Jasfoup held the dying man. "You can't die," he said. "You have so much work left to do and besides, you're not due for another thirty years."
"Who?" Jasfoup frowned. "Wait! That was a line from Julius Caesar, wasn't it? You haven't written that yet."
"Have I not?" Will leaned sideways and coughed a little blood onto the bare wooden floor. "Did you not show me the manuscript or did I perchance dream it?"
"You must have dreamed your life away, my friend, for thou doth depart this life too soon."
There was a shimmering as anther demon appeared. Delgariel looked at the scene. "How very touching," he said. "Come on, hurry it up. 1593 is no year to be lollygagging. I've got work to do."
"Quite," said Jasfoup, but I have a proposition to offer you. What would it take to alter your docket to read Marlowe instead of Shakespeare?"