The Prince and the Pauper Page #6

aboard for fear of opening up seams.

With the thousands of pounds

you've spent on one stable at Windsor...

we could've increased

the fleet by one-fourth.

You will observe, my lords...

how amusingly futile

is the bark of an old sea dog...

when his teeth have been pulled.

Am I to understand, then,

that the Navy is to get nothing?

And that you intend

to wheedle a demented boy...

into signing these looting demands

on the treasury?

That is my intention.

Following the dictates

of my judgment and honor.

You admit to honor?

- I boast of it.

- Excellent.

Then you have no alternative

but to defend it.

It does not please me to be awakened yet.

You'll wake up, beggar, and pay heed.

- Am I not King anymore?

- Certainly, my most gracious liege.

Good. I'm getting so I kind of enjoy it.

Send for the Lord of the Chamber.

I want something to eat.

- Sign this order.

- What is it?

Sign it.

- Have you seen the Great Seal?

- Great Seal? No.

The great big ones are called walruses.

Stamp, you little fool! A big stamp!

No, I didn't see it. Did you lose it?

The Prince hid it.

When you find the Prince,

maybe he'll remember.

- You are looking for him, aren't you?

- Yes, we're looking for him.

"It's our will that Thomas Howard,

second Duke of Norfolk...

"steward of the Household,

and Lord High Admiral of the fleet...

"be placed under arrest,

incarcerated in the Tower...

"and there held for execution

for his treasonous plottings...

"against the Crown and the public weal."

Signed Edward Rex.

May I see it?

This order is signed by His Majesty...

but not stamped with the Great Seal.

You cannot execute me.

True, but we can keep you in prison...

until the Great Seal,

which has been mislaid, is found.

And I assure Your Grace,

that will be shortly.

You've chosen an excellent way

to avoid meeting me in a duel.

A way worthy of you, Hertford.

We await your attendance, milord.

Poor little boy.

Bereft of reason and made the pawn

of an unscrupulous scoundrel.

May history learn the truth

and forgive Edward.

That song reminds me of Molly One-Eye.

It was her favorite.

What happened to old Molly One-Eye?

Died of honesty, she did.

Tried to turn a penny by telling fortunes...

and swiftly, they burned her for a witch.

And a merry blaze she made...

with her marrow all soaked in spirits.

Her mistake was in changing her trade.

No, her mistake

was being born in England.

Here! No treason, now.

What's wrong with England?

- Her laws.

- What do you know about English law?

Think you're a magistrate?

No.

A human being for whom they're made.

An honest farmer...

who had self-respect, a wife,

three children, a mother.

All of which have been legislated

into potter's field by English law.

Our first sin was committed

by my mother...

when she went to nurse her sick neighbor.

When the woman died,

the doctors couldn't find the cause.

So they solved it...

by calling my mother a witch

and boiling her in oil...

while I and my babes looked on...

and learned the meaning

of English justice.

We begged from house to house.

I, with two children

stumbling and whimpering on either end.

Finally, I stole.

To keep my little Joseph from starving.

But English law decreed otherwise.

I was caught, sold for a slave...

and branded on the cheek

with the letter "S".

"S" for slave!

An English slave.

Understand? An English slave.

The most contemptuous title

any Englishman can bear...

still conferred by English law.

But I'll be relieved of it.

One day I'll be caught and hanged.

You shall not!

Furthermore, on this day,

that law is ended.

What's that?

Who is this?

I am Edward, King of England.

You mannerless vagrants.

Is this the thanks I get

for the royal boon I have promised?

He's my son and stark mad.

Thinks he's King.

I am the King.

As you, a confessed murderer,

shall soon learn on the gallows!

You'd try your own father, will you?

If you have no respect for your king,

have some for the Ruffler...

or I'll teach you respect

at the end of a rope.

Now, lad, if you must be king...

humor yourself,

but not as King of England.

It's treason,

and we'll have none of that here.

We may be a scurvy lot...

but at least we're scurvy Englishmen,

and loyal to the Crown.

God bless Edward, King of England!

I thank you, my good people.

Drop it, I said.

Choose yourself another handle.

- Foo-Foo the First!

- King of mooncalves!

Here you are! Your robe, sire!

- A crown!

- Here's one.

He's disappeared, plain and simple.

Why should His Grace

still be worried about him?

Because it would put England in revolt

and half its head on the chopping block...

should there be two Edwards

at the coronation tomorrow.

What's that to us? We're still

the King's Guard, whether the King is...

Edward or Bobo the butcher boy.

One o'clock and all's well!

Drink up and be off to your rooms.

It's closing time. Come on.

That's good advice.

You'll be on the road at sunrise. Up!

Right, sir.

About three more swallows will do it.

Take your time, sir.

I wouldn't want you to get the hiccups.

No. They're noisy things.

Here's to the end of your long day.

It'd be a pleasure to get you another, sir.

Would it? But how about your sleep?

I can manage to keep my eyes open.

Especially when there's

something handsome to look at.

Are you staying the night?

- No. Worse luck.

- Why not?

- The curse of money, my dear.

- You mean you're strapped?

I only wish I were.

Then I couldn't have flipped that coin.

- But where are you going?

- A place called the Roost, near here.

That thieves' den?

But you're not going there

at this time of night?

You'll have your throat cut sure.

They'll commit murder for a penny.

It looks bad for me with my shilling.

Remember, if you don't do

like you've been told...

we'll put climes on you.

Twenty of them.

You know what climes are?

Tell him, Hugo.

They're little bandages

with a bit of paste on them...

made of soap and quicklime

and rust off old iron.

And when you take some off,

there's the nastiest looking sore...

that ever made a citizen sick.

Sores that don't get well,

but spread like a disease.

No.

I'll steal.

Let's get at it, then.

Help! Murder! Call the watch!

Stop!

Where'd they go?

Help!

Who was that?

Murder!

Boy, stop. It is I, Miles Hendon.

What happened there?

- I've been murdered.

- Murdered?

They killed me.

- All right, what happened?

- I don't know.

You don't know? I have a pretty fair idea.

You got into the room

and didn't do what you was told.

Now you'll get what's coming to you.

I'm deeply grateful to you, Sir Miles.

You certainly make some

delightful acquaintances.

Is he dead?

I don't anticipate hearing an apology

from him much before Judgment Day.

It is just. He was a confessed murderer.

Come. I wish to be gone from here.

What have you been doing

since I last saw you?

Learning a great deal about England.

- It doesn't seem to please you.

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