The Prince and the Pauper Page #2

- I'm it.

- Here's my handkerchief.

- Should I be first, sir?

- Shout so I know where you are.

All right.

Spin him round and around.

There you are.

Now, guess where we are.

Your Highness.

- Are you hurt, Edward?

- Edward?

Pardon me, Your Highness.

Someday I'll have your head cut off

for calling me that.

But perhaps your feet would be better.

They're more in the way.

Why are you here, milord?

His Majesty awaits, Your Highness.

Very well.

You are not dismissed. I'm coming back.

I'm glad you sent for me, Father.

They wouldn't let me

see you this afternoon.

- You tried?

- Yes.

- What did you want?

- Nothing. Just wanted to see you.

Come here.

Sit down.

One of these days, Edward...

- I'll be going away.

- To war, Father?

No. To peace, I hope.

But where?

To face the one being...

who knows there is no

Divine Right of Kings.

After I've gone, Edward,

you'll wear the crown.

- But...

- Be still. Listen and remember.

There is only one crown in England.

But there are many heads it will fit.

So a wise king removes those heads.

That is politics.

When you sit in judgment...

remember your seat is but a chair...

made by the English oak,

hewn by English yeomen...

and made into a throne only...

by the will of the English people.

That is patriotism.

There's one thing more.

A king may answer to no man.

Not even to himself.

To have a conscience

is to have a chink in your armor...

to let in the knives of those you love...

and trust, and need.

Remember what I am saying.

Never trust so much...

Love so much...

or need anyone so much...

that you can't betray them with a smile.

That is the paradox of power.

I suppose you're too young

to understand that.

No, Father. I can even understand Aristotle

in the original Greek.

You're like your mother.

- What was my mother like?

- A dull woman.

- She'd have bored you.

- No, she wouldn't. I'd have loved her.

Where is she?

Got another biscuit?

Your Majesty forgot to mention

your selection to His Highness.

Bring me that casket.

- Do you know what this is?

- Yes, Father. The Great Seal of England.

There's strange magic in it, Edward.

It can make a royal whim a law.

An innocent man guilty.

A poor man rich.

A dangerous toy for a child...

and a fool.

I advise you to use it

sparingly and seldom.

Lest it seal your own doom.

I am entrusting it to you.

When the time comes for you to use it...

I want you to consult...

- Doctors again.

- Your Majesty.

You must be left undisturbed.

Milords, you must leave

His Majesty at once.

- Rest is the only physic that will cure him.

- Is there no escape from you?

After a lifetime of dodging cannonballs,

am I to be done in by pills?

Your Majesty, can that be a biscuit?

What do you think it is,

the Archbishop's head?

May I ask, Your Highness,

and you, Lord Hertford...

to retire, for the King's good?

Yes, of course.

Your Majesty.

Tomorrow.

- Tomorrow.

- But, Your Majesty...

Get out!

All of you!

- You, too.

- Yes, Father.

Yes, Father.

- Good night.

- Good night, Father.

Where are Lady Jane and Lady Elizabeth?

Their nurse came to inform them

that it was their bedtime.

- My dog, where is he?

- He's been taken to the kennels.

- Fetch him.

- Your Highness, this is our post.

If we leave it, we would

have to answer to the King himself.

Is that a dog under there?

- A boy.

- Out of there, you little tyke.

- Out of there!

- Yes, Father.

Impertinent from the likes of you.

A sneak thief? How did you get in here?

I'm not a thief, sir. I just beg.

You've just begged yourself

a skinful of broken bones this time.

Maybe this will teach you

respect for His Majesty's Guard.

Maybe that will teach you

respect for His Majesty's subjects.

- Your Highness, forgive me, I...

- Keep quiet.

Are you hurt, boy?

- Are you hurt?

- No, sir, Your Highness, sir.

- What are you doing here, boy?

- It was raining, Your Highness.

I just slipped through, milord, because...

So I could sleep under the bench

where it was dry, Your Highness.

I'm not a desperate character,

Your Highness. Honest, I'm not.

I'm certain you're not.

Had you been, the Captain

would've been under the bench, not you.

- Your Highness, you don't understand.

- Keep quiet.

You annoy me enough when you're silent.

You're not thinking of beheading me,

are you, Your Majesty?

No.

I was wondering whether or not

you were too dirty to play with.

You couldn't play with me.

I'm a beggar boy.

I can play with anyone I please.

I'm the Prince.

Come along.

We'll wait for him to come out

from beneath His Highness' wing.

And when he does, we'll skin him.

I didn't think that if I were very good

all my life...

and died and went to heaven,

I'd ever see anything like this.

- Or meet a real prince, either.

- Don't bother to flatter me.

I get enough of that from the court.

I must remember to have

the Captain beheaded when I'm king.

No, you mustn't.

Not on account of me, at least.

Damnant quod non intelligunt'

- You know Latin?

- Yes. Father Andrew taught me.

Never heard of the man.

Your father has,

and he doesn't like him at all.

- He took away his house and his pension.

- Must be a priest.

Yes, he is.

- I thought so.

- You'd like him.

We Tudors hate priests.

- Why?

- Because we...

Just because we don't like them,

I suppose.

I don't think that's a very good reason.

I did hear Warwick

saying something to Uncle Thomas...

that's the Duke of Norfolk...

about Father wanting to get

a new queen...

and the priest not wanting him to.

Father must have won the argument.

Because we had two queens that year...

and another new one now, Lady Parr.

But you can't have three mothers.

Neither can you.

I haven't even got one mother.

- She died when I was a baby.

- So did mine.

But anyway, a queen is a prince's mother.

And you say there's been three.

Six.

Six queens?

Then, you'd have six mothers,

but you couldn't have six mothers.

I can't figure it out.

Neither can I.

You may have a pear if you like.

A pear? Which is the pear?

- Haven't you ever seen a pear before?

- No, but I've read about them.

- Nice, aren't they?

- Eat it, lad.

Like it?

Crikey.

It tastes so good,

I almost feel like a prince myself.

You certainly don't look like one.

Unless it would be a prince of paupers.

I will be when I get back to Offal Court...

and tell them I've been in the palace

and talked to you.

The only trouble is they won't believe me.

Why not, pray?

You see, in Offal Court, a prince is...

kind of like Saint Nicholas.

You hear about him,

but you never see him...

because you couldn't expect him

to come to see poor people.

The Prince of Offal Court.

It would be amusing to see their faces.

They'll believe you because when you

arrive, you shall be wearing my clothes.

- Sword and all.

- Your clothes?

Why not? Clothes make the prince.

Are there any vermin in this?

So few you'll hardly notice them at all,

Your Highness.

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