The Private Life of Henry VIII. Page #2

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- [Woman] Rosewater.

- [Woman #2] Rosewater.

Officer?

Here. What's this?

No one is allowed near the king's

marriage bed once it's been made ready.

But the marriage bed

isn't made ready.

What do you suppose I've been doing

for the past hour?

Swallowing the poker,

by the look of you.

Hold your tongue!

- And get out of here, my good woman.

- Who are you calling a good woman?

Nice name to give one

who's been 40 years with the king.

Nice or not,

you can't stay here.

- What is it you want?

- Haven't you heard of my charms?

- Your charms!

- I don't mean charms of face and figure.

- I mean charm of magic.

- Oh! Magic!

Yes, the magic I put under the king's

pillow to make certain he'll get a son.

Oh. Those things can only

come about by chance.

Prince of Wales

can't be left to chance.

How do I know that you're

not up to some mischief?

Fool! L, harm the king,

who nursed him from his birth?

[Spitting]

Now, you'll see.

It will be a boy.

[Baby Crying]

[Nursemaid]

Oh, no, baby.

[Murmuring]

Yes.

[lmitating Crying]

There, baby.

Yes.

[Murmuring]

My only little one.

Sweet little onel

[Man] Send a fast horseman for the king

and riders everywhere with the news.

[Baby Crying]

[Horns. I Fanfare]

[Men Calling]

[Calling Continues]

Hello, hello, hello, hello!

Hello, hello!

Good bird!

[Calling Resumes]

She's got him!

She's got him for a ducat.

[Man Calls]

- What do you want?

- Your Majesty, it's a boy.

What?

It's a boy!

Men, it's a boy!

[Cheering]

[Horns. I Fanfare]

[Fades]

[Man Muttering]

Where's the boy?

- Is he dead?

- The prince is alive, Your Majesty...

but the queen is dead.

Poor pretty little Jane.

God rest her sweet soul.

Where's the prince?

[Humming]

Shh!

My son.

[Chuckles]

One day you'll rule England.

[Laughs]

A greater England than mine.

That is, if you're strong enough

to hold the scepter firmly.

See, here it is.

[Laughing]

Bravely done, my little prince.

That's the way of it!

[Laughing]

Now, through tears and cruelty and pain

you came into the world...

and by the same road

you'll reach the throne...

and by the same road

hold it.

[Chuckling]

You smile, do you?

Well, smile while you may.

You'll find the throne of England

no smiling matter.

Mmm. Now.

Look at him, the little love.

Taking it all in,

as if he were a full-grown Christian.

Just the image of you

when you were a baby.

- Is he?

- Yes. Poor little lamb.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no. Get off.

Get off with you and your nonsense.

Your great big beard

in the poor child's face.

Enough to frighten him out of his wits.

Be off with you. Be off with you!

[Humming]

[Chattering]

[Excited Chattering]

- Oh!

- Oh! Look at your baby. Isn't he a love?

- His father's image.

- His eyes too.

- And his hands.

- And his deep chest too.

- And the same legs.

- And the same...

- Eh, madam, not before the child.

- [All Laughing]

- You think he will marry again?

- Who?

- The king.

- Let's hope not.

Three failures should convince him

he has no gift for the business.

No, it was the wives' fault.

The right woman could still make him happy.

Every woman thinks herself the right wife

for every other woman's husband.

And he might choose

a lady of the court.

He has chosen many for a day,

or at most a week.

Lady Bassett's the miracle. She's lasted

1 0 whole days. He's still not weary.

Then he might...

might marry her then.

- What, Lady Bassett?

- Yes.

Oh, my good Kate.

[Laughing]

- [Excited Chattering]

- [Henry Laughing]

The pretty thing. To bring the child

out hatless in the sun.

Come to me, my love.

Love you.

Hmm! Have you lost your wits

to treat him so?

- I never thought, um...

- You never thought?

What are brains for,

except to think?

No, no, no. You must strut about

among your lights of love.

Oh, my poor baby

roasting in your arms.

- Your poor babe? My son!

- Your son? My charm.

Mmm. Baby.

[Clears Throat] Well, well, well.

Well, well. Shall we, uh...

Do you know

how beautiful you are?

Keep your flatteries

for the ladies of the court.

Is there one lady of the court

with eyes like wet violets...

with so sweet a shape,

with a mouth to drive a man mad?

Tom! I think you are mad.

Well, someday you'll love me a little

who loves you so much.

Someday.

Who knows what life may bring?

The crown perhaps.

- Do you mean that?

- Stranger things have happened.

In dreams.

In dreams that sometimes come true.

And if you got your crown,

what would it be worth without love?

Love is not all the world, Tom.

It is, or it is nothing.

[Coughing]

- [Grunts]

- One moment, Your Grace.

You're keeping your hair

very well, Your Grace.

I just met His Highness the prince of Wales

out with his nurse this morning.

He's gonna have a nice head of hair

one day, if he lives to enjoy it.

- Why shouldn't he?

- Oh, no reason at all.

There's no reason at all.

Let's hope he may,

being as he's the only one...

at least for the present.

What do you mean,

"For the present"?

Well, as I was saying only yesterday

at the meeting of the barbers guild...

having a family

is like having a shave.

Once you start,

there's no leaving off in the middle.

Are you presuming to suggest

I should marry again?

That's what we think, Your Grace.

Well, get out!

[Angry Grumbling]

Marry again.

[Muttering] Marry again.

- [Woman] Can't you find it?

- [Chattering]

That's a fine condiment

for the soup I want.

- [Woman Chattering]

- I know. I know, my dear.

What about this one?

Get, get, get, get, get!

[Laughing]

Whoo!

Ah, dear.

The dinner best be good tonight,

or some of you will suffer.

God save us all. Is the king

in one of his black moods again?

Black as ink.

They've been at him to marry again.

Ah, poor soul.

Aye. Marriage is like pastry.

One must be born to it.

More like one

of those French stews.

You never know what you're getting

till it's too late.

Still, a man should try for

another son or two, if he's a king.

- Eh, wife?

- Yes, my man.

And even if he's not a king.

[Laughing]

[Chattering]

[Belches, Sighs]

- [Muttering]

- Shh!

You call this a capon?

Look at that.

All sauce and no substance.

Like one of Cromwell's speeches.

[Coughing]

And just as difficult to swallow.

Too many cooks.

That's the trouble.

Above stairs as well as below!

Marry again?

Breed more sons?

Coarse brutes.

There's no delicacy nowadays.

No consideration for others.

Refinement's a thing of the past.

Manners are dead!

[Burps]

And you, Master Cromwell,

you may tell my loyal guild of barbers...

to mind their own business

and leave me to mine.

Am I the king

or a breeding bull?

[Coughs]

Are you all dumb?

I've known brighter funerals.

Have we no singers

in the court?

If it please Your Grace,

I will sing for you.

What will you sing?

Whatever pleases Your Grace,

if I know the song.

Do you know

"What Shall I Do for Love"?

Yes, indeed.

- Good music, do you think?

- Yes, and lovely words.

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