[eerie music] [gust of wind] [stumbling noises] [swelling music] [blaring alarm clock] [alarm shuts off] [sigh] [traffic noise] [groan] [exhausted moan] [sniff] [exasperated breath] [traffic noise] [moody music] [woodwind melody] [gust of wind] [street noises] Are you Adam?

I am.

Hi.

Sydney.

Nice to meet you.

You too.

You too.

Please, have a seat.

Thank you.

Thank you so much for meeting me.

Oh, it's my pleasure.

I have heard great things about you.

-They are all lies.

-Well, I assumed.

So, did you get a chance to read the script?

To read ... Macbeth?

Yeah, I was just ... joking.

Ah.

Right.

[laughs] So, um, I guess I'll tell you a little bit about the concept for this production.

Which is hard to do, because I don't have a concept for this production.

It seems to me that when people direct Shakespeare, they get so intimidated by 400 years of history and legend that they cling to an idea of what the play is, or what they could make it.

You know: MY Macbeth.

My Macbeth is about sexual frustration; my Macbeth is about Prohibition-era Chicago; my Macbeth is about ... dancing monkeys.

You know, anything to avoid the paralyzing terror of directing the actual play.

So you're aiming for a more ... faithful production.

No, not faithful.

Um...

I mean, yes, faithful, but not to the play's history, not to the play's period to the play, you know?

The the play.

Yeah, I think I get you.

I mean, look, I know that we all say this, right?

That it's about the text, that we're serving the text, we all say that but it's, it's lip service.

99% of Shakespeare productions are about the director's clever ideas, but the thing is, no one gives a s#*#*#* about your ideas.

Directing is not an intellectual pursuit, it's a craft.

You know?

Get the play up on its feet, get it running, let it... ... let it play.

Am I making any sense?

Yes.

Yes, you are.

I'm sorry.

I I just launched into this whole soliloquy... Um...

I guess what I'm trying to say Adam, do you mind if I make this easy for you?

No.

No, I don't.

I need to work.

I need a break from the city.

I don't want to do another stupid movie.

Massachusetts is lovely, Macbeth is Macbeth, so I didn't come here to be convinced.

I came here to see if you were actively unbearable.

And, um ... Am I?

Not so far...

So, you're saying...

I'm saying yes.

Like, YES yes?

I don't know what that means, but yes.

That's great.

That is extremely great.

I love your work.

It'll be an honor to direct you.

No no no.

No, you CANNOT pull that.

What?

"It's an honor to work with you."

You don't get to be starstruck.

You have to direct.

-Okay.

-Okay.

I'm really glad that you're doing this.

Yeah.

Yeah, me too.

[train whistle] [jaunty music] Breakfast is normally 7:30.

We can do later, but try and let us know the evening before.

7:30's good.

You've stayed with us before, haven't you?

A long time ago.

Well.

Welcome back.

Thanks.

[creaking door] This work for you?

It's perfect.

Then I'll let you settle in.

You just shout if you need anything.

I don't hear too good these days, so shout LOUD.

I can handle that.

Good girl.

[off camera] SYDNEY!

[slight groan] AAAAAAAA-HA-HA!

I heard you were coming, but I didn't believe it.

Sydney Leavis in the flesh!

What brings you back to the provinces?

Did Hollywood chew you up and spit you out?

-Uh ... more or less.

-Good.

No no no, good!

[laugh] So much the better for the theater.

Ohhh, let me have a look at you.

God, you look delicious.

What's new?

Something's new.

New lover?

New haircut?

Facelift?

Nothing's new, Hugh.

That I don't for a moment believe.

Ohh!

Listen, I was just about to go into town, because the bar here is hopelessly understocked.

-Is there anything you need?

-No.

No, I'm fine.

Well, I'll be back.

And, um... We're not on call until tomorrow morning, so I expect to be drinking with you until the wee hours.

All right?

We'll see.

Well, it's good enough.

[loud kisses] [laughter] Oh, God, it's good to see you.

It's great to see you too, Hugh.

-Oh, all right.

I'll be back.

-[laughing] Okay.

[laughter] [amused sigh] Well.

You made yourself right at home.

Sydney.

You made it.

No no no!

No, don't get up.

You're too ... picturesque.

Well, sit down.

Please.

Thanks.

-Did you find the place okay?

-Yes.

Yes, I did.

You must have stayed here before.

Troilus and Cressida.

I was 23.

And the place has changed not at all.

-Must be kind of comforting.

-Uhhh, yes and no.

It reminds me of how much I'VE changed.

-Like how?

-I was ... 23.

I was in love with theater, in love with life... ...and I was also in love.

And now?

-Oh, you're very good at that.

-What?

The innocuous question ... that leads to the revelation... -You might be a good director.

-Well, thanks.

I'm trying to be.

-Is this your first time here?

-First time working, yeah.

I used to come up here and see things whenever I could.

Kind of a trek from the city, though.

-That's why I like it.

-Yeah, me too.

Well, um.

Don't mind me.

I'm, uh...

I'm just going to ... sit here and ... read.

"Agricultural Practice in Early New England," huh?

Look, I don't judge YOUR hobbies.

You're right.

Sorry.

[loud page turn] [clears throat] -You wanna go for a walk?

-Thought you'd never ask.

You think he ever dreamed that 400 years later, we'd still be hanging his name on banners?

Probably not.

You know, Emerson said that aliens, if there ARE aliens, probably call this planet Shakespeare.

-Emerson wrote about aliens?

-Apparently so, yeah.

I read about it on Wikipedia.

If there ARE aliens, they probably call this planet Wikipedia.

That may be true.

Hey, know what's cool?

No, what's cool?

Plymouth, Massachusetts, the first English colony in the Northeast - which is only like twenty miles away from here - was founded just a few years after Shakespeare died.

And Jamestown was established in 1607, which is right about the same time Macbeth was written.

And his last play, The Tempest, is all about discovering a new world.

There's almost like... in the great sweep of Western history, this, like, passing on the baton from Shakespeare to America.

Like, "All right, Will.

We'll take it from here" What are you, some kind of optimist?

In certain moods.

Well, don't worry.

Your secret's safe with me.

Thank God for that.

[woodwind melody] Welcome, everyone, to the first day of rehearsal.

My name is Adam, and I will be your least favorite person for the next three weeks.

[people chuckle] Um...

There's something I'd like to address before we get started.

Let's just get it out of the way and move on, shall we?

The curse.

Now, look, everyone is entitled to their own opinion about whether or not magic exists.

But I am here to tell you this: I have dug deep into the allegations of a curse on the play Macbeth.

I have done more research on the question than anyone should ever dream of doing.

I have spoken to historians, scholars, experts on the occult, and I can say with great authority: there is no curse.

There is no history of troubled productions of this play any more than any other play that's been performed for 400 years.

The witches scene does not contain the text of a real spell; the play is not hexed by witches as some sort of revenge.

We all know the rumors, we've heard the superstitions; we can't even say the word "Macbeth," we have to say "The Scottish Play," "Mackers," etc.

Some of us have even experienced some creepy accidents while working on this play.

But that is just a coincidence, it is not the effect of black magic, and the only thing that we really need to be afraid of is putting on a mediocre show.

[hugh] Hear, hear!

Thank you, Hugh.

All right.

Um... Shall we give this sucker a read?

-Quick question, Adam.

-Yes?

Hugh?

What's that?

[suspenseful music] All right, whoever you are, it's not funny.

Please get out, or I'll call security.

[spooky voice] DON'T ...

PUT ON ... A MEDIOCRE SHOW!

We won't.

Okay?

We we won't.

Thank you.

[laughter] Well, you heard the man.

Let's get started.

Act One, Scene One.

Lauren, please.

Okay.

Thunder and lightning, enter three witches... Ladies and gentlemen!

To the bard of Stratford-upon-Avon!

[chorus of "cheers"] [glasses clinking] And now I think we'd all like to hear a speech from our fearless leader.

Adam, the floor is yours!

-Oh, God, do I have to?

You have to.

[general encouragement] All right, all right, all right!

Um...

I'm not much of a speech-maker.

I'd rather let the Bard speak for me, most of the time.

I do want to say I am very grateful to be here.

Very grateful for this place, this play, and this wonderful company.

"How many goodly creatures are there here.

How beauteous mankind is.

Oh, brave new world that has such people in it!"

Cheers.

[chorus of "cheers"] [hugh] Not bad.

Oh, fearless leader, not bad at all!

-Thank you, Hugh.

-Don't mention it.

[sigh] So, how are you liking the Hugh Painter experience?

I'm surviving it.

He didn't like that you passed his test.

What, the speech?

-He was trying to embarrass you.

-He succeeded.

Yeah, but not in the way he wanted to.

You came off well.

Jess liked it.

She's sweet.

Uh, are these things working?

Did you just come out of a bad breakup?

Celibate?

Gay?

Um, I don't think so.

Why?

Because Jess IS sweet but she's also freakin' gorgeous.

I didn't say she wasn't.

Oh, are you married?

I think that question is way beyond the bounds of Are you married?

No, I am not married.

I am not in a relationship, I am not gay, and Jess IS gorgeous, but...

I'm here to work.

And I think it's kinda sketchy when directors hit on their actresses.

-What if she hit on you?

-You think she will?

-So you'd be open to it.

-I didn't say that!

Well, would you?

-Are you trying to set me up?

-Yeah!

Why not?

I had a legendary romance up here, why not you?

Why not you?

Oh, no no.

I'm too old for showmance.

-You are not too old.

-Yes, I'm very old.

-What are you, thirty-five?

-Charmer.

-Twenty-nine?

-Idiot.

-Hundred and twelve.

-J#*#*#*#*#*s!

You're just mad I guessed it right.

Ooo, you guys need drinks.

What are you having?

Um, a beer would be great.

Beer and a shot, you got it.

Sydney?

Uh, I'll take a Scotch.

Good for you.

-"I'll have a Scotch."

-Seems appropriate.

-I like the way you drink.

-Thank you kindly.

[off camera] Hey!

No private parties, you guys.

Scoot over.

What are we talking about?

Oh, just gossip.

No, that's boring.

Let's do a monologue-off.

I'll do a monologue, you do a monologue, and Adam will declare the winner.

What are the criteria?

Just ... f#*#*#*ing winning.

Oh, you're on.

[door opening] Oh, freedom!

SWEET, SWEET FREEDOM!

I feel bad leaving Jess in there; Hugh's only halfway through the Queen Mab speech.

-Oh, no, she'l be fine.

She's loving it.

He's still a big star to her.

Hey, he's a big star to a lot of people.

Yeah, I prefer the Brits.

-Any Brits in particular?

-Nope.

Just all of 'em.

[laughs] Hey, hey!

You shouldn't have made that speech about the curse.

-Don't tell me you believe it.

-No, no, I don't.

But now if anyone stubs their toe or catches a cold, they'll blame you.

You tempted the gods; people don't like that.

-I think I'll take my chances.

I admire your foolish courage.

-Thank you?

-No problem.

I'm gonna climb this tree now.

-You think that's wise?

-No, I don't think it is; that's why I have to do it.

Okay, just be careful, all right?

Your understudy's like twelve.

I'm doin' great!

You think there are any cops in this town?

Doubt it.

Any authority figures of any kind?

I guess just me.

[scoffs] [woodwind melody] [gust of wind] [branch snaps] Jesus Christ!

I'm okay!

I'm okay!

Okay, you gotta come down!

Seriously!

It's not funny anymore.

-Okay.

I'm coming down.

-He's climbing higher, isn't he?

-Yeah, I think so.

All right, we're going to bed!

Good night!

Have fun with your tree!

Okay, good night!

I love you guys!

-You think he's okay?

-Oh, he's fine.

He's not that drunk; it's mostly just high spirits.

So we're not bad people if we leave?

Come on.

[mellow music] [adam] Hey, you know what occurred to me?

[sydney] I don't.

[adam] I didn't ask if YOU were married.

Oh, I don't know if you should; that might not be appropriate.

[adam chuckles] I feel like you're not; I feel like I woulda heard about it.

You read a lot of People magazine?

Well, yeah.

In airports.

I am not married.

Were you ever married?

Never.

At this point, I assume I won't be.

Why's that?

Oh, it's a young person's game.

Most of my friends are already divorced.

I don't think that puts them ahead of you.

-Depends on how you look at it.

-Well, how do YOU look at it?

Depends on the day.

How old are you, anyway?

Now, that would be telling.

[adam] Hey, I know this is none of my business, but... [sydney] Oh, I Iove where this is going... [adam laughs] [adam] Are you happy?

[sydney] Uhhh...

I'm not...

UNhappy.

Yeah, but...what are you looking for?

What do you want?

If I knew that, Adam...

If I knew that...

I'm gonna go check on Lucas.

I feel bad.

-He's fine, Adam.

-I know.

I'm just gonna... ...check on him.

All right.

Well.

Get some rest.

You too.

Big day tomorrow.

-They're all big days.

-Exactly.

[door closing] [sigh] [woodwind melody] [eerie music] -Uh, are you all right?

-Aye.

I am well.

Yet stranger time than strange is this I see.

More curious lands and less familiar people than ever I did think to look upon.

You're not ... from around here, then.

In faith, I know not where I am.

Nor cannot tell, being ignorant of that, how far, how close, my birthland may be found.

If I must judge the thing by raw appearance, I am as distant from my home as fish from heaven, or soaring birds from the black belly of the sea.

And yet 'tis green here.

And the birds sing much the same.

And all the land unfolds in pleasant hills, much as in other times I've seen it.

Methinks 'tis chiefly men that change, while Nature, being no coy strumpet, nor no flattering maid, keeps constant in her heart that rare devotion that virtuous widows may aspire to show.

What art thou?

And how comest thou hither, man?

My words.

You speak MY words.

I speak what words I'm given; I am a player.

And so was I!

When time was mine to spend.

I trod the boards of every princely stage, and many coarser ones in muddy towns.

A player, aye!

With such a game to play as might have tempted very gods to join it.

Blessed times!

'Tis now long past, long gone.

My time is gone.

You speak too sadly for a man so young.

Is sadness the monopoly of years?

May only dotards know her sour-sweet kiss?

But I am not, perhaps, as young as you, kind lady that you are, would have me be.

What year is it?

-You mock me, sir.

-Why, no such thing!

You do me wrong to say it.

Shall I mock the seat of such a regal beauty as yours is?

-And now you flatter.

-You mistake again!

Such words as WOULD be flattery if untrue, when true are only sense.

I spoke my thought.

You are the strangest creature that ever I have chanced to look upon.

I'll call that gracious.

For what's strange is bright.

It stands against the dullness of the same like diamonds gleaming in a pigsty.

I'll be strange.

If strange be pleasing to you, let me be as plain uncanny as a sow with wings.

Or as a fish that breaks the prison of the sea, and stepping onto land, turns... Bawd.

Or blacksmith.

Or what trade you will.

You are as strange to me as all of that.

And if you are what I half-think you are, you're even stranger but it cannot be.

-Yet say it, lady.

-I am loath to speak.

Then I'll speak for you.

[swelling music] You have guessed my name, my nature, and the place from whence I come.

You call impossible the thing you see, and therefore doubt your eyes, your brain, and every organ that gives man his sense.

And yet 'tis true.

I stand before you now.

If you interrogate your secret soul, you'll see you credit me in spite of all.

What year IS it?

Two thousand and nineteen.

Two thousand and nineteen!

Oh, brave humanity!

That leaps through centuries with heedless bounds!

That I should live to see so late a day!

And that the race of man should still abide, though time and all her ravages had set their teeth into its tenuous walls!

Great is my heart with praise for all mankind!

Let all our flags and banners blend as one, and let us march on to posterity, one arm linked in another Praise to man!

What's the last thing you remember?

A dream.

A merest dream.

I dreamed that down the centuries, my plays had strutted forth to flaunt their gaudy trim; and pale scholars stooping over books had argued this or that, to preen their brains all this I saw, but saw without belief.

For I was dead.

And thought the afterlife must be this mute parade of living hopes the sweet delirium of immortal fame.

'Tis true enough.

Your name is so revered, no other writer can come close to touching it.

'Tis wondrous strange.

'Tis well desired, but 'tis ill deserved.

What then of Marlowe?

Or of Johnson, too?

They were my betters; have they not their fame?

Nothing like yours.

It is a heathen world.

A fallen place, where chance and sin weigh more than reason and devotion.

Yet I'll not be grave.

I am remembered; I strove not in vain.

What play is it you play in, here and now?

-I play Lady Macbeth.

-An excellent role!

Yet a peculiar play.

What think you of it?

It's a challenge, yes.

A challenge!

Aye, that's admirably said.

The play will seek to strive with you, which one may be the better, and with weapons drawn, yourself and it shall fearsomely contend yet shrink not, lady.

If you win the day, the spoils are such glory as the mind must reel to contemplate.

And who's your king?

-A knave, I fear.

-Yet that's all one.

A knave may speak as fairly as an honest man.

Let him not mumble, let his voice be keen, his carriage noble, and I'll call the man the knave of all my heart.

When do you play?

-Two weeks from Friday?

-Why, there's time enough.

I'll haunt this place a while, and who knows?

But I may find some little uses for myself in counseling which way the play must bend to give its arrows their most worthy flight.

For now, fair playeress, I take my leave.

[moody music] This mist must claim me, for myself am mist, no more corporeal than are men's dreams.

Good night, dear lady.

When we meet again, we'll talk more to the purpose.

Till that time... ...farewell.

[music swells, then dies away] [quiet laugh] So this is all playable space?

Yeah.

All playable.

That step is high, though, so just... keep that in mind.

Okay.

Good.

It looks great.

I just wanted to make sure that I had it in my head.

-Yeah.

No problem.

-Thanks.

Morning, Adam.

You look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

I just had a run, I feel great.

Where do you get all this energy from?

Oh, I borrow it from my future elderly self.

She doesn't mind?

Who cares?

[hugh] Am I late?

You, sir, are early.

Oh, s#*#*#*.

[exaggerated sigh] You missed my Mercutio.

You mean in 1978?

Ohh, that's funny.

[hugh] You're very funny.

Isn't he very funny?

[jess] Very.

[adam] Hey.

[sydney] Hey.

You all right?

You look a little done-in.

Yeah, I'm fine.

I just didn't sleep well.

Funny dreams?

You know, I don't think it WAS a dream.

But it was definitely funny.

-You wanna talk about it?

-Um...

I met someone last night.

A man.

-That was fast.

-No, listen!

-Sorry.

He was sitting on a bench in the moonlight, and he claimed to be... No, he didn't actually... claim to be anything, but he seemed like, he acted like... ...Shakespeare.

So he was a lunatic.

Maybe.

But nah, he didn't strike me as that.

He struck me as... not ... from here.

A FOREIGN lunatic.

-Will you let me tell the story?

-I'm sorry.

So, he was sitting on that bench in the back garden, and he was playing some sort of flute.

We had this incredible conversation.

He said he would hang around and help out with our production, And then he kind of... melted away into the darkness.

Are you having any other symptoms?

Okay, he didn't melt away, he WALKED away, but there was, um, a melting ... quality to it?

[laughs] Well, I would appreciate his help.

-You're doing fine!

-Oh, I know, I know, I'm doing fine!

But I wouldn't mind doing better.

If I see Shakespeare again, I will invite him to rehearsal.

Thank you.

Just don't tell the company.

I think it might make 'em a little nervous.

Can't imagine why.

[lauren] All right!

Let's get started, everyone!

All right, can we take it from Lady M's entrance, please?

And Syd, could you find his eyeline just a little bit sooner so we don't have that pause before "How now"?

-[sydney] Got it.

-Thank you.

[adam] All right.

Whenever you're ready.

Uh, Lauren, can you give me the start of the line, please?

"I have no spur..." Thank you.

Got it.

I have no spur to prick the sides of mine intent, but only vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself and falls on th How now, what news?

He has almost supped; why have you left the chamber?

-[hugh] Hath he asked for me?

-[sydney] Know you not he has?

We will proceed no further in this business.

[hugh] He hath honored me of late, and I have bought golden opinions from all sorts of people, which would [crash] Jesus Christ!

Is everyone all right?

I'm fine.

I'm fine.

Jesus Christ!

Sydney, you okay?

Uh, yes.

Yes.

Okay.

Well, that's not good.

[woodwind melody] I'll call maintenance.

Good idea.

[hugh] It was a chunk of stone bigger than my head.

It was sizeable.

I could hear it whistle as it came down by my ear; I could feel the wind on my face.

It almost gave me a shave, it was that close.

And when it hit the floor, there was this resounding THUNK!

I could feel the whole stage vibrate, like an earthquake.

I swear I could feel my teeth rattle.

It hit with that much force.

You must've been scared witless.

I don't mind telling you that I was.

My heart was in my mouth.

I stopped breathing.

I knew what it was that had missed me by a hair's breadth.

It was death.

Well!

I'm just glad nobody was hurt.

So am I.

So am I.

You know, in a way, I'm glad that it happened to me.

If it had happened to one of the younger cast members, it might have scared them out of the business for life.

-I admire your courage, Hugh.

-[hugh] It's not courage.

It's pure cussedness.

[chuckles] They're gonna have to carry me out of that theater on a stretcher and even then, I'll be reciting King Lear as I go out.

[laughter] So what do you think?

You think I was...

...I was wrong to make light of the curse?

Let the witches bring it on, my friend.

Let them bring it on.

[sneaky music] [sydney] Mister Shakespeare?

[clears throat] Mister Shakespeare!

Will?

[will] What silken-throated nymph calls to me now?

What voice too tender for this too-harsh world?

It is the lady I beheld last night!

Whose image never since has quit mine eye, but lingers there, impervious to day, and all the coarser sights that day thrusts on't.

Why so pale, my lady?

Why so wild of eye?

Faith, anyone would think you'd seen a ghost.

-Something's happened.

-I can guess it well.

But what has chanced, and why it frights you so, I do confess beyond my skill to know.

You weren't at the theater?

I wander, as I told you, here and yon, in insubstantial shadows, till you call.

A piece of ceiling fell onto the stage.

Inches from Hugh.

It almost killed him.

Is Hugh a player?

Yes, a very good one.

Then 'tis not well.

A play must well be played.

Is he sore wounded?

Does he speak, or see?

He's all right, but it was a close call.

Why, 'tis no matter, then!

What's well is well.

To scape the lion by a hair's breadth is as good as never entering the den.

Uh, I don't take it so lightly.

So I see.

But you are female, and of such stuff made that like the strings of lutes when tensely strung, you vibrate at a touch.

That's not the point.

And besides, we don't ... think that way anymore.

What way is that?

That women are so delicate and sensitive.

It's not... ...well, it turns out not to be true.

-Faith, you amaze me.

-Yeah, well.

Sorry.

[jaunty music] I did think you had a sort of manliness about you, true.

A vigor and a wilfulness, perhaps, not wholly female, that became you well.

Man's courage in a graceful female shape.

'Tis odd.

'Tis wondrous odd, provoking odd.

And I'll begrudge it not; it moves me quite.

You knew women like this.

I know you did.

I've read your plays.

Nay, you speak true.

And if the world now stands as peopled with such creatures as the sea is dense with teeming fish, I like it well.

All women queens, and all queens worthy?

That is no mean world.

Well, you know, we're... We're working on it.

But I digress, as I am wont to do.

Methinks you had a purpose, coming here, which I have less than answered.

Speak your mind.

[anxious breath] Is there a curse on Macbeth?

It's been a theater legend for centuries: the play was cursed by witches.

I never believed it.

Is it true?

There is something in it.

Can you tell me why?

I knew a witch.

When I was very young.

She came to live in Stratford, and her house was very near my father's.

We became...

I'll not say friends, for time proved otherwise, but such acquaintances as might find time to wander by the river, side by side, and talk of slight and unremembered things.

One day my father learned of this, and swore I should be banished from his house for life if I broke not my concourse with the witch.

This thing I did.

For I was young, unripe, and very fearful of my father's wrath.

[suspenseful music] Some twelve years later, in a London street, we chanced to meet again, and being now some ways toward manhood, I now saw the witch in such a different light that we became...

I'll not say lovers, for it was not love, but something that was more and less than friends.

From her I drew the secrets of Macbeth the rites the witches do perform and speak.

And when at last the play came itself, and went before the public, she was wrought into such fury at my impudence that much I fear she did contrive a spell to turn its fortunes into curdled fears, and all its glory to such sour laments that after-times would speak its name with scorn.

[sigh] This came to pass.

And now my pretty play, like some fair maiden stunted in her youth, is left to hobble after happiness, while other lesser but more blessed things trip gaily to their joy.

'Tis hard.

'Tis hard.

But... the play's enormously popular.

What kind of curse is that?

'Tis infamy, not fame.

The play is loved for bringing on disaster, not delight.

I think you're wrong.

Well, we'll not argue it.

What's done is done, or so the saying goes.

What MAY be done, man wonders, and God knows.

Is there a way to lift the curse?

I'd rather not get crushed by bricks, if I can help it.

I'll ponder it.

And now I'll say good night.

Plain truth may come to view with dawn's plain light.

[contemplative music] [lauren] Okay, everybody!

If I could have your attention.

We've had the roof thoroughly checked out, and there is no sign of any structural problem, or any more loose masonry.

Obviously safety's our first priority; if you feel uncomfortable or unsafe at any point, Please come to me, and we'll work it out.

Okay?

Okay.

Adam, stage is yours.

-Thank you.

Um... Why don't we pick up where we left off yesterday?

Can I get Hugh and Sydney up onstage please?

[hugh] You all right?

[sydney] Yeah, yeah.

Just tired.

-Trouble sleeping?

-A little.

What you need is a good bedtime ritual.

It works wonders.

-Do you have any suggestions?

-I have a few thoughts.

Okay, can we go from the top of the soliloquy, please?

-We'll talk later.

-Oh, I have no doubt.

If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly.

If the assassination could trammel up the consequence, and [voice breaking] catch... with his surcease... You okay, Hugh?

[hoarsely] I'm fine.

Fine.

[hoarsely] and catch with his surcease... [adam] Can we get him some water?

[hugh] Hot tea.

With honey.

And whiskey.

-Do we have whiskey?

[lauren] I'll make it happen.

-Thank you.

Sorry, everyone.

Too late a night of it, I guess.

That's all right, Hugh.

Come take a seat.

Yeah.

[clears throat] Yeah, okay.

Sorry.

Can we... Do we have the Porter?

Tom's not called till afternoon.

Lucas, are you memorized for Act 4, Scene 3?

I think so.

Mostly.

[adam] Sean?

Born for it.

[adam] Great.

Let's get 4.3 up on its feet.

You can have book in hand if it makes you more comfortable.

-No, I'll risk it.

[adam] Good man.

Sorry, Sydney.

No, no.

I'm just worried about Hugh.

Oh, he's fine.

He's just partying a little too hard.

You think that's it?

Yeah.

Why?

No reason.

Do your job.

All right, guys, whenever you're ready.

If such a one be fit to govern, speak!

I am as I have spoken.

-Fit to govern?

No, not to live!

Oh nation miserable, with an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptered, when wilt thou see thy wholesome days again?

Since that the truest issue of thy throne by his own interdiction stands accursed, and does blaspheme his breed?

[scene continues onstage] This is not a good play.

[laughs] No, I'm sorry, but it's not.

It's too unfocused.

I mean, whose play is it, anyway?

It's not Macbeth's.

He disappears for long stretches of it, and he hardly ever really drives the action.

And it's not Lady Macbeth's.

She goes to pieces a full act before the climax.

I guess it's Macduff's play, really.

Maybe Malcolm's.

But are they two distinct characters?

Or just virtuous blanks?

No, I'm sorry, it's a mess.

It's a mess with some beautiful language, but... [clears throat] ...still.

Okay, you shouldn't say things like that.

-Why not?

It's true.

-Doesn't matter.

You just shouldn't say it.

Why?

Because it's bad luck.

Oh.

[sigh] [sneaky music] [sounds from tv] [softly] Will!

[softly] Will!

[loudly] WILL!

[dog barking] [sigh] [woodwind melody] [gust of wind] [gasp] Holy s#*#*#*!

[will] Be calm, good lady.

Women are as men in this late time, as you know passing well.

Therefore no matter if I do intrude; we are two men in conference, nothing more.

It's not your gender that worries me, it's that you're in my godd#*#*#* room!

'Tis not d#*#*#*ed that I can see.

I think it is as fine a room as might be wished.

And blessed, moreover, by your body's grace, and all your sweet possessions.

Excellent room.

Why are you here?

A smallish reason.

I have pages here which will, when folded into my main text, mend somewhat of the clumsiness that mars the otherwise fine surface of the play.

I'll leave them here with you, and when you think it meet, deliver them unto your manager.

He'll see their worth at once, if he be wise.

If not, come find me, and I'll make him see.

We're two weeks from performance.

Aye, there's time!

A week's a year when stage-work is in hand.

Will, I don't think I can do this.

Nay, you can!

'Tis well within your power, and your rights.

Why don't you take it to Adam yourself?

You are my anchor in this tainted world.

The fates have willed it so; I know not why.

Why do you speak in verse?

I beg your pardon, what mean you by that?

That!

That is what I mean.

Iambic pentameter.

You talk like a character in one of your plays, but that doesn't make any sense!

No one spoke that way in Elizabethan England.

It was a convention of the stage.

That's not how people talked.

[sigh] When you have had four centuries to muse, to pine, to wallow in the sainted word, you'll find the music of the speech you dreamed attains a substance that it lacked in life.

I speak as I have always wished to speak: with bright precision and with chosen grace.

So it's not because you're a genius, it's because you're a ghost.

Cannot one man be both?

You are unkind.

Will, listen to me.

Upon my honor, were we not both men, I might make free with certain choice remarks regarding these your garments, and the shapes that they too thickly veil, too briefly show.

Don't be a pig.

In admiration's nothing bestial!

Why, Heaven herself doth grant to man's poor eye the wisdom to discern a fairer grace than -Will!

I cry your mercy, lady.

What's your will?

I asked you if you could lift the curse.

And I have thought upon it.

This poor sheaf, imperfect as it is, may make some change upon the workings of this d#*#*#* d play that yields a better music to the ear of that coarse witch whose anger hexed it so.

That isn't what you said two minutes ago.

And you must pardon me; I clean forgot, amid the rash excitement of my art, that all my skill this time is bent to save you and your fellows from this ancient blight.

I don't believe you.

This is just that thing where playwrights tinker with a piece that's done.

I'll not deny, that vice has been my own.

But if my name's as sacred as you claim, would not your manager and all your troupe show plain delight that I should tinker thus?

They won't believe it.

I half don't myself.

You doubt me still.

Then I must furnish proof.

[sigh] When last we met, I said my time was spent in dismal shadows, in mute veils of gray.

But as your image flourishes in me, and blooms full-colored in my secret soul, I find my world, and my gray body too, grow clear and solid as the things of life.

Come, touch me.

I am no pale shade, no trembling spirit, but a sinewed man.

You have made me thus by calling me from sleep with your bewitching presence and your kind yet all-too-stubborn heart.

Now touch my face and see what flesh your grace has made of me.

[sydney exhales sharply] [sydney sighs in wonder] This proves the opposite of what you claim.

You can't be Shakespeare and be flesh and blood.

Will Shakespeare died four hundred years ago.

Yet Shakespeare stands before you!

Call it strange!

Call it uncanny and impossible.

Yet 'tis the truth.

-[sharp breath] And in your truest heart you know me to be truly what I am.

[sigh] Will you these words deliver to your troupe, that my unlucky play may have some hope of overcoming its long years of shame?

I will.

For this I humbly thank you.

Now 'tis time for me to melt away in shadows dark.

If still you doubt that I am magic-made, by magic summoned and made palpable, observe this wall, and how this human flesh, which not long since you touched, considers it as slight a thing as dreams.

Or wishes vain.

Or men when they are dead.

Or art.

Or life.

[magical sound] [stunned exclamation] [sharp breath] [moody music] [hugh] The sun is high, and I am up!

Is coffee brewed?

For I do crave a cup.

[adam chuckles] Sounds like you have your voice back.

Oh, sound as a bell, sound as a bell.

All I really needed was a good night's rest.

So I guess you won't have to do Macbeth without Macbeth.

I had a backup plan.

-Oh, really?

What was it?

-Kenneth Branagh.

Liar.

Uh, Adam, can I talk to you for a second?

Sure.

Of course.

Actor secrets or Sydney secrets?

Mind your business, Hugh.

That's never worked for me.

Okay.

Remember how I told you about meeting Shakespeare?

You said you'd met someone who CLAIMED to be Adam, it's him.

I know it's crazy, but it's him.

And he gave me something.

-What is this?

-It's a rewrite.

-A rewrite of what?

-Macbeth.

Okay, now you actually have me concerned.

Okay.

I'll tell you what: you read that, and then you come and tell me this was not written by William Shakespeare.

-I don't have time to read that.

-ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

-Okay, Okay.

-Okay, so I will read this.

-Yes.

-And then I will come find you.

-Yes.

-Okay.

-Okay.

Anything else?

I'd kill for some breakfast.

Well, you might have to, the way that Hugh was piling it on.

[hugh] Prithee, peace.

I dare do all that may become a man.

Who dares do more is none!

What beast was't, then, that made you break this enterprise to me?

When you durst do it, THEN you were a man.

And to be more than what you were, you would be so much more the man.

Nor time nor place did then adhere, and yet you would make both.

They have made themselves, and that their fitness now does unmake you.

I have given suck, and know how tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me.

I would, when it was smiling in my face, have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums and dashed the brains out, had I so sworn as you have done to this.

-If we should fail -We fail.

But screw your courage to the sticking place, and we'll not fail.

When Duncan is asleep, whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey soundly invite him, His two chamberlains will I with wine and wassail so convince that memory, the warder of the brain, shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason a limbeck only.

When in swinish sleep their drench d nature lies as in a death, what cannot you and I perform upon the unguarded Duncan?

What not put upon his spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt of our great quell?

Bring forth men-children only, for thy undaunted mettle should compose nothing but males.

Will it not be received, when we have marked with blood those sleepy two of his own chamber and used their very daggers, that they have done it?

Who dares receive it other, as we shall make our griefs and clamor roar upon his death?

I am settled.

And bend up each corporal agent to this terrible feat.

Away.

And mock the time with fairest show.

False face must hide what the false heart doth know.

Yes!

YES!

Now that is some godd#*#*#* Shakespeare!

Beautiful, guys.

It's just really beautiful.

How's it feel?

Uh... it's getting there.

-Well, I'm happy if you are.

-SO happy.

I'm I'm SO happy.

What is't o' the clock?

Uh... ten of.

Let's end the day on that note.

Great work, everybody.

Wow.

Uh... we're gonna plunge into Act 2 tomorrow, so look over your lines, and get some rest.

Thank you so much.

So much for your bad luck.

Christ, don't say that!

[people chatting as they exit] -Adam.

-Yeah?

Are you coming out?

A bunch of us are hitting the Crowned Head later.

Oh, I can't, um, I have some reading to do.

How 'bout after reading?

-We'll see.

-Yeah.

"We'll see" means no.

Means "We'll see."

-You're impossible.

-Sorry.

Don't be sorry.

It's your loss.

[playful music] [hugh] Yet if thy life and all its bright renown be severed from the fabric of thy work, It is a blessing in a curse's gown, a gleaming diamond set in dimmest murk.

For poets live through poetry, and thus, thy life ... thy TRUE life... is attained in us.

That's wonderful.

Just wonderful.

Who wrote it?

Sydney?

Oh, uh, I don't know.

Tennyson?

It was Hugh Painter.

[sydney] Seriously?

[hugh] Oh, yes.

That's that's very good, Hugh.

I thank thee, lady, for thy fair report yet am aggrieved to find thee so surprised.

Well, I had no idea you were a writer.

Oh, I dabble.

It's all hopelessly old-fashioned, of course.

And then again, all the best things are.

[laughter] Uh, if you will excuse me a moment, I am going to go and check on Adam.

Oh, would you tell him to get in here and be sociable?

That boy works too hard.

It's not good for the soul.

-I'll tell him.

-Thank you.

Now, this is going to seem like a very ignorant question... Oh, my dear lady!

There are no ignorant questions.

We all quest after knowledge in our own ways.

What do you think?

It's interesting.

Just wait.

Okay.

Uh, can I get you anything?

Tea?

Whiskey?

Tea with whiskey?

No, I'm fine, thanks.

-Sydney.

-Yeah, yeah.

Mm-hm.

[door closes] [woodwind music] [gust of wind] [knock on door] Come in!

Did you read it?

I did.

And?

Sydney, I can't use this.

It's a whole It's a new play.

It's a different play.

It's brilliant and it's beautiful, but it's not Macbeth.

-It's the heart of Macbeth.

-I don't disagree.

I like letting him stew in his castle.

I like hearing about the alliance between Macduff and Malcolm instead of seeing it.

I LOVE watching Lady M unravel, instead of just hearing about it.

It's cleaner, it's tighter, it's more psychologically intense but it's not Shakespesare.

Shakespeare jumps around; he shows us irrelevant things; he wants the stage to be England and Scotland and a castle and a tavern and Birnam Wood all at once.

That's how this play works.

It's a mess, but it's HIS mess.

This is something new.

Maybe he's learned a thing or two in 400 years.

You're still claiming that Shakespeare wrote this.

-Who else could?

-Well... you.

[scoffing laugh] [tense quiet music] You think I wrote that?

You gave it to me.

So?

So you tell me.

Adam, I couldn't write that!

Not in four MILLION years.

Could you?

No.

I couldn't.

But someone could.

Shakespeare wasn't a god.

We pretend that he was, but he wasn't.

He was just a guy.

A very talented guy, but there have always been people like that.

Okay, so what's your theory?

That I have a very gifted playwright friend, and we got together and concocted this version, and I have waited until now to foist it upon you?

I don't know, Sydney, I don't know!

I was up half the night reading this, and re-reading it, and it is great, it's completely great, but it is not the play you signed up to do.

We can't put this up and call it Macbeth; we'd be laughed at, we'd look like idiots.

Ohhh.

Oh, well there you go.

-There I go what?

-There you go, there's the real Adam.

You don't care about this play; you just worry about what people will think.

-That is not fair.

-No?

Which part is unfair?

-I am doing my job here, Sydney.

-No, you're doing your career.

-I am directing Shakespeare.

-Sure you are, of course you are, and who gives a d#*#*#* what Shakespeare thinks?

Well, that's what it really comes down to, isn't it?

So let's talk about that for a second.

I don't believe for a second that you met Shakespeare, or that he gave you these pages, and why not?

Because I'm not insane, Sydney.

And I don't think you are either, so what's going on?

I told you!

But you don't expect me to actually believe it!

Do you?

No.

No, I guess not.

Um, thank you for reading it.

I'm sorry.

Don't be sorry, Adam.

Just get out.

[door slams] D#*#*#* it!

[woodwind melody] [gust of wind] The costumes we pulled from the shop are downstairs getting ironed.

Set-building is underway; they'll try to keep the noise to a minimum.

-That is great.

And the stained glass came in?

-Just now.

The museum wanted to remind us AGAIN how precious and fragile and historic it is.

Weren't they the ones who begged us to use it?

No comment.

You missed a pretty good time last night, Adam.

I believe you.

Well, we're going out again tonight, if you're done with your reading.

-Yeah, I'll prob I'll be there.

-Seriously?

-Seriously.

I'm allowed to have fun once in a while.

Actually, in your contract it says you're not.

Well, screw the contract.

I mean, okay.

I warned you.

[lauren] Okay, that's five minutes, everybody!

Thank you!

I need a smoke.

Do you want one?

No, but I'll watch.

Oh, can you grab that plywood and set up the prop table?

Yep.

On it.

Oh, and Jess is coming up in a second; she wants you to see her costume.

-I've seen the photos.

She wants you to see it on her.

I'm gonna need to see the plan for the stage again.

I'm worried about the downstage playing area.

-Is the shop gonna hate me?

-They already hate you.

Then I might as well get what I want.

[jess] Hey, Adam.

[eerie music] You don't like it.

You've just got a little bit of, um... [gust of wind] [jaunty music] You're bleeding, a lot.

Your nose is... [crash] Well, there goes THAT... [carl] Can I get a little help up here?

Jesus!

I mean, you know, whenever you get a second.

[fire alarm] [costumer] FIRE!!!

FIRE, FIRE, EVERYBODY OUT!

s#*#*#*!

Adam, help me with this ladder!

WHAT IS HAPPENING???

Well, the good news is, the theater's still standing.

-Are we all fired?

-Not that I've heard.

I spoke to the costume people.

They're very sorry.

One of the interns left an iron on some polyester pants.

Why do we have polyester pants in Macbeth?

They don't LOOK polyester.

They don't look like anything now.

You should get some rest.

There's nothing more you can do today.

There must be someone left I haven't apologized to.

Me, maybe.

-I'm sorry.

-For what?

Whatever.

Get some sleep.

Tomorrow's a new day.

If it's anything like today, let's just skip it.

I'll make a note.

[pouring whiskey] [military music] I know you're out here, Will Shakespeare!

You come face me RIGHT NOW.

I half espy some subtle tinge of wrath about the edges of thy beauty's glow.

I am not in the mood for your s#*#*#* right now.

And yet I know not why.

'Tis fine manure, in which good players flourish admirably.

-You lied to me.

-Why, never in my life.

It's not the witch who cursed the play, it's you.

Why, with what power?

I am mortal made, and no more potent in such arts than you.

Don't play the innocent.

You hate this play.

And we won't let you fix it, so you throw a stupid tantrum, hoping to scare us.

-You wrong me, lady.

-It's so obvious.

When I gave Adam your new pages, you were pacified, and we had a good day.

Then, when Adam said he wouldn't use them, that's when everything went cockeyed.

You're the curse!

I have some magic.

This I'll not deny.

To be a ghost has compensations, and I make with them what sport I may.

Your friend, Hugh Painter, you did call a knave, and I, bethinking me of this, did give him cause, by dint of some light warning, to repent.

You almost killed him.

Nay, my aim was good.

I meant to frighten him, and so I did.

-You set the place on fire!

-WHAT COULD I DO?

This dwarf, ungainly tragedy's a blot upon the canvas of my life's proud work.

And men will still perform it!

Here and yon, it echoes on the stages of the world with such a grinding music that it keeps my soul from rest, from peace, from God Himself!

You're such a moron.

It's a classic play.

'Tis half of Heaven, half of musty Hell.

Some speeches, I confess, are deftly wrought, and all the nobler for their brevity.

But other parts are clumsy, bald, unschooled, as if some thick-thumbed child roughed them out, intending to return and make them shine, but soon forgetting, as all children will.

That child was I, when hewing out this work.

The time outpaced me, and, all hopefully, I made what best I could of it.

And now I reap the poison that my hands did sew; what agony's in that, few souls can know.

I'm sorry.

I can see that would be hard.

But your reaction isn't helping things!

We're not your enemy.

Call off the curse.

It's making a bad situation... ...worse.

-I cannot do it.

-Oh, you can.

And you will.

-Nay, I will hold my ground, for good or ill. [dark music] I nothing stand to lose by flouting you, but your good graces, which you have withdrawn.

What then remains for you to threat me with?

A futile anger, lacking weight or pith.

-You're such a j#*#*#*#*#*s -That's as it may be.

Thou must decide how best to deal with me.

I am the wolf no longer held at bay.

I will be fed, one way or th'other way.

[music climaxes and fades] All right.

Come on.

[footsteps receding] [sydney] Adam!

Adam, wake up!

Am I dreaming?

You're not dreaming.

There's someone I want you to meet.

[magical sound] Who the hell is this?

A man you know too well, and yet know not.

An all-neglected and all-worshipped man.

Forgotten, famed, admired and cast-off.

A walking paradox.

Your servant, sir.

Holy s#*#*#*.

Aye, there's another worthy riddle, friend: can dung be holy?

I am proof it can.

-It's you.

-It is.

-I'd know you anywhere.

-And yet you knew me not when through my friend, this worthy lady, I made bold to give some certain hints how my unworthy play might rise to better notice in your care.

-I'm sorry.

-'Tis no matter, sir.

You see me now, and judge the weight of me.

Have I such substance as may tempt you to accept my humble offering of words?

-I'm at your service.

-Oh, marry, no such thing!

Let's rather say we both serve, in our turn, that rough and tameless god that rules the stage, and makes our words as lightning, steps as thunderclaps, when we are brave enough to tread his boards.

I'm at HIS service!

Then 'tis done!

Your work must finish what I've scarce begun.

A play's a slack, unblooded, arid thing, until the players make it breathe and sing.

I wrote the words; now you must write the life that warms the watcher like a winter's wife.

I leave this task in your most able hands, and quit you now for colder, darker lands.

And thou, fair Sydney, know this well of me: no mischief have I ever wrought on thee.

[magical sound] That That was that was Yes.

YES!

I am sorry.

I'm sorry too.

What do you think we should do?

I think we have to put it to a vote.

[sean] This, and what needful else that calls upon us by the grace of Grace, we will perform in measure, time, and place.

So thanks to all at once, and to each one, whom we invite to see us crowned at Scone.

[lauren] Exit all, followed by the ghost of Duncan.

Ghost of Macbeth left alone onstage.

[hugh] And Duncan with them, with as proud a grace as ever in his regal life he showed.

His issue trumphs, and my barren seed sticks in the ground like rocks that clip the plow, and comes to nothing.

I had dearly hoped that death might be an ending, but I see such bitter reaches of eternity stretch out before me that I half repent that murder on which all my hopes were spent.

No more of this.

What's done is all behind.

I'll lay the yoke on my unquiet mind and in this earth I'll cultivate the scene of what undreamt-of glories might have been.

If you would profit by my woeful tale, think what a crime it is to strive and fail.

Exit Macbeth.

End of play.

[hugh] Who wrote this?

Just... some guy.

[hugh] It's very different.

It is, yeah.

It's got a lot more of ME in it, which I like.

More of Sydney, which I like too.

[adam] What about, um, narratively?

Does it work for you?

Yeah, it works.

It works.

But it's a different story.

Better story?

Worse story?

Well, like I say there's more of me.

[lucas] I mean, Hugh's addressing the elephant in the room.

My part is a lot smaller, so is Sean's.

It's hard for us to be objective.

I mean, we can try, but it's asking a lot.

I know.

And I don't like putting you in this position.

But the truth...

The truth...

The truth is, um... Sydney, you say it.

[clears throat] It was given to us by the ghost of William Shakespeare.

[hugh] Well.

That does change things.

[laughs] This is a prank, right?

This is like the guy with the hood and the spooky voice, this is a joke.

It's not a joke.

You saw a ghost?

Yeah.

You BOTH saw a ghost?

We did.

All right, screw it, I'm in.

Hugh?

I live in service to the theater.

Yeah.

[sigh] I'm voting no.

Because it's a whole new script, and it's going to be a logistical nightmare from every possible point of view.

Anyone else wanna voice an opinion?

All right.

Let's break for lunch.

Back in two hours with a whole new play.

Hey.

Lauren?

I'm sorry.

Are you kidding?

I LIVE for s#*#*#*shows like this.

[gentle music] You need something, Hugh?

You do realize, of course, that if all this goes pear-shaped, it'll be on you?

The brash young director who spat on Shakespeare's grave.

I kinda like that, actually.

I do too.

Take a deep breath, fearless leader.

The storm is about to begin.

[stifled laugh] [exhale] [crowd noise] It's a good house.

It's packed.

Opening night.

Should be.

You okay?

Uh, yeah.

Well, break a leg.

You too.

All right.

[slow exhale] Okay, house to black, please.

Ready Cue 2, ready Sound Cue A, both on my mark.

Go.

[thunder and music] And we're off.

Great Glamis!

Worthy Cawdor!

Greater than both by the all-hail hereafter!

Thy letters have transported me beyond this ignorant present, and I feel now the future in the instant.

My dearest love, Duncan comes here tonight.

-And when goes hence?

-Tomorrow.

As he purposes.

Oh, never shall sun that morrow see.

Your face, my thane, is as a book where men may read strange matters; to beguile the time, look like the time.

Bear welcome in your eye, your hand, your ... tongue.

Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it.

He that's coming must be provided for, and you shall put this night's great business into my dispatch, which shall to all our nights and days to come give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.

We will speak further.

Only look up clear.

To alter favor ever is to fear.

Leave all the rest to me.

[ominous music] Ready Cue 43.

Go.

They dreams, my dearest, are much wondered at.

Do servants gossip?

You amaze me, sir.

Nay...

I confess my own heart slips to doubt when I do hear thy wanderings at night, and how thy speech does wander with thy feet.

My tongue and feet shall do as pleases them, and thou must keep a better watch on thine.

I don't remember this part.

[hugh] Cannot we speak of what our hearts do know?

I know what ails you.

I have felt it too.

Yet guilt is nothing; mark me well in that.

It is a demon sent to harry thee by gods of envy coveting thy state.

It is a pale and vanishing conceit, built of a thousand nothings, and dispelled the minute it is baldly looked upon.

From thee I had this moral; now let me, that was thy student Touch me not, thou filth!

Thou bloody-dripping and blaspheming man!

Thy boots, awash with ruby-seeming blood, make of my carpet a red-patch d rag.

Thy face is not the face I doted on, but leaks mute rivers of accusing stain, and thou art not my husband, but a fiend, fierce and tormenting, and claiming me for Hell!

[hugh] This madness is too near the truth of things, which men may guess.

Her dream disaster brings.

Yet such defiance in the teeth of fate fills full my heart with love to match her hate.

[rolling drums] It plays.

It plays.

God save the mark, it plays!

Sorry, who are you?

One William Shakespeare.

Oh.

I love your work.

I humbly thank you!

Stay out of the way.

[trumpet fanfare] [soldiers] Hail, King of Scotland!

We shall not spend a large expense of time before we reckon with your several loves and make us even with you.

What is more, we'll ferret out the cruel ministers of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen.

This, and what needful else that calls upon us by the grace of Grace, we will perform in measure, time, and place.

So thanks, to all at once, and to each one, whom we invite to see us crowned at Scone.

[fanfare of trumpets] [hugh] And Duncan with them!

With as proud a grace as ever in his regal life he showed.

His issue triumphs, and my barren seed sticks in the ground like rocks that clip the plow, and comes to nothing.

I had dearly hoped that death might be an ending, but I see such bitter reaches of eternity stretch out before me that I half repent that murder on which all my hopes were spent.

No more of this.

What's done is all behind.

I'll lay the yoke on my unquiet mind, and in this dirt I'll cultivate the scene of what undreamt-of glories might have been.

If you would profit by my woeful tale, think what a crime it is to strive... and fail.

[rolling drum] [silence] [cough] [cheers and applause] [triumphant music] That was NOT Macbeth.

I know.

Sorry.

Don't be sorry.

I loved it.

So what'd you think?

Yep.

That was weird.

To William Shakespeare!

[all] William Shakespeare!

[glasses clinking] Where is the bastard, anyway?

No idea.

I haven't seen him in over a week.

Lauren said she saw him backstage, And he seemed very happy.

Where is Lauren?

She went to bed hours ago.

Oh,God, I hate responsible people.

Hear, hear.

Well, I'm tired of waiting for the dead white male.

If he shows up, tell him I'm grateful, etc.

You're the soul of poetry, Hugh.

-Oh, bite me.

-QED.

[laughter] I think I'm gonna head in too.

Congratulations.

You too.

You were wonderful tonight, Jess.

Yeah, you too, Syd.

I'll see you in the morning.

[adam] Good night.

Good night.

You know, you really missed the boat on that one.

I actually think they're a much better couple.

You may be right.

[lucas] I think we're gonna turn in too.

Good night, you crazy kids.

Don't stay out too late.

-Hey, Lucas?

-Yeah.

Thank you.

For taking a chance on this.

I think your vote really made the difference.

It's a crazy thing we did.

Yeah, well, that's kind of why I liked it.

Hey, next time, though I'm Macbeth.

It's a promise.

Good enough.

Good night!

[sydney] Good night, Lucas good night, Sean!

Good night, Sean.

[sean] Good night!

Are they...?

Oh, yeah.

Wow.

I [laughs] I had no idea!

Seriously?

Am I an idiot?

I guess you must be.

So you're heading out tomorrow?

Yeah, I have to.

My agent's set up eight thousand meetings for me in the city.

Well, I'm glad to know that our little sacrilege hasn't killed your career.

There's still time.

We'll miss you up here.

I'll be back in a week or two, to see how everything's going.

You guys don't need me, though; it's your play now.

It's Will's play.

Yeah.

I should get some shuteye, I guess.

-Yeah, yeah.

Yep.

Good idea.

You walking in?

No, I'm I think I'm gonna linger.

It's a nice night.

Congratulations.

You too, boss.

[melancholy music] [bushes rustling] Thought you'd gone.

So too did I.

And yet I linger; what makes thou of that?

Some weighty business binds me to this place but what its substance is, I cannot guess.

Thou mockest me.

In faith, I do.

But with as kind a heart, as generous a tongue, as ever youth did mock his scented bride.

I know my business well, and so dost thou.

I speak of Adam, and thou knowest why.

-He is too young.

-Why, age must temper him, and thou, his tutor, give what help thou canst.

-I am too old.

-In no particular.

Thou art young in mind, in zest of spirit, and in grace of limb; in faith, thou hast a raft of qualities that many maids of twenty dearly crave.

Thy arguments thus far have gone for naught.

My reason swiftly cancels them.

Well, try again.

-He leaves tomorrow.

-Then remains tonight!

And in that darkling and abandoned while 'twixt one half-light and th'other, men have wrought much wilder things than this.

Why, seize the night!

The day will dawn too late, and seizing that will gain you only ashes.

Act, and win!

Thou art full of mischief.

I am full of truth.

And too near death to waste my time or thine.

Already I can hear it calling me, that blank hereafter into which I gazed but many and many a time, yet without sight.

I'll see it now, if there be aught to see.

If all is darkness... that's a kind of peace.

I am not weary, yet I feel my time slip through the slender of the hourglass.

Grant me this boon before I go to rest, and promise me to love that foolish man.

I'll crave one moment of your time ere that.

Then speak with purpose.

I am half away.

'Tis poor.

to thank what cannot be repaid.

A rich gift handed down the centuries reviving to the soul, sweet on the tongue, ten thousand stages gracing with its grace.

Thy words.

Thy all-beguiling words!

Divine and human and immortal words.

What poet does not till the ground you sowed?

What player does not flourish in thy soil?

What person, lettered or unlettered, can with reason claim he rests not in your shade?

This English that my mind and heart revere this gnarled, beautiful, and bastard tongue, flows through thee like a river through a sieve, emerging swift and grateful, cold and clean.

What thanks?

Why, any thanks are pale.

Yet hear my gratitude; it sings in me.

'Tis well.

'Tis welcome.

'Tis most ably said.

I had a bit of help there, from a knave.

A knave may have his uses; mark you that.

I mark it well.

Thou art thyself a knave.

And thou hast had thy uses.

Now begone.

This time is our time now, for good or ill, and thou must haunt it only with thy plays.

That suits me well.

And yet there's one thing more.

-What thing is that?

-Why, this unworthy thing.

[woodwind music] Now come what may to thee in later times, thou art the last to have a kiss from me.

[whispered] Keep well this secret.

Clasp it to your heart.

Or boast about it when the drink's in thee.

-You arrogant bastard.

-So I am.

But what man living has more cause than I?

Think kindly of me, Sydney.

I am dead.

And dead men have no life but in report.

I'll think on thee as I may choose to think.

I'll not begrudge it.

To be in thy thoughts in any wise is all the thanks I crave.

Go to, go to!

Thou great unceasing mouth!

I'll cease upon an instant, like all men, and when once gone, I'll not return again.

-I'll miss thee, Will.

-And I shall dream of you, as all men ought to, and as many do.

One couplet more, and then I'll say goodnight: make what frail joy thou canst in thy brief light.

I will.

I will.

Farewell, my sweetest Will.

Thou hast done mischief, but more good than ill. [woodwind melody] [laugh] [astonished laughter] [door opening] You're the most predictable man I have ever met.

I'll take any superlative.

Good call.

What are you reading?

"Agricultural Practice in Early New England."

How is it?

It's better than you would expect.

Looks like we're the last ones up.

Looks like it, yeah.

-So.

-So... -I'm 44.

-I'm 32.

-You're young.

-You're gorgeous.

-Don't change the subject.

-I wasn't.

You want a nightcap?

I got a decent bottle of Scotch in my room.

Don't you think it's sketchy when directors hit on their actresses?

I do...

But I'm not your director anymore.

Oh.

Plus, I think you are amazing.

Which kind of negates the sketchiness.

-That sounds like whiskey logic.

-No, I've had like... ...five.

[laughs] Oh.

[rueful laugh] I tell you what.

You're coming back up here in, what, a week or two?

Something like that.

Buy me dinner?

That sounds nice.

Good night, Adam.

Good night.

[woodwind melody] [orchestra joins in] [gust of wind] [music swells] [final chord] [credits song begins]