Reason for stopping: End of this damned scene, finally. Now I have to figure out how to compress 1595 A.D. into about 5K words. Erk.
Darn epic historical fantasy. Darn it to heck.
But things are moving forward after a seemingly endless logjam of things that had to be set up because I'll need them later. Darn mantlepieces. Damned pistols.
Nurse: O what meane I to have such foolish thoughts!
Foolish is love, a toy. -- O sacred love,
If there be any heaven in earth, tis love:
Especially in women of our yeares. --
Blush blush for shame, why shouldst thou thinke of love?
A grave, and not a lover fits thy age:--
A grave? why, I may live a hundred yeares,
Fourescore is but a girles age, love is sweete:--
My vaines are withered, and my sinewes drie,
Why doe I thinke of love now I should dye?
--Christopher Marlowe, Dido, Queen of Carthage, Act IV, scene v