Reason for stopping: Still trying to find something interesting for the family to be doing while I get the necessary information/plot advancement into the dialogue.
The Stratford Man appears to have developed the habit of being written in snippets that are not contiguous. I just wrote a scene (the discussion of the homoerotic context of As You Like It and the long-awaited kiss) that will probably appear on about page 500 of the finished manuscript. And another bit of dialogue that comes just before the ending.
I'm supposed to be working on page 233. *g*
Still, that's one Hell of a kiss. And now I have two very differently flustered characters wandering around my head with no mind for their work.
I wonder if I can get away with making Ben Jonson enough of an asshole to serve verisimilitude, and still have him carry his role in the plot. Ah well. Off to read more Burgess.
I clinged her naked bodie, downe she fell,
Judge you the rest, being tyrde she bad me kisse.
Jove send me more such afternoones as this.
--Ovid, Amores 1:5:1 (translated Christopher Marlowe)
Burbage chuckled. "If you drank more, Will, you'd know it. There's a story making the rounds at the Mermaid that a half-dozen sober Londoners witnessed the blood-soaked ghost of Kit Marlowe on a Cheapside street in the rain this summer, prophesying doom on those who murdered him. The better versions of the story have lightning dancing around the ghost's shoulders like a cloak, a naked sword in its hand, and a whining Robin Poley cringing at its feet, but I tend to think that's hyperbole. I can't imagine Poley cringing, for one thing. Sniveling, however...."
"A ghost. But--" Will stopped himself a half-second before he muttered, but Kit's not dead. "Surely you don't believe that."
"Of course not," Burbage answered, maintaining his undertone. "Where would you find six sober Londoners all at once?"