Original subtitles

Her face was like a winter moon

That lights the traveller's way

Her smile was like a summer bloom

That bursts

Then fades away...

My love is night

My love is day

My love

She is my world.

Such sweet music shows your blood to be afire.

Why wait we on stale custom for consummation?

Oh, yes. Tonight's the night!

Would you enter, bold sir?

Oh, I would!

Lilith, this cannot be the home of one so beautiful.

Forgive me...

- ...this is foul. - Sh!

Sad words suit not upon a lover's tongue.

Oh, your kiss transformed me!

A suitor should meet his beloved's parents.

Mother Doomfinger!

And Mother Bloodtide!

Soon, at the hour of woven words,

we shall rise again,

and this fleeting Earth will perish!

But how do you travel in time? Now, what makes it go?

Oh, let's take the fun and the mystery out of everything!

Martha, you don't want to know. It just does!

Hold on tight!

Blimey!

D'you have to pass a test to fly this thing?

Yes, and I failed. Now, make the most of it.

I promised you one trip and one trip only.

Outside this door...

...brave new world.

Where are we?

Take a look...

After you.

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.

Gotta get used to this whole new language.

When are we?

- Mind out! - Gardyloo!

Somewhere before the invention of the toilet.

Sorry about that.

I've seen worse. I've worked late-night shift A&E.

But, are we safe?

I mean, can we move around and stuff?

Course we can. Why'd you ask?

It's like in the films, you step on a butterfly,

you change the future of the human race.

Tell you what, then, don't...

...step on any butterflies.

What have butterflies ever done to you?

What if...

...I dunno, what if I kill my grandfather?

Are you planning to?

- No! - Well, then.

And this is London?

I think so.

Round about, um, ooh, 1599.

Oh, but hold on. Am I all right?

I'm not going to get carted off as a slave, am I?

Why would they do that?

Not exactly white, in case you haven't noticed.

I'm not even human. Just walk about like you own the place.

Works for me. Besides, you'd be surprised.

Elizabethan England - not so different from your time.

Look over there.

They've got recycling.

Water-cooler moment.

And the Earth will be consumed by flame!

Global warming.

Oh, yes, and entertainment.

Popular entertainment for the masses.

If I'm right,

we're just down the river, by Southwark,

right next to...

Oh, yes!

The Globe Theatre!

Brand-new, just opened!

Though, strictly speaking,

it's not a globe, it's a tetradecagon, 14 sides,

containing...the man himself.

Whoa, you don't mean...?

- Is Shakespeare in there?! - Oh, yes!

Miss Jones, will you accompany me to the theatre?

Mr Smith, I will!

When you get home, you can tell everyone

- you've seen Shakespeare! - Then I could get sectioned!

Whoo!

That's amazing! Just amazing!

It's worth putting up with the smell!

And those are men dressed as women, yeah?

London never changes.

Where's Shakespeare? I want to see Shakespeare!

Author, author!

Do people shout that? Do they shout "author"?

Author! Author!

Author, author, author!

Well...

...they do now.

Author!

Author! Author!

He's a bit different to his portraits.

Genius! He's a genius. The genius.

The most human human there's ever been.

Now we're gonna hear him speak!

Always, he chooses the best words.

New, beautiful, brilliant words.

Ah!

Shut your big, fat mouths!

Oh, well.

You should never meet your heroes.

You've got excellent taste, I'll give you that!

Oh, that's a wig!

Wind the craft of ancient harm,

the time approaches for our charm.

I know what you're all saying -

Love's Labour's Lost, that's a funny ending, isn't it?

It just stops!

Will the boys get the girls?

Well, don't get your hose in a tangle. You'll find out soon!

When? When?!

Yeah, yeah, all in good time!

You don't rush a genius.

When?

Tomorrow night!

The premiere of my brand-new play!

A sequel, no less!

And I call it

Love's Labour's Won!

I'm not an expert,

but I've never heard of Love's Labour's Won.

Exactly. The lost play.

It doesn't exist, only in rumours.

It's mentioned in lists of his plays,

but it never, ever turns up.

And no-one knows why.

Have you got a minidisc or something?

We can tape it! We can flog it!

Sell it when we get home, make a mint.

No.

That would be bad.

Yeah, yeah!

But how come it disappeared in the first place?

Well...

I was just gonna give you

a quick little trip in the TARDIS...

...but I suppose we could stay a bit longer.

Here you go, Will! Drink up!

There's enough beer

in this lodgings house to sink the Spanish!

Dolly Bailey, you've saved my life!

I'll do more than that later tonight!

And you, girl, hurry up with the tasks.

The talk of gentlemen is best not overheard!

- Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am. - You must be mad, Will!

Love's Labour's Won? I mean, we're not ready.

It's supposed to be next week. What made you say that?

You haven't even finished it yet.

Just got the final scene to go. You'll get it by morning.

Hello!

Excuse me. Not interrupting, am I?

Mr Shakespeare, isn't it?

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...

Hey nonny nonny!

Sit right down here, next to me.

You two, get sewing on them costumes, off you go.

Come on, lads. I think our William's found his hew muse.

Sweet lady.

Such unusual clothes. So...

...fitted.

Um... Verily.

Forsooth. Egads!

No. No, don't do that.

Don't.

I'm Sir Doctor of TARDIS and this is my companion,

Miss Martha Jones.

Interesting, that bit of paper.

- It's blank. - Oh, that's...

...very clever. That proves it. Absolute genius.

- Mm. - No, it says right there,

"Sir Doctor, Martha Jones," it says so.

- I say it's blank. - Psychic paper. Um...

Long story. Oh, I hate starting from scratch.

Psychic? Never heard that before, and words are my trade.

Who are you, exactly?

More to the point, who is your delicious blackamoor lady?

What did you say?

Whoops. Isn't that a word we use nowadays?

An Ethiop girl, a swarth, a queen of Afric?

Can't believe I'm hearing this!

It's political correctness gone mad.

Um, Martha's from a far-off land. Freedonia.

Excuse me! Hold hard a moment!

This is abominable behaviour.

A new play, with no warning?!

I demand to see a script, Mr Shakespeare.

As Master of the Revels, every new script must be registered

at my office and examined by me

before it can be performed!

Tomorrow morning, first thing, I'll send it round.

I don't work to your schedule, you work to mine!

The script, now!

I can't!

Then tomorrow's performance is cancelled.

- It's all go round here! - I am returning

to my office for a banning order!

If it's the last thing I do,

Love's Labour's Won will never be played!

Ooh! Sorry, sir, begging your pardon, sir.

Mind you don't hurt that handsome head of yours, sir.

Hold hard, wanton woman!

I shall return later.

Oh, my mothers,

there's one seeks to stop the performance tomorrow!

But it must be tomorrow.

Love's Labour's Won must be performed!

Fear not.

Chant with me.

Water damps... ...the fiercest flame.

Drowns down girls and boys the same!

Well, then, mystery solved.

That's Love's Labour's Won over and done with.

Thought it might be something more...

...you know, more mysterious.

Help! Help me!

- It's that Lynley bloke. - What's wrong with him?

Leave it to me, I'm a doctor.

So am I - near enough.

Now to halt the vital part,

stab the flesh...

And stop the heart.

Eternal sleep is thine.

Gotta get the heart going.

Mr Lynley, come on, can you hear me?

You're gonna be all right.

What the hell is that?!

I've never seen a death like it.

His lungs are full of water, he drowned.

I dunno, like a...

...blow to the heart, an invisible blow.

Good mistress, this poor fellow has died

from a sudden imbalance of the humours.

A natural if unfortunate demise.

Call a constable, have him taken away.

- Yes, sir. - I'll do it, ma'am.

And why are you telling them that?

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. - OK, what was it, then?

Witchcraft.

The potion is prepared.

Now, take it.

Magic words for the playwright's fevered mind.

Shakespeare will release us!

The mind of a genius will unlock the tide of blood.

Upon this night, the work is done,

a muse to pen Love's Labour's Won!

I've got you a room, Sir Doctor.

You and Miss Jones are just across the landing.

Poor Lynley.

So many strange events.

Not least of all this land of Freedonia,

where a woman can be a doctor?

Where a woman can do what she likes.

And you, Sir Doctor,

how can a man so young have eyes so old?

I do a lot of reading.

A trite reply - yeah, that's what I'd do.

And you, you look at him

like you're surprised he exists.

He's as much of a puzzle to you as he is to me.

I think we should say goodnight.

I must work, I have a play to complete.

But I'll get my answers tomorrow, Doctor,

and I'll discover more about you,

and why this constant performance of yours.

All the world's a stage.

Hmm.

I might use that.

Goodnight, Doctor.

Nighty-night, Shakespeare.

It's not exactly five-star, is it?

Oh, it'll do. I've seen worse.

I haven't even got a toothbrush.

Ooh, um...

Contains Venusian spearmint.

So, who's going where?

- I mean, there's only one bed. - We'll manage!

Come on.

So, magic and stuff -

that's a surprise. It's all a bit Harry Potter.

Wait till you read book seven.

Oh, I cried.

But is it real, though?

I mean, witches, black magic and all that, it's real?

Course it isn't!

Well, how am I supposed to know? I've only just started

believing in time travel. Gimme a break!

It looks like witchcraft, but it isn't.

Can't be.

Are you gonna stand there all night?

Budge up a bit, then.

Sorry.

There's not much room.

Us two here, same bed.

Tongues will wag.

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 I think we'd have spotted that. Nah.

There's something I'm missing, Martha.

Something really close...

...staring me right in the face, and I can't see it.

Rose would know.

That friend of mine,

Rose, right now, she'd say exactly the right thing.

Still, can't be helped! You're a novice. Never mind!

I'll take you back home tomorrow.

Great!

Bind the mind and take the man...

...speed the words

to writer's hand.

Will! I've finished cleaning,

just in time for your special treat.

Oh, aye.

I'm not the first, then.

I'll take that to aid my flight

and you shall speak no more this night.

What...?

What was that?

Her heart gave out.

She died of fright.

Doctor?

What did you see?

A witch.

Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey.

She sat out three bouts of the plague in this place.

We all ran like rats.

But what could have scared her so?

She had such enormous spirit.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

I might use that.

You can't, it's someone else's.

But the thing is, Lynley drowned on dry land,

Dolly died of fright, and they were both connected to you.

- You're accusing me? - No, but I saw a witch.

Big as you like, flying,

cackling away - and you've written about witches.

I have? When was that?

Not...not quite yet.

Peter Streete spoke of witches.

- Who's Peter Streete? - Our builder.

He sketched the plans to the Globe.

The architect.

Hold on, the architect! The architect!

The Globe! Come on!

The columns there, right? And 14 sides...

I've always wondered but I've never asked.

Tell me, Will, why 14 sides?

It was the shape Peter Streete thought best, that's all.

He said it carried the sound well.

But 14?

Why does that ring a bell? 14?

There's 14 lines in a sonnet.

So there is. Good point!

Words and shapes following the same design.

14 lines, 14 sides, 14 facets.

Oh, my head! Tetradecagon! Think, think!

Words, letters, numbers, lines...

But this is just a theatre.

Oh, yeah, but a 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...

It's like your police box.

Small wooden box, with all that power inside.

Oh.

Oh, Martha Jones, I like you! But Peter Streete would know.

- Can I talk to him? - You won't get an answer.

A month after finishing this place, lost his mind.

Why, what happened?

He started raving about witches,

hearing voices, babbling. His mind was addled.

- Where is he now? - Bedlam.

- What's Bedlam? - Bethlem Hospital. Madhouse.

We've gotta go there, right now.

- Come on! - Wait! I'm coming with you!

I want to witnhess this at first hand.

Ralph, the last scene, as promised.

Copy it, hand it round, learn it, speak it.

Back before curtain-up, and remember, Kid, project!

Eyes and teeth. You never know, the Queen might turn up.

As if. She never does.

So tell me of Freedonia,

where women can be doctors, writers, actors?

This country's ruled by a woman.

Ah, she's royal, that's God's business.

Though you are a royal beauty!

Whoa, Nelly!

I know for a fact you've got a wife in the country.

- But, Martha, this is town. - Come on!

We can all have a good flirt later!

Is that a promise, Doctor?

Oh, 57 academics just punched the air.

Now, move!

Love's Labour's Won. I don't think much of sequels -

they're never as good as the original.

Have you seen this last bit? He must've been dozing off

when he wrote that! I don't even know what it means.

Yeah, well, that goes for most of his stuff.

Ah, but at least it's my speech! Ha-ha!

I get centre stage!

The light of Shadmoch's hollow moon

doth shine on to a point in space,

"betwixt Dravidian shore..."

What was that?

" ..Dravidian shores and linear 593016..."

A spirit stirs the ether!

Too soon! Too soon!

Nought to fear, my mothers.

It is merely a rehearsal of what's to come.

"And strikes the fulsome grove of Rexel IV..."

By all the saints...

...it's a spirit!

It's a vile shade.

I think we should never speak of this again.

Else we'll end up in Bedlam ourselves.

Please. Please!

Does my Lord Doctor wish some entertainment while he waits?

I can whip these madmen.

They'll put on a good show for you.

- Bandog and Bedlam! - No, I don't.

Well, wait here, my lords, while I, uh...

...make him decent for the lady.

So, this is what you call a hospital, yeah?!

Where the patients are whipped to entertain the gentry?

And you put your friend in here?

Oh, it's all so different in Freedonia.

But you're clever!

D'you honestly think this place does any good?

I've been mad, I've lost my mind.

The fear of this place set me right again.

It serves its purpose.

Mad in what way?

You lost your son.

My only boy.

The Black Death took him. I wasn't even there.

I didn't know. I'm sorry.

It made me question everything.

The futility of this fleeting existence.

To be or not to be...

Ooh...

That's quite good.

- You should write that down. - Mm.

Maybe not. Bit pretentious?

- Ah... - This way, my lord.

They can be dangerous, milord. Don't know their own strength.

I think it helps if you don't whip them. Now, get out.

Peter?

- Peter Streete?

He's the same as he was. You'll get nothing out of him.

Peter?

What is this?

I must see.

That stranger.

He was at the inn with Shakespeare.

I thought then he smelt of something new.

Now he visits the madhouse. The architect!

Peter, I'm the Doctor.

Go into the past.

One year ago.

Let your mind go back.

Back to when everything was fine and shining.

Everything that happened in this year since

happened to somebody else.

It was just a story.

A winter's tale.

Let go.

That's it.

That's it.

Just let go.

Tell me the story, Peter.

Tell me about the witches.

Who is this Doctor?

Why does he come now, at our time of glory?

Doomfinger, transport yourself.

Doom the Doctor.

Doom his hide!

Hide...

The witches...spoke to Peter.

In the night, they whispered.

Whispered.

Got Peter to build the Globe to their design.

Their design!

The 14 walls.

Always...14.

When the work was done...

...they snapped poor Peter's wits...

But where did Peter see the witches? Where in the city?

Peter, tell me.

You've got to tell me, where were they?

All Hallows Street.

- Too many words. - What the hell?!

Just one touch of the heart.

No-o-o!

A witch, I'm seeing a witch!

Now, who would be next, hmm?

Just one touch...

Oh! Oh, I'll stop your frantic hearts.

Poor, fragile mortals.

- Let us out! Let us out! - That's not gonna work.

The whole building's shouting that!

Who would die first? Mm?

Well, if you're looking for volunteers...

- No don't! - Doctor, can you stop her?

No mortal has power over me.

Oh, but there's a power in words.

If I can find the right one, if I can just know you...

None on Earth has knowledge of us.

Then, it's a good thing I'm here. Now, think. Humanoid.

Female, uses shapes and words to channel energy.

Ah! 14! That's it! 14!

The 14 stars of the Rexel Planetary Configuration!

Creature, I name you... Carrionite!

- What did you do? - I named her.

The power of a name. That's old magic.

But there's no such thing as magic!

Well, it's just a different sort of science.

You lot chose mathematics. Given the right numbers,

the right equation, you can split the atom.

Carrionites use words instead.

Use them for what?

The end of the world.

He knows us!

He spoke our name!

Then, he will know death.

He will perish at my hand!

My mothers, the time approaches.

You must away to the Globe. Go!

I will join you, as soon as this Doctor screams his last!

The Carrionites disappeared,

way back at the dawn of the universe.

Nobody was sure if they were real or legend.

- Well, I'm going for real. - But what do they want?

A new empire on Earth.

A world of bones and blood

- and witchcraft. - But how?

I'm looking at the man with the words.

Me?

But I've done nothing.

Hold on, though, what were you doing last night,

when that Carrionite was in the room?

Finishing the play.

What happens on the last page?

The boys get the girls, they have a bit of a dance,

it's all as funny and thought-provoking as usual.

Except those last few lines.

Funny thing is,

I don't actually remember writing them.

That's it!

They used you!

They gave you the final words, like a spell, like a code!

Love's Labour's Won, it's a weapon!

The right combination of words, spoken in the right place,

with the shape of the Globe as an energy-converter!

The play's the thing!

And, yes, you can have that!

We left the lovers of Navarre by cruel chance separated.

None to claim his heart, their labour's lost.

Now will they find love's labour's won?

All Hallows Street. It's there. Martha, we'll track them down,

Will, get to the Globe. Whatever you do,

- stop that play! - I'll do it!

All these years, I've been the cleverest man around.

Next to you, I know nothing!

- Oh, don't complain! - I'm not!

It's marvellous! Good luck, Doctor!

Good luck, Shakespeare!

- Once more unto the breach! - I like that.

Wait a minute, that's one of mine!

Oh, just shift!

The eye should have contentment where it rests.

This spun-out year I watch on...

Patience, my sisters,

patience...

Mewling, poor, drooped men in stench'd...

Stop the play!

I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen, but stop!

This performance must end, immediately.

Oh, everyone's a critic.

- The wordsmith! - Fear not!

I have the doll!

I'm sorry, you'll get a refund.

But this play must not be performed.

- Is he drunk or what? - Get him out of the way!

Uh, you must forgive our irksome Will,

he's been on the beer and feeling ill.

There is nought can stop us now!

All Hallows Street.

But which house?

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.

Oh, how to explain the mechanics

of the infinite temporal flux? I know!

Back To The Future!

- It's like Back To The Future! - The film?

No, the novelisation! Yes, the film!

Marty McFly goes back and changes history...

And he starts fading away!

Oh, my God, am I gonna fade?

You and the entire future of the human race.

It ends, right now, in 1599, if we don't stop it.

But which house?

Ah...

Make that witch house?

- I take it we're expected. - Oh, I think

death has been waiting for you a very long time.

Right, then! It's my turn.

I know how to do this.

I name thee...

- ...Carrionite!

What did I do wrong?

Was it the finger?

The power of a name works only once.

Observe.

I gaze upon this bag of bones,

and now I name thee Martha Jones!

What have you done?!

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 a power that aches...

The naming won't work on me.

But your heart grows cold, the north wind blows

and carries down the distant...

...Rose.

Oh, big mistake,

cos that name keeps me fighting.

The Carrionites vanished. Where did you go?

The Eternals found the right word

to banish us into Deep Darkness.

Then, how did you escape?

New words.

New, glittering, from a mind like no other.

Shakespeare.

His son perished.

The grief of a genius.

Grief without measure.

Madness enough to allow us entrance.

How many of you?

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.

Mm, busy schedule. But first...

...you've got to get past me.

Oh, that should be a pleasure...

...considering my enemy has such a handsome shape.

Now, that's one form of magic

that's definitely not going to work on me.

Oh, we'll see.

What was that for, what did you do?

A souvenir.

Well, give it back!

Well, that's just cheating.

Behold, Doctor.

Men, to Carrionites, are nothing but puppets.

Now, you might call that magic,

I'd call that a DNA replication module.

What use is your science now?

Oh, my God, Doctor! Don't worry, I've got you.

Hold on, mister.

Two hearts?!

You're making a habit of this!

Argh!

I've only got one heart working!

How do you people cope?!

I've gotta get the other one started! Hit me!

Hit me on the chest.

Gah!

Other side!

Argh! On the back, on the back.

Left a bit.

Argot!

Lovely! There we go!

Ba-da-boom-bal!

Well, what are you standing there for? Come on! The Globe!

The Doctor?

Dead.

The ladies have prepared a show.

Maria means to present Isis descending

from the dewy orb of Heav'n.

Ah, here comes Costard.

Masters!

- We're going the wrong way! - No, we're not!

We're going the wrong way!

Behold the swinish sight of woman's love!

Pish! It's out of season to be heavy disposed.

It is now, my mothers!

The final words to activate the tetradecagon!

Betwixt Dravidian shores and linear 5930167.02,

and strikes the fulsome grove of Rexel IV.

Co-radiating crystal, activate!

The portal opens!

It begins!

I told thee so! I told thee!

Stage door!

Stop the play!

I think that was it, yeah, I said, "Stop the play!"

- I hit my head. - Don't rub it, you'll go bald.

I think that's my cue.

Now begins the Millennium of Blood!

The Doctor, he lives!

Then, watch this world become a blasted heath!

They come! They come!

Come on, Will! History needs you!

But what can I do?

- Reverse it! - How am I supposed to do that?

The shape of the Globe gives words power,

but you're the wordsmith,

the one true genius, the only man clever enough to do it.

But what words? I have none ready!

You're William Shakespeare!

But these Carrionite phrases, they need such precision.

Trust yourself. When you're locked away in your room,

the words just come, don't they? Like magic.

Words of the right sound, the right shape, the right rhythm,

words that last forever.

That's what you do, Will, you choose perfect words.

Do it! Improvise!

Close up this din of hateful dire decay!

Decomposition of your witches' plot.

You thieve my brains, consider me your toy.

My doting Doctor tells me I am not!

No! Words of power!

Foul Carrionite spectres, cease your show,

between the points...

761390!

761390!

Banished like a tinker's cuss, I say to thee...

Ah...

Expelliarmus!

- Expelliarmus! - Expelliarmus!

Good old JK!

The Deep Darkness!

They are consumed!

No...!

Love's Labour's Won -

there it goes!

They think it was all special effects.

Your effect is special indeed.

That's not your best line.

And I say, "A heart for a hart, and a dear for a deer."

I don't get it.

Then, give me a joke from Freedonia.

OK. Shakespeare walks into a pub

and the landlord says,

"Oi, mate, you're barred.”

Oh, that's brilliant! Doesn't make sense, mind you.

But never mind that. Come here.

I've only just met you.

The Doctor might never kiss you.

Why not entertain a man who will?

I don't know how to tell you this, O great genius, but...

...your breath doesn't half stink.

Good props store back there.

I'm not sure about this, though.

Reminds me of a Sycorax.

Sycorax? Nice word. I'll have that off you as well.

I should be on 10%. How's your head?

- Still aching. - 'Ere...

I got you this.

Neck brace.

Wear that for a few days, till it's better. Although,

you might want to keep it. Suits you.

What about the play?

Gone. I looked all over. Every single copy

of Love's Labour's Won went up in the sky.

- My lost masterpiece. - You could write it up again.

Yeah, better not, Will.

There's still power in those words.

Maybe it should best stay forgotten.

Oh, but I've got new ideas.

Perhaps it's time I wrote about fathers and sons.

In memory of my boy, my precious Hamnet.

- Hamnet? - That's him.

Ham...net?

- What's wrong with that? - 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 gotta take Martha back to Freedonia.

You mean travel on through time and space?

You what?

You're from another world, like the Carrionites.

And Martha here's from the future.

It's not hard to work out.

That's...incredible.

You're incredible.

We're alike in many ways, Doctor.

Martha, let me say goodbye to you with a new verse.

A sonnet for my Dark Lady.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate...

Will' You'll never believe it!

She's here! She's turned up!

We're the talk of the town. She heard about last night.

She wants us to perform it again!

- Who? - Her Majesty. She's here.

Queen Elizabeth I!

Doctor!

- What? - My sworn enemy!

- What?! - Off with his head!

- What?! - Never mind "what?", just run!

- See you, Will!I And thanks! - Stop that pernicious Doctor!

Stop, in the name of the Queen!

What have you done to upset her?

How should I know? I haven't met her yet!

That's time travel for you! Still, can't wait to find out.

That's something to look forward to.

Ooh...

We're slap-bang in the middle of New New York.

He has arrived.

Help us!

You've got to let her go!

- Doctor! - Martha!

I need to talk to the police.

- Do you want some Happy? - Buy some Anger!

How much do you want forgetting?

Very well dressed for a hitchhiker.

They say people go missing on the motorway.

Some cars just vanish, never to be seen again.

Is there something living down there?

What the hell are they?