“Enough,” I said to him. “I’m tired of building your glory in the shadows. Write for yourself.” “I can’t,” he answered with the gaze of one who has seen a lemure. “He won’t let me.” “Who? Dee?” “No, Verulam. Don’t you know he’s now the one in charge? He’s forcing me to write works that later he’ll claim as his own.
In this passage that Belpo made up, the protagonist is the phantom writer for William Shakespeare, and William Shakespeare is the phantom writer for Sir Francis Bacon, quite delightful.
