Madness Of King George Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Madness Of King George script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Nigel Hawthorne movie.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Madness Of King George. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

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Madness Of King George Script


            Give it me!

            Amelia.

            Captain Greville, ma'am...

            His Majesty's new equerry.

            Captain Fitzroy?

            Uh...

            Could you show me...

            Oh, God. Come on, Pa.

            What's that one, Fred?

            I discovered the other day

            I'm... I'm bishop of Osnabruck.

            Amazing what one is, really.

            George!

            Crown.

            Your Majesty.

            Ah, Lord Chancellor.

            God, this place is as cold

            as a greyhound's nostril.

            Lord Chancellor.

            Papa!

            Ahem.

            Papa, Papa!

            Lift me up!

            Oh, hey. What's this, madam?

            Hey? Ha ha ha.

            Tickle, tickle.

            Yeah. Ha ha ha.

            Right.

            The son is unwholesome.

            And fatter, always fatter.

            Fatter because he's not doing, what?

            - Do you know England? - Yes.

            Brighton, Bath, yes.

            But you know its mills and manufactories?

            Do you know its farms? Because I do.

            Do you know what they call me? Farmer George.

            - Do you know what that is? - Impertinent, sir?

            No, sir. Love!

            Affection.

            Admiration! You ought to marry, sir, settle down.

            Yes, grow up.

            Good plain woman. That's what you want.

            Then the people will love you, as they love me.

            It is not good, this idleness.

            That is why you're getting fat, sir.

            Do not be fat, sir. Fight it!

            Now who's got that blasted speech?

            Stop! Who's got the speech?

            - Here, sire. - Lord Chancellor.

            - Ready? - Yes.

            Well, come on. Let's get it over with.

            The king commands the members of this honourable House

            to attend His Majesty in the House of Peers.

            Do you enjoy all this flummery, Mr Pitt?

            No, Mr Fox.

            Do you enjoy anything, Mr Pitt?

            A balance sheet, Mr Fox.

            I enjoy a good balance sheet.

            Whereas we, George III,

            in this year of our Lord     

            do open this Parliament,

            giving notice that our will and pleasure

            is that the following bills

            shall be laid before this House...

            A bill for the regulation of trade

            with our possessions in North America.

            Ahem.

            Our former possessions in North America.

            A bill for...

            You see that the king did not write his own speech, Mr Pitt.

            The king will do as he's told, Mr Fox.

            Then why not be rid of him?

            If a few ramshackle colonists in America

            can send him packing, why can't we?

            Petitioners for the king!

            Petitions for the king!

            Present your petition!

            Open the gate!

            Stay with the line.

            Over there. Petitioners.

            The petitioners, Your Majesty.

            Oh. Yes.

            Thank you.

            Thank you.

            Thank you.

            - The knife! - Seize her!

            Hold her, boy!

            No. I'm not hurt.

            His Majesty is unharmed!

            I've a property due to me from the Crown of England.

            The poor creature's mad. No, no, no.

            Do not hurt her. I am unhurt.

            Give me my property, or England will be drenched in blood.

            Will it, indeed, madam?

            Well, not with this.

             It's a fruit knife.

              Wouldn't cut a cabbage.

              Oh.

              Ah. Who are you, sir?

              Oh, this is Captain Greville, sir, the new equerry.

              Well, you are undressed, sir. Do yourself up, sir.

              You're an equerry, not a scarecrow.

              A property due to me from the Crown.

              You murderous fiend!

              Thank God I have you yet.

              Do not fuss, madam.

              The king has no wound, just a torn waistcoat.

              One would consider that almost as vexing.

              What was that?

              I was rejoicing, sir, that you are unharmed.

              The son rejoices(!)

              The Prince of Wales rejoices. Huh.

              Me, too, Pa. God save the king... and so on.

              Your Majesty!

              Aha, Mr Pitt. Well, you had a lucky escape, what, what?

              Aye, Your Majesty.

              Yes, you. You're my prime minister.

              If anything happened to me, you'd be out and Mr Fox in.

              There's no danger of that, sir.

              Right. Back to Windsor.

              George!

              Smile, you lazy hound. It's what you're paid for.

              Smile and wave. Come on.

              Smile and wave.

              Everybody, smile and wave.

              Smile and wave!

              Arthur.

              Pa's right.

              I am getting fatter.

              I don't mind that.

              Oh? What do you mind?

              That the world thinks I'm just your mistress.

              That's what I mind.

              You shall be queen one day...

              the whole bag of tricks.

              I am determined.

              I just don't want to be thought a Catholic whore.

              George...

              If you tried harder to get on with the king,

              you could tell him the truth.

              And he'd forgive me, hmm?

              You are a sweet...

              silly...

              creature.

              Try, George.

              Ha ha ha!

              Come on, boy! Come on! Come on!

              Pigs!

              Come on.

              I say, these are fine specimens.

              What are they, Tamworths, what?

              If it please Your Majesty.

              Yes. Oh, yes. They're a fine breed.

              There's plenty of meat on them, hey?

              Big litter. Show me the youngster.

              Yes, that's the one. Yes, I say. Hey, hey.

              You know what you are?

              You're a Tamworth.

              Are they really?

              Well, are they really?

              Hah hah hah hah hah hah hah!

              Married yet, Mr Pitt, what, what?

              No, sir.

              Got your eye on anybody, then, hey?

              No, sir.

              A man should marry.

              Yes, yes.

              The best thing I ever did.

              And children, you see. Children.

              Great comfort.

              This fellow we're putting in as a professor at Oxford.

              Was his father canon of Westminster?

              I have no idea, sir.

              Yes, yes, Phillips.

              That's the father. This is the son.

              And the daughter married the organist at Norwich Cathedral.

              Sharpe. Yes, their son is the painter.

              The other son is a master at Eton,

              he married somebody's niece.

              Your Majesty's knowledge of even the lowliest appointments

              never ceases to astonish me.

              Ha ha.

              What's happened to Mr Fox?

              Such a dodger.

              Reform!

              Too many ideas.

              Not like you, Mr Pitt. You don't have ideas.

              Ah, well,

              you have one very big idea balancing the books...

              and a very good idea it is to have, too,

              and one with which I absolutely agree.

              As I agree with you, Mr Pitt, on everything.

              Apart from the place we mustn't mention.

              The colonies!

              They're now called the United States, sir.

              Are they?

              Goodness, me.

              The United States.

              Well, I haven't mentioned them.

              I prefer not to, whatever they're called.

              They are a fact, sir.

              The vicar of Lichfield!

              - Sir. - The vicar of Lichfield.

              It was his niece that married

              the second son of the organist at Norwich Cathedral.

              Good night, Mr Pitt.

              Good night, Your Majesty.

              # Greensleeves #

              Fascinating stuff, what, what?

              Let's have it again.

              Your Majesty, Lady Townsend wishes to sit down.

              Well, certainly not!

              What?

              Lady Townsend wants to sit down.

              What for?

              Because she is five months pregnant.

              So? You've had    children.

              If everybody who is having a baby wants to sit,

              the next thing will be everybody with gout!

              Before long, the place will look like a Turkish harem,

              what, what?

              Oh, that's enough.

              Thank you, gentlemen.

              Thank you.

              Ah, Greville.

              Thank you.

              - Yes, that's better, what, what. - Your Majesty.

              You don't look at the king. Didn't they tell you?

              - I forgot, sir. - Don't.

              That's Lady Pembroke.

              Handsome woman, what?

              Daughter of the duke of Marlborough.

              Stuff of generals. Blood of Blenheim.

              Husband's an utter rascal.

              Eloped in a packet-boat.

              Yes.

              Good evening, Mrs King.

              Good evening, Mr King.

              When we get this far,

              I call it dandy, hey?

              Yes, Mr King.

              Ohh.

              I ate a pear at supper.

              Two pears, sir.

              It's as tight as a drum!

              Aah! Rrrah!

              Ha ha ha.

              Saving your presence, I will try a fart.

              No?

              Cold fish, Pitt.

              Never smiles.

              Yet he works hard, though.

              Never stops. Drinks, they say.

              They all drink.

              His father, poor man... went mad.

              Huh. Doesn't show any sign of that.

              Mmm.

              Not at the moment, anyway.

              Ohh!

              Oh, the pain!

              George! George!

              Ohh! Oh! George! Oh!

              Oh! Help me. Help us!

              Help us!

              Help!

              He looks well enough.

              I sent over some senna. Was that given to him?

              Yes. The pain got worse.

              Whereabouts was the pain?

              Would it not be better to ask His Majesty?

              How long have you been in waiting?

              I cannot address His Majesty until he addresses me.

              I cannot inquire after His Majesty's symptoms

              until he chooses to inform me of them.

              Sir George, whatever his situation,

              His Majesty is just a man.

              You're the king's equerry with radical notions like that?

              Good God!

              With any patient, I undertake a physical examination

              only as a last resort.

              It's an intolerable intrusion of a gentleman's privacy.

              With His Majesty, it's unthinkable!

              Sharp, sharp!

              The king! The king!

              Ah, Baker. Yes, a ninny, what, what?

              You can tell him I am much better.

              I had a pretty smart bilious attack,

              but it has passed.

              Would it be possible to take His Majesty's pulse?

              Would it be possible to take Your Majesty's pulse, sir?

              Yes. Do it.

              Now don't faff, sir. Hold it, man. Don't fondle it.

              Were you responsible for the senna, Baker?

              I prescribed it for Your Majesty.

              Then you are a fool, Baker.

              It's only a mild purgative, sir.

              Mild?    motions, and you call it mild?

              I could have manured the whole parish.

              If   glasses bring the king low, can be the end of government.

              Your Majesty was only to take three spoonfuls.

              When did three spoonfuls of anything did any good?

              Measure the medicine to the man. Pulse?

              - It's very, very fast. - Good, good.

              Your Majesty will probably feel better after a warm bath

              and its settling effect on the spirit.

              Well you have one. Your spirit's more agitated than mine.

              Breathe this air, Greville. Breathe it!

              Come on, lads. Keep up!

              This is the way we deal with America. I'll teach you, sirs!

              Take that, Mr Colonist!

              And that, sir!

              And that!

              Fetch the queen.

              No, no. That's not cricket. Don't hold the bat like that.

              What is he doing?

              Over there. Out of the way.

              - Run! - How's that?

              Out!

              - Yay! - Oh, good God!

              Well done. Well done, lads.

              'The following day, he rose before dawn,'

              went round to the provost of Eton's lodgings,

              and battering on the door,

              roused the provost and commanded him to show him the chapel!

              So?

              Lord Chancellor, it was still dark.

              Have we finished this catalogue of regal nonconformities?

              Because I've heard nothing to suggest His Majesty's behaviour

              is in any way unusual.

              He also harps on America...

              the colonies.

              Captain Fitzroy, for the strongest reasons,

              both foreign and domestic...

              a degree of discretion.

              And a hold on public functions. No levees or concerts.

              Just, uh... just... Hmm?

              The cork's too tight in the bottle. That's it.

              He must be the first king not to have a mistress.

                 children seem to me to indicate

              a degree of conscientiousness in that regard.

              I'm talking of pleasure, not duty.

              Actually, there was a mysterious illness

              once before in your father's time.

              Government was at a standstill.

              Well, it was of no consequence.

              It was of no consequence because he recovered.

              It was of no consequence because the Prince of Wales

              was a child of three

              and because Mr Fox and his friends

              were not perched in the rafters waiting to come in.

              We consider ourselves blessed in our constitution.

              We tell ourselves

              our Parliament is the envy of the world.

              But we live in the health and well-being of the sovereign

              as much as any vizier does the sultan.

              The sultan orders it better.

              He has his son and heir strangled.

              Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

              - Cricket? Pa? - How's that?

              - What, what? - Well played, hey, hey?

              To watch it, sir, was quite distasteful. He was not himself.

              Warren, what do you think?

              I'm not the king's doctor.

              No, nor ever will be.

              He's more likely to go to my tailor than my doctor.

              But, sir, this is not the same.

              Could he be ill?

              Um...

              Yes.

              Morning, sir.

              Morning, sir.

              Ohh. Ah.

              Sherry...

              What would happen if the king were ill,

              hmm?

              I mean, gravely ill.

              Your Royal Highness would have to be declared regent.

              Regent?

              King in all but name.

              With all the powers.

              Subject to Parliament.

              Charles, don't quibble.

              And certainly... all the funds.

              Ha ha ha ha.

              Just think of it.

              Regent!

              Prime minister.

              America forgiven.

              London rebuilt.

              Parliament could be reformed.

              A palace on Primrose Hill.

              The slave trade abolished.

              Yeah! Yeah!

              Oh, yes. All that, too.

              Sir...

              Is he ill?

              Well, he's not well.

              I know, I know.

              One day.

              One day.

              It's  .  .

              Where are you, sirs?

              What is this? The king is unattended.

              Up with you, sirs!

              Braun!

              Fortnum!

              Papandiek!

              Where are you, sirs?

              What's the matter, sir?

              It is morning. That is the matter.

              Not being attended to is the matter.

              And don't mutter or mutter will be the matter.

              What time is it, sir?

              What is that to you?

              The King is up.

              When the King is awake, you're awake.

               .  .

              Six hours sleep is enough for a man,

              seven for a woman, and eight for a fool.

              We've had three. We went to bed at  .  .

              Is that insolence, sir?

              No, sir. Arithmetic.

              Oh. What's your name?

              Fortnum, sir.

              Fetch me my breeches.

              - Yours? - You know my name, sir.

              Don't tell me what do and don't know. What is it?

              Papandiek, sir. Arthur, sir.

              Is it Arthur?

              Yes, sir.

              - And yours? - Braun, sir.

              - And yours? - Fortnum, sir.

              Well, come on, boys...

              We're missing the best of the day.

              Come on!

              Run! Look at the weather!

              # Awake my soul

              # And with the sun... #

              Please, sir!

              # Shake off thy...

              # Shake off dull sloth

              # And joyful rise

              # To pay thy morning sacrifice #

              Where's that rascal Braun? He's not gone back to bed.

              I'm here, sir.

              Well, give me my shirt, man.

              This is calico, a hair shirt.

              Fetch me another.

              Another shirt, a softer one!

              Wake up, sir!

              Attend, sir, attend!

              Have you said your prayers this morning?

              I started, sir, but I was interrupted.

              Say after me...

              - Our Father... - Our Father...

              - Which art in heaven... - Which art...

              - Hallowed be Thy name. - Hallowed...

              Thy kingdom come...

              Thy will be done...

              On earth as it is in heaven...

              On earth as it is in heaven...

              Thy kingdom come...

              Thy will be done...

              Give us this day our daily bread...

              Our Father which art in heaven...

              Hallowed be Thy name...

              As we forgive them

              that trespass against us...

              Hallowed be Thy name...

              Give us this day our daily bread...

              And lead us not into temptation...

              On earth as it is in heaven...

              Give us this day our daily bread...

              For Thine...

              is the kingdom...

              the power and the glory...

              Deliver us...

              Sir! Sir!

              Sir! No!

              Sir, we are in company.

              Mind your own business.

              The King has fallen! Help!

              Help him!

              Help the King!

              George!

              Agh!

              Why, sir, you must rest.

              I am the King. I cannot rest.

              I must rule.

              Half the day gone already.

              Things to do-government.

              The government hasn't begun yet, sir.

              The government's still in bed.

              The government is lucky.

              - Do you love God, Arthur? - Yes, sir.

              He loves us all, if only we'll let him.

              Don't discuss the deity. It does not do.

              Does not do? I'm the King.

              What's the deity to me?

              Piss-pot.

              Huh?

              Piss-pot.

              Your Majesty.

              Right.

              Unh.

              Unh.

              Do it, England. Do it.

              Oh, it's wonderful.

              Ahh, that's better.

              Whew.

              I'm obliged to you, madam.

              Can't stop now.

              On, England, on.

              Look, it's blue.

              Why are you dawdling? The King is unattended.

              The King's water is blue, sir.

              So?

              It's been this colour since this business began.

              What business? Don't be insolent.

              We thought it might be important.

              What's important is not to dangle about.

              The King's half undressed and unattended...

              that's what's important.

              Give me that.

              Uh, Sir George.

              - This is the King's water. - Well?

              - It's blue. - So?

              It's been blue since His Majesty's been ill.

              Oh, God, another doctor.

              Medicine is a science. It consists of observation.

              Whether a man's water is blue or not

              is neither here nor there.

              Well, there's one blessing.

              At least he's stopped all the "What-whatting".

              Lady Pembroke.

              Mr Greville.

              Her Majesty spoke favourably of you today, Mr Greville.

              And we do not like Mr Fitzroy.

              You will go far.

              Captain Fitzroy.

              I said no concerts,

              no public appearances.

              It is by order of the prince.

              His Royal Highness thought it might cheer His Majesty up.

              Come on. If we're late, he will be mad.

              Do you like music, Warren?

              If it's played, sir, I listen to it.

              Soothes the savage breast, do you think?

              Not, I fear, in this case, sir.

              Push off, you fat turd!

              Yes, Your Majesty.

              Now, what is this?

              America, I suppose?

              No, sir.

              America's not to be spoken of, is that it?

              For your peace of mind, sir. But it's not America.

              Peace of mind?

              I have no peace of mind.

              I've had no peace of mind since we lost America.

              Forests, old as the world itself...

              meadows...

              plains...

              strange, delicate flowers...

              immense solitudes...

              and all nature new to art...

              all ours...

              mine.

              Gone.

              A paradise... lost.

              Her Majesty is waiting, sir.

              I must ask you not to attend this concert, sir.

              You are not fit, sir.

              Not fit?

              To be seen, sir.

              Not fit?

              Sharp! Sharp! The King! The King!

              Sir, I beg you!

              Not fit?!

              Not fit?

              I'll give him "Not fit".

              Telling me? I'm the King, do you hear?

              The impudence!

              Well, I'm here now.

              Play, damn you, play!

              Ahh. Remember this one... hmm?

              # Ba bum ba-ba bum

              # Bum bum ba-ba #

              Louder, sirs! Louder!

              Lay it on, lads!

              One, two, three, four!

              Come on, let's hear you!

              Give it some stick!

              You! Put your heart into it, sir!

              All right. Move over.

              It's my turn.

              Where are we?

              Where?

              This is child's play, man!

              Oh, this is my favourite bit.

              That's how to do it, see?

              Come on, trumpets! Give it some heart!

              Sir...

              Sir, you're...

              You are talking.

              I'm not. I'm playing.

              But, sir, you...

              Not now.

              Now, give it a good whipping!

              Thrash it, you villains!

              What's the matter with you?

              Right.

              There.

              Yes, this is Handel.

              I met him once.

              Ordinary looking fellow.

              I have his harpsichord.

              Right, then. Let's be having you.

              Elbow people...

              knee gentlemen...

              bending persons...

              hand kissers.

              Ahh.

              Fine cluster there, eh?

              Go on. Look. Look.

              Go on. You might learn something.

              Good arse, too...

              And warm, eh, I'll bet.

              Ahh.

              And what brings you to Windsor, sire?

              I had heard Your Majesty was indisposed,

              but I see that...

              Indisposed.

              Is there any way I can assist?

              Want to hump the old bird out of the nest, is it?

              No, sir. There may be responsibilities I could share.

              Want to get your fat hands on government, is that it?

              Well, I'm old and infirm.

              I'll not trouble you long.

              I wish you the best of health, Father.

              Wish me?

              You wish me death, you plump little...

              cuckoo.

              Hush, father, hush.

              Hush?

              Hush!

              You dare to stop the King of England from speaking his mind?

              Father, please!

              Please!

              Please, Papa! For God's sake!

              No, Papa!

              I'll choke the air out of you!

              I'll wring his neck!

              It was something he ate.

              You fools! You'll all be put out!

              We know your game, you monster!

              As heir to the throne, Mr Pitt,

              I know His Majesty bears a heavy burden.

              I fear the time is coming

              when it is a burden we shall be forced to share.

              Sir...

              No, no. Mrs Fitzherbert has our entire confidence.

              Ahh, Baker, how is the King?

              Still demented, sir. And the pulse is    .

              Then he's not in command of his senses?

              Nor likely to be...

              If I may say so, sir.

              Since His Majesty's not fit to look after himself,

              we must do so.

              In the future, you, Warren,

              will partner Baker as the King's physician.

              I must insist that this arrangement

              be subject to the approval of His Majesty's ministers.

              Insist? Approval?

              A son's concern for his sick father?

              What is the world coming to, Mr Pitt?

              His Royal Highness is quite right.

              This is a family matter.

              Thank you...

              Lord Chancellor.

              The children!

              The children!

              The children are asleep.

              We must wake them up! London is flooded.

              We must flee for higher ground.

              Save Amelia, Adolphus, and little Octavius. Come. Come.

              Octavius is dead, sir.

              Who's killed him-his brother? Yes, he would kill me, too.

              George...

              Hush, my baby! You're safe with Papa.

              He just doesn't want you to get your feet wet.

              Come. Come.

              Mama!

              Papa's not mad. No, he's not mad.

              He's just lost himself, that's all.

              We must get to the roof.

              Sir... You are talking!

              I know I'm talking!

              I follow my words. I run after them.

              I am dragged at locution's tail!

              I have to talk to keep up with my thoughts.

              I'm scared.

              I thought he had taken you.

              Who, sir?

              The other George.

              You were not in my bed.

              I thought you had deceived me with the son!

              Elizabeth come to my bed.

              Elizabeth, you leave us!

              All of you, go! Just go!

              You, too. Go!

              You want to talk?

              Then talk. Talk away.

              What do you do with him that you don't do with me?

              At it like pigs, the pair of you, huh?

              Those fat hands... that young belly...

              Sir, for pity's sake...

              Those warm thighs!

              You harlot!

              George, hear me!

              Do you think that you are mad?

              I don't know.

              I don't know.

              Madness isn't such torment.

              Madness isn't half blind.

              Madmen can stand.

              They skip. They dance.

              And I talk.

              I talk and talk and talk.

              I hear the words, so I have to speak them.

              I have to empty my head of the words.

              Something has happened.

              Something is not right.

              Oh, Charlotte.

              Ohh...

              Ohh...

              I will not do this.

              It's by order of the prince.

              I'm equerry to His Majesty, not the prince.

              His Majesty is mad!

              Your Majesty...

              Can we never be solitary?

              I told you to leave us.

              I am talking with His Majesty.

              - The floods? - Hush!

              No, my dear. No. No.

              Greville's right.

              He's right to take precautions.

              We must fetch the children.

              Take them to the higher ground.

              Save Amelia, Adolphus,

              little Octavius.

              Now, bring the queen.

              Bring the queen!

              I've been instructed by His Royal Highness

              to move Your Majesty's lodgings, ma'am.

              Uh, why? Where?

              It is to assist His Majesty's recovery.

              Captain Fitzroy!

              - Go, sir, go! - George!

              Your Majesty is not to have access to the King's presence.

              Not have access? But I am the queen.

              Where are you taking him?

              No! Stop!

              George!

              Tyrant!

              Assaulted by both one's parents in the same evening.

              What is family life coming to?

              I was told that, in England,

              always the prince hates the king.

              Is that why he's mad?

              If he's mad, you've made him so by your idleness.

              If I'm idle, it's because the King gives me nothing to do.

              Do? Do what I do. I support him.

              I have    of his children.

              Be grateful to me for giving you a breathing space...

              no, a breeding space.

              I'm sorry. That really is awfully funny.

              Ha ha ha ha!

              George. No, George, please.

              Ahem.

              Please let me stay with him. Please.

              No, madam.

              On what authority?

              Medical authority, ma'am.

              On the authority of a son, who cares for his sick father.

              But I'm his wife. Don't I care for him, too?

              Possibly, madam.

              But in his current frame of mind,

              I'm afraid His Majesty does not seem to care for you.

              No!

              Come, madam.

              Let me show Your Majesty where they have lodged us.

              This is Sir Lucas Pepys, Lord Chancellor,

              whom I've taken the liberty of consulting.

              The more the merrier.

              Are you familiar with His Majesty's condition?

              I have spent a lifetime

              studying the anfractuosities of the human understanding.

              An... what?

              The mind, sir, and it's, uh...

              delinquencies.

              If it were possible, I would value an early view

              of one of His Majesty's motions.

              Yes. That could be arranged, couldn't it?

              But what's the matter with him?

              Persistent delirium...

              and the pulse sometimes rises to    .

              The pulse varies. It doesn't signify.

              I agree.

              I've always found the stool

              more... eloquent than the pulse.

              So, uh, what do you suggest?

              An immediate purge.

              Warren?

              He needs blistering.

              On the back to draw the humours from the brain.

              Blistering on the legs

              to draw the humours to the lower extremities.

              I agree...

              but he'll never submit.

              Hello there, Georgie boy.

              Not my skin.

              Not my skin, please.

              Oh, for pity's sake.

              I'm the Lord's anointed.

              God, unto whom all hearts be open, all desires known,

              and from whom no secrets are hid, cleanse...

              h-h-hearts by the inspiration of Thy Holy Spirit

              that we may perfectly love Thee

              and Thy Holy Name,

              through Christ our Lord! Amen! Amen! Amen!

              My most merciful Father...

              stray from thy ways like lost sheep.

              We follow too much.

              God, help me. Help me.

              Have mercy upon us...

              miserable offenders.

              Do not touch me! I'm the king!

              Go and tell the queen I am assaulted!

              The queen!

              Queen! Help!

              He soils his clothes. Urine. Excrement.

              He talks filth, the slops of his mind swilling over.

              I am not a nurse.

              If His Majesty cannot regulate himself,

              how should he regulate the country?

              I shall be relieved when it is ended, one way or the other.

              Omni felonious.

              Omni victorious.

              Happy and glorious.

              Mr Pitt, Your Majesty.

              Where?

              Here, Your Majesty.

              Stand close, Mr Pitt.

              You'll have to speak up. I don't see very well.

              There is a fog here...

              and... in my ear.

              In my ear.

              In my ears.

              There have been questions in the House, sir.

              In the House?

              Parliament?

              Well, do nothing, Mr Pitt. Nothing.

              I'm not mad.

              I'm...

              I...

              I can't see.

              There is a mist.

              Oh, the queen.

              I missed her.

              I... I... I...

              I missed her.

              Gone. Gone.

              Gone. Gone.

              The doctors thought it best, sir.

              Gone.

              Oh, doctor...

              Oh...

              Oh, Jesus Christ.

              Come on.

              Oh, God!

              Oh!

              Oh, God!

              'Honourable members would, I am sure, like to know

              'that I saw His Majesty yesterday,

              'and the only symptoms of his disorder

              'were a tendency to repeat himself

              'and a wandering from one topic to another...

              a characteristic that's shared

              by most of the converse of polite society...

              which, if judged severely,

              would warrant the consignment to bedlam

              of many in this House!

              Ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha!

              Mr Fox.

              Mr Pitt's consoling pleasantries should not deceive the House.

              The king is incapacitated.

              There are those who say he has lost his reason.

              It isn't so!

              - Nonsense! - In which case,

              I propose a bill be drawn up

              to make the Prince of Wales... regent.

              Order!

              Order!

              The motion before this House

              is that a bill be speedily drawn up

              to appoint the Prince of Wales

              regent of this kingdom!

              The house will divide.

              Thank you, gentlemen, for your support.

              Sir, I must vote.

              For the life of me, I can't see why they need to vote.

              The king is incapable. It's known.

              These are the nation's representatives.

              Some come to Parliament in the hope

              that they might serve their country.

              But most of them, being human,

              are here to fill their pockets.

              Pitt and your father have done them very well...

              pensions, places...

              bribes.

              Once it is plain that Pitt is finished

              and there is no more swill in the trough,

              Your Royal Highness will be made regent.

              Sir, I must join the line.

              Gascoigne.

              Sheridan.

              Fox.

                 .

                 .

              Very good. A majority of   .

              Rather good. A government majority of   .

              Government?   ?

              You mean we haven't won?

              Well, we didn't expect to win outright,

              not the first vote.

              I thought they liked me.

              They will, sir, they will, in time.

              Time, always time.

              Now is the time, Charles! Now!

              And that's our boy.

              God rot all royals.

              Give us the wisdom of America.

              But he will recover in time, surely.

              What good is that? Once he's made regent,

              the prince will have him locked away in some Windsor hell-hole.

              Mad or sane, no one will know.

              You've been reading too many novels.

              He has to recover soon, or we're done for.

              Mr Pitt.

              Lady Pembroke.

              Her Majesty understands

              that you are dissatisfied with His Majesty's doctors.

              The king is no better.

              Mr Pitt, my mother-in-law lost her wits,

              and a succession of physicians failed to recover them for her.

              But one doctor was confident of her return to health.

              Accordingly, she was placed in his care.

              And is she recovered?

              Entirely.

              Rides to hounds, founded some almshouses,

              embroiders around the clock.

              I've written down his name.

              Sir!

              Thank you, Mrs Cordwell.

              Look! Look! Look!

              At last! At last!

              - Mrs Cordwell... - This is my husband,

              come post-haste from Portsmouth.

              Mrs Cordwell,

              Captain Cordwell drowned

              off the Goodwin Sands three years since.

              But he is very like.

              Back to work, Mrs Cordwell.

              Dr Willis?

              I must have certain undertakings...

              authority over the patient,

              access to him at all times.

              You will reside here at Windsor,

              and Parliament will have to be kept informed,

              so you will need to write bulletins.

              They must be confident,

              optimistic.

              The survival of the government depends upon it.

              And, Dr Willis,

              you are my doctor.

              Do you understand?

              I'm the king's doctor, sir.

              It is the same thing.

              In here, sir.

              Yes.

              Do you know, Mr Greville,

              the state of monarchy and the state of lunacy

              share a frontier?

              Some of my lunatics fancy themselves kings.

              He...

              is the king.

              Where shall his fancy take refuge?

              We do not use the word lunatic, sir, in relation to His Majesty.

              Oh.

              Well, who's to say what's normal in a king? Hmm?

              Deferred to, agreed with, acquiesced in.

              Who can flourish

              on such a daily diet of compliance?

              To be curbed... stood up to...

              in a word, thwarted

              exercises the character,

              elasticates the spirit, makes it more pliant.

              It's the want of such exercise that makes rulers rigid.

              Sharp, sharp! The king, the king!

              This is the king, sir.

              Whom I must cure.

              ...As straight as a ruler,

              straight as a ruler done by a ruler.

              And another beside that

              until you have as pretty a ploughed field

              this side of Cirencester.

              I have a farm.

              Put us out of our kingdom. We'd not want for employment.

              Give me the management of    acres, and I could do it.

              I said...

              I have a farm, Your Majesty.

              Ahem.

              This gentleman, sir,

              has made the illness under which Your Majesty labours

              his special study, sir.

              A mad doctor, is it?

              I'm not mad, just nervous.

              I shall endeavour to...

              alleviate some of the inconveniences

              from which Your Majesty suffers.

              Inconveniences?

              Insults.

              Assaults.

              And salt besides rubbed into these wounds. Look!

              By your dress, sir, and general demeanour,

              I'd say you were a minister of God.

              That's true. I was once in the service of the church.

              Now I practice medicine.

              You've quitted a profession I've always loved

              and embraced one I most heartily detest.

              Our saviour went about healing the sick.

              But he had not     pounds a year for it.

              Ha ha ha!

              Well, that's not bad for a madman.

              I have a hospital in Lincolnshire.

              Lincolnshire.

              Yes, I know Lincolnshire.

              Fine sheep there. Admirable sheep.

              Pigs, too.

              But I know of no hospitals.

              My patients work, sir.

              They till the soil, cultivate... and in so doing,

              they acquire a better conceit of themselves.

              I'm king of England.

              A man can have no better conceit of himself.

              Do you look at me, sir?

              I do, sir.

              I have you in my eye.

              No, I have you in mine.

              You're bold, sir.

              But by God, I'm bolder.

              Don't look at me! I'm not one of your farmers!

              You must behave!

              Must? Whose must is this, your must or my must?

              Get away from me, you bum sucker.

              Lincolnshire lick-fingers!

              Clean your tongue, sir.

              I will not! I'll be a guest in the graveyard first.

              Very well. If Your Majesty will not behave,

              you must be restrained.

              When felons were induced to talk,

              they were shown first the instruments of their torture.

              The king is shown the instrument of his

              to induce him not to talk.

              Well, I won't, I won't.

              I won't.

              Bring him back. Bring him back!

              What are you doing? This is the king!

              Stop.

              What are you doing, sir?

              No. No. No. No.

              This is the king, sir!

              This is the king!

              Bastard!

              I'm the king! Take your hands off me!

              This is the king!

              Sit him down. Sit him down.

              I'll have your hospital...

              Help me! Help!

              If the king refuses food, he will be restrained.

              If he claims to have no appetite, he will be restrained.

              If he swears

              and indulges in meaningless discourse...

              he will be restrained.

              If he throws off his bedclothes, tears away his bandages,

              scratches at his sores, and dosn't strive every day

              towards his own recovery,

              then he must be restrained.

              - I am the king of England! - No, sir!

              You are the patient!

              Not permitted.

              Not permitted!

              We recommended him,

              and still it is not permitted.

              None of them know him.

              Come, Baker, for heaven's sake.

              He's not himself.

              How can they restore him to his proper self,

              not knowing what that self is?

              He's an angel of kindness and goodness.

              Fortnum.

              Sir.

              What are you doing?

              I'm going, sir, to Piccadilly, sir,

              to start a provision merchant's.

              It isn't much, sir,

              but it's a cut above emptying piss-pots.

              Braun.

              Pepys.

              Good news.

              A fetid and a stinking stool.

              Pepys.

              The colour good, well shaped,

              and a prodigious quantity.

              Mind you, the urine is a little dark.

              Or is it the light?

              Pepys, this Willis.

              Yes?

              A dangerous man.

              Is he?

              Not a proper doctor.

              Not a member of the Royal College of Physicians.

              Wants us out, Pepys.

              No.

              We must stick together.

              And remember, one voice.

              - One voice. - One voice.

              What kind of fellow is he?

              Parson.

              Quack.

              Has some modern ideas.

              He'll need watching.

              I've heard very good things about him.

              He does a lot of it with his eyes.

              You mean he actually looks at the king?

              Yes.

              Damned impudence.

              Poor king. No queen. Must be very lonely.

              Such a pity he's not nearer. Then you could go visit him.

              Hmm.

              You don't mean... here?

              Good God, no.

              Kew.

              Kew? Aah!

              Throw him in.

              - Come on, Your Majesty. - Come on, sir.

              Stop struggling, Your Majesty.

              God!

              Stop!

              I see you, sir.

              No, sir. You do not see me.

              Nobody sees me.

              I am not here.

              Easy!

              Take your filthy hands off me, you...

              I have you in my eye, sir.

              And I shall do so

              until you learn to do as you're told.

              I'm the king. I tell, I'm not told.

              I am the verb, sir. I am not the object.

              Then till you can govern yourself,

              you're not fit to govern others.

              And until you do so...

              I shall govern you.

              Govern yourself then, you goat. Pbbblllt!

              Get him in the coach.

              Then I am dead!

              Coffin king!

              I shall be taken out, murdered,

              and my genitals torn off and pulled apart by horses

              and my limbs exhibited in a neighbouring town.

              Get him in!

              Aah! Oh, help me, please! Help me. Help.

              Mr King.

              - Come on, you little bugger. - Come on!

              The queen will come, you said.

              - In time, sir. - It was a lie!

              An ordained minister lied.

              That lie will have you out of that famous farm.

              Loose your tame lunatics across Lincolnshire, you liar.

              Liar.

              I'm here.

              Here...

              But I'm not all there.

                Yes.

                I used to sit with my father when he was ill.

                I used to read him Shakespeare.

                I never read Shakespeare.

                I'm a clergyman.

                They've killed the queen. Did you know that?

                No, sir.

                Oh, yes, sir.

                Are you cold?

                It is chilly, sir.

                Oh, not for me.

                I make the weather by means of mental powers.

                Well, actually, it's not too bad about the queen

                because actually I never actually married her.

                I was married to the tall one, Elizabeth.

                Ah-ah! What are you saying, sir?

                What do you mean?

                Don't they speak German in Lincolnshire?

                Allow me to translate, sir.

                Her Ladyship is game for anything.

                I just say the word!

                - Skirts up... - Gag!

                I'm in there, or she's down here...

                You assured me you could cure him.

                I can, sir, given time.

                We do not have time!

                - What are you praying for now? - The king.

                You should pray for us.

                Because...

                if he did die or stay mad...

                George!

                Who's to stop us saying we're man and wife?

                Don't you know who the bridegroom was?

                It is a year ago.

                Did the bride not mention she was a Catholic?

                Why should she?

                Aha! Aha. Here it is.

                The prince cannot marry without the king's permission,

                and he cannot marry a Catholic.

                You performed an illegal marriage.

                And he only gave me    pound.

                Well, here's    pounds more. Keep your mouth shut.

                Here! That's against the law!

                I am the law.

                Oh, long, long days, Elizabeth.

                And longer for His Majesty.

                In the drawing-room, gentlemen.

                The doctors, Your Majesty.

                Good afternoon, Your Majesty.

                And, uh, how are we today?

                Blisters have healed up very nicely,

                which won't do at all.

                Mother of God.

                Get off me, you barbarian!

                Ahem.

                Bulletin.

                "Much better."

                Ha. I can't see it.

                You doubt me, sir?

                I'll write it.

                Could we mention the stool this time?

                Oh, the stool, the stool.

                My dear Pepys, the persistent excellence of the stool

                has been one of this disease's most tedious features.

                When will you get it into your head,

                one can produce a copious, regular,

                and exquisitely-turned evacuation every day

                and still be a stranger to reason?

                I will not trouble the House

                with the detailed contents of the latest,

                and I may say, generally optimistic bulletin.

                But honourable members would, I am sure, like to know

                that while His Majesty has had ups and downs...

                His... his health continues steadily to improve.

                Improve? That's a barefaced lie.

                Ups and downs?

                Ups and downs?

                Mr Speaker, I can, with your permission,

                quote from a copy of the same bulletin

                handed to me by Dr Warren.

                Ooh!

                Some of these ups and downs...

                His Majesty's obscenities!

                His blasphemies!

                His interminable ramblings!

                Suffice to say this optimistic bulletin concludes thus...

                that while His Majesty has had lucid intervals,

                he remains periodically demented...

                and incapable of rational thought!

                I put to the House that we have been deceived too long

                over His Majesty's continuing illness!

                Yes! Hear, hear! Yes!

                When will we see the bill appointing the prince regent?

                In due course.

                When? When? When?

                It is still being drafted.

                When? When? When? When?

                When? When? When?

                Order!

                When? When? When?

                Soon!

                Order! Order!

                On Mr Fox's motion to present the bill,

                the House will divide, ayes to the right, nos to the left.

                They won, by three votes.

                Then we've lost.

                Bring in the bill. The prince must be made regent.

                Well?

                I'm praying, God damn it.

                I'm almost ready to give you my support.

                Now? We don't need you now.

                I think you do.

                Your boy's married.

                She's just his mistress.

                I haven't told Mr Pitt...

                Yet.

                What is it you want?

                The good of the country.

                To remain as Lord Chancellor.

                Well, I'm sure that can be arranged,

                when, and if, we ever manage to get our hands on government.

                The bill is ready, sir.

                I'm a snail, Lord Chancellor, creeping towards the throne.

                Even Maria is becoming impatient.

                Only for His Majesty's recovery, sir.

                Now the Lord Chancellor has come out in favour of Your Highness,

                the end is surely in sight.

                I have always been in his favour.

                Of course.

                Although the present situation calls for a certain delicacy.

                This is your father, sir. Be kind.

                Rely on your oars, sir. The tide is with you.

                The tide?

                Rely on my oars?

                George!

                Your Royal Highness has but to wait.

                Wait?

                Ha. Wait.

                Lord Chancellor, my life has been waiting.

                I endeavour to cultivate languor,

                but it is difficult to be languid

                when the throne of England is pending.

                People laugh at me.

                What must I do to be taken seriously?

                I tell you, sir,

                to be Prince of Wales is not a position...

                It is a predicament.

                She has more sense than he has.

                It takes character to withstand the rigours of indolence.

                Maria is not mentioned.

                No, sir. It is a little early for that.

                It will happen, Maria. I promise you.

                Won't it, Thurlow?

                Sir.

                No.

                No, this must not be.

                The son in charge of the father?

                He will be put away.

                This is his death warrant.

                Elizabeth...

                I must see him, Elizabeth.

                No, I... I cannot do it, ma'am.

                Besides, if Her Majesty sees him,

                he-he-he-he still utters such improprieties.

                About what?

                About, uh...

                About you.

                Tell me.

                I cannot say.

                What is it His Majesty dreams of doing, Mr Greville, hmm?

                Is it this?

                Please, madam.

                This?

                Ooh!

                Or this?

                Yay hey hey!

                Yay!

                Whoa! Ooh!

                Come on, lads. Race you to the door. Come on.

                Come on!

                I won!

                Oh, Baker.

                Baker, before you leave,

                I have a secret mission for you.

                I want you to hand over Gibraltar to Spain.

                Get Minorca in return.

                Can you do that?

                I'm a physician, sir.

                Well, then you should have no difficulty. Good afternoon.

                Your Majesty.

                Have you nothing to say to me, sir?

                Say, madam?

                What is there to say?

                We were married for    years, never separated, even for a day.

                You abandoned me to my tormentors.

                They said it was for your own good.

                My good? What do they know of my good?

                George, they may not permit me to see you again.

                A bill has been prepared to make the son regent.

                Regent? Hmm.

                Do you understand?

                He is to rule in your place.

                Regent?

                The fat one?

                Hmm.

                His Majesty was not told, madam.

                He must know.

                George, you must know.

                Come away.

                Do you understand? The son.

                The son?

                The father pushed aside, put out, put away, ruled out.

                The father not dead even.

                By whose authority?

                "The Prince of Wales should have full power and authority."

                "All authorities, prerogatives, aides..."

                Why was I not told of this?

                The bill doesn't matter, sir.

                Your Majesty...

                This bill is to be presented today.

                Sir, the Prince of Wales has a majori...

                Greville, Dr Willis is right.

                Take it away.

                He's on the mend?

                I say, that's good news.

                Does anyone else know?

                No.

                It may be only temporary.

                Well, I see no reason to disseminate the information.

                We can decide just how ill His Majesty is

                when the bill is passed...

                Eh, Warren?

                Nearly there, Charles.

                Where's Thurlow?

                "These weeks are memories of those worser hours."

                "I pray thee put them off." Go on, go on.

                "I pray thee put them off."

                "How does the king..."

                - Lord Thurlow, sir. - The very man.

                Yes, we're reading Shakespeare. Willis, give him the book.

                Oh, King Lear.

                Is that wise?

                I had no idea what it was about, sir.

                Now, I'm asleep, apparently, and Cordelia comes in

                and asks the doctor - Greville - how I am. Off we go.

                Uh, who's Cordelia?

                You are.

                Yes, but Willis can't do it.

                He's a fine doctor but a hopeless actor.

                Off you go.

                Ahem.

                "Oh, you kind gods,

                "cure this great breach in his abused nature.

                "The untuned and jarring senses, oh, wind up,

                "of this child-changed father."

                That's very good.

                Yes, the child-changed father's very good.

                Yes, go on, Greville, it's you now.

                "He hath slept long.

                "Be by, good madam,

                "when we do awaken him.

                "I doubt not of his temperance."

                "Oh, my dear father.

                "Restoration, hang thy medicine on my lips

                "and let this kiss

                "repair those violent harms

                "which my two sisters have in thy reverence made."

                Well, come on, man, kiss me.

                Not there, man. Here, here. It's Shakespeare.

                Right. No, no. Push off again.

                This is the moment when the king awakes, you see.

                You ready?

                That's it. Come on.

                "How fares my royal lord?

                "How does Your Majesty?"

                "You do me wrong to take me out of the grave.

                "Thou art a soul in bliss,

                "but I am bound upon a wheel of fire,

                "that mine own tears do scald like molten lead."

                It's so true.

                "Pray do not mock me.

                I am a very foolish, fond old man."

                "And to deal plainly..."

                "I fear I'm not in my perfect mind."

                Is that the end, Your Majesty?

                Oh, good Lord, no.

                Cordelia - that's Thurlow-dies,

                hanged, and the shock of it kills the king.

                So they all die.

                It's a tragedy.

                Very affecting.

                Well, it's the way I play it.

                Your Majesty seems more yourself.

                Do I?

                Yes, I do.

                Yeah, I've always been myself, even when I was ill.

                Only now I seem myself.

                And that's the important thing.

                I have remembered how to seem.

                What, what?

                What did Your Majesty say?

                What? I didn't say anything.

                Besides, Greville, you shouldn't ask the king questions.

                You should know that.

                What, what?

                Get him ready.

                Look at his piss. We're back to lemonade.

                It's still a bit inky.

                That's yesterday's. This is today's.

                Here, piss the elder, piss the younger.

                Go on! Hyah! Hyah!

                The matter before this house

                is a bill to provide for the care of His Majesty's person,

                and for the administration of the royal authority

                during the continuance of His Majesty's illness.

                Hear, hear!

                Mr Speaker,

                we on this side of the House count ourselves fortunate

                that we have in the person of the Prince of Wales

                a young man of such character and aptitude.

                What now?

                And so, Mr Speaker, I would like to set out

                some measures of long overdue reform,

                and, yes, I may be bold to say it,

                necessary expenditure...

                I've just been with His Majesty

                for two hours of uninterrupted conversation with him.

                - He means he's talking again. - No, damn it!

                Well, yes, but not    to the dozen, and not nonsense, either.

                He's actually a damn clever fellow.

                Had me reading Shakespeare.

                Have you read King Lear? Tragic story.

                Of course!

                If that fool of a messenger had got a move on,

                Cordelia wouldn't have been hanged,

                Lear wouldn't have died, and it would have ended happily.

                As it is, it's so damned tragic.

                The point is, the king is better.

                Better than he was?

                No, better. The "What, what?" is back. Come.

                No one, Mr Speaker,

                entertains a higher regard for His Majesty than I do.

                But we cannot close our eyes to the fact

                that His Majesty has been overtaken

                by a terrible and I fear long-lasting illness

                that seems immune to all forms of medical treatment.

                I...

                We're...

                We're very touched...

                by the concern...

                shown by our most loyal subjects...

                And very-very happy to be amongst you all again.

                Be assured that now that our strength has returned,

                we will once more...

                take up the reigns of government.

                Long live the king!

                How was that? Not bad, what, what?

                # God save the king

                # Long live the king

                # God save the king

                # May he live forever #

                Papa! Papa! Hooray!

                Pa, you're back! You're back!

                Oh! Oh!

                Come with me. Come with me. Mama is in the garden.

                Two hours late!

                He does this on purpose.

                He knows it is his lateness that always drives you mad.

                Fear not. I shall strike a note of reconciliation.

                Love, that's the keynote.

                Their Royal Highnesses, Your Majesty.

                Fred.

                Pa.

                George.

                Oh, do, please...

                How is Your Majesty?

                Fat lot you care!

                Love, George.

                You smile, sir.

                I'm happy to see my father his old self,

                in such good spirits, sir.

                Good or bad, I am in control of them, sir.

                When a man can control himself his spirits are immaterial.

                When a man cannot control himself,

                he would do well to be sober!

                - He would do well- - Ahem!

                Marry, sir.

                I am married, sir.

                Somebody big. Somebody German.

                Children, what, what?

                I am married, sir...

                Not without my say-so!

                And I do not say so. I will not say so.

                You are not married, sir.

                Ahem.

                If you have a cough, sir, take it outside!

                Put her away, sir.

                Your debts will be paid,

                and you will have an income that is appropriate.

                Is it any wonder a man goes mad?

                Doctors!    guineas a visit and travelling expenses,

                for six months of torture.

                They would have a man pay for his own execution, what, what?

                How much is he getting?

                An annuity.

                     a year, sir.

                Well, he's done me some service.

                I think it is time has done you the service, sir.

                Yes? Mmm, but what of the colonies, Mr Pitt?

                America is now a nation, sir.

                Well.

                We must get used to it.

                I have known stranger things.

                I once saw a sheep with five legs.

                Sacked?

                Jesus!

                - And me? - Forget what you've seen,

                majesty in its small clothes.

                Wipe it from your memory.

                He was ill. We knew that.

                Yes, and now he's well.

                Here.

                Me, too.

                I'm no longer in service.

                You were kind to His Majesty during his illness, Greville.

                I did what I could, Captain Fitzroy.

                Colonel Fitzroy.

                Did you not know that?

                It seems unfair, I agree, but a word of advice.

                To be kind does not commend you to kings.

                They see it as they see any flow of feeling,

                as a liberty.

                A blind eye will serve you better,

                and you will travel further.

                Elizabeth.

                His Majesty has yet to retire, Mr Greville.

                I'm to leave tomorrow.

                Yes.

                You knew?

                It's a pity. You seem such a promising young man.

                Could I, um...

                Mr Greville, please.

                But... when...

                It was what was required, Mr Greville. That was all.

                Sharp, sharp! The king! The king!

                Thank you, Thompson.

                Madam...

                When I was ill,

                they tell me that

                I said certain things.

                I have no memory of them, sir.

                Uh, it's not so much what was said as what was done.

                So...

                Did we? Did we, uh...

                Your Majesty?

                Um, did we...

                did-did, uh, did we ever forget ourselves utterly,

                because, if we did I should so like to remember, what, what?

                No, sir. Your behaviour throughout was impeccable.

                Hey, hey!

                Like the kindest father,

                as well as the most generous of sovereigns.

                Good, good.

                Mrs King.

                Mr King.

                You're a good little pudding,

                what, what?

                It was said, when you were ill, that...

                if you had led a normal life,

                this might not have happened.

                A normal life?

                Other women, sir.

                Kicked over the traces, you mean.

                No life is without its regrets.

                Yet none is without its consolations.

                You're a good little woman, Mrs King.

                And we have been happy, have we not?

                - Oh, yes, Mr King. - And shall be again.

                Your Majesty, I shall be in the cathedral,

                should the ceremony prove to be too much of a burden.

                You may tell Dr Willis

                that the ceremony will not be such a burden

                as the want of ceremony has been.

                Presume not I am as I was.

                I'm not the patient. Be off with you.

                Back to your sheep and pigs.

                The king is himself again.

                We must try to be more of a family.

                There are model farms now, model villages,

                even model factories.

                Well, we must be a model family,

                for the nation to look to.

                Yes, you must try to be more typical, Fred.

                But, Pa, I want something to do.

                Do? Well, follow in my footsteps.

                That's what you should do.

                Smile at the people, wave to them.

                Let them see that we're happy.

                That is why we're here.







  

  

 
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