January 30 - "Groundlings"

The Globe Theatre. A performance of HAMLET. BURBAGE is on stage. The audience is booing and throwing everything they can at him.

Burbage: To be, or not to be, I there's the point,
To Die, to sleepe, is that all? I all:
No, to sleepe, to dreame, I mary there it goes,
For in that dreame of death, when wee awake,
And borne before an euerlasting Iudge...

At this point the boos drown him out and he exits the stage.

Towards the back of the crowd stand the THEATER MANAGER and BILL.

Theater Manager: This doesn't look well, Willy.

Bill: I asked you to call me Bill.

Theater Manager: This doesn't look well, Bill.

Bill: I know.

Theater Manager: I suggest massive rewrites.

Bill: But where to begin? They hate the whole damn thing.

Theater Manager: Sleep on it.

Bill: Ay, there's the rub. For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come?

Theater Manager: Pardon?

Bill: What?

Theater Manager: That. What was that?

Bill: What?

Theater Manager: That.

Bill: Oh, nothing. Just me pontificating.

Theater Manager: It sounded exactly like what Burbage was saying, only better.

Bill: Oh. Really?

Theater Manager: Yeah.

Bill: Sweet.

Theater Manager: Run with it. See where it goes.