Season 3 Episode 2 The Shakespeare Code

The Doctor: Genius. He's a genius. The genius. The most human, human there's ever been. Now we're gonna hear him speak! He always uses the best words. New, beautiful, brilliant words!
Shakespeare: (to the applauding crowd) Oh, shut your big fat mouths!
The Doctor: (disappointed) Eww.
Martha: You should never meet your heroes.

Martha: So magic and stuff. That's a little bit Harry Potter.
The Doctor: Wait 'till you read Book 7. Oh, I cried.

Shakespeare: Oh I've got new ideas. Maybe it's time I write about fathers and sons. Write about my son, my precious Hamnet.
Martha: Hamnet?
Shakespeare: That's him.
Martha: Ham...net?
Shakespeare: What's wrong with that?

The 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.
The 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.
The Doctor: That's… incredible. You are incredible.
Shakespeare: We're alike in many ways, Doctor.

The Doctor: (after Lilith's attack - gasping heavily, looking weak) I've only got one heart working. How do you people cope?

The Doctor: The Carrionites vanished. Where did you go?
Lilith: The Eternals found the right word to banish us into deep darkness.
The Doctor: Then how did you escape?
Lilith: New words. New and glittering. From a mind like no other.
The Doctor: Shakespeare.
Lilith: His son perished. The grief of a genius. Grief without measure. Madness enough to allow us entrance.
The 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.

Shakespeare: (bursting onto the stage to interrupt the play) Stop the play! I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen, but stop. This performance must end immediately!
Dick: Oh, everyone's a critic.

Kempe: (after Shakespeare has interrupted the play) You must forgive our irksome Will; he's been on the beer and feeling ill.

Shakespeare: (to The Doctor) All these years, I've been the cleverest man around. Next to you, I know nothing.
Martha: Well, don't complain!
Shakespeare: I'm not, it's marvellous.

Peter Streete: Witches spoke to Peter in the night, they whispered, whispered. Got Peter to build the Globe to their design. Their design. The fourteen walls. Always… fourteen. When the work was done (laughs) they… they snapped poor Peter's wits.
The Doctor: But where did Peter see the witches? Where in the city? Peter, tell me. You've got to tell me. Where were they?
Peter Streete: All Hallows Street.
Mother Doomfinger: (suddenly appearing in Peter's cell) Too many words.
Martha: What the hell?
Mother Doomfinger: Just one touch of the heart. (goes to touch Peter)
The Doctor: NO!
(Mother Doomfinger touches Peter once on the chest, killing him)
Shakespeare: I'm seeing a witch.
Mother Doomfinger: Now who would be next, hm? Just one touch.
(Watching via the cauldron, Lilith and Mother Bloodtide cackle)
Mother Doomfinger: Oh, oh, I'll stop your frantic hearts. Poor, fragile mortals.
Martha: (yelling at the bars of the cell) Let us out! LET US OUT!
The Doctor: Well, that's not gonna work. The whole building's shouting that.
Mother Doomfinger: Who would die first, hm?
The Doctor: Well, if you're looking for volunteers…
Martha: No, don't!
Shakespeare: Doctor, can you stop her?
Mother Doomfinger: No mortal has power over me.
The Doctor: No, but there's a power in words. If I can find the right one, if I can just know you…
Mother Doomfinger: None on Earth has knowledge of us
The 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! The fourteen stars of the Rexel planetary configuration! Creature, I name you… Carrionite!
(Mother Doomfinger screams and vanishes in a flash of light)
Martha: What did you do?
The Doctor: I named her. The power of the name. That's old magic.
Martha: But there's no such thing as magic.
The Doctor: Well, it's a different sort of science. You lot; you chose mathematics. Given the right string of numbers, the right equation, you could split the atom. Carrionites use words instead.
Shakespeare: Use them for what?
The Doctor: The end of the world.

Martha: (in Bedlam) So, this is what you call a hospital, yeah? Where 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 good?
Shakespeare: I've been mad, lost my mind. Fear of this place set me right again. It serves its purpose.

Dick: Love's 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.
Dick: Yeah, well, that goes for most of his stuff.

(At the Globe Theatre, The Doctor realises it has fourteen sides)
The Doctor: Fourteen. Why does that ring a bell? Fourteen.
Martha: There's fourteen lines in a sonnet.
The 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.
The Doctor: Oh, yeah, but the theatre's magic, isn't it? You should know, stand on this stage, say the right words with the right emphasis at 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. And if you exaggerate that…
Martha: It's like your police box. Small wooden box with all that power inside.
The Doctor: Oh, oh, Martha Jones, I like you.

Martha: Lynley drowned on dry land, Dolly died of fright, and they were both connected to you.
Shakespeare: Are you 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?
The Doctor: (to Martha) No, not quite yet.

(Martha and the Doctor are lying on the same bed)
Martha: Sorry. Not much room. Us two here. Same bed. Tongues will wag.
The 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 anyone would have spotted that. No. (turns to face her) There's something I'm missing, Martha. (Martha turns to face him) Something really close, staring me right in the face and I can't see it. (pause) Rose would know. A friend of mine, Rose, right now she'd say exactly the right thing (turns over) Still, can't be helped. You're a novice. Take you back home tomorrow.
Martha: (hurt) Great.
(She blows out the candle fiercely)

Martha: Is it real, though? I mean, witches, black magic, and all that? It's real?
The 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!
The Doctor: Looks like witchcraft, but it isn't.

Shakespeare: (to Martha, about the Doctor) 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. Will I get my answers tomorrow, Doctor? And I'll discover more about you and why this constant performance of yours.
The Doctor: All the world's a stage.
Shakespeare: Hmm. I might use that.

Shakespeare: Who are you, exactly, and, more to the point, who is this gorgeous blackamoor lady?
Martha: What did you say?
Shakespeare: Oops. Isn't that a word we use nowadays? An Ethiop girl, a schwab, a Queen of Afric?
Martha: I can't believe I'm hearing this…
The Doctor: It's political correctness gone mad.

The Doctor: Mr. Shakespeare, isn't it?
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… (sees Martha) Hey nonny, nonny! Sit right down next to me!

Martha: I'm not an expert, but I've never heard of Love's Labours Won.
The Doctor: Exactly. The lost play. Doesn't exist, only in rumours. It's mentioned in lists of his plays but never ever turns up. And nobody knows why.
Martha: Have you a mini-disc or something? We can tape it, we can flog it, sell it when we get home, make a mint!
The Doctor: No.
Martha: That would be bad.
The Doctor: Yeah... yeah.

Martha: (stepping into Elizabethan London) Oh, you're kidding me! You're so kidding me! Oh, my God, we did it! We travelled in time. Where are we? No, sorry, got to get used to this, whole new language. When are we?

Lilith: Soon, at the hour of woven words, we shall rise again and this fleeting Earth will perish!

The Doctor: But which house? (Door of a nearby house swings open mysteriously) Make that witch house...

Shakespeare: Doesn't make sense mind you but never mind, now come here.
(Pulls Martha close)
Martha: But I've only just met you!
Shakespeare: The Doctor may never kiss you, why not entertain a man who will?
Martha: I don't know how to tell you this, oh great genius, but your breath doesn't half stink!

Mother Doomfinger: The potion is prepared. Now, take it. Magic words for the playwrite's fevered mind!
Mother 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's Labours Won!

Lilith: Oh my Mothers, there's one who seeks to stop the performance tomorrow.
Mother Doomfinger: But it must be tomorrow!
Mother Bloodtide: Love's Labours Won must be performed!
Lilith: Fear not. Chant with me. Water damps the fiercest flame...
Mothers Doomfinger and Bloodtide: ...drowns down girls and boys the same!
(Lilith submerges the poppet of Lynley, and he starts to drown on dry land)
Mothers Doomfinger and Bloodtide: Now to hault the vital part, stab the flesh!
Lilith: ...and stop the heart.
(Lilith stabs the poppet, and Lynley dies)

The Doctor: I take it we were 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! (Points at Lilith) I name thee, Carrionite! (Lilith mock-gasps, then giggles) What did I do wrong, was it the finger?
Lilith: The power of a name works only once, observe: (points at Martha) I gaze upon this bag of bones and now I name thee Martha Jones!
(Martha faints, the Doctor catching her)
The Doctor: What have you done!?!
Lilith: Hmm - 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 of days...
The Doctor: The naming won't work on me.
Lilith: But your heart grows cold, the North wind blows and carries down the distant... Rose...

The Doctor: Martha's from a far off land... Freedonia...

The Doctor: Queen Elizabeth the First!
Queen Elizabeth I: Doctor!
The Doctor: What?
Queen Elizabeeth I: My sworn enemy!
The Doctor: What?
Queen Elizabeth I: OFF WITH HIS HEAD!!!
The Doctor: (shocked) What!?!
Martha: Never mind 'what', run!
Queen Elizabeth I: Stop him! Stop that pernicious Doctor!
(Shakespeare cracks up in a fit of laugher as he watches The Doctor and Martha flee)

Shakespeare: Goodnight Doctor...
The Doctor: Nighty-night Shakespeare...

Martha: That's amazing! Just amazing! Was worth putting up with the smell. (observes the 'female' actors on stage) And those are men dressed as women, yeah?
The Doctor: London never changes...

(Just after they defeat the Carrionites)
Martha: They think it was all special effects!
Shakespeare: Your effect is special indeed.
Martha: It's not your best line.

Shakespeare: How can a man so young have eyes so old?
The Doctor: I do a lot of reading.

The Doctor (re Lynley): Leave it to me, I'm a doctor
Martha: So am I ... near enough.

The Doctor: When you go home you can tell everyone you've seen Shakespeare.
Martha: Then I can get sectioned.

Shakespeare: Close up this den of hateful, dire decay! Decomposition of your witchs' 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 points...
The Doctor: 7-6-1-3-9-0!
Shakespeare: 7-6-1-3-9-0! Banished like a tinker's cuss, I say to thee... (looks to The Doctor)
The Doctor: Uhh... (looks to Martha)
Martha: Expelliarmus!
The Doctor: Expelliarmus!
Shakespeare: Expelliarmus!
The Doctor: Good old J.K.!

The Doctor: Stop the play. I think that was it, yeah, I said STOP THE PLAY!
Shakespeare: I hit my head...
The Doctor: Yeah, don't rub it, you'll go bald.

Martha: We're going the wrong way!
The Doctor: No we're not... (carries on running, then changes direction) ...we're going the wrong way!

The Doctor: You lost your son.
Shakespeare: My only boy. Black Death took him. I wasn't even there.
Martha: I didn't know, I'm sorry.
Shakespeare: Made me question everything, the futility of this fleeting existance, to be or not to be... Ooh. That's quite good.
The Doctor: You should write that down.
Shakespeare: Mm. Maybe not. Bit pretentious?

The Doctor: Good Mistress, this poor fellow has died from a sudden imbalance of the humors - a natural if unfortunate demise. Call the Constable to have him taken away.
Mistress: Yes Sir.
Lilith: I'll do it...
Martha: And why are you telling them that?
The Doctor: This lot have still 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 Doctor: Witchcraft.

Shakespeare: Such unusual clothes. So... fitted.
Martha: Um... Verily! Forsooth, egads!
The Doctor: No, no. Don't do that.

Martha: Oh but hold on, am I alright? Not going to get carted off as a slave am I?
The Doctor: Why would they do that?
Martha: I'm not exactly white, in case you haven't noticed.
The Doctor: I'm not even human, Just walk about like you own the place, works for me. Besides, you'd be suprised. Elizabethan England, not so different from your time.

Martha: But are we safe? I mean, can we move around and stuff?
The Doctor: '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!
The Doctor: Tell you what then, don't... step on any butterflies. What've butterflies ever done to you?
Martha: What if... I dunno, what if I kill my Grandfather?
The Doctor: Are you planning to?
Martha: No...
The Doctor: Well then.

Martha: 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.
The 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?
The Doctor: No, the novelisation. Yes the film! Marty McFly goes back and changes history.
Martha: And he starts fading away... Oh my God, am I going to fade?
The Doctor: You and the entire future of the human race. It ends right now in 1599 if we don't stop it.

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 royal beauty.
Martha: Whoa, nelly! I know for a fact you've got a wife in the country.
Shakespeare: But, Martha, this is town.
The Doctor: (hurrying them on) Come on, we can all have a good flirt later!
Shakespeare: Is that a promise, Doctor?
The Doctor: (sigh) 57 academics just punched the air. Now MOVE!