[SHAKESPEARE]
Fear no more the heat o' th' sun
Nor the furious winter's rages
Thou thy worldly task hast done
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages
Golden lads and girls all must
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust

Fear no more the lightning-flash
Nor th' all dreaded thunder-stone
Fear not slander, censure rash
Thou hast finish'd joy and moan
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to this and come to dust

[DIONYSOS, spoken]
It was then that I knew. I petitioned Pluto to let me take Shakespeare back to Earth

[PLUTO, spoken]
Oh, no, not our Will! Take Shaw! And I'll throw in Ibsen

[DIONYSOS, spoken]
The theatre needs a poet! A great star poet! Someone to lift audiences out of seats to get them going again! Then, perhaps who knows, the followers of Demeter will do something about the land, and the followers of Poseidon will do something about the sea! Yes, and what wonders Apollo will work with the sun! Please, Pluto

[PLUTO, spoken]
Eh... you may go, Will. Farewell, Dionysos. Keep in touch! I'll be interested to know what happens. You're a good god