Carry On Henry Page #5

I just caught her in time.

- Faint? Why should she feel faint?

- Lack of fresh air, perhaps.

- True, she hasn't been getting any lately.

- And that, too.

Well, do something.

She's making the place look untidy.

Ma'am, ma'am, you can come round now.

Ma'am, it's all right now. Ma'am...

Good heavens!

- What is it?

- She really has fainted. She's unconscious.

Is she? Well, go on, then,

get the court physician.

(Scots accent) Doctor Finlay! Doctor Finlay!

Och, something terrible's happened...

The physician has nearly finished, Your Grace.

- He's taking his time, isn't he?

- There is rather a lot to examine.

Doesn't it make you sick? Just when I'd decided

to cancel the divorce and have her head off.

Please, sire, you must not excite yourself.

You know it affects your metabolism.

And brings the poison to the surface and then

you break out in these poisonous excrescences.

- Boils.

- I know what I'm talking about!

I only said boils.

Oh, boils. Oh, yes.

Well, what's happening?

Your Majesty, I'm happy to report

that I have bled Her Majesty.

- Bled her? All this time?

- Well, it did take a bit of time, I know.

But one of my leeches is an absolute hog.

I am not interested in your bleedin' leeches!

- What about the Queen?

- No trouble there.

It often happens to a woman in her condition.

- Condition? What condition?

- Why, Her Majesty's going to have a baby.

You hear that, everyone?

I'm going to have an issue.

Congratulations.

Congratulations, sire.

Congratulations.

- Thank you. Do you think it'll be a boy?

- Most assuredly, sire.

At last, a son. A son and heir.

I know I speak for all England

when I say well done, sire.

We are proud of you.

Thank you. Well, I didn't really do anything.

That's quite right. I didn't do anything.

Are you sure she's going to have a baby?

- How did that happen?

- Your Majesty does not know?

- No, I do not know.

- Well, let me see if I can explain it quite simply.

Let's take the birds and the bees.

I do not want a sex lecture. I know how.

It's who that's worrying me.

Am I to understand Your Majesty has not?

Not as much as a nibble.

If I may suggest, Your Grace,

no-one outside this room knows that

and I know we can be trusted to keep silent.

But she's mucked it all up.

How can I get a divorce now

on the grounds of non -consummation?

On the contrary, sire. I think the Queen

has played right into our hands.

She's played in someone's hands,

that's for sure.

If I might have a word

with Your Majesty confidentially?

If we can obtain definite proof of unfaithfulness,

the divorce will be automatic

and it will not cost you a penny.

- That's right. But where do we get the proof?

- A confession from the man concerned.

- Which man?

- Any man.

Preferably one who's been most constantly

in the company of the Queen.

Yes, someone who's had the job

of keeping her amused.

Well, Sir Roger,

have you been dallying with the Queen?

Certainly not, sire.

- Your hand on it?

- Not even a finger on it.

Come, come, Sir Roger, it will be less painful

for you if you were to confess.

Never!

In the Tower, we have ways of

forcing a confession, you know.

- You won't get a thing out of me.

- I'll wager those were the very words

the Queen used to you.

Oh, no, as a matter of fact,

she was ready and waiting...

Ha, ha, ha!

My Lord Cardinal,

will you show the Queen to her apartment?

- Gladly. This way, Your Majesty.

- Wait. What is to happen to Sir Roger?

Nothing, if he signs a simple confession.

- And if he doesn't?

- He will. We have gadgets like the thumbscrew.

Fear not, ma'am.

I can stand any amount of screwing.

Well spoken, Sir Roger.

I will not confess. And that's flat!

Methinks you'll change your mind, Sir Roger,

when it is flat!

Take him directly below.

- Thomas Cromwell, you are a cruel man.

- Me? Cruel, ma'am?

Why, I'm known as Cromwell the Considerate.

Considerate? You?

What about all those poor martyrs

you had burned at the stake last week?

- What about them?

- Call that considerate?

Well, of course. Didn't I go round every one

of them and say, "How do you like your stake?"

That's right. He did, you know.

So, this is to be my home

for the rest of my days?

And what, pray, is this place?

- The Bloody Tower.

- There's no need to be common.

No, no, that's what they call it, my lady.

And this is the best you can provide for...

a Queen of England

and cousin of the King of France?

Oh, it's one of the pleasantest rooms

in the Tower, my lady.

There's a lovely view from the window.

On a foggy day.

Oh, Wolsey. What is to become of me?

Will I ever look up to see

the clear blue of the sky again?

Will I ever again feel the blessed warmth

of the sun on my tender skin?

I really couldn't say.

The weather report isn't good.

Nay, my lord, do not try and spare my feelings.

You know well that as soon as

Henry has his signed confession,

it will be my head on the block and phut!

No!

No, don't speak of it, madam.

Please, I can't bear to think of it.

Your lovely head for that filthy old basket.

Nay, my lord,

you must not speak of the King thus.

No. Oh, no, no.

I meant the basket into which your head will fall.

Oh, that filthy old basket, yes.

This might have all been avoided

if only you had renounced the garlic.

Dear Wolsey, you have always loved me,

haven't you?

- Devotedly, ma'am.

- Enough to do me a service?

Oh, certainly. What would you like?

A matins or a quick vespers?

Not that sort of service, my lord.

I would simply have you deliver a letter

for me to the French ambassador.

I wouldn't dare do that.

I must appraise him of what has happened.

It is my only hope.

They're so strict on security here. Even I'm

searched from top to bottom when I leave.

- Top to bottom?

- Well, almost.

There is in fact only one place I could put a letter

where it might avoid detection.

And you could not bring yourself

to do that for me?

Yes! Yes, I will, I will.

Oh, thank you, my lord.

Here is the letter.

Ah, my dear Sir Roger.

I believe you know what this little toy is called?

- The rack.

- Precisely.

An ingenious invention.

We simply tie you to it, hand and foot,

and then each day,

a turn on the wheel at both ends.

Yes, I know.

What criminals call "going for a stretch".

- Exactly. Would you care to try it?

- Have I an alternative?

- Oh, yes. Just sign this.

- Without even reading it?

I'll read it to you.

It's just a simple little confession.

"In as much as I, Roger de Lodgerley,

of Bedside Manor, Wilts,

referred to as the party of the first part,

did unlawfully, with malice aforethought

and without taking due precaution,

admire, covet, blandish, cosset,

seduce and otherwise get at Marie,

spouse to Henry Tudor,

referred to as the party of the second part.

I do hereby solemnly declare, any witness

thereof I append to my signature below,

that the resulting issue, herein after

referred to as the party of the third part,

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