It was so irritating being.. well, Nigel wouldn’t classify it as ‘fought over’. No, it was just… he was Nick Bottom’s little brother— a magnificent playwright. Some say he’s better than The Bard, which, he.. he couldn’t imagine anyone better than The Bard! It must be so Hard to be the Bard.

How could be possibly out-write the Will. The Bard. The beautiful Swan of the Avon— the one in Stratford. The chosen one that God in Heaven smiled upon. The answer? He couldn’t. Or.. or he thought he couldn’t. But lately, people had been telling him that he was just such a good writer. Especially his troupe. Especially Nick.

“You need to be careful who you share your ideas with!” Nick had scolded him after dragging him out of a party, making Nigel leave what was possibly his chance to get out of the slums. Be up there with John Webster, Christopher Marlowe, Francis Bacon.

“And that, by the way, is the only reason Will invited you to that party! God, I hate Shakespeare!” Nick huffed, poking Nigel in the chest. “He’s.. he’s a pompous little man! He’s got a knack for stealing anything he can!”

Watching Nick storm away, inside of his house, only made him sadder.

Nigel was so upset.. one moment The Bard is luring him in, telling him that Nick isn’t good enough for his skills.. and the next, Nick is telling him the bard only wants to sabotage Nick and his career.

He sat down on a log in the area near Nick and Bea’s cottage, muttering as he wrote and recited and wrote and recited and—

And then he spotted the most beautiful thing. It was a woman.. but, but no she was better than other women— sorry, Bea! She was gorgeous! The only downside.. she was a very obvious puritan. And Nigel and Nick were on Brother Jeremiah’s hit list. As the man had said— he would smite the Bottom brothers bottoms…