All language subtitles for Animotica 16 1 21 10 9

(Přepsáno pomocí TurboScribe.ai. Upgradovat na Neomezený pro odstranění této zprávy.) Why do they always sound so many trumpets?

I'm not Jehovah.

Why can't a prince come home without a

fuss?

Presumably because he is a prince, sir.

Other people can sneak in the back way

and announce which is how it should be.

What are you smiling at?

Oh, was I smiling, sir?

Just a sudden warmth cracking my face.

A prince's lot is nothing more than a

bore.

Your face cracks rather easily, doesn't it?

Now, you mark my words.

Before you can count to ten, through that

door, with the odious punctuality of our neighbour's

much-vaunted, recently-invented, hideously irritating cuckoo clock,

will come our dear and loyal subject, the

ever-unctuous Lord High Chamberlain.

Five.

Six.

Seven!

He's improving.

One of these days he's going to achieve

the elusive ten-minute mile.

Your Royal Highness.

Welcome home.

Welcome home, Your Royal Highness.

My Lord High Chamberlain.

What an unexpected pleasure.

I am commanded by His Majesty the King,

your father, and Her Majesty the Queen...

Yes, yes, now don't tire yourself.

I am acquainted with them.

How are my doting parents?

Their Majesties are naturally most anxious to hear

such glad tidings I feel sure you bear

concerning your recent absence from the court, namely

the matter of your acceptance of, and betrothal

to, the Princess Selina of Carolsvelt.

Indeed, in anticipation of such wonderful news, His

Majesty the King has decided to make you

a Knight Grand Cross of the most illustrious

order of St. David the Martyr.

As usual, he awarded posthumously.

A suitable honour, as it happens, for the

matter of my betrothal is very status quo.

I did not find the lady of your

choice to be my choice.

We are returned as we departed.

The King, I am sure, and indeed my

dear Mama, will share your noticeable grief.

Indeed, sir, the whole court will be grieved.

Well, so be it.

Any simple peasant is afforded the ability in

love to win or lose while I of

the nobility am robbed of the facility to

choose.

Any serf or servant can by natural selection

elect himself a mate if she's amenable, but

due to my high breeding I'm continually exceeding

to demands I find increasingly untenable.

All I ask, and it's a simple enough

request, well, follow me, by all means, follow

me.

I wish to know, I demand to know,

why can't I be two people?

Why can't I live two roles?

Why can't one of me perform all the

cloying amenities while the other me, twin brother

me, be a free and happy soul?

Why can't I be two people, split myself

right in half?

Then I could satisfy and mollify and pacify

and qualify while the other me would have

a hell of a healthy laugh.

The custom of royalty in referring to oneself

is to naturally employ the royal we.

We are very happy, we are very sad,

we are bored and suffer from ennui.

For a royal prince there's no such word

as me, it's always we.

So rightfully I should be two or three.

Don't you agree?

It's not for me to say, Your Royal

Highness.

Perhaps not.

So I ask myself, why can't I be

two people?

Why can't I play two parts?

Why can't one of me endure the appalling

formalities while the other me, twin brother me,

have a free and happy heart?

If I could be two people, life would

not pass me by.

I'd have a chance to pick and choose.

I'd have a chance to win or lose.

And maybe one of us would have a

chance to live.

Before we die.

Die?

Who's died?

Ah, at last, our dear son.

We are, we are, we are what?

Delighted?

Delighted to see you returned.

Ah, yes, I have something for you.

Father, Your Majesty.

Kneel, sir.

Father, I do not wish, it would be

most inappropriate.

Your Majesty, His Royal Highness has returned.

Of course he's returned.

You get more senile every day.

I have returned, Father.

Now you're catching it.

Empty-handed.

Kneel, sir.

Father, this is most embarrassing.

I command you to kneel, sir.

I don't deserve it.

I haven't earned it.

Nobody earns this.

It's given because I'm the king and I

like it.

Where's my sword?

Oh, that's far too heavy.

You know I was born with a curse

of the weak wrists.

Oh, I do so love a ceremony.

Ah, that's better.

I dub thee...

Now, wait a minute.

Shouldn't there be something before that?

Yes, indeed, sir.

I have it here.

Your Majesty, Father, do we, must I...

Yes, of course you must.

Let it be known to all here present

that by our command, His Royal Highness the

Prince Edward Charles Albert George James Richard Augustus

Philip has received our gracious favor...

Who wrote this?

You did, sir.

Ah, yes.

It's magnificent stuff.

Well worth paying attention to.

From this day henceforth, shall be entitled to

be known as a Knight Grand Cross of

the most illustrious order of St. David the

Blessed Martyr.

There's somebody in the room.

Very fine.

Now I kiss you on both cheeks.

That's the part I like best.

I sometimes give medals to a whole regiment.

Good.

Very touching ceremony.

Most touching, sir.

Sycophant.

Don't always have to agree, you know.

Congratulations, dear cousin.

Oh, Lord.

Who let him in?

Congratulations.

I heard all the trumpets.

Now don't you start.

Oh, a little premature, am I?

I say, have I dropped the tiniest of

social briquettes?

I mean, I was being quite sincere.

Well, you know, as sincere as I ever

am.

Oh, no.

Who is it?

Has there been an uprising?

No, Your Majesty.

It's just the Duke of Montague.

Is he still alive?

I thought we'd buried him.

Father.

Father, ever since I entered this room, I've

been trying to tell you that what you

expected of me did not take place.

My throw, I think.

No, it's not.

You're cheating again.

Kings never cheat.

They adapt to circumstances.

But they never cheat.

If I may, sir, by your leave, this

thing is choking me.

You see how I'm placed?

Accused in front of the court by my

own wife.

Father, this is serious.

Of course it's serious.

I shall probably concede the game.

It's a royal prerogative to be unsporting.

Never concede!

My throw.

Back five!

The match, father, was of your making, not

of mine.

Even so, as a dutiful son, I journeyed

far beyond our borders to pay my respects

to the lady and see for myself.

And she was fair, was she not?

Indeed, sir.

Perhaps pale rather than fair.

A sickly lady, sir.

Given to much swooning and vapors.

All ladies swoon.

They know it's expected of them.

Some swoon more than others, sir.

And swooning to excess is not a quality

I greatly admire.

She refused you?

Is that what you're saying?

No, father.

She could not refuse me because I did

not offer.

You perhaps placed too much trust in the

portrait painters of Karelsfeld.

The likeness was no likeness.

Indeed, since you force me to the discourtesy,

the lady was bald, sir.

Her golden dress is false.

Her mouth, crabbed with age, sir, and devoid

of teeth.

In short, sir, she left much to be

desired.

Extraordinary.

Father, it's a small thing and doubtless very

irritating to you.

But when I marry, as needs I must

one day, it will be for the convenience

of love rather than the convenience of convenience.

Love?

Did he say love?

How absurd.

What has love got to do with getting

married?

Why should love enter into it at all?

Love can make you quite emotionally harried when

you're married.

It's pedantic and romantic folderall.

Find a mate, dear boy, find a mate.

Princess Susan.

Princess Karen.

Princess Kate.

Find a mate, dear boy, find a mate.

Love will have to wait.

I disagree.

You disagree.

How can you disagree, dear?

Look at me.

Look at us.

Yes, look at us.

What has love got to do with being

married?

Being married is a problem all its own.

Love is highly overrated and makes marriage complicated

when the bed is elevated to the throne.

Find a mate, dear boy, find a mate.

Pick the proper princess prime to propagate.

Find a mate, dear boy, find a mate.

Love will have to wait.

There is many an eligible maiden of good

family with title of her own who would

come to us bountifully beladen with an army

that could fortify our throne.

Uncle, I couldn't have said that better myself.

Well, I could, and in fact, I think

I will.

What has marriage got to do with being

happy?

Being married can't compare with being royal.

Being royal, you engender every luxury and splendor

while a marriage can get overripe and spoiled.

Find a mate, dear cousin, set the date.

Why procrastinate and stay the hand of fate?

Find a mate, dear cousin, set the date.

Happiness can always wait.

Get him out of here.

Get him out.

Oh, have I made a little faux pas?

I was enjoying myself.

There, you see, that's the price that we

shall have to pay unless you name the

day.

Listen, lend an ear.

I say again.

What has love got to do with getting

married?

What has bread got to do with wedding

cake?

We are bold with your defiance of connubial

alliance for our line of royal giants is

at stake.

Find a mate, dear boy, find a mate.

We are growing old and time is growing

late.

Find a mate, dear boy, find a mate.

It's your duty to the state not to

stay a celibate.

Find a mate.

Find a mate.

Find a mate.

Find a mate.

What has love got to do with getting

married?

We are not prepared to say.

Oh, what a relief.

That is over and done with.

Help me, my darlings.

My fingers are positively numb.

Come on, paladin.

You can do just as well.

Girls, girls, girls.

Anything without squabbling.

Black was never my colour.

So unbecoming, especially when one's so young and

pretty.

And where do you think you are going,

child?

To my room, stepmother.

Your room?

My room.

All the rooms in this house are mine

now.

Your father, my late husband, sadly missed by

us all, is dead, child.

Dead and buried beneath the snow in the

same grave as your dear mother.

That is a double misfortune for you.

And now you must start a new life.

Your father, as a token of his great

love for me, saw fit to make a

will placing you in my care and protection.

My father never loved you.

You tricked him.

How dare you, madam!

You tricked him!

Well.

Well, if I did.

He did not live to rue the day,

did he?

And now you can curb your tongue, cultivate

humility, know your present place.

I hate you.

I hate you all.

Now listen, my dear girl, and hear me

well.

Blood is thicker than a widow's tears, and

God knows I have shed enough of those.

I have two daughters of my own to

support.

Which situation has forced me to make certain

economies in the household?

Is that not so, girl?

Yes, mama.

Certain drastic economies, mama.

Exactly.

But, being a woman of principle, I shall

honor your father's last wishes and continue to

provide a roof over your head.

Below the stairs.

And do not think you will find sympathy

with the staff.

The staff have been dismissed.

You are now the staff.

To take orders instead of giving them.

Mostly from us.

Never.

Oh, yes.

You will cook and you will carry.

You will fetch and you will mend.

Your father's will allows and the law upholds.

So, take your pick.

Either accept your lot or go to the

orphanage.

They tell me, Cinderella, one can be awfully

happy there.

And very warm.

They sleep six to a bed, not counting

the rats.

Do not tease, my darlings.

It spoils your looks.

Now, your first task will be to make

us some soup.

Burying a husband is a cold business.

And sadly for me, I have now buried

two.

Poor Mama.

Give me your cloak, girl.

You will not be needing it down there.

Hurry, girl, hurry!

And do not keep us waiting for the

soup.

Come along, my doves.

We must rearrange the room.

Oh, Mama, may I have Cinderella's room?

No, Mama, you promised me first pick.

My darlings, everything will be fairly divided.

Come along.

Hurry, Cinderella, hurry.

Come, my darlings.

Little steps, little steps.

Through my days In fanciful ways Secure

And sure there'd always be Endless

love For me, my

fanciful dove Has tears in her eyes She

no longer flies And yet, my heart will

not despair For it's there Just

a memory Once I was

loved To always come what may Love's happy

memory This

place fascinates me, always has, ever since I

was a child.

It isn't just thoughts of destiny or morbid

curiosity.

Look here.

When they first brought me here it was

part of my royal education, you see.

I was only knee-high to a tombstone.

They stood me in front of this and

they said, that's yours, that's waiting for you.

Very cheerful.

Humor was never the family's strong point.

I wasn't frightened, I was intrigued.

I see they've even put your name on

it in advance.

It's a sobering thought, isn't it?

No matter what I do or don't do,

no matter how I do it or don't

do it, my last appointment is here.

Good kings, bad kings, sane kings or mad

kings, benevolent or nefarious, here is where they

bury us.

Oh, ho, ho, what a comforting thing to

know There's a pre-arranged spot in the

family plot where my royal bones will go

Yes, I'll be slipped into the beautiful family

crypt Oh, ho, ho, what a comforting thing

to know That drunkard young King Ferdinand he

reigned for half an hour Oh, yes?

He got so soused when they crowned him

he fell from the castle tower And here

lies old King Frederick he stole for 40

years The day he died the people cried

They cried?

They cried three cheers Oh, ho, he, what

a comforting thing to see The traditional stone

that is all my own where my dying

date will be In peace you'll rest beneath

the beautiful family crest Oh, ho, he, what

a comforting thing to see And here lies

brave King Rofar all the battles that he

won He lies in state, serene and great

still getting nothing done What about King Lloyd?

King Lloyd, King Lloyd King Lloyd was lewd

and lecherous evil, cruel and treacherous King Roy?

Was mad and dreaded till the day he

was beheaded Oh, ho, ho, what a comforting

thing to know Oh,

ho, ho, what a comforting thing to know

But remember good King Linnaeus saintly, kind and

wise He did nothing ignominious Yet beside these

noble brutes and knaves and drunks and skunks

he lies Oh, ho, ho, what a comforting

thing to know There's a prearranged spot in

the family pot where your royal bones will

go Yes, I'll be slipped into the beautiful

family crypt Oh, ho, he, what a comforting

thing for you to see Oh, ho, ho,

what a comforting thing to Oh, ho, ho,

what a comforting thing to Oh, ho, ho,

what a comforting thing to know Who

was that?

Sir?

A girl, there She was hiding there I

saw her there once, sir I could have

sworn A servant girl So,

madam, you are returned at last You wicked

girl, how dare you disobey me Where have

you been?

I only went Yes?

To my parents' grave, stepmother to put some

flowers there How touching With flowers from my

garden Stolen flowers I say yes I say

you stole them