[Prince George prepares to practice his speech, clearing his throat.]
KKeanrick
No, no, no, Your Royal Highness. What have you forgotten?
Oh, now look, if I stand any more heroically than this, I'm in danger of seriously disappointing my future queen.
KKeanrick
No, Your Highness, not the stance...the roar!
MMossop
Of course we wish you to roar. All great orators roar before commencing their speeches. It is the way of things. Now, Mister Keanrick, from your Hamlet, please.
KKeanrick
Ooooh, to be or not to be!
MMossop
From your Julius Caesar.
KKeanrick
Ooooh, friends, Romans, countrymen!
MMossop
From your leading character in a play connected with Scotland.
That's Macbeth, isn't it?
KMKeanrick and Mossop
Aaahhh! Hot potatoes, orchestra stalls, Puck will make amends! [pinch their noses] Ow!
Shall I get their supper, sir?
Yes. Preferably something that has first passed through the digestive system of the cat. And you'll have to take it up yourself.
Because I'm leaving, Baldrick. I'm about to enter the job market. [picks up the newspaper] Right, let's see...Situations Vacant. Mr. and Mrs. Pitt are looking for a baby minder to take Pitt the Younger to parliament. Some fellow called George Stephenson has invented a moving kettle and wants someone to help with the marketing. Oh, there's a foreign opportunity. "Treacherous, malicious, unprincipled cad, preferably non-smoker, wanted to be King of Sardinia. No time-wasters, please. Apply Napoleon Bonaparte, PO Box 1, Paris." Right, we're on our way!
Baldrick, I would like to say how much I will miss your honest, friendly companionship...
[touched] Aw, thank you, Mister B.
...but as we both know, it would be an utter lie. I will therefore content myself with saying "Sod off", and if I ever meet you again, it'll be 20 billion years too soon. [leaves]
[to himself] Goodbye, you lazy, big-nosed, rubber-faced bastard.
[re-enters] I think, Baldrick, you will soon be eating those badly chosen words. I wouldn't bet a single groat that you could survive five minutes here without me.
Oh, come on, Mr. B. It's not like we're gonna get murdered the minute you leave, is it?
Hope springs eternal, Baldrick. [leaves again]
Don't you worry, Mr. B. I have a cunning plan to solve your problem.
Yes, Baldrick, let us not forget you tried to solve the problem of your mother's low ceiling by cutting off her head.
But this is a really good one. You become a dashing highwayman, then you can pay all your bills, and on top of that, everyone'll want to sleep with you.
Baldrick, I could become a prostitute and pay my bills and everyone would want to sleep with me, but I do consider certain professions beneath me. Besides which, I fail to see why a common thief should be idolized just because he's got a horse between his legs.
[Blackadder learns that the prince, too, is broke]
Let's see, you can't borrow money, you're not going to inherit any money, and, obviously, you can't earn money. Sir, drastic situations call for drastic measures. If you can't make money, you'll have to marry into it.
Marry? Never! I'm a gay bachelor, Blackadder! I'm a roarer, a rogerer, a gorger and a puker! I can't marry. I'm young, I'm firm-buttocked, I'm-
And don't forget, sir, that the modern church smiles on roaring and gorging within wedlock. And, indeed, rogering is keenly encouraged.
Mmm, I believe still very much down to the conscience of the individual churchgoer.
[slams a large book shut] Oh god.
I can't find a single person suitable to marry the prince.
Oh, please keep trying. I love a royal wedding. The excitement, the crowds, the souvenir mugs. Worrying about whether the bride's lost weight.
Unlikely with this lot, I'm afraid. If the prince had stipulated "Must weigh a quarter of a tonne", we'd be laughing. Of the two-hundred and sixty-two princesses in Europe, a hundred and sixty-five are over eighty, they're out. Forty-seven are under ten, they're out. Thirty-nine are mad.
Well, they would be if they hadn't all got married last week to the same horse. Which leave us with two.
Well, there's Grand Duchess Sophia of Turin. We'll never get her to marry him.
Caroline of Brunswick is the only available princess in Europe.
[suddenly shouting] "Get more coffee! It's horrid, change it! Take me roughly from behind! No, not like that, like this! Trousers down! Tackle out! Walk the dog! Where's my presents?!"
Alright! Which one do you want me to do first?
No, that's what Caroline's like. She's famous for having the worst personality in Germany. And as you can imagine, that's up against some pretty stiff competition.
Yes, I am. Unless...pass me the paper, Baldrick. [opens it] Baldrick, why has half the front page been cut out?
You've been cutting out the cuttings about the elusive 'Shadow' to put in your highwayman's scrapbook, haven't you?
Oh, I can't help it, Mr. B.! His life is so dark and shadowy and full of fear and trepidation!
So is going to the toilet in the middle of the night, but you don't keep a scrapbook on it.
Let's see, Society Pages. You see, it needn't necessarily be a princess. All the prince wants is someone pretty and rich.
Oh dear, that rules me out, then.
Let's see..."Beau Brummel in Purple Pants Probe." "King talks to Tree. Phew, what a Loony." God, The Times has really gone downhill recently. Aha! Listen to this. "Mysterious Northern beauty Miss Amy Hardwood comes to London and spends flipping great wodges of cash." That's our baby!
[Prince George dictates a letter to be sent to Amy Harwood]
"From His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales, to Miss Amy Hardwood. Tally ho, my fine, saucy young trollop! Your luck's in! Trip along here with all your cash, and some naughty night attire, and you'll be staring at my bedroom ceiling from now 'til Christmas, you lucky tart! Yours, with the deepest respects, etc. Signed, George. P.S. Woof, woof!" Well, what do you think?
It's very...moving, sir. However, would you mind if I changed just one tiny aspect of it?
Yes, yes. I'll leave the details up to you, Blackadder. Just make sure she knows I'm all man. With a bit of animal thrown in. [growls playfully]
I tell you, Baldrick, I'm not looking forward to this evening. Trying to serenade a light, fluffy bunny of a girl for an arrogant half-German yob with a mad dad.
Well, he is the Prince of Wales.
Have you ever been to Wales, Baldrick?
No. But I've often thought I'd like to.
Well, don't. It's a ghastly place. Huge gangs of tough, sinewy men roam the valleys terrifying people with their close harmony singing. You need half a pint of phlegm in your throat just to pronounce the place names. Never ask for directions in Wales, Baldrick. You'll be washing spit out of your hair for a fortnight.
So, being prince of it isn't considered a plus?
I fear not, no. But the crucial thing is that they must never be left alone together before the wedding.
Isn't that a bit unfair on her?
Well, it's not exactly fair on him either. The girl is wetter than a haddock's bathing costume. But, you know, Baldrick, the world isn't fair. If it was, things like this wouldn't happen, would they? [smacks Baldrick on the back of the head]
Sir, I come as emissary of the Prince of Wales with the most splendid news. He wants your daughter, Amy, for his wife.
H'Mr. Hardwood
Well, his wife can't have her! Outrageous, sir, to come here with such a suggestion! Leave now, sir, or I shall take off me belt, and by thunder, me trousers'll fall down!
No, sir, you misunderstand. The prince wants to marry your lovely daughter.
HMr. Hardwood
Oh! Can it be possibly true? Surely love has never crossed such boundaries of class?
AHAmy Hardwood
What about you and Mum?
HMr. Hardwood
Well, yes, I grant thee, when I first met her, I was the farmer's son and she was just the lass who ate the dung, but that was an exception.
AHAmy Hardwood
And Auntie Dot and Uncle Ted?
HMr. Hardwood
Yes, yes, alright, he was a pig poker and she was the Duchess of Argyle-
AHAmy Hardwood
And Auntie Ruthie was a milkmaid and Uncle Isiah was-
HMr. Hardwood
The pope! Yes, alright! Don't argue! Suffice to say, if you marry, we need never be poor or hungry again. Sir, we accept.
Wonderful. So, obviously, you'll be wanted an enormous ceremony...What did you say?
HMr. Hardwood
Well, obviously, now we're marrying quality, we'll never be poor or hungry again.
Meaning that you're poor and hungry at the moment?
HMr. Hardwood
Oh yes. We've been living off lard butties for five years now. I'm so poor, I use my underpants for drying dishes!
Well, in that case, the wedding's off. Good day.
AHAmy Hardwood
But what about George's lovey-wovey poems that won my hearty-wearty?
All writteny-witteny by me-we, I'm afraidy-waidy. Goodbye. [leaves]
Crisis, Baldrick! Crisis! No marriage, no money, more bills. For the first time in my life, I've decided to follow a suggestion of yours. Saddle Prince George's horse.
Oh, sir, you're not gonna become a highwayman, are you?
No, I'm auditioning for the part of Arnold the Bat in Sheridan's new comedy.
Oh, that's alright, then.
Baldrick, do you have any idea what irony is?
Yeah. It's like gold-y and bronze-y, only it's made of iron.
Never mind, never mind. Just saddle the prince's horse.
Oh, that'll be difficult. He wrapped her around that gas lamp in the Strand last night.
Well, saddle my horse, then.
What d'you think you've been eating for the last two months?
Well, go out into the street and hire me a horse!
Hire you a horse? For ninepence? On Jewish New Year in the rain? A bare fortnight after the dread Horse Plague of Old London Town? With the Blacksmith's strike in its' fifteen week and the Dorset Horse Fetish Fair tomorrow?
Right. Well, get this on, then. [shoves a bridle into Baldrick's hands] It looks as though you could do with the exercise.
SCSally Cheapside
Honestly, Papa. Ever since Mother died, you've tried to stop me from growing up. I'm not a little girl, I'm a grown woman. In fact, I might as well tell you now, Papa. I'm pregnant. And I'm an opium fiend. And I'm love with a poet called Shelley who's a famous whoopsy. And Mother didn't die, I killed her!
DCDuke of Cheapside
Oh. Well, never mind.
[A gunshot rings out and the coach stops]
DCDuke of Cheapside
Oh no! Oh no, no, no, no! Disaster! It's the Shadow! We're doomed! Doomed!
Ah, good evening, Duke, and the lovely Miss Cheapside. Your cash bags, please.
DCDuke of Cheapside
[hands over his money at the gunpoint] You'll never get away with this, you scoundrel! You'll be caught and damn well hung!
SCSally Cheapside
I think he looks pretty-
Madam, please, no jests about me being 'pretty well hung already'. We've no time.
Now, sir, turn out your pockets.
DCDuke of Cheapside
Never, sir! A man's pockets are his own private kingdom. I'll protect them with my life!
I see. Got something embarrassing in there, have you? Perhaps a particularly repulsive handkerchief? One of these fellows who has a big blow and doesn't change it for a week? Let's have a look... [finds a handkerchief, and inside that, a jewel] Aha!
SCSally Cheapside
Highwayman, I also have a jewel. I fear, however, that I have placed it here, beneath my petticoat, for protection.
Well, in that case, Madam, I think I'll leave it. I'm not sure I fancy the idea of a jewel that's been in someone's pants. A single kiss of those soft lips is all I require.
DCDuke of Cheapside
Never, sir! A man's soft lips are his own private kingdom. I shall defend them with my life!
I'm not talking to you, Granddad.
[Miss Cheapside leans over her father and passionately kisses Blackadder]
SCSally Cheapside
Oh, I am overcome! Take me with you to live the life of the wild rogue, cuddling under haystacks and making love in the branches of tall trees!
Madam, sadly, I must decline. I fear my horse would collapse with you on top of him as well as me.
No, Quicksilver, you couldn't.
Well, that's not fair, then! I've had you on my back for ten miles, I haven't even got a kiss out of it!
Oh, alright then. [gives Baldrick a peck on the cheek] All fair now?
Tch, no pleasing some horses. Heigh-ho, Quicksilver!
[Baldrick whinnies and the two ride off]
SCSally Cheapside
Papa, you did nothing to defend my honour!
DCDuke of Cheapside
Oh, shut your face, you pregnant junkie fag hag!
[Blackadder packs up the wedding presents and prepares to run away with Amy]
Sir, what about the danger? Look, the reward's going up day by day.
I laugh in the face of danger. I drop ice cubes down the vest of fear. Things couldn't be better, Baldrick. She'll get me abroad and make me rich, then I'll probably drop her and get two hundred concubines to share my bed.
Wouldn't they be rather prickly?
Concubines, Baldrick, not porcupines.
[annoyed] I still can't believe you're leaving me behind!
Oh, don't worry, when we've established our plantation in Barbados, I'll send for you. No more sad little London for you, Balders. From now on, you will stand out in life as an individual.
Of course you will; all the other slaves will be black. [heads for the door]
[runs into Blackadder] Mr. Blackadder! What's this I hear about you buying a bathing costume and forty gallons of coconut oil? Are you going abroad, sir?
Oh, sir! What a tragic end to all my dreams! And I'd always hoped that you'd settle down and marry me, and that together we might await the slither of tiny adders!
Mrs. M, if we were the last three humans on Earth, I'd be trying to start a family with Baldrick.
[Mrs. Miggins wails in despair]
[entering with a letter] Mr. Blackadder?
Leave me alone, Baldrick. If I wanted to talk to a vegetable, I'd have bought one at the market.
Don't you want this letter, then?
No, thank you. God, I'm wasted here. It's no life for a man of noble blood, being servant to a master with the intellect of a jugged walrus and all the social graces of a potty!
I'm wasted too. I've been thinking of bettering myself.
I applied for the job of village idiot of Kensington.
I got down to the last two, but I failed the final interview.
I turned up. The other bloke was such an idiot, he forgot to.
Yes, I'm afraid my ambitions stretch slightly further than professional idiocy in West London. I want to be remembered when I'm dead. I want books written about me. I want songs sung about me. And then, hundreds of years from now, I want episodes of my life to be played out weekly at half past nine by some great heroic actor of the age.
Yeah, and I could be played by some tiny tit in a beard.
Quite. Now, what's this message?
I thought you didn't want it.
Well, I may do, it depends what it is.
Well, I don't know, do I? It depends what it is.
[frantically] Well, I can't tell you what it is unless you want to know, and you said you didn't want to know, and now I'm so confused, I don't know where I live or what my name is!
Your name is of no importance, and you live in the pipe in the upstairs water closet. [opens the envelope] Oh god. Was the man who gave you this, by any chance, a red-headed lunatic with a kilt and a claymore?
Yeah, and the funny thing is he looked exactly like you.
My mad cousin MacAdder. The most dangerous man ever to wear a skirt in Europe.
Yeah, he come in here playing the bagpipes, then he made a haggis, sang Auld Lang Syne and punched me in the face.
'Cos I called him a knock-kneed Scottish pillock.
An unwise move, Baldrick, since Mad MacAdder is a homicidal maniac.
My mother told me to stand up to homicidal maniacs.
Yes, if this is the same mother who confidently claimed you were a tall, handsome stallion of a man, I would treat her opinions with great care.
And I love chops and sauce, but I don't seek their advice. I hate it when MacAdder turns up. He's such a frog-eyed, beetle-browed basket case.
He's the spitting image of you.
No he's not! We're about as similar as...two completely dissimilar things in a pod! [opens the letter] What's the old tartan throwback banging on about this time? "Have come south for rebellion." Oh god, surprise, surprise. "Staying with Miggins. The time has come. Best sword in Scotland. Insurrection, blood, large bowl of porridge. Rightful claim to throne." He's mad. He's mad! He's madder than Mad Jack McMad, the winner of this year's Mister Madman competition! [the service bell rings] Ah, the walrus awakes.
Ah, Blackadder. Notice anything unusual about me?
Yes, sir. It's eleven o'clock in the morning and you're moving about. Is the bed on fire?
I wouldn't know. I've been out all night. Guess what I've been doing? [makes raucous noises]
Better even than that. Sink me Blackadder if I, if I haven't just had the most wonderful evening of my life.
[dully] Tell me all, sir.
Well as you know when I set out I looked divine. At the party as I passed all eyes turned.
And I dare say quite a few stomachs.
