All language subtitles for The Virgin Queen Afl.4.English

Created by GeoffS

For God's blood, no!

Must I say it a thousand times?

Your Majesty,

The bad tooth must be removed.

There is no other remedy!

Your Grace, the Earl of Essex
fleet has landed at Plymouth.

Your people gather to celebrate

His triumphant return with you!

Ha!

The tooth is diseased
and must be extracted.

The pain will be but momentary,

And your weeks of
suffering will end.

I would rather have an
eternity of suffering

than to die at the hands
of that nog-headed butcher!

The pain will be but momentary, and the
queen's suffering will be at an end.

All thanks to your courageous example.

You lose a tooth, you win back her favor.

Is that not the opportunity
you've been waiting for?

Some years ago...

Seven years ago, my lord.

as I recall it to the day day!

Lord Alsop was presented to the Queen.

As he bowed a voluminous
fart escaped him...

If voluminous is the word.

Easy to happen,
sir, when in the prone position.

Should she remember that
unfortunate event, my lord...

Her memory is not what
it was, Master Alsop.

You have nothing to
fear in that regard.

Select the sacrificial tooth, sir.

We will announce you.

It's but a pin prick, Your Majesty.

Alright. Extract the damn thing.

I did not catch your name, sir.

Horace Alsop,

Majesty.

Horace Alsop, Your Grace.

We are greatful for your
service to us today, Master Alsop.

And I had entirely
forgotten the fart.

Every town, every village, calls
it England's glory.

He basks in their praise.

I fear that your generosity
during these many years

has swollen the Earl's head, Your Majesty.

The news of his triumph in Cádiz
travel fast... deservedly so.

It was the tactics of Sir Walter
Raleigh that triumphed there.

A wound in battle, his
heroism goes unsung.

Instead of capturing the
Spanish treasure,

The Count's negligence allowed
them to burn their fleet.

The ransom he plundered
gave him to his men,

rather than reserving
it for the crown,

As you instructed.

The rivalry between your
son and the Earl of Essex

Is like that of two
spitting hawks, my lord,

And as tiresome.

You invested £ 50,000
in the venture.

The Spaniards claim that they
lost millions in the siege.

Yet we estimate that the booty
that the Earl brings back

Is only about 13,000 pounds.

The rest is squandered.

Or pilfered.

It is not just a Spanish
rescue that denied you

Every heart of your people he wins
is one less to honor you.

Pygmy!

They say that every
dog must have his day.

They also say that a mans finest hour

Precedes his darkest, Sir Robert.

Father?

Your Majesty!

Just being in your presence again

is all that sustained me
through these sad months.

Sir Walter Raleigh!

Is he here?

Your injury caused us
great concern, my lord.

I could not sleep for worry.

It was but a flesh, Your Majesty...

A trifle.

Never think that
your skill in battle

Has gone unnoticed, Sir Walter.

Posterity will will vouch for it, as I will

even though some might think
they eclipse it.

What fool was it said that
absence makes heart grows fonder?

Absence is something
that some might use

to their advantage, My Lord.

Salvaged from the Spanish wrecks
by my own hand, Your Grace.

My homecoming gift to you.

Where are the gold rings?

The casks of sugar?

Portuguese wines?

I foresaw it
would end this way!

Everyone would benefit
from this folly

Except she who actually funded it!

My lord Cecil,

assess the value of these trinkets

and offset them against
the Earl's debt to us.

Your Majesty knows more than anyone

The state of my
impoverished finances.

Surely you will not be so cruel.

I'm not inclined to reward
incompetence, My Lord.

And the cruelty is yours
in betraying my trust!

The celebratory concert is canceled!

And the fireworks display!

Sir Charles,

I am in the mood for chess.

Enough time has been wasted on this debacle!

It's her mother!
It's Lady Leicester!

A look from you is
everything we ask, my lady!

It has returned pride to the nation!
He is our pride!

It is spite which propels her.

It is spite and jealousy.

"There is but one sun in the universe!"

Well, another sun rises now,

and the more that she fears
it will outshine her

the greater the venom that spits.

Does that cripple of a pen pusher Robert
Cecil who has turned her?

The wretch takes every
opportunity to malign me.

You have her ear.

My son holds
the greater prize.

It is your name they call
out there, none other.

What use is that, when
I face bankruptcy?

She who controls the
purse, controls the man.

Not this man.

Not my son.

While you were absent, they say
that she pined for you

like a love sick harpy.

Your squarely heart can
be yours again if...

You play her right.

Your stepfather always said

that however bitter
their rows,

their reconciliations
were always sweeter.

for each one came gift wrapped.

Shh...

The face is familiar,

alas the name escapes me.

Sir Charles Blount, as
well you know, My Lord.

They say your company
is much sought after

by the queen of late,

that you spend hours closeted alone
in her privy chamber.

We are exploring the
theological ramifications

of "Dante's Inferno".

My lady relishes such
pursuits, as do I.

He has the sallow look of a
scholar about him, that's true.

This token you wear...
denotes what?

This is a gift of favor
from the queen.

It's to mark my skill at jousting.

I'll be blunt, Blount.

You do not strike me as man who

exhibits much in the way
of athletic prowess.

Which brings me to one
of the two conclusions:

Either you took
advantage of the queen,

and you purloined the chess piece
while she was distracted...

I did no such thing!

Or you're a fool.

For only a fool
would display her favor

in such a cheap fashion.

And only a naive would make
such a cheap insinuation.

Oh, Robbie...

What folly has your
impetuousness led you to now?

It is but a flesh wound,
Your Majesty, a trifle.

Is your life have so little value

you would risk it for the
sake of pointless pride?

It is my life that is pointless.

Your unkindness makes it so.

I strive only to
be worthy of you.

I'm human... I make mistakes.

Am I to be condemned for that?

Night and day, hope and
jealousy fight within me

and I have no respite from it!

Only you have the power

to free me the tyranny of one
so I can rise to the other.

But when you shun me...

demean me.

I wish to God he had struck
me through the heart

and be done with it!!

Hush now.

You are not the only one
fighting demons, Robbie.

Do you not see....

without your love I am lost.

There is only futility...despair.

Have I not proved my
affection a hundred times?

Giving you every opportunity
to advancement,

every chance to
prove your worth?

Your respect is harder to win, it seems.

Respect is not the prize
you think, Robbie.

People have short memory.

Then they are fools...

and unworthy of you.

Do your work well, sir,

for there is none so precious to me.

Your ruse with Blount
was a master stroke!

Such a cocktail of erudition...

a dash of nihilism, a
pinch of devotion.

Shakespeare himself could
not have matched his

You think that I am so callous,

that my words were
but a cynical ploy...

a sham!

You know me less well than
you think, Francis.

Francis Bacon is the man for
your Attorney General.

I tell you, you will
find none better.

Be warned, Robbie,

if you mean to wear me down
with your badgering,

many have tried that trick and
I have outlived them all.

For the sake of both our sanity,
choose another topic.

I fear the next
might please you even less.

My mother asks that you
receive her back in court.

Her exile is my punishment to.

My badgering is but a
whimper compared to hers.

She gives me no peace on it!

She claims that your beauty robbed her
of her husband's love

and now you seek to do
the same with her son.

Do you not see how I am caught
in the enmity between you?

Beyond the trees.

Shall we?

It's a fair distance for
someone of your years.

My age?

You will choke on
those words, my boy!

As ever, your efforts
on my behalf are welcome

but I fear the queen suspects
your generosity to your friends

is about enhansing your popularity

at the expense of hers.

If you are going to erase
that suspicion from her mind

Your watchword must be moderation.

I beg you, curb your impulsiveness.

Forget your aspirations
for military success,

and instead focus your
energy on the Privy Counsel

for only there you can halt
the ascendency of Robert Cecil.

When his father leaves office
there will be a power vacuum.

Prove yourself equal to it

and the flower of your
greatness can truly flourish.

Her Majesty is detained
on matters of state.

She begs you to wait for her in...here.

My Lady.

I thought I was to be
received in the Presence Chamber

so the whole court could see.

It is but more of her damn trickery.

Retire ?!
To do what?

Bury yourself in your estate
and breed guinea fowl?

I am weary, Your Majesty.

I am losing what dexterity
of mind and body I once had.

It's time someone
younger to take my place.

"Someone" being your son
Robert, I presume.

Have not I groomed him for
just this eventuality?

He is too young for
so weighty a position.

It is older than you
when you first became sovereign.

And you were by my side,
guiding me, counseling me.

Will you desert me now,
when I need you most?

Gloriana is but a ghost my people's memory.

Young blood that surrounds me

is governed only by self
interests... by ambition.

They do not care not for the
values of service and sacrifice

which shaped our generation.

And I'm not so vain...

I mistake their flattery
for devotion, My Lord.

When you are by my side,

I am invincible, William.

You are the rock upon
which I built my reign.

And my reign is not over yet...
nor your duty to me.

Your Majesty.

My mother still eagerly
awaits her audience.

Patience is a virtue, Robbie,

and virtue is its own reward.

She comes.

So many years, Your Majesty...

they have not
diminished your beauty one iota.

Is that it?

It's just the first skirmish, Mother.

I shall win her over yet.

I swear the best part of you

was left running down my legs
when you were born.

Antichrist of ingratitude!

Duplicitous mongrel of a Frenchman!

Did I not help him to his crown,
support his claim to be king?

In forging an alliance with Spain,

he seeks only to secure the safety
of France, Your Majesty.

We could do worse than follow his example.

Ally with Spain?

When they are trying
to use Ireland

as a back door to conquer us?

Tyrone is not just
another Irish renegade.

He is using their support
to oust us.

He is their gateway to invasion.

Any treaty would be conditional that
King Philip ceases his support

of Tyrone and his Catholic rebels.
That is implicit.

Without Spain's resources,
Tyrone's rebellion will collapse

and our sovereignty over
Ireland will be assured.

Only force can accomplish that.

We must mount a double offensive...

attack the Spanish colonies...

lead a military assault
against Tyrone in Ireland.

Boldness is the key.

And who will lead
such a bold campaign?

I fear the question
is rhetorical, My Lord.

Perhaps I should commend the
55th Psalm to the Earl.

"Bloodthirsty men will not
live half their days."

And those who live too long

lose their grasp
of the Scriptures, My Lord.

Does not the same psalm also say

that God shall cast his enemies
into the pit of destruction?

I will not have God used
as a weapon to score points...

Not in this council
chamber or anywhere.

When you are nearer the end
of your life than the beginning,

boldness loses something
of its appeal, My Lord.

for you are engaged
in a war of a different kind.

Your joke is in bad
taste, ladies.

Your pamphlet is but a
step away from treason, My Lord.

You question my authority
and my judgment.

I wrote it only so the
people know the disaster

this peace treaty with Spain will bring us.

My foreign policy will not be
dictated by public opinion.

Not for such underhand tactic.

While hesitate over Ireland,
we give Tyrone and his rebels

time to amass ship
more Spanish support.

We're playing to their hands!

I will not be goaded into
war based on a hothead

with delusions of adequacy.

Do not turn your back on me, sir!

I'm not done with YOU yet!

Is it a hothead
who has the people

screaming my name from
every rooftop?

They know that England's glory lies
not in the relics of the past

but in a vision of greatness,
which can again be ours.

Relics? You dare to utter such words to me?

Dare is what soldiers do...
It is what defines us.

I will teach you manners yet!

No woman shall strike me thus!
Queen or not!

Unhand me! Release me!
Let me go!

Without her forgiveness, all
the doors will be closed to him.

You must yield to her will.
Apologize to My Lady.

On his knees, if she demands it.

A letter...

I have penned to her in his name.

I beg you, make him see reason.

Put his seal on it, dispatch it,

end this wretched deadlock.

Why is it he, who must grovel in
slavish equality?

No son of mine should ever subscribe

to such falling hypocrisy.

I used to say that you can not
catch a monkey chasing it.

You must make the monkey
come to you.

Come again.

Sweet love took mine invite thy
gracious that refrain

to do me due delight,

to see, to hear, to touch, to kiss, to die

with thee again, in
sweetest em-pa-th-y are we.

The Earl of Essex is gripped
by a fever, Your Majesty.

He is mortally sick.

They say that...

he's so weakened by it that
he has but days left.

Mother, mother... do
not fuss so.

You're not done yet.

You must appear weakened
by illness and remorse,

no tantrums or tirades.

Did she not send her
physician to attend me?

Her actions speak
louder than any words.

Well, this time watch
your own words, son.

You lose her favor again,
you will forever lose mine.

Your bet is as
good as lost, sir.

Admit defeat.

I am relieved to find you in
such rude health, Your Majesty.

Yours has fully restored, it seems.

Thanks to your mercy and the
skill of your physician.

Sir Walter and I conducting a wager.

He claims he can calculate

the weight of the smoke... an
claim that I refute.

Put it to the test, sir.

And here you have it: the weight of smoke.

Well done, sir.

I am a ignoble wreck and
unworthy of your forgiveness,

so will not insult
either of us by asking for it.

My greatest fear is

your rashness will one day destroy
you, Robbie.

Worse, I shall be the instrument of it.

Isn't any son rein against
the rule of his mother?

That does not lessen
the bond they share.

A mother's love
obeys only one rule...

that it is give without
expectation of any in return.

Unconditional love
is the greatest gift

any woman can give a man.

On the Irish question...

We have received fresh
intelligence on the matter.

It seems your position on it,
holds merit after all.

Tyrone and his rebels are even now...

building up their garrisons
in Ulster.

Forgive me, I must speak.

Let it be me that quenches
this fire for you.

for you will see in my qualities
that no others have.

You alone can see
beyond the trivial

and to a man's soul

I beg you... for your
honor and for mine.

Let me beat Tyrone
in the field.

Prove to the world
Gloriana still reigns.

I'll reflect upon it, My Lord.

The seizure rendered him

without speech or movement
on his left side.

Thank God he can still hear.

Time and again I warned him

that the burden of his duties
was too much for his years.

Nourishment and rest are
what's needed now.

We will have you restore to your old
self and trust.

I understand that it is your will

that the Earl of Essex goes to
Ireland, Your Grace,

to take on the rebel Tyrone?

He set sail with his army last night

under the cover of darkness.

If victory is to be
assured in battle,

the element of surprise is a
prerequisite, Sir Robert.

Drake, taught me that lesson.

Forgive the presumption,

but he's no Francis Drake, Your Majesty.

Is it wise to take such a gamble

on one, so capricious,
and so headstrong?

Should Spain take dominance there,
then your kingdom could be at risk....

Do you think my wits are so impaired

I cannot grasp
the consequences?

Why must you all persist in
always seeing the faults in him?

Recall him.

He will take you down with
him, and England with you.

Recall him.

He is tired.

He asks to rest.

It must be her mother, Anne Boleyn.

The one they called the whore?

That's why the queen
will never speak of her.

But this is one of the
ladies of her old days.

This is not it.

Oh, it's lovely, Agnes.

"His last letter"?

There is no seal.

Oh, quickly, quickly!

Quickly.

She comes.

The silence from Ireland is
explanation, Your Majesty.

The Earl of Essex has
disobeyed your instructions.

He has wantonly ignored.

He did not go North, to
the Ulster, after Tyrone.

All this time he's been in the south,

engaged in fruitless skirmishes

against the rebel outpost there!

Of the 16,000 men under his
command, only 4,000 remain.

The others lost,
if not in battle,

then through disease or desertion.

The waste of it!

The earl where now?

He tarries in Dublin,

claiming exhaustion and ill health.

He seeks your permission to return home.

My Lord, I forbid you to
come out of that kingdom,

until Tyrone and his
garrisons are disposed of.

Why have you not prosecuted
your campaign against him?

You have had plenty of time, men
and ordinance to accomplish it.

You defy my authority with your
futile adventure in the south,

which has decimated my Treasury,

and cost my kingdom
dear in human lives!

Discharge your duty against
Tyrone, My Lord.

Do not let disgrace
be your epitaph,

nor the ignominy of defeat be mine.

For be assured I will not
pay the price of that alone.

Your Majesty?

You are my Alpha and my Omega, My Lord.

No prince has ever had
such a counselor.

Sir Francis Bacon, Your Majesty.

You asked him to attend you.

We have reason to be concerned

By the Earl of Essex actions, Sir Francis.

As someone close to him, we hoped
you might give us some insight.

Like you, Your Grace,

I have always tried to be
a moderating influence,

tried to stay his impulses,

but all in vain, I'm afraid.

I fear he has a malady in his mind which
has tainted him since he since birth.

Either he is tortured by melancholy
and self doubt,

or he acts with reckless hubris.

There is no restraining him.

At best, the result
is inconsistency,

at worst, indecision.

Well, he's made a decision now Sir,

... one he will live to regret.

He has agreed a truce
with the rebel Tyrone.

Today we received the notice
he has deserted his post,

together with a legion of his officers.

He has offered them knighthoods
to secure their loyalty.

Given the extremes of his nature,

he is not not just a danger to
himself, but to others.

Your Majesty, he must
be found, and quickly.

His whereabouts are
unknown to us, sir...

as are is his intentions.

To London!

Our destiny from now on!

Quickly!

Go! Leave me!

The..Queen is not yet dressed, My Lord.

You must leave now, sir,

Or we'll summon the guard!

Forgive my intrusion, Your Majesty.

I had to see you.

I could not wait.

My treaty with Tyrone is not

the disgrace your Council had you think.

They fight us like savages,

coming at us in the
mist like ghosts,

deploying tactics of
ambush, of sabotage!

Where is the dishonor in admitting

defeat against such
a foe is inevitable?

Is not Tyrone's threat
neutralized by our treaty?

His rebellion quelled and bloodlessly

at no more cost to your revenue.

As ever, your words
take the sting

of your actions, My Lord.

You must feel weary
after your journey.

Why not prepare to your home,
refresh yourself?

When we are both
more presentable,

we can discuss this matter at our leisure.

I see now...

this is where I belong.

I was a fool to stray so far from you.

He is the only Prince
in our hearts, My Lady!

All our hopes are with him.

She has dismissed

him from the Privy Council,

stripped him of his offices

of Earl Marshall,
Master of the Ordinance,

and now his patent on sweet
wines is revoked.

She's bankrupted him.

I'm ruined, Mother.

She's crooked as
her wretched carcass!

This is down to that wretch
Cecil.... and his conniving.

And as for Bacon...

that turncoat shall pay for his treachery!

But the will be ample time for atonement.

And you've squandered enough
of it in futile self-pity.

Cecil and the others,

who contrived your downfall,

are looking to secure their future

beyond the queen.

And you must do the same.

These hands hold the
course of history, my son.

Such a moment comes to
a man but once in a lifetime,

if he has the courage to seize it.

Sir Guiley will take
the palace here,

at the north gate.

Your contingent will
enter the river, Henry.

Mine will take the main gate.

And the palace guard?

Most will be marshaled to the queen's
apartment and council chamber.

They fight for coinage..... we for a cause.

They will not detain us for long.

But the queen must not be harmed.

She must be confined to her quarters

Under guard for
their own protection.

And her counselors?

Rounded up and executed.

He claims you are no longer competent

to rule, Your Majesty.

He means to depose you,

eliminate Sir Robert
and your council,

Proclaim himself Lord Protector,

RULE in your place.

He awaits reinforcements from the army.

Like he will then raise the people
and attack the palace.

His malice against your council

is quite fixed, Your Majesty.

He accuses Sir Cecil of
secretly plotting

to divert the succession to Spain,

and you, sir, of contriving in
murderous intrigues against him.

That man is delusional!

What meagre grasp of reality
he had is lost to him.

I fear that the Earl of
Essex was always a lost cause

In that regard, my lord.

He also revealed
his malice to you

in another regard, Your Majesty.

It seems he made referred to,

and I quote, "Your
wretched, crooked carcass"

'Tis true, Your Majesty.

We can not rely on fidelity,

of your people, Your Grace,

The hardships they have endured

could turn their hunger into hate.

It is a breeding ground for revolution.

Sir Walter, you and
Sir Francis will lead

a delegation of my counselors to him.

Give him no arena for his heroics.

Tell him that the hearing he
demands has been granted.

I require him to attend me.

Then take him to the Tower.

Forgive the rabble, My Lords.

Their rage is born of loyalty.

A rare raw commodity in
such troubled times, 'tis it not?

The queen awaits your attendance, sir.

We come to take you to her.

Then I must be presentable
for such an honor.

The rear of the house
is safer, My Lords.

Sir Francis is for me either way.

I will detain you
only a moment, My Lords.

I demand that you
let us out, sir!

We must strike now!

Get your weapons...make ready!

We have not yet prepared!

We need..need reinforcements.

People will rise behind us.

They will not fail us!

To the city!

A plot has been laid for my life!

To the city in a call to
arms, to save the crown!

Save the crown!

The English crown is going to be sold
to the Spanish by Sir Robert Cecil!

Go out, fight for the crown!

The queen's government
has betrayed her!

They have betrayed us all!

Fight!

My cause is just.

Fight for England!

They have reached Fenchurch
Street, Your Majesty.

Others gather at Ludgate,

and yet more at Newgate.

Dispatch a contingent of my
militia north... here,

to block their escape.

Another..thus,

to divide their ranks.

We need men and arms
to defend the crown!

Come out, I say!

For the queen!

Defend your crown!

Destroy the bastard traitors!

No! You must join us!

The queen's council is corrupt!

We must to the palace,
save her from them!

Out of my way!

Come out!

Deserters!

Cowards!

Why not come?

Traitors!

I am the Earl of Essex and
I command you, come out!

Fight with me!

Traitors!

They've locked us in.

We're trapped!

To the river!

We're not done for yet!

Save them! Come on!

We need more cavalry, more horses.

The people are closing their

doors to them, Your Majesty!

They are still loyal to you.

Remove the surprise from
your voice, Sir Charles.

I for one never doubted it.

Mother?

Mother!

The roof!

It's over, my lord!

For your life, you must surrender!

I meant only to protect her

against those who would betray her!

It was for the love of her!

For love of England!

Then make peace
with God, my lord,

Or face the fires of hell!

Your Grace?

The Earl has surrendered, Your Majesty.

The rest are scattered or arrested.

Over a hundred are confined
with him at the Tower.

We must make the preparations

for his trial, Your Grace, and speedily,

Before his supporters
can regroup.

When I hold my arms
thus, I am ready.

Let me through.

Let me pass!

Do not mourn my death,

for I welcome it.

I see now only
God can give me the peace

I have been denied on Earth.

God save the Queen.

God save us all.

He is gone, Your Grace.

Since the execution of the Earl of Essex,

The queen's spirit is quite broken.

She is evermore melancholy,
even more forgetful,

her temper more capricious.

She leaves her quarters now only for duty.

The recitals and plays she once relished,

her horse riding...

None can tempt her out.

She's beset with fears of assassination,

stalking the palace at night,
striking at unseen enemies.

Then, for a brief moment,

her old spirit was
returned to us.

she was Gloriana once more.

To be a king and wear a crown

is a thing more glorious to then who see it

and pleasant to them that bear it.

For myself... I was never so
much enticed by it as....

humbled by God chose me as his instrument,

to defend my kingdom from
peril, dishonor,

tyranny and oppression.

There will never be a queen
with more zeal and devotion

for her country and her subjects.

But it is my desire now

to reign no longer...
done your own good.

And the flame was extinguished.

She began to slip away from us.

Too weak to walk, she has
spent the past 15 hours

Standing in his chamber, refusing to sit,

lest she should not rise again.

The little bastard of the Boleyn.

I will have only one owner here

And no master, hear me?

I will have no man
to rule over me!

Then, after over 40 years as sovereign,

she quietly departed this life.

For the succession,

she neither denied, nor confirmed you,

but you can be assured

of my fidelity in that
respect, Your Majesty.

For King James' hand alone,

no other.

Wait outside.

A clasp has been added.

She has hidden a portrait inside.

Robert Dudley.

'Tis the whore, Anne Boleyn

Her mother.