The slosh of the remnants being thrown out. The annoying clanking of the mugs being unceremoniously placed in their starting lineup for the coming evening’s encore performance. Through blurry eyes, Shakespeare considers. What happened? One thought leads to another. More importantly, what will happen? What stories are there yet untold, yet undiscovered? As he gently eases his tired body into the street, everything still seems to roll. Indy quips, “The tempest is not yet over, the waves still buffet.” Shakespeare looks around for the source of this observation, but sees no one. As he steadies his sea legs, he grasps for his parchment. He sits down a moment to jot down some beginning thoughts about when the three meet: thunder, lightning, and a shipmaker…