Original subtitles

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.