Baldrick:
Permission to ask
a Question, sir…
Edmund:
Permission granted, Baldrick,
as long as isn’t the one about
where babies come from.
Baldrick:
No, The Thing is :
The way I see it, these days
There’s a War on, right?
and, ages ago, there
wasn’t A War on, right?
So, there must have
been a moment when
There Not being A War on
went away, right? And
There being A War
on came along.
So, what I want to know is :
How did we get from the
one case of affairs to
the other case of affairs?
Edmund:
.......Do you mean,“How Did
The War start?”
Baldrick:
Yeah.
George:
!!!…The War started
Because of The Vile Hun
and His villainous
Empire-building.
Edmund:
George, The British Empire at present
covers A Quarter of The Globe,
while The German Empire consists
of a small sausage factory in Tanganyika.
I hardly think that we can
be entirely absolved of Blame
on The Imperialistic front.
George:
Oh, no, sir, absolutely not.
(aside, to Baldick)
Mad as a bicycle!
Baldrick:
I heard that it started when
A Bloke called Archie Duke
shot an ostrich ’cause
he was 'ungry.
Edmund:
I think you mean it started when
The Archduke of
Austro-Hungary
got shot.
Baldrick:
Nah, there was definitely
an ostrich involved, sir.
Edmund:
Well, possibly.
But The Real Reason
for the whole thing was that
It was just Too Much Effort
not to Have a War.
George:
By Gum, this is interesting;
I always loved History —
The Battle of Hastings,
Henry VIII and his six knives, all that.
Edmund:
You see, Baldrick, in order to prevent war in Europe,
Two Superblocs Developed :
Us, The French and The Russians
on One Side,
and The Germans and Austro-Hungary
on The Other.
The idea was to have
Two Vast Opposing Armies,
each acting as
The Other’s deterrent.
That Way,
There could never be A War.
Baldrick:
..but this is a sort of A War,
isn’t it, sir?
Edmund:
Yes, that’s right.
You see, there was
A Tiny Flaw in The Plan.
George:
What was that, sir?
Edmund:
It was BOLLOCKS.
Carninal Woolsey :
You opposed me in The Council,
this morning, Thomas.
Yes, Your Grace.
Carninal Woolsey :
….you were the only one.
Yes, Your Grace.
You're A Fool.
I Thank God there is only one fool on The Council.
Carninal Woolsey :
Why did you oppose me?
I thought Your Grace was wrong.
Carninal Woolsey :
A matter of Conscience.
You're a constant regret
to me, Thomas.
If you could just see facts flat on,
without that horrible moral squint.
With a little Common Sense,
you could have made A Statesman.
The King. Where's he been?
Do you know?
I, Your Grace?
Carninal Woolsey :
Oh, spare me your discretion.
He's been to play in the muck again.
He's been to Mistress Anne Boleyn.
Moore —
Are You Going
to Help Me?
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
If Your Grace will
be specific — ?
Carninal Woolsey :
Oh, You're a plodder...!
All right, we'll plod :
The King wants A Son --
What are you going
to Do about it?
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
I'm very sure The King
needs no advice from me
on what to Do about it.
Carninal Woolsey :
Thomas, We're alone.
I give you My Word,
there's no one here.
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
I didn't suppose
there was, Your Grace.
( He’s genuinely surprised and taken aback — because, of course, the study door has been deliberate left a few inches ajar by Cromwell on his way out, having granted Moore admittance, before retiring to beyond a margin of a discreet and plausibly deniable Safe Distance further down the cavernous, echoing Oak-Panelled corridors of Hampton Court. )
Carninal Woolsey :
Oh.
Do you favour a change of Dynasty, Sir Thomas?
Do you think two Tudors are sufficient?
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
For God's sake, Your Grace!
Carninal Woolsey :
Then He Needs A Son.
I repeat, What are You
Going to Do About it?
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
I pray for it daily.
Carninal Woolsey :
God's Death, he
means it…..!
That Thing Out There....
at least she's fertile.
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
But She's not His Wife.
Carninal Woolsey :
No, Katherine's His Wife
and she's barren as a brick.
Are you going to pray for a miracle?
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
There are precedents.
Carninal Woolsey :
All right. Good. Pray by all means.
But in addition to prayer,
there is Effort.
And My Effort
is to secure
A Divorce.
Have I Your Support,
or Have I Not?
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
....The Pope gave a dispensation,
so that The King might marry
His Brother's Widow,
for State Reasons.
We are to ask The Pope
to dispense with His Dispensation,
also for State Reasons?
Carninal Woolsey :
I don't like plodding, Thomas. Well?
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
Then, clearly all we have to do
is to approach His Holiness
and ask him.
Carninal Woolsey :
I think we might influence the
decision of His Holiness.
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
By argument?
Carninal Woolsey :
Argument, certainly.
And…. pressure.
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
Pressure —applied
to The Church?
The Church and,
Church Property.
Pressure.
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
…..
No, Your Grace --
I'm not going to help you.
Carninal Woolsey :
Then goodnight, Master Moore.
Let The Dynasty die with Henry VIII
and we'll have dynastic wars again—
Blood-witted barons
ramping The Country
from end to end.
Is that what you want?
Very well. England needs An Heir.
Certain…. measures,
perhaps regrettable...
perhaps not….as much in
a Church which needs
Reformation, Thomas.
....All right, regrettable.
But necessary to get us An Heir.
Now, explain how you,
as A Councillor of England,
can obstruct these measures….
For The Sake of Your Own
Private Conscience.
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
I think, that when
Statesmen forsake their
Own Private Conscience
for The Sake of their Public Duties,
They lead Their Country
by a short route — to Chaos.
And we shall have
My Prayers to fall back on.
Carninal Woolsey :
You'd like that, wouldn't you?
To govern The Country with prayers?
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
Yes, I should.
Carninal Woolsey :
I'd like to be there when you try.
Who will wear this after me?
Who's our next Chancellor?
You? Fisher? Suffolk?
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
Fisher, for Me.
Carninal Woolsey :
Aye, but for The King?
What about My Secretary,
Master Cromwell?
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
Cromwell…. He's a
very able Man.
Carninal Woolsey :
But?
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
Me, rather than Cromwell.
Carninal Woolsey :
Then, come down to Earth.
Until you do...
...You and I are enemies.
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
As Your Grace wishes.
Carninal Woolsey :
As God Wills.
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
Perhaps, Your Grace.
Carninal Woolsey :
Moore…
You should have been A Cleric!
Sir Thomas Moore, 004 :
Like yourself, Your Grace?
Carninal Woolsey :
Goodnight, Sir Thomas.
