Her maid is gone, and she prepares to write,
First hovering o”er the paper with her quill.
Conceit and grief an eager combat fight:
What wit sets down is blotted straight with will.
This is too curious-good; this blunt and ill.
Much like a press of people at a door
Throng her inventions which shall go before.
This stanza from Lucrece (ll. 1296-1302) offers a description of aspects of the act of writing quite possibly as they were experienced by Shakespeare himself. “Will” himself famously “never blotted out a line”, while Lucrece’s tears or shaking hand blot her words. But if at first she cannot get a word onto her paper (the w…