed.
DOCTOR: I'm not even human. Just walk about like you own the place.
Works for me. Besides, you'd be surprised. Elizabethan England, not so
different from your time. Look over there. They've got recycling.
(A man shovels horse manure into a bucket.)
DOCTOR: Water cooler moment.
(Two men talking at a water barrel.)
PREACHER: And the world will be consumed by flame.
DOCTOR: Global warming. Oh, yes, and entertainment. Popular
entertainment for the masses. If I'm right, we're just down the river
by Southwark, right next to
(The Doctor gets Martha to run along from the south end of old London
Bridge, past St Mary Ovarie - Southwark Cathedral - to a view of)
DOCTOR: Oh, yes, the Globe Theatre! Brand new. Just opened. Through,
strictly speaking, it's not a globe, it's a tetradecagon. Fourteen
sides. Containing the man himself.
MARTHA: Whoa, you don't mean. Is Shakespeare in there?
DOCTOR: Oh, yes. Miss Jones, will you accompany me to the theatre?
MARTHA: Mister Smith, I will.
DOCTOR: When you get home, you can tell everyone you've seen
MARTHA: Then I could get sectioned.
(A performance has just finished, and the packed
audience of about three thousand are applauding the actors. The Doctor
and Martha have been watching with the rest of the ordinary folk in the
MARTHA: That's amazing! Just amazing. It's worth putting up with the
smell. And those are men dressed as women, yeah?
DOCTOR: London never changes.
MARTHA: Where's Shakespeare? I want to see Shakespeare. Author! Author!
Do people shout that? Do they shout Author?
MAN: Author! Author!
(And the crowd take up the chant.)
DOCTOR: Well, they do now.
(Shakespeare comes onto the stage, very full of himself, to rapturous
MARTHA: He's a bit different from his portraits.
(Lilith is dressed like an aristocrat, and sitting alone in one of the
upper boxes. She takes a rough doll with a strand of hair stuck to its
head from her purse.)
DOCTOR: Genius. He's a genius. The genius. The most human human there's
ever been. Now we're
going to hear him speak. Always he chooses the best words. New,
beautiful, brilliant words.
SHAKESPEARE: Ah, shut your big fat mouths!
DOCTOR: Oh, well.
MARTHA: You should never meet your heroes.
SHAKESPEARE: You've got excellent taste, I'll give you that. Oh, that's
(Lilith pulls the hair on her doll.)
LILITH: Wind the craft of ancient harm. The time approaches for our
SHAKESPEARE: I know what you're all saying. Loves Labour's Lost, that's
a funny ending, isn't it? It just stops. Will the boys get the girls?
Well, don't get your hose in a tangle, you'll find out soon. Yeah,
yeah. All in good time. You don't rush a genius.
(Lilith kisses her doll and Shakespeare suddenly goes rigid and blank.)
SHAKESPEARE: When? Tomorrow night. The premiere of my brand new play. A
sequel, no less, and I call it Loves Labour's Won.
(A short while later, everyone is filing out of the theatre.)
MARTHA: I'm not an expert, but I've never heard of Loves Labour's Won.
DOCTOR: Exactly. The lost play. It doesn't exist, only in rumours. It's
mentioned in lists of his plays but never ever turns up. And no one
MARTHA: Have you got a mini-disc or something? We can tape it. We can
flog it. Sell it when we get home and make a mint.
MARTHA: That would be bad.
DOCTOR: Yeah, yeah.
MARTHA: Well, how come it disappeared in the first place?
DOCTOR: Well, I was just going to give you a quick little trip in the
Tardis, but I suppose we could stay a bit longer.
(At The Elephant, a courtyard tavern like the
George over on Borough High
Street, a serving girl brings in a tray to Shakespeare and his two
DOLLY: Here you go, Will. Drink up. There's enough beer in this
lodgings house to sink the Spanish.
SHAKESPEARE: Dolly Bailey, you've saved my life.
DOLLY: I'll do more than that later tonight. And you, girl, hurry up
with your tasks. The talk of gentlemen is best not overheard.
LILITH: Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am.
(Lilith is in plain dark dress and a white cap.)
BURBAGE: You must be mad, Will. Loves Labour's Won? I mean, we're not
ready. It's supposed to be next week. What made you say that?
KEMPE: You haven't even finished it yet.
SHAKESPEARE: I've just got the final scene to go. You'll get it by
DOCTOR: Hello! Excuse me, not interrupting, am I? Mister Shakespeare,
SHAKESPEARE:: Oh, no. No, no, no. Who let you in? No autographs. No,
you can't have yourself sketched with me. And please don't ask where I
get my ideas from. Thanks for the interest. Now be a good boy and shove
(Shakespeare spots Martha.)
SHAKESPEARE: Hey, nonny nonny. Sit right down here next to me. You two
get sewing on them costumes. Off you go.
DOLLY: Come on, lads. I think our William's found his new muse.
SHAKESPEARE: Sweet lady.
(Dolly, Burbage and Kempe leave. Martha and the Doctor sit at the
SHAKESPEARE: Such unusual clothes. So fitted.
MARTHA: Er, verily, forsooth, egads.
DOCTOR: No, no, don't do that. Don't.
(The Doctor shows Shakespeare his psychic paper.)
DOCTOR: I'm Sir Doctor of Tardis and this is my companion, Miss Martha
SHAKESPEARE: Interesting, that bit of paper. It's blank.
DOCTOR: Oh, that's very clever. That proves it. Absolute genius.
MARTHA: No, it says so right there. Sir Doctor, Martha Jones. It says
SHAKESPEARE: And I say it's blank.
DOCTOR: Psychic paper. Er, long story. Oh, I hate starting from
SHAKESPEARE: Psychic? Never heard that before and words are my trade.
Who are you exactly? More's the point, who is your delicious blackamoor
MARTHA: What did you say?
SHAKESPEARE: Oops. Isn't that a word we use nowadays? An Ethiop girl? A
swarth? A Queen of Afric?
MARTHA: I can't believe I'm hearing this.
DOCTOR: It's political correctness gone mad. Er, Martha's from a
far-off land. Freedonia.
(A man in expensive clothes and wearing a gold chain of office enters.
He is the
official censor, from the Lord Chamberlain's office.)
LYNLEY: Excuse me! Hold hard a moment. This is abominable behaviour. A
new play with no warning? I demand to see a script, Mister Shakespeare.
As Master of the Revels, every new script must be registered at my
office and examined by me before it can be performed.
SHAKESPEARE: Tomorrow morning, first thing, I'll send it round.
LYNLEY: I don't work to your schedule, you work to mine. The script,
SHAKESPEARE: I can't.
LYNLEY: Then tomorrow's performance is cancelled.
(Lilith leaves quietly.)
MARTHA: It's all go around here, isn't it?
LYNLEY: I'm returning to my office for a banning order. If it's the
last thing I do, Love's Labours Won will never be played.
(Lynley leaves and goes down the stairs.)
[The Elephant courtyard]
LILITH: Oh, sorry, sir. Begging your pardon, sir.
Mind you don't hurt that handsome head of yours.
(She strokes his hair.)
LYNLEY: Hold hard, wanton woman! (sotto) I shall return later.
(Lynley leaves. Lilith holds up a lock of his hair.)
(Lilith runs up to a quiet corner and gets out her
LILITH: Oh, my mothers, there's one seeks to stop the performance
DOOMFINGER: But it must be tomorrow!
BLOODTIDE: Love's Labours Won must be performed.
(Lilith changes the hair in the doll.)
LILITH: Fear not. Chant with me. Water damps the fiercest flame.
MOTHERS: Drowns down girls and boys the same.
(Lilith dunks the doll into a pail of water. Walking along, Lynley
suddenly clutches his throat and sways.)
MARTHA: Well then, mystery solved. That's Love's
Labours Won over and done with. Thought it might be something more, you
know, more mysterious.
(A man's scream comes from the street, then a woman's. The three rush
out to investigate.)
WOMAN [OC]: Help me!
[The Elephant courtyard]
(Lynley staggers back in, spewing copious amounts
MARTHA: It's that Lynley bloke.
DOCTOR: What's wrong with him? Leave it to me. I'm a doctor.
MARTHA: So am I, near enough.
(Lilith takes the doll out of the water.)
MOTHERS: Now to halt the vital part. Stab the flesh
LILITH: And stop the heart.
(She stabs the doll with a pin.)
LILITH: Eternal sleep is thine.
(She pulls the doll's head off.)
[The Elephant courtyard]
MARTHA: Got to get the heart going. Mister Lynley, come on. Can you
hear me? You're
going to be all right.
(Martha starts to clear Lynley's airways for CPR, and water gushes
MARTHA: What the hell is that?
DOCTOR: I've never seen a death like it. His lungs are full of water.
He drowned and then, I
don't know, like a blow to the heart, an invisible blow.
(Lilith watches from a balcony.)
DOCTOR: Good mistress, this poor fellow has died from a sudden
imbalance of the humours. A natural if unfortunate demise. Call a
constable and have him taken away.
DOLLY: Yes, sir.
LILITH: I'll do it, ma'am.
(Lilith leaves, smiling.)
MARTHA: And why are you telling them that?
DOCTOR: This lot still have got one foot in the Dark Ages. If I tell
them the truth, they'll panic and think it was witchcraft.
MARTHA: Okay, what was it then?
(The three witches stand around their cauldron.)
DOOMFINGER: The potion is prepared. Now take it. Magic words for the
playwright's fevered mind.
BLOODTIDE: Shakespeare will release us. The mind of a genius will
unlock the tide of blood.
LILITH: Upon this night, the work is done. A muse to pen Love Labour's
(We get a nice shot of a skull with candle wax
dribbled down it.)
DOLLY: I got you a room, Sir Doctor. You and Miss Jones are just across
SHAKESPEARE: Poor Lynley. So many strange events. Not least of all,
this land of Freedonia where a woman can be a doctor?
MARTHA: Where a woman can do what she likes.
SHAKESPEARE: And you, Sir Doctor. How can a man so young have eyes so
DOCTOR: I do a lot of reading.
SHAKESPEARE: A trite reply. Yeah, that's what I'd do. And you? You look
at him like you're surprised he exists. He's as much of a puzzle to you
as he is to me.
MARTHA: I think we should say goodnight.
SHAKESPEARE: I must work. I have a play to complete. But I'll get my
answers tomorrow, Doctor, and I'll discover more about you and why this
constant performance of yours.
DOCTOR: All the world's a stage.
(As You Like It, written around 1599.)
SHAKESPEARE: Hmm. I might use that. Goodnight, Doctor.
DOCTOR: Nighty night, Shakespeare.
[Doctor and Martha's room]
(Martha is holding a candle.)
MARTHA: It's not exactly five star, is it?
DOCTOR: Oh, it'll do. I've seen worse.
MARTHA: I haven't even got a toothbrush.
DOCTOR: Oh. Er.
(The Doctor produces one from a pocket.)
DOCTOR: Contains Venusian spearmint.
MARTHA: So, who's going where? I mean, there's only one bed.
DOCTOR: We'll manage. Come on.
MARTHA: So, magic and stuff. That's a surprise. It's all a little bit
DOCTOR: Wait till you read book seven. (published 2007) Oh, I cried.
MARTHA: But is it real, though? I mean, witches, black magic and all
that, it's real?
DOCTOR: Course it isn't!
MARTHA: Well, how am I supposed to know? I've only just started
believing in time travel. Give me a break.
DOCTOR: Looks like witchcraft, but it isn't. Can't be. Are you going to
stand there all night?
MARTHA: Budge up a bit, then. Sorry, there's not much room. Us two
here, same bed. Tongues will wag.
DOCTOR: There's such a thing as psychic energy, but a human couldn't
channel it like that. Not without a generator the size of Taunton and I
think we'd have spotted that. No, there's something I'm missing,
Martha. Something really close, staring me right in the face and I
can't see it. Rose'd know. A friend of mine, Rose. Right now, she'd say
exactly the right thing. Still, can't be helped. You're a novice, never
mind. I'll take you back home tomorrow.
(Martha blows out the candle.)
(Shakespeare is writing with his back to the
window. Lilith glides up outside, uncorks the bottle of potion and
blows the green vapours towards him. With a susurration of voices,
Shakespeare breathes it in and collapses onto his papers. Lilith enters
and holds up her doll, now equipped with strings to make it a puppet
holding a quill in its hand.)
LILITH: Bind the mind and take the man. Speed the words to writer's
(She tugs a string and Shakespeare jerks upright again, then writes
without looking at the paper as she jiggles the puppet's arm. Across
the way, the Doctor is still awake while Martha sleeps. Finally
Shakespeare writes finis, and slumps again. Lilith strokes his head.)
DOLLY [OC]: Will?
(Dolly enters with a broom.)
DOLLY: Finished cleaning just in time for your special treat. Oh, aye.
I'm not the first, then.
(Lilith turns round, with her witches face.)
LILITH: I'll take that to aid my flight and you shall speak no more
(Lilith snatches the broom, and Dolly screams. The Doctor and Martha
leap out of bed and run to the room. Shakespeare wakes up.)
SHAKESPEARE: What? What was that?
(Dolly has collapsed. Martha goes to the window and sees an archetypal
witch on a broomstick silhouetted against the full moon. Lilith
DOCTOR: Her heart gave out. She died of fright.
DOCTOR: What did you see?
MARTHA: A witch.
(Later, a cockerel crows and dogs start barking at the rising sun.)
SHAKESPEARE: Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey. She sat out three bouts of the
plague in this place when we all ran like rats. But what could have
scared her so? She had such enormous spirit.
DOCTOR: Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
SHAKESPEARE: I might use that.
DOCTOR: You can't. It's someone else's.
MARTHA: But the thing is, Lynley drowned on dry land, Dolly died of
fright, and they were both connected to you.
SHAKESPEARE: You're accusing me?
MARTHA: No, but I saw a witch, big as you like, flying, cackling away,
and you've written about witches.
SHAKESPEARE: I have? When was that?
DOCTOR: Not, not quite yet.
SHAKESPEARE: Peter Streete spoke of witches.
MARTHA: Who's Peter Streete?
SHAKESPEARE: Our builder. He sketched the plans to the Globe.
DOCTOR: The architect. Hold on. The architect! The architect! The
Globe! Come on!
DOCTOR: The columns there, right? Fourteen sides.
I've always wondered, but I never asked. Tell me, Will. Why fourteen
SHAKESPEARE: It was the shape Peter Streete thought best, that's all.
Said it carried the sound well.
DOCTOR: Fourteen. Why does that ring a bell? Fourteen.
MARTHA: There's fourteen lines in a sonnet.
DOCTOR: So there is. Good point. Words and shapes following the same
design. Fourteen lines, fourteen sides, fourteen facets. Oh, my head.
Tetradecagon. Think, think, think! Words, letters, numbers, lines!
SHAKESPEARE: This is just a theatre.
DOCTOR: Oh yeah, but a theatre's magic, isn't it? You should know.
Stand on this stage, say the right words with the right emphasis a the
right time. Oh, you can make men weep, or cry with joy. Change them.
You can change people's minds just with words in this place. But if you
MARTHA: It's like your police box. Small wooden box with all that power
DOCTOR: Oh. Oh, Martha Jones, I like you. Tell you what, though. Peter
Streete would know. Can I talk to him?
SHAKESPEARE: You won't get an answer. A month after finishing this
place, lost his mind.
MARTHA: Why? What happened?
SHAKESPEARE: Started raving about witches, hearing voices, babbling.
His mind was addled.
DOCTOR: Where is he now?
MARTHA: What's Bedlam?
SHAKESPEARE: Bethlem Hospital. The madhouse.
DOCTOR: We're going to go there. Right now. Come on.
SHAKESPEARE: Wait! I'm coming with you. I want to witness this at first
(Two young men enter.)
SHAKESPEARE: Ralph, the last scene as promised. Copy it, hand it round,
learn it, speak it. Back before curtain up. And remember, kid, project.
Eyes and teeth. You never know, the Queen might turn up. As if. She
SHAKESPEARE: So, tell me of Freedonia, where women
can be doctors, writers, actors.
MARTHA: This country's ruled by a woman.
SHAKESPEARE: Ah, she's royal. That's God's business. Though you are a
MARTHA: Whoa, Nelly. I know for a fact you've got a wife in the
SHAKESPEARE: But Martha, this is Town.
DOCTOR: Come on. We can all have a good flirt later.
SHAKESPEARE: Is that a promise, Doctor?
DOCTOR: Oh, fifty seven academics just punched the air. Now move!
BURBAGE: Loves Labour's Won. I don't think much of
sequels. They're never as good as the original.
KEMPE: Have you seen this last bit? He must have been dozing off when
he wrote that. I don't even know what it means.
BURBAGE: Yeah? Well, that goes for most of his stuff. Ah, but at least
it's my speech. Ah ha! I get centre stage. (reads) The light of
Shadmock's hollow moon doth shine onto a point in space betwixt
(A wind suddenly blows through the auditorium.)
KEMPE: What was that?
BURBAGE: Dravidian shores linear five nine three oh one six
DOOMFINGER: A spirit stirs the ether. But too soon.
(The actors are visible in the cauldron.)
LILITH: Not to fear, my mothers. It is merely a rehearsal of what's to
BURBAGE: and strikes the fulsome grove of Rexel
(A puff of smoke appears in mid air and turns into a figure.)
KEMPE: By all the saints, it's a spirit. It's a vile shade.
(It reaches towards them, then atomises with a small screech.)
KEMPE: I think we should never speak of this again, else we'll end up
in Bedlam ourselves.
(Bishopsgate, near the city wall. There should only
have been 20 patients there at most by this time.)
KEEPER: Does my Lord Doctor wish some entertainment while he waits? I'd
whip these madmen. They'll put on a good show for
you. Mad dog in Bedlam.
DOCTOR: No, I don't!
KEEPER: Well, wait here, my lords, while I make him decent for the
(The Keeper of the Hospital walks on down the corridor with cells on
MARTHA: So this is what you call a hospital, yeah? Where the patients
are whipped to entertain the gentry? And you put your friend in here?
SHAKESPEARE: Oh, it's all so different in Freedonia.
MARTHA: But you're clever. Do you honestly think this place is any
SHAKESPEARE: I've been mad. I've lost my mind. Fear of this place set
me right again. It serves its purpose.
MARTHA: Mad in what way?
DOCTOR: You lost your son.
SHAKESPEARE: My only boy. The Black Death took him. I wasn't even
MARTHA: I didn't know. I'm sorry.
SHAKESPEARE: It made me question everything. The futility of this
fleeting existence. To be or not to be. Oh, that's quite good.
(Hamlet hadn't been written yet.)
DOCTOR: You should write that down.
SHAKESPEARE: Maybe not. A bit pretentious?
KEEPER [OC]: This way, my lord!
(A hunched figure in rags has his back to them.)
KEEPER: They can be dangerous, my lord. Don't know their own strength.
DOCTOR: I think it helps if you don't whip them. Now get out!
(The keeper leaves.)
DOCTOR: Peter? Peter Streete?
SHAKESPEARE: He's the same as he was. You'll get nothing out of him.
(The Doctor touches Streete's shoulder and he raises his head,
(Lilith gets a sudden headache.)
LILITH: What is this? I must see.
(They use the liquid in the cauldron to scry, and see the Doctor with
LILITH: That stranger. He was at the inn with Shakespeare. I thought
then he smelt of something new.
BLOODTIDE: Now he visits the madhouse. The architect.
(The Doctor puts his fingers on Streete's temples.
It is mind meld time.)
DOCTOR: Peter, I'm the Doctor. Go into the past. One year ago. Let your
mind go back. Back to when everything was fine and shining. Everything
that happened in this year since happened to somebody else. It was just
a story. A Winter's Tale. Let go. That's it. That's it, just let go.
(He lies Streete down on his cot.)
DOCTOR: Tell me the story, Peter. Tell me about the witches.
LILITH: Who is this Doctor? Why does he come now at
our time of glory? Doomfinger, transport yourself. Doom the Doctor.
Doom his hide.
STREETE: Witches spoke to Peter. In the night, they
whispered. They whispered. Got Peter to build the Globe to their
design. Their design! The fourteen walls. Always fourteen. When the
work was done they snapped poor Peter's wits.
DOCTOR: Where did Peter see the witches? Where in the city? Peter, tell
me. You've got to tell me where were they?
STREETE: All Hallows Street.
DOOMFINGER: Too many words.
MARTHA: What the hell?
DOOMFINGER: Just one touch of the heart.
(Doomfinger puts her hand on Streete's chest, and he dies.)
SHAKESPEARE: Witch! I'm seeing a witch!
DOOMFINGER: Now, who would be next, hmm? Just one touch. Oh, oh, I'll
stop your frantic hearts. Poor, fragile mortals.
MARTHA: Let us out! Let us out!
DOCTOR: That's not going to work. The whole building's shouting that.
DOOMFINGER: Who will die first, hmm?
DOCTOR: Well, if you're looking for volunteers.
MARTHA: No! Don't!
SHAKESPEARE: Doctor, can you stop her?
DOOMFINGER: No mortal has power over me.
DOCTOR: Oh, but there's a power in words. If I can find the right one.
If I can just know you.
DOOMFINGER: None on Earth has knowledge of us.
DOCTOR:: Then it's a good thing I'm here. Now think, think, think.
Humanoid female, uses shapes and words to channel energy. Ah! Fourteen!
That's it! Fourteen!
DOCTOR [in cauldron]: The fourteen stars of the
Rexel planetary configuration!
DOCTOR: Creature, I name you Carrionite!
(Doomfinger screams and vanishes in a slow flash of light.)
MARTHA: What did you do?
DOCTOR: I named her. The power of a name. That's old magic.
MARTHA: But there's no such thing as magic.
DOCTOR: Well, it's just a different sort of science. You lot, you chose
mathematics. Given the right string of numbers, the right equation, you
can split the atom. Carrionites use words instead.
SHAKESPEARE: Use them for what?
DOCTOR: The end of the world.
(Doomfinger is gasping for breath.)
DOOMFINGER: He knows us. He spoke our name.
LILITH: Then he will know death. He will perish at my hand. My mothers,
the time approaches. You must away to the Globe. Go. I will join you as
soon as this Doctor screams his last.
DOCTOR: The Carrionites disappeared way back at the
dawn of the universe. Nobody was sure if they were real or legend.
SHAKESPEARE: Well, I'm going for real.
MARTHA: But what do they want?
DOCTOR: A new empire on Earth. A world of bones and blood and
MARTHA: But how?
DOCTOR: I'm looking at the man with the words.
SHAKESPEARE: Me? But I've done nothing.
MARTHA: Hold on, though. What were you doing last night, when that
Carrionite was in the room?
SHAKESPEARE: Finishing the play.
DOCTOR: What happens on the last page?
SHAKESPEARE: The boys get the girls. They have a bit of a dance. It's
all as funny and thought provoking as usual. Except those last few
lines. Funny thing is, I don't actually remember writing them.
DOCTOR: That's it. They used you. They gave you the final words like a
spell, like a code. Love's Labours Won. It's a weapon. The right
combination of words, spoken at the right place, with the shape of the
Globe as an energy converter! The play's the thing! (Hamlet) And yes,
you can have that.
BURBAGE: We left the lovers of Navarre by cruel chance separated, none
to claim his heart, their
labours lost. Now will they find Love's Labour's Won?
(Cheers and applause. Doomfinger and Bloodtide are sitting in an upper
(The Doctor looks at a hopelessly inaccurate map,
and points to one of the three marked streets, which is actually
where Thames Street is in reality.)
DOCTOR: All Hallows Street. There it is. Martha, we'll track them down.
Will, you get to the Globe. Whatever you do, stop that play.
SHAKESPEARE: I'll do it. All these years I've been the cleverest man
around. Next to you, I know nothing.
MARTHA: Oh, don't complain.
SHAKESPEARE: I'm not. It's marvellous. Good luck, Doctor.
DOCTOR: Good luck, Shakespeare. Once more unto the breach.
SHAKESPEARE: I like that. Wait a minute, that's one of mine.
DOCTOR: (pokes his head around door) Oh, just shift!
(Burbage is playing King Ferdinand.)
BURBAGE: The eye should have contentment where it rests. This spun out
year I watch on, groaning sick
(Bloodtide is holding a large glass ball in an ornate holder, and shows
creatures flying in a distant sky.)
BLOODTIDE: Patience, my sisters. Patience.
BURBAGE: Mewling poor drooped men in stenched beds
(Shakespeare bursts onto the stage.)
SHAKESPEARE: Stop the play! I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen, but stop.
This performance must end immediately.
BURBAGE: Oh, everyone's a critic.
BLOODTIDE: The wordsmith.
DOOMFINGER: Fear not. I have the doll.
SHAKESPEARE: I'm sorry. You'll get a refund. But this play must not be
(Doomfinger hits the doll and Shakespeare falls down.)
KEMPE: Is he drunk or what?
BURBAGE: Get him off the stage.
(The young men playing the women carry Shakespeare off the stage. Will
Kempe is playing Costard the clown.)
KEMPE: You must forgive our irksome Will. He's been on the beer and
(Laughter and applause. Kempe does a little backwards dance, an
allusion to his famous nine days Morris dance from London to Norwich in
DOOMFINGER: There is naught can stop us now.
[All Hallows Street]
DOCTOR: All Hallows Street, but which house?
MARTHA: The thing is, though am I missing something here? The world
didn't end in 1599. It just didn't. Look at me. I'm living proof.
DOCTOR: Oh, how to explain the mechanics of the infinite temporal flux?
I know. Back to the Future. It's like Back to the Future.
MARTHA: The film?
DOCTOR: No, the novelisation. Yes, the film. Marty McFly goes back and
MARTHA: And he starts fading away. Oh my God, am I going to fade?
DOCTOR: You and the entire future of the human race. It ends right now
in 1599 if we don't stop it. But which house?
(A door creaks open invitingly.)
DOCTOR: Ah. Make that witch house.
DOCTOR: I take it we're expected.
LILITH: Oh, I think Death has been waiting for you a very long time.
MARTHA: Right then, it's my turn. I know how to do this. I name thee
Carrionite! What did I do wrong? Was it the finger?
LILITH: The power of a name works only once. Observe. I gaze upon this
bag of bones and now I name thee Martha Jones.
(Martha falls backwards into the Doctor's arms.)
DOCTOR: What have you done?
LILITH: Only sleeping, alas. It's curious. The name has less impact.
She's somehow out of her time. And as for you, Sir Doctor. Fascinating.
There is no name. Why would a man hide his title in such despair? Oh,
but look. There's still one word with the power that aches.
DOCTOR: The naming won't work on me.
LILITH: But your heart grows cold. The north wind blows and carries
down the distant Rose.
DOCTOR: Oh, big mistake. Because that name keeps me fighting. The
Carrionites vanished. Where did you go?
LILITH: The Eternals found the right word to banish us into deep
DOCTOR: And how did you escape?
LILITH: New words. New and glittering, from a mind like no other.
LILITH: His son perished. The grief of a genius. Grief without measure.
Madness enough to allow us entrance.
DOCTOR: How many of you?
LILITH: Just the three. But the play tonight shall restore the rest.
Then the human race will be purged as pestilence. And from this world
we will lead the universe back into the old ways of blood and magic.
DOCTOR: Hmm. Busy schedule. But first you've got to get past me.
LILITH: Oh, that should be a pleasure, considering my enemy has such a
DOCTOR: Now, that's one form of magic that's definitely not going to
work on me.
LILITH: Oh, we'll see.
(Lilith pulls some hairs from his head.)
DOCTOR: What did you do?
DOCTOR: Well, give it back.
(Lilith flies out of the window backwards. They are on the upper
DOCTOR: Well, that's just cheating.
LILITH: Behold, Doctor. Men to Carrionites are nothing but puppets.
(Lilith wraps his hair round a wooden doll, while Martha wakes up.)
(Martha wakes slowly.)
DOCTOR: Now, you might call that magic. I'd call that a DNA replication
LILITH: What use is your science now?
(Lilith stabs the doll, The Doctor screams and falls. Lilith flies
MARTHA: Oh my God, Doctor. Don't worry, I've got you. Hold on, mister.
DOCTOR: You're making a habit of this. Ah! I've only got one heart
working. How do you people cope? I've got to get the other one started.
Hit me! Hit me on the chest! Dah! Other side. Now, on the back, on the
back. Left a bit. Dah, lovely. There we go.
Badda booma! Well, what are you standing there for? Come one! The
(Lilith joins the mothers in their box.)
DOOMFINGER: The Doctor?
BURBAGE: The ladies have prepared a show. Maria means to present Isis
descending from the dewy orb of Heaven. Ah, here comes Costard.
MARTHA: We're going the wrong way!
DOCTOR: No, we're not! We're going the wrong way!
BURBAGE: Behold the swainish sight of woman's love.
Pish! It's out of season to be heavy disposed.
LILITH: It is now, my mothers. The final words to activate the
BURBAGE: Betwixt Dravidian shores and linear five nine three oh one six
seven point oh two, and strikes the fulsome grove of Rexel Four.
Co-radiating crystal, activate!
(A wind fills the theatre.)
LILITH: The portal opens. It begins!
(A red glow hangs over the Globe.)
PREACHER: I told thee so! I told thee!
DOCTOR: Stage door!
(A storm rages over the building. The audience
panic and run, but the witches slam the doors shut to stop them. The
Doctor and Martha find Shakespeare waking up.)
DOCTOR: Stop the play. I think that was it. Yeah, I said, stop the
SHAKESPEARE: I hit my head.
DOCTOR: Yeah, don't rub it, you'll go bald. I think that's my cue!
CARRIONITES: Now begins the millennium of blood!
(The Doctor runs out onto the stage, followed by
Martha and Shakespeare.)
LILITH: The Doctor. He lives. Then watch this world become a blasted
heath! (Macbeth) They come. They come!
(Lilith holds the crystal out into the red light and bat-like creatures
fly into the theatre. They circle a bit then fly up into the sky.)
DOCTOR: Come on, Will! History needs you!
SHAKESPEARE: But what can I do?
DOCTOR: Reverse it!
SHAKESPEARE: How am I supposed to do that?
DOCTOR: The shape of the Globe gives words power, but you're the
wordsmith, the one true genius. The only man clever enough to do it.
SHAKESPEARE: But what words? I have none ready!
DOCTOR: You're William Shakespeare!
SHAKESPEARE: But these Carrionite phrases, the need such precision.
DOCTOR: Trust yourself. When you're locked away in your room, the words
just come, don't they, like magic. Words of the right sound, the right
shape, the right rhythm. Words that last forever. That's what you do,
Will. You choose perfect words. Do it. Improvise.
SHAKESPEARE: Close up this din of hateful, dire decay, decomposition of
your witches' plot. You thieve my brains, consider me your toy. My
doting Doctor tells me I am not!
LILITH: No! Words of power!
SHAKESPEARE: Foul Carrionite spectres, cease your show! Between the
DOCTOR: Seven six one three nine oh!
SHAKESPEARE: Seven six one three nine oh! Banished like a tinker's
cuss, I say to thee
DOCTOR: Good old JK!
(The Carrionites scream.)
LILITH: The deep darkness! They are consumed!
(The Carrionites are sucked into a tornado, along with all the extant
pages of the play.)
DOCTOR: Love's Labours Won. There it goes.
(The sky clears with a flash and bang. After a few moments, someone
starts clapping, then all the audience joins in.)
MARTHA: They think it was all special effects?
SHAKESPEARE: Your effect is special indeed.
MARTHA: It's not your best line.
(Shakespeare and Martha take their bows. Meanwhile, the Doctor goes up
to the now empty box and picks up the crystal. Lilith and her mothers
are inside, scratching to get at him.
Next morning -)
SHAKESPEARE: And I say, a heart for a hart and a dear for a deer.
MARTHA: I don't get it.
SHAKESPEARE: Then give me a joke from Freedonia.
MARTHA: Okay, Shakespeare walks into a pub and the landlord says, Oi
mate, you're Bard.
SHAKESPEARE: That's brilliant. Doesn't make sense, mind you, but never
mind that. Now come here.
(Shakespeare puts his arm around Martha's waist and pulls her towards
MARTHA: I've only just met you.
SHAKESPEARE: The Doctor may never kiss you. Why not entertain a man who
MARTHA: I don't know how to tell you this, oh great genius, but your
breath doesn't half stink.
(The Doctor enters wearing a small stiff ruff and carrying an animal
DOCTOR: Good props store back there. I'm not sure about this though.
Reminds me of a Sycorax.
SHAKESPEARE: Sycorax. Nice word. I'll have that off you as well.
DOCTOR: I should be on ten percent. How's your head?
SHAKESPEARE: Still aching.
DOCTOR: Here, I got you this.
(The Doctor takes off the ruff and puts it on Shakespeare.)
DOCTOR: Neck brace. Wear that for a few days till it's better, although
want to keep it. It suits you.
MARTHA: What about the play?
DOCTOR: Gone. I looked all over. Every single copy of Love's Labours
Won went up in the sky.
SHAKESPEARE: My lost masterpiece.
MARTHA: You could write it up again.
DOCTOR: Yeah, better not, Will. There's still power in those words.
Maybe it should best stay forgotten.
SHAKESPEARE: Oh, but I've got new ideas. Perhaps it's time I wrote
about fathers and sons, in memory of my boy, my precious Hamnet.
SHAKESPEARE: That's him.
SHAKESPEARE: What's wrong with that?
DOCTOR: Anyway, time we were off. I've got a nice attic in the Tardis
where this lot can scream for all eternity, and I've
got to take Martha back to Freedonia.
SHAKESPEARE: You mean travel on through time and space.
DOCTOR: You what?
SHAKESPEARE: You're from another world like the Carrionites, and Martha
is from the future. It's not hard to work out.
DOCTOR: That's incredible. You are incredible.
SHAKESPEARE: We're alike in many ways, Doctor. Martha, let me say
goodbye to you in a new verse. A sonnet for my Dark Lady. Shall I
compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more
(Burbage and Kempe enter from the street.)
KEMPE: Will, you'll never believe it. She's here! She's turned up!
BURBAGE: We're the talk of the town. She heard about last night. She
wants us to perform it again.
BURBAGE: Her Majesty. She's here.
(Fanfare and the elderly Elizabeth enters with two pikemen.)
DOCTOR: Queen Elizabeth the First!
ELIZABETH: My sworn enemy.
ELIZABETH: Off with his head!
MARTHA: Never mind what, just run! See you, Will, and thanks.
ELIZABETH: Stop that pernicious Doctor.
(Shakespeare laughs as the pikemen chase the Doctor and Martha out and
into the streets of Southwark.)
PIKEMAN: Stop in the name of the Queen!
MARTHA: What have you done to upset her?
DOCTOR: How should I know? Haven't even met her yet. That's time travel
for you. Still, can't wait to find out.
(They get to the Tardis and he lets Martha in.)
DOCTOR: That's something to look forward to. Ooo!
(The Doctor gets inside and shuts the door as an arrow thuds into it,
just like in Silver Nemesis.)