All language subtitles for blackadder.s01e02.1080p.bluray.x264-stories

As the good Lord said,
"Love thy neighbour as thyself..."

Unless he's Turkish,
in which case, "Kill the bastard!"

- Farewell, dear Harry.
- Farewell, Father.

And his slimy son Edmund
to do the tasks most befitting him.

Edward.

My Lord...

- With the King gone...
- Hmm?

Of course!

At last, the chance
for some real power!

On! Onward! I want you scum back
to the castle by sundown

or you'll be slaughtered!
Onward!

Come on! Come on!

Shut up! And you can
keep quiet, all right.

I've just about
had enough of you.

Shut up!

Right, come on, you...
Where are you going?

Stop! Where are you going?

No, not away from the castle,
towards it!

Shut up!

Splendid! Splendid!

Now, look. You're not
supposed to be here!

That's far enough.
Now, get out!

If I could get my hands
on that bastard brother, Harry!

Ah! Edmund!

Ah! Edmund!

Ah! There you are! Splendid news,
Edmund! Father's coming home!

He writes here that
he'll be back by St Leonard's Day.

Excellent. So we can celebrate
both events together. Now, then...

I shall handle
the visiting royalty, of course,

and the guards of honour
and the papal legate,

and you can, uh...
You can sort out the frolics.

- The frolics?
- Yes.

The Morris dancers,
the eunuchs and the bearded women.

You know, the traditional
St Leonard's Day entertainments.

Oh, damnation! No, I don't think

I'm gonna have enough time
to attend to the drains.

Edmund! You'll have
to look into those as well.

Er... Yes, yes.

- Fine, fine, I'd be honoured!
- Good!

You won't let me down now,
will you?

No, no, no, no. No, I'm really
looking forward to it already.

- Thank you so very much.
- Splendid!

Twelve months of chasing sheep
and straightening the royal portraits,

and now this.

The bastard!

The bastard!

If only he were, My Lord.

- What?
- If only he were a bastard, My Lord,

then you would be Regent now.

Ah, yes! And then one day...

You would be king, My Lord.

Ah. yes!

Yes, I would be king.

And then what?

You'd rule the world, My Lord!

Precisely!

It's just not fair, you know.

Every other damn woman
in the court has bastard sons

but not my mother, oh no.

She's so damn pure,

she daren't look down in case
she notices her own breasts.

You must be so looking forward
to the King's return, Your Majesty.

No.

No, my lady?

But think, he will come to your chamber
and make mad, passionate love to you.

Yes. I wish he wouldn't do that.

It's very difficult to sleep
with that kind of thing going on.

Being used all night long,
like the outside of a sausage roll.

Still, we've got
the St Leonard's Day celebrations

to look forward to...

The jesters, the jugglers...

A great brown ox,
steaming and smouldering all night long.

Oh, yes! The feast!

Sorry? No, I was thinking
of something else.

I particularly hope they've
got the Morris dancers. I love them.

Yes. I like the eunuchs.

Oh, yes! The eunuchs!

Ah! I wish I owned one.

I wish I'd married one.

No, fine, fine.

Could have happened to anyone.
Never mind, never mind.

Oh, God.
I don't believe it.

We've only got one act,
and she's shaved her beard off.

- There's always the eunuchs, My Lord.
- Oh, yes. So...

The eunuchs and the amazing
beardless woman. What a line-up!

Percy, there must be someone else!
There must be. Look!

Ah, those are the jumping
Jews of Jerusalem, My Lord.

What do they do?

- They jump, My Lord.
- What?

They come in, My Lord,
and they jump. A lot.

It's a humourous act.

There must be something else, surely.

Ha! What's this?
"The Death of the Pharaoh."

"Sir Dominic Prick and his Magnificent
Strolling Wooferoonies"

"perform the tragic ancient Egyptian
masterpiece The Death of the Pharaoh."

That sounds funny.

Oh, no, no, no.
I found that very moving, My Lord.

Well, it'd better be funny, or Prick
will get his comeuppance,

I can tell you!

My Lord, what about Gerry Merryweather
and his four chickens?

- What do they do? Lay eggs?
- Yes, My Lord.

All right, all right.
We'll have them. We'll have them.

Post.

What... What is it, My Lord?

The eunuchs have cancelled.

Oh, dear.

Ha! I should have known!
Never trust a eunuch!

- What are we gonna do?
- I know what I'm gonna do.

Baldrick, give me
an execution order.

I'm gonna teach them a lesson
they'll never forget.

I'll remove whatever extraneous parts
of their bodies still remain!

My Lord...

Take that
to the Lord Chancellor. Thank you.

Oh, God. This is desperate!
Desperate!

We could have
the Morris dancers, My Lord.

Now, look.
We are not that desperate.

Morris dancing is the most fatuous,
tenth-rate entertainment

ever devised by man.

Forty effeminate blacksmiths
waving bits of cloth

they've just wiped their noses on!

How it's still going
on in this day and age, I'll never know.

Sorry, so do you want them,
or not?

Ah, Edmund.

- And rest.
- Oh, splendid.

How are the rest
of the entertainments coming along?

Oh, um, very, very well indeed.

Um... I think it's going
to have a slightly spartan look.

What? Greek?

- Er... Yes, that's right. Yes, a Greek.
- Oh, good.

- Oh, everyone turning up?
- Oh, absolutely everyone.

Um, so many people, in fact,

that I'm afraid I've had
to let the eunuchs go.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no!

- No?
- No! That won't do at all!

Not on St Leonard's Day.

Because... Well, correct me
if I'm wrong, Lord Percy, but...

Uh, St Leonard himself
was an eunuch.

Yes, that's right.

Well, that's why I thought
it might be more tactful...

Oh, no, no, no, no.

To leave out the eunuchs
on St Leonard's Day would be like...

Well, it would be like leaving out
the Morris dancers or the bearded women!

Besides, Lord Dougal McAngus,
the King's Supreme Commander,

is expected at the feast,

and as you know eunuchs
are his particular favourite.

- Mmm.
- He's Scottish, you see.

Ah.

Good, good. Well, I'm relying on you,
Edmund. Carry on!

So! Some carrot-faced, thistle-arsed,

Scottish old rag-a-tag
wants a eunuch, does he?

Apparently, he's a great warrior,
My Lord.

Oh, yes.
That's what they all say.

Those Scots...
They're just barbarians!

- Half of them can't even speak English.
- What do they speak?

- I don't know. It's all Greek to me.
- Oh, do you speak Greek?

No. I mean
it sounds like Greek.

Well, if it sounds like Greek,
then it probably is Greek.

It's not Greek.

But it sounds like Greek.

"What's not Greek, but sounds
like Greek?" That's a good one, My Lord.

Look it's not meant to be
a brain teaser, Percy.

I've been telling you that I cannot
understand a blind word they're saying.

No wonder, My Lord.
You never learned Greek, of course.

Percy, have you ever wondered
what your inside would look like?

Sometimes, My Lord, yes.

I'd be perfectly willing
to satisfy your curiosity.

Is that clear? Is it?

Oh, my God, this Scotsman's
beginning to annoy me already.

I'm the Duke of Edinburgh, you know!

And Laird of Roxburgh,
Selkirk and Peebles.

I can make things
very difficult for him.

As for these entertainments...
Oh, I don't know.

Baldrick, you've got a beard.

Go and get yourself a nice dress.

- Oh, great, My Lord!
- Percy!

You'd better go and get Bernard
the bear-baiter.

- Yes, My Lord.
- Looks like we'll be needing him.

- Uh, Percy.
- Yes, My Lord?

Tell him to bring a bear this time.

The improvising last year was pathetic.

Now then, Mother.
A toast to Father's return.

What the devil...

- Dougal McAngus!
- Oh, but of course!

Noble Harry, Prince of Wales,

Dougal McAngus greets you and lays at
your feet the spoils of an enemy at war.

Oh, sorry, that's, er...
That's my overnight bag.

Behold! Treasures torn
from the torsos of a Turk.

Oh, McAngus! It fills me
with joy and hope to see you.

What news of my father, the King?

Oh, when I last saw him, he swore
he'd be back by the feast of St Leonard,

- or die in the attempt.
- God forfend!

We shall pray for his safe passage.
Join us!

Join us. You must be starving.

- And young Lochinvar?
- Oh, yes. And him, too.

Come on, Lochinvar!

You must be the King's
wee bit of rumpy-pumpy.

- I am the Queen.
- Aye, aye. I've got a message for you.

My father asked me
to send his regards to you.

Do I know him?

Oh, I think
you can say that. Yes.

He's Donal McAngus,
third Duke of Argyll.

Oh!

Ah, Edmund! There you are!

McAngus, this is the man
who is providing

the entertainments for us tomorrow.

Ah, the eunuch!

Here. There's a groat
for your trouble.

Uh... I am not a eunuch.

Well, you sound like one to me.

I am not a eunuch.
I am the Duke of Edinburgh.

- Oh, you are, are you?
- Yes!

Same old story, eh?

Duke of Edinburgh, and as Scottish
as the Queen of England's tits!

Sorry, uh...
No offence, Your Majesty.

I'm sorry...
You're in my chair.

Don't apologise.

Well, now we've all
got to know each other,

I have rather
a special announcement to make.

Don't tell me,
you're a eunuch as well?

McAngus, as reward for
your heroic deeds in battle,

my father here empowers me to grant you
anything that you may desire of me.

If he's got any sense,
he'll ask for a haircut.

Brother, I'm honoured.
All I ask for is a scrap of land.

Grant me fair Selkirk
and the noble shire of Roxburgh.

- What?
- Very well. By the power vested in me...

Oh, excuse me, um, I'm sorry
to dip my little fly in your ointment

but those lands
do, in fact, belong to me.

Yes?

Well, so... Perhaps he'd like
to choose somewhere else.

- McAngus?
- No, no. I'll have Roxburgh and Selkirk.

But that leaves me with Peebles!

- Oh, aye! And Peebles.
- But, but...

Are you trying to say something, Edmund?

Well, I don't know.
I mean, some people might say,

"Well, what an absurd idea, giving away
half of Scotland to a kilted maniac,"

"for slaughtering a couple
of syphilitic Turks..."

Au contraire, I say,

"Let's reward him."

Good, good. So be it.

Hurray!

I'm going to kill him.
And I'm going to kill him now!

- Who, My Lord?
- That stinking Scottish weasel.

Why. My Lord?

Because he's a thieving
stinking Scottish weasel, that's why.

- How?
- I'm gonna stab him.

- Where?
- In the Great Hall and in the bladder.

But if you do it in front of everybody,
won't they suspect something?

Yes.

Yes, a drawback.

Yes, perhaps we need something

a little more cunning.

I have a cunning plan.

Yes, perhaps.
But I think I have a more cunning one.

Mine's pretty cunning, My Lord.

Yes, but not cunning enough, I imagine.

Depends on how cunning
you mean, My Lord.

Well, then, pretty damn cunning!
How cunning do you think I mean?

Oh, mine's quite cunning, My Lord.

All right, then let's hear it.
Let's hear what's so damn cunning!

All right. Well, first of all,
you get him to come with you.

Oh, yes. Very cunning.
Brilliantly cunning.

I ask him to come with me,
then stab him, perhaps?

- How cunning can you get?
- No, My Lord.

- You get this enormous great cannon...
- Oh, I see, take him outside,

get him to stick his head down a cannon,
then blow it off!

- Yeah, yeah.
- Yes! Oh yes, Baldrick, that's...

A wonderful idea.

No, I think I have a plan
that will give us a little more...

Entertainment.

Ahhh!

Can I help ye?

Erm, er, no.
No, I'm fine, thank you.

Good.

- I'm not in your way over here, am I?
- No.

Oh, there is just, er, one thing.

Erm, I was wondering if you could
do me a little favour.

Uh-huh?

Erm, I was wondering if you'd like
to help with the celebrations tonight.

How? By staying away, do you mean?

Whoa!

Erm... Well...

Thing is, erm, we were hoping
to present a mystery play

by one of our leading
thespianic troupes

erm, but, unfortunately,
one of their number is ill, erm...

And I thought you'd be
the perfect person to take his place.

Well, I warn ye...

I'm no actor.

Well, there shouldn't be
much acting required.

Erm...

It's an ancient Egyptian piece...

Er, called
The Death of the Scotsman.

I'll have a crack at it.

You, er...

You can play the Scotsman,
if you like,

who... Who dies
at the end of the play.

Oh, acting dead?
That I can do.

Yes, well, as I say...

There may not be
much acting required.

Oh, and mind the weasel pit.

Percy!

Tall as a tree! Let's see those branches
waving and swaying in the breeze.

Tall, tall, taller.

- Now smaller! Small, small, small...
- Ah!

Baldrick! Have you made
the necessary changes?

Yes, My Lord.

McAngus...

Meet your murderers.

How did it go?

Er, not bad,

but, you know,
I don't really think they understood it.

We three are gathered
with most bold intent...

Here, by the banks
of the graceful Nile,

where camels ride
and deserts blow...

To spill the blood
of this Scotsman vile.

What is a Scotsman doing in Egypt?

I'm not sure, but apparently,
they've had very good reviews.

See your mother there?

I met my father
on the way back from France...

Apparently, him
and your mother used to...

Now, don't be absurd.

Such activities are totally
beyond my mother.

My father only got anywhere
with her because he told her

it was a cure for diarrhoea.

Don't you believe it.

I got some letters
that I took from his tent.

By God, they're hot stuff!

I tell you, they certainly
cast a wee shadow of doubt

over the parenthood
of young Harry for a start!

- Oh, don't be absurd!
- Silence!

What?

A bagpipe strums. Behold!

This way our victim comes.

- For never...
- Oh, that's my cue. I'm on!

Letters? Letters?
Where are these letters?

They're safely hidden away.
I'll show you them later!

Oh, all right.

Tutankhamen McPherson,
you come not a whit too soon,

for is this not the weather fair,
or this the Ides of June?

McAngus: Aye, it is.

What business do you mean?

Quickly! McAngus is going to die!

- And not a moment too soon!
- Carrot-faced or an gut an!

- Thieving Scots weasel!
- Death to the Scot!

No, no, look. No, look.
He knows too much!

That is why he must die!

No, look.
He mustn't, he mustn't.

He has vital information.

I've changed my mind.
I've changed my mind.

Oh, my God.
What am I going to do?

- Stop the show, My Lord.
- But, how? How?

Well, just say "Stop".

What's our reason...
What's our reason for stopping the show?

Because the knives are real,
and McAngus is just about to get killed.

No, you bastard!

My Lord. Quick.

Stop!

Sorry, I'm late.

Yes!

Good. Excellent.
It's certainly my mother's handwriting.

- When did you say these were written?
- Er, 1460.

The year my brother was born.

Baldrick! Get in here.

Baldrick, get out there,

and tell everyone that the rest of
the entertainments have been cancelled.

- Why?
- Why? Because I told you to,

you silly little runt!

No. Why have they been
cancelled, My Lord?

Oh, I see.

Well, tell them I have
a very important announcement to make.

Does that mean I have
to take the dress off?

Oh, get out! Get out!
Get out! Get out! Get out!

Well, if you played
your cards right, you could become king.

Oh, yes, one day.

Ah, sooner than you think, maybe.

Cos last time I saw your father,
he'd just charged into Constantinople

- and they shut the gates on him.
- No?

Yes! 10,000 of the Turk
and they're armed with scimitars,

and your father
with a small knife for peeling fruit.

Oh, God...

Gerry Merryweather.

Another nail
in the coffin of variety.

I liked Bernard the rabbit-baiter.

Thank you. Thank you.

Look, Edmund,
is this announcement going to take long?

I haven't seen hide nor hair
of a eunuch yet.

No, don't worry, Harry.
It will soon all be over.

My dear mother, my dear brother,
lords and ladies of the Court.

Today there came into my possession
from the hands, My Lord,

of your faithful servant,
Dougal McAngus

certain letters,
rather extraordinary letters

concerning the lineage
of Prince Harry.

Letters?

- What is so extraordinary about them?
- Letters?

Well, Harry, they were written
by your mother to your father.

Your father, Harry, being,
of course, Donal, Sir Duke of Argyll.

I beg your pardon?

These letters are of quite
an intimate nature.

Let me give you an example.

"Arundel, Thursday.
My dear hairy-wairy,"

"Often, as you sit at table
with my husband,"

"probing deeply
into the affairs of state,"

"I long for the day
when you will probe..."

Edmund!

Are you sure you know
what you're saying?

As sure as our mother was,
Harry, when she wrote these words...

"Dear big-boy, sail south."

"As you know, your galleon is always
assured a warm welcome in my harbour."

"Big-boy!" Mother!
Do you know anything about this?

Well, what chance did I have?
I was just a little foreign girl.

Then I must renounce
the regency and hie me to a monastery.

Edmund, you shall be Regent
until your father returns.

- The King will not be returning.
- What?

Oh, dear.

No. When McAngus last saw him,

he was facing half the Turkish army,

armed only with
a small piece of cutlery.

So, Percy, if you'd like
to start things off...

The King is dead.
Long live the King.

The King is dead.
Long live the King.

Probably dead.

The King is probably dead.

Long live the King.
The King is probably dead.

Long live the King. The King is...

...not dead.
Long live the King. Hurray!

Blood! Death! War!

Rumpy-pumpy!

Triumph!

McAngus!

My companion in blood,
and most trusted friend!

- You made it!
- Yes!

I made it.
Thanks to my trusty fruit knife.

Wait a minute.

What's going on here?

Who are you?

He's our son.

What?

Oh, yes, of course.

Enid.

My beloved father,
certain letters have come to light

which might change things
a bit around here.

Letters? What letters?

They speak of acts of love
between your wife and Donal,

the Gay Dog of the Glens.

"How I long to be in that kingdom
between the saffron sheets,

"where you and your ruler
are the only ruler...

- Oh!
- "...and then acts of love consummated,

"oh, you enormous Scotsman."
Etc, etc.

These letters are dated
November and December 1460

which, Harry, in relation to your date
of birth, is precisely nine months...

After I was born!

But about nine months
before your birth, Edmund.

Ergh!

You bastard!

No, I think
you're the bastard, Edmund.

Silence! I want an explanation!

Er...

My liege...

The reason I have
gathered you all here today

is to try to get some proper justice
meted out against this Scottish turd

who has clearly forged
these obviously fake letters.

- Let me see them!
- No! I rip them up in his face

so no hint of their
filthy slander can remain!

You come in here, fresh from
slaughtering a couple of chocos

when their backs were turned

and think you can upset
the harmony of a whole kingdom?

- I challenge you to a duel!
- To the death!

Um... Yes, all right.

Excellent idea!

After all,
it is St Leonard's Day...

There's meant to be some entertainment!

Good, very good!
Take your places.

It is nice to see
old Glenshee again, eh, McAngus?

Reminds me of the time with the three
Turks and the human shish kebab!

How could I ever forget?

Very well.
Let the killing begin!

Let's see the Black Adder
wriggle out of this one!

Shut up!

Come on! What's the hold-up?

Um... I'll give you
everything I own. Everything!

Ah-ha!

Erm, I'm hardly a rich man...

You're hardly a man at all!

But...

My horse must be worth 1,000 ducats.

I can sell my wardrobe,
the pride of my life.

My swords, my curtains,
my socks and my fighting cocks.

Oh, my servants,
I can live without...

Except perhaps
he who oils my rack.

And then,
my most intimate treasures...

My collection
of antique cod-pieces,

my wigs for state occasions,

my wigs for private occasions,
and my wigs

for humourous occasions.

And my collection of pokers,
my grendle-stretchers,

my ornamental pomfreys

and of course, my autographed
miniature of Judas Iscariot.

That's nowhere near enough!

Ah, I'm only kidding!

Actually, I'm quite
interested in the wigs.

Never mind!

Ah! Hey!

Hope life doesn't become too dull,

not being able to pass laws
over Scotland.

I wouldn't pass water
over Scotland!

I'm fed up!

We're all terribly
pleased you're back, Father.

I'm not.

I miss the smell of blood
in my nostrils.

- And the Queen's "got a headache".
- Oh, dear.

But we do have
a fascinating week ahead.

Erm, in fact,
the Archbishop of York has asked me

if you'd care to join his
formation Italian dance class.

And I really I ought
to give him an answer.

Do you want be to be honest,
or tactful?

Er, tactful, I think.

- Tell him to get stuffed!
- Right.

Has that little hooligan
McAngus left?

Er, no. Edmund's giving him
a last look round the castle now.

While this...

Well, I'll be sorry
to see him go.

McAngus: Ah, very interesting!

Yes, and so will Edmund.

They've become firm friends.

What the devil...

- The Turks?
- The drains!

Father! Harry!

There's been rather a messy accident.
You must come quickly!

Oh, God! I shall get my plunger!

♪ The sound of hoof beats 'cross the glade ♪

♪ Good folk, lock up your son and daughter ♪

♪ Beware the deadly flashing blade ♪

♪ Unless you want to end up shorter ♪

♪ Black Adder ♪

♪ Black Adder ♪

♪ He rides a pitch-black steed ♪

♪ Black Adder ♪

♪ Black Adder ♪

♪ He's very bad indeed ♪

♪ Black, his gloves of finest mole ♪

♪ Black, his codpiece made of metal ♪

♪ His horse is blacker than a hole ♪

♪ His pot is blacker than his kettle ♪

♪ Black Adder ♪

♪ Black Adder ♪

♪ With many a cunning plan ♪

♪ Black Adder ♪

♪ Black Adder ♪

♪ You horrid little man! ♪