All language subtitles for The Prince and the Pauper (William Keighley, 1937).english

It's a boy!

A prince is born!

Long live the Prince of Wales!

Sit up and drink hearty.

The only cost of a tankard is that
it's drunk to His wee Royal Highness...

The Prince of Wales!

Long live His Royal Highness,
the Prince of Wales!

Here.

Milords and ladies...

I ask you to toast my son...

Edward Tudor.

One moment.

You drink too fast.

I advise you that as you drink,
you pray for your own sakes...

that my son be a good king.

Because good or bad, sickly or hale...

craven or brave, he will be King!

You drank sparingly, my good Norfolk.

Wine does not agree with me,
Your Majesty.

A pity.

Because losing one's head from wine...

is so much less permanent
than losing it from treason.

Surely, Your Majesty does not think me
guilty of that.

Not at all, my good Norfolk.
Merely capable of it.

- It's a boy, Henry.
- So I've been informed.

- You're glad?
- Very.

And grateful to you, madam...

not only for furnishing
the House of Tudor with an heir...

but also for freeing your King
from further necessity of your being.

Poor little thing.

Brought into this world to wear a crown
whether it fits him or not.

It shall weigh him down...

until he'll wish he'd been born
to the meanest pauper in London.

Poor little thing.

Poor nothing.

He's a healthy brat.

Healthy, is he?

You'd have an healthy son,
when all the time...

you know it's only the sickly ones
who can beg a farthing nowadays.

A prince was born tonight, too, little baby.

So go to sleep
and pretend the bells are for you.

Here he is. I think this cur ought to have
his head whacked off!

Boil him in oil, I says, Your Highness.
A good stewing is what he needs.

Let's give it to him.

- What has he done, my good lords?
- He won't play, that's what.

Let this miscreant kneel before me.

Down, you scurvy nipper.

Why don't you want to play, bumpkin?

'Cause I don't want to be boiled in oil.
It'd hurt.

Coward!

Hold your tongue. He's right. It would hurt.

A good king is a merciful king.
I will show mercy.

If I make you one of my lords,
will you play?

Yes, I will.

I dub thee Sir Hawkins.

Arise.

Absit invidia'

What's that?

It's Latin. And it means:
Let there be no malice.

Father Andrew taught it to me.

He'd do better to teach you
how to bring home a farthing.

I'll knock them royal ideas
out of your head!

You drooling beast,
I'll cuff your mouth and like it!

Now, then!

He's certainly thumping the King good.

Maybe that'll keep the tears in your eyes
long enough to beg a penny for food.

Now, be off with you!

May I come in?

But you are in.

Thomas, have you been crying?

No, sir. It's sweat.
You see, I've been running.

And how did you come by that?

Your father?

No, sir. My father wouldn't beat me.
He likes me.

I apologize.

Thank you.

Someday I'm going to discuss you
with your father.

No, I wouldn't, sir.

You see, he doesn't like to see anyone...

on account of he feels so badly
about me having to beg.

I thought maybe you'd let me read
some more out of that Latin book.

Of course.

The more you read,
the greater opportunity you'll have...

of escaping Offal Court when you grow up.

But you've read most everything,
and you're still in Offal Court, Father.

God's will and the whimsy of a king
are two things...

it isn't for ordinary people to understand,
I presume, Tom.

Why did His Majesty
turn you out of your house...

and take away your pension,
when you didn't do anything to him?

I'm afraid nowadays, the King
knows very little about his subjects.

Except those in his court...

who take great pains he shouldn't learn...

the plight of others
less fortunate than themselves.

Do you know what I'd do
if I were the King?

I'd send the Prince out to play
with other little boys.

Then he'd learn about the people
and be a good king when he grew up.

A rather unlikely suggestion.

Get on with your reading
while the light is good.

Perhaps I'd better,
because I've been at it two days now...

and I haven't got Caesar
across the Rubicon yet.

Tell me all about it.

I'll tell you, there's more gold there
than you ever thought was in the world...

just dying to be took.

- What's that you're reading?
- A book.

- Stole it?
- No.

Father Andrew gave it to me. To keep.

Wasn't that kind of him?

I should say so. It's very valuable.

Only rich people can afford to buy books.

- Give it here.
- Please don't tear it.

Tear it, you barmy mooncalf? I'll sell it.

This'll fetch a nice bit of meat and ale.

Please, give me back my book.

Come on, Hugo.
We're going to the thieves market.

A windfall from heaven, I calls it.

And if I catch you
with that smirking priest again...

I'll peel the hide off both of you!

My book.

Go away! Get out of here! Go on!

Penny, please?

But it is time we spoke of certain things,
Your Majesty.

My death among them, I suppose.

Death?

What made you think of death, sire?

For one thing, finding a carrion crow
flying around my bed.

Banish the thought, sire.

- You're still a hale man.
- I'm not a man at all.

I'm a disease.

An infernally painful one. Go on.

It occurred to me, sire, that when
Prince Edward comes to the throne...

The court may impose
the Duke of Norfolk on him...

as Lord High Protector.

And with reason, Hertford.

What a sorry thing it is to be a bad king.

To worry on your deathbed
about your dynasty...

and not about your people.

To be able to forgive a man his sins,
and not his virtues.

And Norfolk has virtue.

And the House of Tudor has sins.

But they won't be judged by the Howards.

You are very right, Your Majesty.

The protector will be a man
who nibbles at the hand of the court.

Whose power frightens only the ladies.

And whose chief ambition
is to build a safe nest in the throne.

You'll forgive me if I say the description
resembles that of a palace rat.

- You mean...
- I mean you.

I am unable to tell my gratitude
for this honor, sire.

But it will enable me to...

To regret my passing
with the greatest possible pleasure.

There is one thing, sire...

which may prevent your selection of me
from being carried out.

- Who? Warwick?
- No, sire.

The Prince himself.

Norfolk has bewitched him.
He worships the man, calls him uncle.

But for some strange reason,
His Highness has taken a dislike to me.

If you let the selection go,
until your death...

His little Highness
will undoubtedly appoint Norfolk.

No.

Because I intend to arrange matters...

so that Norfolk's death
will precede my own.

- Indeed, Your Majesty?
- Indeed.

Now, ask His Highness to come here.

I think I'd like to play now.

May we play charades, Your Highness?

Lady Jane, I've told you I hate charades.

I'm sorry.

All right. We'll play charades later.

After we play something I like.

Quill, you suggest something.

And if it doesn't suit me, I'll beat you.

And if it does suit you,
it'll be a game you'll beat me at anyway.

Therefore, it might as well be...

blind man's buff.

Good. That would amuse me.

- 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.

You go wash your face. Over there.

Use the towel.

Penny, please. Please give me a penny.

Don't bother me, my lad.

Why, you look like me.

On the contrary, you look like me.

That's what I said, Your Highness.
We look alike.

- Do you know any games, boy?
- Yes, Your Highness, lots of them:

- Duck and drake, robber and constable.
- How do you play that?

It takes three to play it: A robber,
somebody to be robbed, and a constable.

You see, I rob you of something, hide it.

Then you tell the constable,
and he and you try to find it.

While you're looking for it, I hide.

Then you and he have to find me
to make the arrest, just as in real life.

- Good. I like that. We'll play it.
- But we have no constable.

I'll get my dog.
He'll be a marvelous constable.

He can find anybody
no matter where they hide.

Wait here. I'll get him.

- There he goes, running for it.
- After him.

If he gets away, you'll sweat for it.

Not so fast, me lad.

- Captain wants to pay his respects to you.
- Are you mad?

Do you want to lose your heads?
How dare you touch me!

Listen to that.
The Prince must have knighted him.

Now for your lesson,
you filthy little beggar.

Beggar? Are you insane?
I'm Prince Edward!

Make way for His Royal Highness,
the Prince of Pewy.

I'll have your blood for this,
and on my own sword.

Come back whenever you like. The Guard
prides itself on entertaining royalty.

Why wasn't His Highness
prepared for bed last night?

Because, Your Grace, he didn't ring.

Your Highness.

Where's the Prince?

The Prince?

Yes, the Prince.

Where is he?

But, Your Highness, you are the Prince.

Please, milords, I'm not the Prince.

He went out to get a constable.
I mean, his dog.

And he didn't come back.
I'm a beggar boy.

Don't behead me. Say you won't.

This is not the time for jesting,
Your Highness.

Indeed, it isn't, because I'm in a pickle.

It's all so muddled. The Prince will
have my head because I have his clothes.

If the King finds out,
he'll have me boiled in oil.

The Prince isn't here right now,
but I'm sure he'll come back.

Please, Your Highness,
discontinue this whimsy at our expense.

That's just it. I'm not your highness.

I'm Tom Canty, a beggar boy,
and I wish I were at it now.

I'm afraid His Highness is ill.

Very ill.

- This will be a death blow to His Majesty.
- We mustn't tell him.

Please, Your Highness,
get up from your knees.

What would your father say if he saw you?

In here?

He'd say somebody boosted me
through a window.

'Tis true. His Majesty is gravely ailing.
That is God's will.

To inform him that his sins are to rule
and live after him...

in a daft boy, would be murder.

Neither alchemy nor prayer can cheat
death of His Majesty's soul much longer.

But England can be cheated
of a rightful king...

should His Majesty not proclaim his son...

and appoint a Lord Protector
before his death.

And who might that be?

One who might not forget
a favor done now.

What? Treason!

I talked to him last night,
and he was sane as a bishop.

I know, Your Majesty. I saw him then, too.

- 'Tis an evil miracle.
- You lie, I tell you!

I would I did, Your Majesty,
that you might be spared the proof.

Stop croaking! Fetch the boy!

Mad, they say.

Too much study.

Sane one minute...

Taken complete leave of his senses.

Doesn't even recognize anyone.

Your Majesty.

The King.

I am done for.

Come, my son.

Sit by me.

Let us talk, you and I.

But I'm not me.
I'm Tom Canty, Your Majesty. Sir.

Tom, sir.

Come, lad.

Would you deny that I am your father?

Yes, sire.

I wouldn't dare let anyone
think such a thing.

What envenomed irony fate has wrought.

He doesn't know his own father.

But I do, Your Majesty.

A thief he is and was sorely mean to me.

Please, don't behead me.
Please, let me go home.

You've done this, you pedantic fools.

Whipping his mind with Latin and Greek
till it's broken its halter and run wild.

Now take him, cure him,
amuse him, freshen him.

Teach him the good English oaths
of the hunting field.

Oaths that a man may use
in ruling a country.

Not the foreign prattle
of priests and scholars!

It shan't be long before you'll know me,
little Edward.

Please, Your Majesty.
I'm not Edward. I'm Tom.

These aren't even my clothes.
I'm a beggar boy.

They won't believe me.
Please tell them I'm not your little boy.

This, milords...

is my son...

who shall sit on the throne and rule.

If not by reason of his wit...

then by reason of the name of Tudor.

Summon the entire court
to the Throne Room.

And bid them...

hurry.

Milords and ladies.

In the past...

you have jealously kept
my bounty to yourselves.

But soon you'll be sharing it
with the worms.

And what is left will probably rattle...

in the posits of time.

England...

could not shed enough tears
to cleanse the name of Henry.

But I promise you...

neither can England shed enough blood...

to wash the name of Tudor
from the roll of kings.

Don't deceive yourselves.

I am not threatening you from the grave.

My power will be buried with my body...

and disintegrate as soon.

I'm threatening you
with your own weakness...

which I've nurtured for years.

Feeding one's greed with another's deceit.

Tolerating treachery.

Until, milords and ladies,
you've grown so corrupt...

that each could only conceal his guilt
in the shadow of the others.

Hence, your heads
remain on your shoulders...

only as long as
a Tudor sits on the throne...

to cloak your infamies from the people...

behind the purple robes of royalty.

The old dog dies...

and the lice daren't desert his pup...

lest they starve!

It is my will...

that my son, Edward...

shall succeed me to the throne.

And that his tutelage and counsel...

be entrusted...

to a Lord...

High...

to a Lord...

High Protector.

And that he...

be...

Your Majesty.

The Protector is to be who?

Who?

And now...

to face them...

all.

The King is dead.

Long live the King.

Let us pray.

The body which was Henry's...

will once again become with the earth
from which it was molded.

The soul we relegate to God.

The reign, to his royal Majesty, Edward VI.

Can I go home now, please?

Permit me, Your Majesty.

Repeat after me,
and when you have finished...

strike my shoulder with your sword.

- Aren't your afraid it will cut you?
- With the flat of it, Your Majesty.

Repeat: Let it be known
to all my subjects...

"Let it be known to all my subjects..."

- But I'm not the Prince.
...and throughout my realm...

"And throughout my realm..."

...that I hereby designate
the Earl of Hertford...

"That I hereby designate
the Earl of Hertford..."

...as my Lord High Protector, to direct...

with adult advice, my untried judgment.

"As my Lord High Protector,
to direct, with adult advice..."

- My untried judgment.
- "My untried judgment."

Death may have been on Norfolk's side,
but a brain was on ours.

But fortunately, an addled one.

I'm honored by your selection,
Your Majesty.

- Did I select you for something?
- Yes, Your Majesty.

Henceforth, it is I, not Norfolk,
in whom you will confide and trust.

Who's Norfolk?

You can't recall him? That's a pity.

Such a little time remains
to make his acquaintance.

I bid you good day, sire.

Please, my lord.

You said I was to confide in you.
Mayn't I do it now?

Wait outside.

His Majesty has some affairs of state
which he wishes to discuss.

Yes, milord.

Now, Edward, what is it?

Please, won't you believe
that I'm just me and not the Prince?

You're no longer the Prince, Your Majesty.

You're the King.

I'm Tom Canty, I tell you,
and I went to sleep in the palace garden.

His Highness brought me in because...

I imagine he was sorry that
the Captain of the Guard bashed me.

And what became of the Prince, pray?

I don't know. That kind of worries me.

People won't believe him, either,
because he was wearing my clothes...

and didn't look at all like a prince.

He looked so much like me,
that it made us laugh.

I suppose it wasn't so very funny, though.

You don't believe me?

I believe that you've been studying
too hard, Your Majesty.

You won't even ask the Captain
about what I said?

If you wish it.

I do, because if he doesn't
say the same thing...

then I must be out of my wits.

What did the boy look like?

Just another street urchin, milord.
The size and age of His Majesty.

Are you sure it wasn't His Majesty?

Of course. This boy was dirty, in tatters.

Then he was the King.

I don't know.

He said he was,
and I thought it was impudence.

But he might have been?

He might have been.

There is either a mad prince
or a beggar boy on the throne.

Now, I must know which.

That will be easy to tell, milord.
I pray the crime won't be on my head.

- How?
- His dog.

The brute will not suffer anyone
to touch him except His Majesty.

Milord, should it not be,
use your influence in my defense.

If you can only save me for the present...

If I save you, Captain,
it shan't be for the present...

but for the future,
in which I may find you useful.

I've brought you a playmate, Edward.

- A dog. Mine?
- Yours.

He didn't like me.

No, my little Potentate of Poverty,
he didn't like you.

- Then, you know who I am?
- Yes.

- When can I go?
- Never.

Never?

- But, if I'm not the King...
- You are the King.

The only way to lose the crown now
is to lose your head with it.

- But I told the truth.
- And committed treason.

Do you know what that means?

You don't want that pretty little head
of yours chopped off, do you?

Nor to have your mother
see the crows tearing tufts...

from a skull on London Bridge...

and know that it's her son's hair
in which they will nest?

Then never forget
that you are Edward VI of England.

And that to ever again
become Tom Canty...

is to die.

Yes, sir.

- Your men will miss you, Captain.
- No.

I'm sending you away
to execute a little mission for both of us.

Yes, milord?

It seems you expelled a king.

Then it was he.

Your syntax is poor, Captain.

"Was" is in the past tense.

It is he.

When he returns, he'll have my blood.
I remember that threat.

And should he return...

Norfolk would be appointed
Lord High Protector in my stead.

- I cannot defend you from a dungeon.
- What's to be done?

Our difficulties would be resolved
by His Majesty's permanent absence.

But, milord...

that would be murder.

His life or yours, Captain.

He'll be fairly easy to locate.

Your leave starts tonight.

The passing bell.

In good faith, they toll for Henry...

little knowing they're sounding
the knell of the House of Tudor.

Let us kneel to ask comfort and solace
from Almighty God...

when the burden of sorrow
is upon us, my people.

Comfort us, O Lord...

for we are as a child without a father...

or as a ship without a rudder,
or as a body without a head.

We mourn him whose statesmanship...

and wisdom in counsel...

have been as a bulwark
against the enemies of England.

Thy will, not ours, be done, O Lord.

But strengthen us in this, our time of grief.

Thy people's sorrow
and their destiny perish...

for Henry, our King, is dead.

And a child sits upon
the throne of England.

Imbue him with thy wisdom...

thy strength, and thy mercy, O Lord.

Amen.

Father.

Long live the King.

All I hopes is this King ain't...

the drunken fool the last was.

What was that scurrilous remark
you made about my father?

You deny that you insulted
the late King, my father?

Get away, or I'll fetch you one
on the side of the head.

I'll have you drawn and quartered for this.

Do you realize
you're addressing your King?

The King, are you? Look what's the King.

This ha'penny worth of cat's meat
is none other than His Majesty.

Ho there! Lay off!

Didn't you hear me? I said lay off the lad.

Do you know what happens when you
stick your nose where it ain't wanted?

Yes, this.

Back, my good people.

- Why don't we consider this situation?
- You'll all rot in chains for this.

Make way for the King's messenger!

Time for us to leave, I think.

- Where does Your Majesty deign to reside?
- In the palace, of course.

- Charboy?
- King.

Let's not play that game anymore.
It's too strenuous.

You dare disclaim me?

No, Your Majesty, only...

it'll be a lot easier if you could be
something a trifle more sedentary.

Like the Archbishop of Canterbury.

I tell you I am the King.

As you'll learn much to your regret
if you don't keep a civil tone.

Very good, sire.

You're a bit done in after that joust.

You need some sleep
to straighten you out.

You're too familiar, my man.

I will honor your hospitality tonight.

In the morning, you shall return
to the palace with me for your reward.

Thank you, sire.

A drear hovel.

Yes, but then Windsor is so drafty.

I'm hungry.
What have you to tempt my appetite?

That depends on
what didn't tempt the mices.

- Mice?
- Yes. I had to fatten them all up.

You see, the cat threatened to leave.

You're making a joke.

The humor of being short of rations,
my friend, has always escaped me.

Then, you're poor?

Would you believe it? I am.

Who are you, fellow?

Miles Hendon, Your Majesty.

The name is not familiar.
What is your trade?

- Soldiering, sire.
- In my service?

In the service of anyone
who can afford enemies.

Soldier of fortune. Strange profession.

Of the three open to a gentleman
without means, it's the most amusing.

Cheating at cards
means associating with dull people.

Preaching the gospel
means wearing funny hats.

- Better eat, lad.
- Lad?

I beg your pardon, Your Majesty.

I hope you don't think
this is a leg of mutton.

A sheep walked around on it
for some time under that impression.

Would you sit
in the presence of your King?

- See here...
- I will no longer tolerate your manner.

I ask your pardon, Your Majesty.

But after that chase we led them,
it would be good to sit down.

Perhaps.

No, custom must be preserved.
You will stand.

I was very hungry.

- I feel better now.
- I'm gratified, Your Majesty.

Come to think of it,
I'm under obligation to you in many ways.

- Your service demands rich reward.
- A mere nothing, Your Majesty.

You may have any reward you wish.
Name it.

The privilege of sitting
in your Majesty's presence.

Advance, fellow, and give me your sword.

- Is it that you find the mutton tough, sire?
- Kneel.

While England remains
and the Crown continues...

you and your heirs forever may sit
in the presence of the Majesty of England.

Arise, Sir Miles Hendon.

For pity's sake, sit down.

Thank you, Your Majesty.

Beginning to ache
from the hammering they gave you?

Why do you ask?

You seem to be batting away
at a few tears.

I'm not the man to snivel at a few bruises.

In fact, we Tudors never cry.

- What's the matter?
- My dad's dead.

Good morning, Your Majesty.

I hope Your Majesty slept well.

Yes, sir.

- Playing follow-the-leader?
- No, sire. We've come to dress you.

Have I enough clothes to go around?

Indeed, sire,
everything has been assigned.

Are you ready to perform your ablutions?

His Majesty's towel and bowl.

His Grace the Lord High Protector,
awaits your pleasure...

and asks that you be informed that
a note on the treasury has to be signed.

The household account being depleted.

- There's no money to pay for the palace?
- No, Your Majesty.

I suppose we'll just have to
move to a smaller house.

I remember quite a nice one right
next to the fish market in Billingsgate.

The rose water, milord.

It has a nice flavor.

Please, sir, how much longer
must I do this?

This is the last, sire.

"Authorizes an increased tax
on windows."

Do you mean to say
we have a tax on windows?

May I suggest that Your Majesty
cease troubling himself about...

I'm head of the government. It's my job
to be troubled about these things.

And I think
a tax on windows is cruel, unjust.

The royal treasury is empty, sire.

Every means of replenishing it
must be taken.

Yes, but windows?

When poor people are sick,
windows are the only outside they have.

They wouldn't have anything nice
to look at if it weren't for windows.

And besides,
that's taxing sunshine and light...

which don't belong to us at all, but to God.

His Majesty's made a point there.

We will discuss this privately
at some later time.

Have we Your Majesty's
permission to withdraw?

Yes.

I'll try to think of some better way
to raise money.

Did you see an urchin slide out of here?

He left, but sliding wasn't the way
he done it.

He says to me,
"Out of my way, fellow," and stalked.

- Where'd he go?
- Good morning, Pam.

- How are the little ones?
- Where did he go?

It wasn't a he, it was a they.

A slimy looking fella come after the lad.

I heard him telling him you'd sent for him.

- I thought it was a bit fishy, but...
- Cut it short. Which way did he go?

Across the street and
to the Thieves Booth, and got dragged off.

By whom?

By a foul old croak with a face
that looked as if...

it had been suckled on the handle
of an headman's ax.

- Never mind the face.
- I didn't. I daresay he did.

He sold a candlestick to the receiver.

- I saw him.
- Who sold a candlestick?

The bloke with the face.

- Good day to you, sir.
- The good sir is looking for a bargain?

Yes, I have a skin I'd like to trade
in exchange for a little information.

- A skin? Ermine or sable?
- Neither.

- Rodent.
- A rat skin isn't worth anything.

No? Except to the rat, of course.

You see, the skin happens to be yours.

If you want to save it,
tell me who that man was...

- who dragged off the beggar boy.
- What man?

The man from whom
you bought the candlestick.

- I don't know.
- No? Too bad.

Wait! Mercy.

I daren't tell you. He'd have every thief
in London out to slit my throat.

Then I'll save him some trouble.

I'll tell you.

His name is John Canty.
He lives in Offal Court.

The boy is his son, Tom,
a little daft on the subject of royalty.

A thousand thanks, sir. Good day, sir.

You must know I'm not Tom because you
couldn't be this mean to your own boy!

You dare strike me?

Smash your own father, will you?
I'll show you!

What's the meaning of this?

I'm his father,
and you don't happen to be mine.

So keep your holy nose out of it.

- If you strike that boy again, I'll...
- You'll do what?

I'll forget that the laying on of hands
should be done gently.

I warned you, you meddling old fool!

- Is he dead?
- Shut up.

Come on!

He just sits there and says nothing.
The boy's potty.

And it's because of that Father Andrew
always teaching him...

Be quiet about Father Andrew, can't you?

- Were you seen doing anything?
- Shut up.

- What's the pack?
- Father Andrew.

- What about him?
- Dead as a salted herring.

And it's gossip you done him in.

How do you suppose that got about?

From you bashing him over the head
and him not getting up again.

You best take to the road.

Blowing hot, is it?

It'll be scorching your heels soon
if you don't make to the Roost.

I'm on the run to see the Ruffler.

Don't open your mouth to no one
who ain't in on the know.

- We'll head to the river dike.
- Ain't you taking him?

- What for?
- He seen it, didn't he?

That's right, he did.

He'd be a hindrance,
but it's better than having him a witness.

He might come in handy, too.

He's the size that can be lifted
through a window easy and quiet.

That's right.

It's time I was breaking him for a retriever.

Come here!

If you see such a beggar boy,
you'll get five pounds.

Five pounds for a beggar boy?
What'd he do?

Steal the Throne Room out of Windsor?

Another of His Majesty's whims.
He's a bit addlepated, you know.

Remember, look sharp.

Sharp, at five pounds!
A glance from me will nail him to the wall.

Is John about?
I have a bit of business with him.

It wouldn't have to do
with the law, would it?

It might have if I don't see him.
You see, he and I...

Just who are you?

His mother.

And for all the drink it gets me,
I might better have begat an empty bottle.

Well, then...

perhaps you can use his share
of a candlestick we lifted together.

This is once I get my share.

I'm beholden to you, indeed.

Not at all. Where can I find John?

Him and that crazed brat of his
had to take to the road.

- Making for the Roost, they are.
- The Roost?

An empty barn near Stullington.

They all holes up there with the Ruffler
when it gets hot for 'em.

Yes, of course. The Ruffler.

You say his son is a little unhinged?

Like a gate, he is. Thinks he's a king.

- Has he been this way long?
- No.

John fetched him home
like that just today.

Probably gave him one over the head...

and cracked it like a nut.

I need money to maintain the palaces,
courts, and royal establishments...

that His Majesty's dignity be upheld.

May I remark, milord,
that it might be more important...

to uphold the dignity of England
upon the sea?

Let me remind you,
England still has ships afloat.

Barely afloat.

Some of them we daren't fire a cannon
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.
- No, it doesn't.

- Hold or I'll fire!
- That's them.

No doubt! What are they doing
about this time of night?

String 'em both up.

- Stop that! What would you with us?
- You're under arrest for robbery.

We know nothing of any robbery.

We'll take you back to the Running Fox.
We'll find out soon enough.

- They're the thieves, all right.
- No doubt of it.

All right, here they are. We nabbed them.

No, sir. It wasn't this gentleman, sir.
I happen to know it was otherwise...

You speak when you're spoke to.

If you can recognize them...

they'll soon be on their way to learn
it's harder to break out than in.

I can recognize them. Just point them out.

Get over there.

I can identify him.
He was the one with the musket.

No, sir. I was the one that led
the cavalry charge. Don't you remember?

My dapper friend, you'd be
more respectful lashed to a whipping post.

You, my fat friend, would look
more natural tied to a hitching post.

- Where are all the others?
- All the others is him.

He's right here, sir.

It's him.

His Majesty.

- Get the horses ready.
- Right, sir.

- It's he. I'm positive.
- Take your hands from me, pig!

- Pig? I'll teach you.
- What?

- You're a pretty pair of cutthroats.
- Take them away.

One moment.

- We'll take charge of the boy.
- Captain, I...

And who might you be
to be taking charge of my prisoner?

The Captain of His Majesty's Guard.

Let's see that.

The boy has escaped
from a London madhouse.

And has a strange insanity
offensive to the Crown.

Naturally, this is our responsibility.

Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Your prisoner, sir.

Take him along.

- Glad to have been of service, Captain.
- Good night.

Captain, what do you suggest
doing with this one, sir?

He seems capable of digesting
about 20 lashes.

Thank you, Captain.

When next we meet, I trust you'll be
capable of digesting 20 inches of steel.

Here.

How dare you indulge this outrage
on my person?

It wouldn't do to let people know
there's been no king on the throne...

until the day before the coronation.

Forgive me. It was the best ruse I knew
to get you away.

But what of the man Hendon?
I want him freed.

He shall be in the morning.

Tonight we get closer to London
to arrive in time tomorrow.

Very well.

But should any harm come
to Miles Hendon, your life shall pay for it.

- Understand?
- Yes, Your Majesty. My life.

- Why are we stopping here, Captain?
- To let you get some sleep, Your Majesty.

I felt my making camp for a few hours...

would freshen you for
the coronation ceremonies in the morning.

Very considerate, Captain. I am sleepy.

This way, Your Majesty.

This place will be ideal.

May I have your cloak, Captain?

Give me your cloak.

- Forgive me, Your Majesty.
- What have you done?

It's what I must do, poor little Edward.

Is that any way to address your King?

Or for the Captain of my Guard to act?

Cowering like a woman?

Out with it, fellow. What is it?

You are to join your father, Your Majesty.

You're going to kill me?

You can't.

You just can't.

There's no one to take the throne,
except Mary or Elizabeth.

And they're girls and not even grown up.

Say your prayers, Your Majesty.

I hope my father's asleep in heaven.

I don't want him to know that a Tudor died
at the hands of a traitorous Englishman.

He'd be so ashamed of you.

But he won't be ashamed of me.

"Our father, who art in heaven...

"hallowed be thy name.

"Thy kingdom come...

"thy will be done...

"on earth as it is in heaven."

And me what calls myself an Englishman.

Be still, can't you?

"Forgive us our trespasses...

"as we forgive those
who trespass against us.

"Lead us not into temptation...

"but deliver us from evil."

How's your digestion now, Captain?

Ready for that 20 inches of steel
I promised you?

Miles Hendon!

- Your Majesty.
- Majesty?

- Then you believe me?
- Without a doubt, sire.

What's the matter?

I was frightened.

Sirs, here I present King Edward...

rightful and undoubted inheritor
by the laws of God and man...

to the royal dignity
and crown imperial of this realm...

whose consecration, inunction,
and coronation...

is appointed to be this day.

Will ye nobles, peers, and commons
serve at this time...

and give your good wills in a sense...

to the same consecration, inunction,
and coronation...

as by your duty ye are bound to do?

Yes!

Smile, you little fool.
Smile and bow to them.

O God, who dwellest
in the high and holy place...

with them also
who are of a humble spirit...

Look down mercifully upon this,
thy servant Edward, our King...

here humbling himself
before thee at thy footstool...

and graciously receive these oblations...

which in humble acknowledgment
of thy sovereignty over all...

and of thy great bounty
to him in particular...

he hath offered up unto thee...

through Jesus Christ,
our only mediator and advocate.

Amen.

Will you, Edward,
grant to the people of England...

the laws and liberties of this realm?

"I do grant and so promise."

Will you keep to the Church and people
holy peace and concord?

"I shall keep."

Will you make to be done
to the best of your strength and power...

equal and rightful justice in all your dooms
and judgments with mercy and truth?

"I shall do."

The things which I have here
before promised I will perform and keep.

So help me God
and the contents of this book.

Kiss the book.

Let these hands be anointed with holy oil.

Let this breast...

be anointed with holy oil.

And let this head be anointed
with holy oil.

As kings and prophets were anointed...

and as Samuel did anoint David to be king.

So that thou mayest be blessed
and established...

a king in this kingdom, over this people...

whom the Lord thy God have given thee
to rule and govern.

Amen.

O Lord...

who receivest thy good
and faithful servants...

with mercy and loving kindness...

Look down upon this,
thy servant Edward, our King...

- Get out of here.
- Look here, my good fellow...

Something of the utmost importance
to the entire realm has arisen...

You'll have your ears taken off
if you don't go.

- I demand to speak to your captain.
- He'll give you 40 lashes.

...having a right faith and manifold
fruit of good works...

mayest obtain the crown
of an everlasting Kingdom.

Stop!

What is this?

What is he doing?

Stop! I forbid it.

Who dares this sacrilege?

I, Edward, the King.

Truly, he is the King.

His Majesty's malady is upon him again.

- Seize the impostor.
- Hold!

O my lord and King, forgive me.

What you have done is shameful treason.

It wasn't my doing, Your Majesty.

Cross my heart.

I believe you, Tom Canty.

But others shall answer.

- Outrage...
- Softly.

Your Majesty, perhaps we could
proceed with the coronation...

if you were assured
no harm would come to this lad.

What a striking resemblance.

Some of you have already forfeited
your heads.

But others may be spared
by paying homage now.

Please, milord. Please believe us.

Truly, he is the King.

By your favor, sire,
might I ask some questions...

which may allay our doubts?

I command you to do so,
that I may answer them...

and end your stupid perplexity.

What stands near the right-hand door
of our late King's apartment?

The Great Herring.

A model of the warship
designed by my late father.

God rest his soul.

Of what did Lady Jane eat so many
that she became...

- discommoded?
- Pomegranates.

And got ill on
the Steward of the Household.

Which man did you wrongly
but affectionately call uncle?

Milord Norfolk,
whose absence displeases me.

- All these things are true, milord.
- Unbelievably.

Astonishing.

Quite astonishing indeed, but the King
can do the same. They are not proofs.

It is perilous to the state and to us all,
to entertain such a mystery as this.

It could undermine the throne,
divide the nation.

- Arrest this...
- One moment.

The mystery may be easily solved.

There's one question which only
the Prince of Wales can answer.

- Where is the Great Seal of England?
- That'll settle it.

I must have put it with all things of value
which had been entrusted to me.

Of course. Milord St. John...

go to my private cabinet.

Close to the floor in the left corner
is a nailhead.

Press it and a jeweled closet will fly open.

There you will find the Great Seal. Fetch it.

- At once!
- And do hurry.

Yes, Your Majesty.

- Your mount, Captain!
- Yes, milord.

The seal, Your Majesty, is not there.

Cast this beggar into the streets.
Stone the impostor. Take him away.

Let him alone!

Please, sir. Maybe His Majesty has just
misplaced the seal.

- He might have, mightn't he?
- Hardly likely, sire.

A massive golden disk isn't
a thing to escape notice.

Was it round and thick?
And did it have letters carved in it?

That would describe it, my liege.

Blimey. So that's the thing
that's been worrying everybody.

If you'd described it to me,
you could have had it sooner.

Your Majesty,
knowing where the great seal lies...

does nothing to establish
this lad's spurious claim.

Perhaps we'd better
continue the ceremony.

But with the real King,
because he put away the seal himself.

Remember, Your Majesty?

You must. You've got to be king.
Because I wouldn't like it anymore.

Think.

I just can't.

- It seems so long ago.
- We exchanged clothes, you remember?

That I'll never forget.

And you asked me if I knew any games,
and I said, Constable.

And you went out to get your dog.

But before you left, what did you do?

Think.

- Harder, Your Majesty.
- I just can't.

Listen, and try and see it.
You started for the door.

You passed a table.
That old thing you called a seal was on it.

You picked it up and looked about
for some place to hide it.

Your eyes caught sight of...

The suit of armor
by the door, in the leg-piece.

Your Majesty. Coming through.

- Your mount again, Captain?
- Yes, sir.

He's a busy bloke, ain't he?

Come here, lad.

Yes, Your Majesty?

I owe my throne to you, Tom.

A debt which I shall pay.

But tell me, how could you
remember where I hid the seal...

when I couldn't myself?

You see, Your Majesty,
I found it and used it.

Used it? For what?

To crack nuts with.

My father told me the night he died...

that a wise king
removes the heads of those...

who try to remove the crown.

But I suppose I'm not a wise king.

Because I don't want you to be killed.

Instead, I hereby order you
to be banished from England...

for the rest of your life.

May I learn generosity from you, sire.

The acts, Your Majesty.

Milords and ladies, my dad...

I mean, the late King...

told me to use the Great Seal
sparingly in making laws.

But if he had gone out
among his people without his crown...

I know he'd have told me not to spare it
in breaking them.

So these acts abolish the begging laws...

modify the laws of eminent domain,
and do away with slavery.

Churl, you dare sit
in the presence of your King?

Yes. But you mustn't.

- Your Majesty!
- Let's not take affront.

It is his right, afforded by a grateful King,
whose life he saved.

- Also, Sir Miles Hendon...
- Yes, sire?

There is among these papers
a commission for you.

- As Captain of my Guard.
- Thank you, Your Majesty.

You aren't pleased by my appointment?

You see, Your Majesty,
the enemy will never come to Windsor.

And a Captain of the Guard
can't go looking for them.

So, as my trade's soldiering, I don't see
when I'll get a chance to practice it.

Very well.

- But I owe you something.
- Three crowns to be exact, sire.

You shall have them. A hundredfold.

Yes, and an earldom, castles, lands...

- and a retinue of servants.
- Your Majesty.

I hope Your Majesty won't
think me ungrateful...

but please may I be permitted
to forgo all these honors...

with which Your Majesty threatens me?

To one of my temperament,
riches are a curse.

Possessions, a veritable scourge.

All I ask is an obscure life
and a peaceful one.

But not too peaceful, of course.

Anything to content you, Sir Miles.

But remember, I'm eternally in your debt.

I'll seal these,
and you may send for them later.

- Please dismiss the court.
- Yes, sire.

You have His Majesty's permission
to withdraw.

- Tom.
- Yes, Your Highness?

- Come here.
- Yes, sire.

They're gone.

Sit down.

Are you sure it's all right?

You sat down all the time you were King,
so I suppose it won't matter now.

- This one's about you.
- Me?

- It makes you my ward.
- Ward?

That means all your life
you'll have money to live on.

And if anybody's unkind or cruel to you...

they've committed an offense
against the Crown.

- Oh, Your Majesty.
- What's the matter?

- I just don't know what to say.
- Just say thank you.

This is good for cracking nuts, isn't it?