Bedlam Page #3

- I build well.

Let others build as well, and soon this city

will become a clean and decent habitation.

But what of me? What can I do?

I'm only a jester to bring laughter

to Lord Mortimer's dinner table.

Perhaps even

in the amusement of Mortimer...

there is a way that thee can help

the poor people in Bedlam.

Is not Mortimer a member of the council?

Good. You're not such a fool

as I thought you.

But why don't you take off your hat?

Have you no liking for me?

It is a rule among the Friends

to uncover only before God.

Milord will see you now, Master Sims.

- Good morning, Mistress Bowen.

- Good morning.

There, Sims. Sit down and wait a bit.

I have news for you.

I trust you enjoyed the fete.

You will hear presently

how much I enjoyed it.

Sims, you have no idea

what we've decided.

Nell has a splendid notion.

She wants to turn Bedlam upside down

and make all the loonies happy as linnets.

Mistress Bowen is very kind.

You can't imagine

what a clever vixen she is, Sims.

Thought it all out herself

before she even spoke to me.

Beds, blankets.

Some to sew, some to bake.

Good food.

A practical lass.

I can quite understand

what Mistress Bowen wants.

We've needed good beds, good food

in Bedlam for a long while.

You forgot to mention

good treatment, Master Sims.

That, too. I'm sure we could afford that.

You can't imagine the gratitude

I bear you, Mistress Bowen.

These reforms you propose...

will make my name stand out

in the history of Bedlam.

- We knew you'd agree.

- I'm overjoyed, milord.

Good. You see, it's done, Nell.

- Not a bit of trouble.

- There is but one small point.

The trifling matter of money.

Milord has already thought of that.

Of course. The council will vote the funds.

That's generous of you, milord.

Very generous.

How so, Sims?

What sort of generosity?

Does not milord

have property in Moorfields?

A dozen dwelling houses,

a warehouse, two inns.

You see, Sims, I know my accounts.

And I know your properties.

They are taxable by the institute.

Therefore, milord, this reform

will cost you not less than...

five hundred guineas in additional taxes.

But what is that to you, milord,

a mere bagatelle.

Some little gift you'd gladly give

to Mistress Bowen.

I will relinquish that little gift,

Master Sims.

I gave you no gift, Nell.

She's merely speaking of a gift

she's not going to have.

Now take Master Wilkes.

He'd never be so generous.

He would say, "Loonies don't vote."

But that's true.

There's nothing to be had from them.

You were going to do this

as a good deed, milord.

Five hundred guineas.

There'd be so much

I would have to do without.

Nell, we'll have to forget

this whim of yours.

It is not a whim, milord.

It is the first thing I've ever asked of you.

But milord has to keep up appearances

at court.

You've no idea what an expense

that is to a man.

That's true. You have no idea, Nell...

what a great responsibility it is to be rich.

- What an expense.

- It's simply this, milord.

I've asked you to do a good deed...

and you find the very thought of it

too expensive.

You have no right

to speak to me that way, Nell.

I've all the rights of having put up

with you for nearly a year, milord.

Trying to make you laugh.

And then listening to that

fat laugh of yours...

as it comes rumbling out

of your fat throat.

- Put up with me. Put up with me?

- I said so.

Look what I've done for you.

You'd be camping in the rain

on Strathmore Common...

with the other strolling players,

if you hadn't caught my eye.

Do you call that weak and watery vessel

your eye?

I would not want to look at the world

through it.

I would not want to be a dull man

forever in need of amusement.

I would not want to bribe and be bribed...

to fawn upon the king

and kick the commoner.

In short, milord,

I would not want to be Lord Mortimer.

- You would not want?

- Nor do I want to be with you.

Not for an instant longer.

Maybe being rich and great

and powerful is infectious.

It's a disease I don't want to catch.

Goodbye, milord.

Such angry words.

Of course, as I pointed out to you, milord,

you have every right to take legal steps.

You've been very helpful, Sims.

But it grieves me, milord,

to have been the cause of this quarrel.

It's not your fault. She quarreled with me.

She insulted me.

May I guide you to the door, Master Sims?

You know Lord Mortimer's signature?

Is this not it?

I can recognize a pig's tracks

when I see them.

Then you know I have the right to remove

the furniture which he loaned you.

Loan, does he call it?

He and that loathsome Sims.

It's all legal. All by order.

Take the things and get out.

That's not Lord Mortimer's.

Leave Poll alone.

She's no present to be given

and taken back.

She's been with Mistress Bowen

since she played "Aurora" in The Rivals.

We were very good in that.

Serves me right, Varney.

- A kind heart butters no parsnips.

- But what shall we do, Mistress Bowen?

We've got nothing but the clothes

we wear and poor Poll.

Poll?

Poll's enough.

Remember, my dear, if gin is offered,

you must take wine.

It's more genteel.

But I like gin.

Makes me merry.

You'll be merry enough on wine.

You told me Lord Mortimer

likes a witty girl.

Best leave the wit to me.

I'll make you seem witty.

I can crack a joke well enough.

Not in good company, my dear niece.

You're not accustomed to it, you know.

I have known some gentlemen.

But this is a lord.

A man from whose largesse

many blessings...

can come to the family of Sims.

And just for a little laughter.

That's all he wants...

to be amused.

A fine lord, indeed.

Mocked by a parrot.

But this parrot is our key

to open milord's friendship to you.

Now remember, you were offended.

You offered money. You...

Milord, a dreadful thing...

Pardon, milord, this is my niece, Kitty.

A charming person.

She does you honor, Sims.

But have you heard the latest news

of my lady?

Brave Mistress Nell.

- What a jest she's hit upon.

- You mean the parrot, milord?

It is because of that, that we are here.

A great bit of japery, Sims.

What a vixen!

I hardly thought

to find you in such humor.

It's only a jest.

Nell has the bird for sale

in the marketplace.

Letting it scream that silly ditty...

"Lord Mortimer is like a pig.

"His brain is small and his belly big."

All London's come to laugh at the bird.

So they have.

And it does you no good, milord.

That joke can make your proud name

a mockery.

The bird won't sing too long.

I've sent Pompey to buy it.

That girl holds the bird

at a high enough price.

My niece, knowing of my affection for you,

tried to buy the bird.

She offered 20 guineas and was refused.

Mistress Bowen wants more honey

on her bread than that, Sims.

Pompey has a purse

with a 100 guineas in it.

- A 100 guineas for a bird?

- Will you have some wine, Mistress Sims?

Wine is too French for me, milord.

It's the way I feel about men.

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