Shakespeare's in his cot; he's rather old, but he sucks his thumb and fumbles with a lump of sugar. (He needs a diet.) And Hamlet grins and force-feeds him with tins and tins of cold rice pudding; it dribbles down his chin. And Shakespeare's feeling sick. And Hamlet sticks his gums together. He wants revenge, like all the others. They're queuing for a punch, queuing for a slap, and Shakespeare's on his back. He takes it all. He takes it all