Anonymous Page #6

The queen has decided

to release you.

Time does indeed, it seems,

heal all wounds.

Here are the conditions

for your release.

One, you will not

acknowledge the child.

Two, you will never see

the mother again.

Three, you will avoid court

at all costs.

Her Majesty would prefer

never to be reminded of you,

in any way ever again.

Banished.

No, you have the freedom

of the kingdom, just not of the court.

Those are her terms.

Here are mine.

Go back to my daughter.

Make some effort to make her happy.

Finally act according

to your station in life

and accept the responsibilities

of your great title.

My lord?

I, too, have a condition.

I will go back to your daughter,

if you tell me the name

of the child.

I do not think the whore

has named the bastard.

No.

The other one.

The other one?

Who told you?

I will go back to your daughter.

I will give you as many grandchildren

as she can bear, or I can remain here.

There is no record of the true birth

nor any trail that leads back to you

or the queen. The foster parents

never knew the truth

and both now are dead.

The name.

Make even a hint of this

to the child or anyone else,

and this agreement is void,

and I will see your head

and the head of the boy

on the block!

So it's a boy.

Good. Sword up. Again.

Keep it high.

Mind your knee. Straight.

Hello.

Hello.

My lord.

I'm Edward, the Earl of Oxford.

My lord.

They say

you're an earl as well.

I am the Earl of Southampton.

Well, then. We shall be earls

together, shall we not?

In the sweat of thy face, shalt

thou eat bread till thou return to the earth,

for from it wast thou taken,

because thou art dust,

and to dust thou shalt return.

We wish to recall Essex.

We feel a terrible void

without your father.

A wise decision, Your Majesty.

It will give him an opportunity

to respond to these reports.

They say Essex is in peace

negotiations with Philip of Spain.

Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

And that Essex has promised Philip,

all of Catholic Ireland in return.

In return for what?

Spain's support of Essex's claim

to the throne of England.

It is, as of yet, just rumor.

Bring Essex back to London,

William.

Robert, Majesty.

My father's death has been

a great loss for us all, Your Majesty.

A curse on you, Robert Cecil!

- Leave the people alone!

- Down with the hunchback!

See that it's done.

My lord. From the queen.

Mm.

It's Robert Cecil. He failed to kill you,

now he tries to kill your name.

I must speak to her. Myself.

We leave with the tide.

Boys! My boys!

I've got it. Oh.

The herald just finished it

about an hour ago.

What do you think?

It's quite colorful?

Well, heh,

what in God's name is it?

My coat of arms. Ha.

It cost a fortune, but you can

call me a gentleman now!

I can't quite

make out the motto.

"Not Without..."

Right.

Oh. Heh.

"Not without right"?

You...

You went to him, didn't you?

You lying knave. You went to him.

Can I get you a drink? Billy!

Will isn't even a writer.

He can't even...

Yeah, all right.

No, get... Unhand me!

Here!

Here!

A quill?

Write something for us.

Amaze us with your verse.

Your wit.

No? Well...

Try astounding us with the letter E.

Or an I?

It's just a straight line.

Well, you haven't got any ink.

My lords...

- Wait for me!

- Please, my lords!

Your Majesty.

Are you...? Uh...

Get out. Get out.

Get out!

Get out!

He burst in! Armed.

Is it an uprising?

Is it a revolt?

Shall I order his arrest, Majesty?

Yes, yes. No, no.

I don't know. I don't know.

What does he want?

Has he gone mad?

No.

Unfortunately for us,

Your Majesty, he is quite sane.

He simply believes

he is your royal equal.

Edward! Halt!

Edward, thank God you're here.

Elizabeth has revoked

all of his royal licenses.

Confiscated his property.

She believes every lie Cecil tells about him.

Fight him in London

and you prove true

every rumor and every lie

Cecil has ever told.

Then what do you suggest I do?!

Let myself be arrested?

No.

No.

I will visit Elizabeth myself.

Alone.

How?

Cecil will not let her see a letter

without reading it first.

I will not send a letter.

I will send a book.

She will call for me.

While I am with her, you will

come not with an army or swords,

but with her loyal subjects.

The tinkers, the cobblers,

the bricklayers of London.

A mob. All of them, all of them,

calling for Robert Cecil to be

banished from the court.

Words.

Words will prevail with Elizabeth.

Not swords.

And how do you suggest

I raise this mob?

Leave that to me.

Oh, Will, Will!

Aah! Hey!

Hold your tongue,

putana, and get out.

Out.

Who's gonna pay me, then?

What's all this about?

Begin rehearsals immediately.

It must not be performed until I tell you,

and you may only have

a day's notice.

Well, that will be expensive,

keeping all the actors ready,

and having props made cheaply.

All right.

Oh, and congratulations.

You've had a poem

published today.

Uh... Pub... Published?

What, do you mean like in a book?

She trembles at his tale

- And on his neck-

She sinketh down

Still hanging by his neck

He on her belly falls

She on her back.

Ooh. I like this.

'Fondling, ' she saith, 'I'll be a park

And thou shalt be my deer

Feed where thou wilt... 'Aww

Seeds spring from

seeds And beauty breedeth beauty

Thou wast begot

To beget is thy duty.

Bylaw of nature

Thou art bound to breed...

Majesty.

How do you find me?

You...

You are the sun, Majesty.

The glory...

Liar

It is hard to believe

that once I was young.

I was beautiful.

Your father knew me as such.

Have you read

the book?

He writes to me.

To remind me of that beauty.

That love.

How I took him.

How I adored him.

Did your father tell you

of the child?

Which one, Your Majesty?

Edward's and mine.

He still lives?

Is he well placed? A nobleman?

Yes, Your Majesty.

Who?

I am your queen. Who is my son?

The Earl of Southampton,

Your Majesty.

Majesty, you are not having doubts

about James of Scotland...

Ah. James.

The son of Mary.

She tried to take my throne.

No son of hers will ever rule.

I'll decide what is best

for my people. Not you.

I have bid Edward to come to me

when I return to London

on Monday next. It is decided.

And so, in spite of death

I shall survive

In that my likeness

Still is left alive.

... love's majesty

to strut before a wanton ambling nymph.

I, that am curtailed

of this fair proportion,

cheated of feature

by dissembling nature,

deformed, unfinish'd,

sent before my time

into this breathing world,

and that so lamely

and unfashionable,

that dogs bark at me...

Aw. Come on, Burbage.

I'll be arrested.

Arrested? Ha.

It's just the one performance.

I need a drink.

I'll be at the Mermaid.

I'll be back in a minute.

You left the hump on.

Burbage. Ah.

Wonderful theater.

Wonderful.

So only one performance, then?

That bad, is it?

Hardly. That's Will's new play.

Richard the Third. We've been hired

to perform it free to the public.

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