[In castle dining room, the Queen is eating at one end of a long table, and looks up as she hears her husband's voice as he and Harry spar]
DIE, YOU TURKISH DOG!!! [the King forces Harry to the table] YOU TURKISH PIG!!!
Father, it's me! Pax!!!
[realizes] Oh, yes, of course. Sorry, Harry. You're improving.
Yes, well, thank you, Father. [turns to Queen] Good night, Mother. [leaves]
He's gaining on me. He's gaining on me! [goes to the other end of the long table]
And how was Edmund?
Oh, well, well, very well. [picks up a piece of meat, smells it, then calls out] Chiswick, fresh horse! [tosses the meat over his shoulder]
And how are his dear little sheep?
[confused] Whose sheep?
Edmund's sheep.
[A couple of men bring in a huge platter with half a horse's body with legs, cooked, on it]
What sheep?
Well, the ones at Canterbury, his flock that he was talking about.
[tears off a whole leg from the horse; rolls his eyes and mutters at his wife's comment] Oh my god...
[Two knights ride up to the castle]
I can't understand it; Edmund doesn't even like religion.
[chewing the horse leg] That's impossible; he's the Archbishop of Canterbury!
Yes, and the Archbishop of Canterbury is also a naughty little boy, whose bottom I had to smack for relieving himself in the font.
[using his sword to pick and take some bread from the table] But that was a long time ago.
It was last Thursday.
[The King then laughs and spats out some food. Meanwhile, the knights have ridden into the castle]
[stands, approaching the Queen] Well, the boy's turned out well. [as a toast] A long and healthy life to him! [smacks his giant cup against the Queen's wine goblet, which breaks. He drinks and goes back to his seat] I thank God that in my lifetime never again shall I have to say, "Who will rid me of this turbulent priest?"
[Two knights finally park their horses]
And what is that?
Oh, it's something that my ancestor Henry II once said when he having trouble with Thomas á Becket. He was sitting at a table like this with two drunken knights, and he yelled out, "Who will rid me of this turbulent priest?"
[The two knights make their way inside]
Queen Gertrude: [confused] Er, what?
[in his sotto voce] God, save us. [the knights finally make it to the doorway of the dining room as he shouts] I said, "WHO WILL RID ME OF THIS TURBULENT PRIEST?"
[The knights look at each other]
Meaning who?
The Archbishop of Canterbury, of course!
[The knights look at each other again with confusion, nod, and leave]
And then what happened?
Well, they went straight off and killed him, of course!
[The knights leave the castle]
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