Pierwsze 190 wierszy.
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(SENTIMENTAL VIOLIN MUSIC PLAYING)
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Whoa, there!
Halt!
Who goes there?
It is I, Arthur, Son of Uther Pendragon, from the castle of Camelot.
King of the Britons, defeater of the Saxons.
Sovereign of all England!
Pull the other one.
I am, and this is my trusty servant, Patsy.
We have ridden the length of the land in search of knights
who will join me in my court at Camelot.
I must speak with your lord and master.
What? Ridden on a horse?
Yes.
You're using coconuts!
What?
You've got two empty halves of coconut,
and you're banging them together.
So? We have ridden since the snows of winter covered this land.
Through the Kingdom of Mercia.
Where did you get the coconuts?
We found them.
Found them? In Mercia? The coconut is tropical.
What do you mean?
Well, this is a temperate zone.
The swallow may fly south with the sun,
or the house martin or the plover
may seek warmer climes in winter,
yet these are not strangers to our land.
Are you suggesting coconuts migrate?
Not at all. They could be carried.
What? A swallow carrying a coconut?
It could grip it by the husk.
It's not a question of where he grips it.
It's a simple question of weight ratio.
A five-ounce bird could not carry a one-pound coconut.
It doesn't matter. Go tell your master
that Arthur from Camelot is here.
In order to maintain air-speed velocity,
a swallow needs to beat its wings 43 times every second, right?
Please! Am I right?
I'm not interested.
It could be carried by an African swallow.
Oh, yes! An African swallow, maybe.
Not a European swallow. That's my point.
I agree with that.
Will you ask your master if he wants to join my court at Camelot?
But then, of course, African swallows are non-migratory.
Oh, yes.
They couldn't bring a coconut, anyway.
Wait a minute! Supposing two swallows carried it together?
No, they'd have to have it on a line.
Simple. They'd use a strand of creeper.
Held under the dorsal guiding feathers?
Why not?
Bring out your dead!
Ninepence.
Bring out your dead.
Here's one.
Ninepence.
I'm not dead! What?
Nothing. Here's your ninepence.
I'm not dead!
He says he's not dead.
Yes, he is.
I'm not! He isn't?
He will be soon. He's very ill.
I'm getting better!
You'll be stone dead in a moment.
I can't take him like that. It's against regulations.
I don't want to go on the cart.
Don't be such a baby.
I can't take him.
I feel fine.
Well, do us a favour.
I can't.
Can you hang around a few minutes? He won't be long.
Got to go to the Robinsons'. They've lost nine today.
When's your next round? Thursday.
I think I'll go for a walk.
You're not fooling anyone, you know.
Isn't there something you can do?
I feel happy.
Thanks very much.
Not at all. See you on Thursday.
Right.
Who's that, then?
I don't know. Must be a king.
Why?
He hasn't got shit all over him.
Old woman! Man!
Man. Sorry. What knight lives in that castle over there?
I'm 37.
What?
I'm 37. I'm not old.
I can't just call you "man."
You could say "Dennis."
I didn't know you were called Dennis.
You didn't bother to find out.
I did say sorry about the "old woman," but from behind...
What I object to is that you treat me like an inferior.
Well, I am king.
King? Very nice.
How did you get that? By exploiting the workers!
By hanging on to outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates
the economic and social differences in our society!
If there's ever going to be any progress...
There's some lovely filth down here.
Oh!
How do you do?
How do you do, good lady? I am Arthur, King of the Britons.
Whose castle is that?
King of the who?
The Britons.
Who are the Britons?
We all are. We're all Britons. And I am your king.
Didn't know we had a king.
I thought we were an autonomous collective.
You're fooling yourself. We're living in a dictatorship.
A self-perpetuating autocracy in which the working class...
There you go. Bringing class into it again.
That's what it's all about. If only people...
Please, good people. I am in haste.
Who lives in that castle?
No one lives there.
Who is your lord?
We don't have a lord. What?
I told you. We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune.
We take turns to act as a sort of executive officer for the week.
Yes.
But all the decisions of that officer
are ratified at a biweekly meeting.
Yes, I see.
By a majority in the case of internal affairs.
Be quiet!
By a two-thirds majority in the case of...
Be quiet! I order you to be quiet.
"Order." Who does he think he is?
I am your king!
I didn't vote for you.
You don't vote for kings.
How did you become king then?
The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad
in the purest shimmering samite,
held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water,
signifying, by divine providence,
that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur.
That is why I'm your king!
Listen. Strange women lying in ponds,
distributing swords, is no basis
for a system of government. Supreme executive power
derives from a mandate from the masses.
Not from some farcical aquatic ceremony.
Be quiet!
You can't expect to wield supreme executive power
'cause some watery tart threw a sword at you.
Shut up!
If I went around saying I was an emperor
because some moistened bint had lobbed
a scimitar at me, they'd put me away!
Will you shut up?
See the violence inherent in the system.
Shut up!
See the violence inherent in the system!
Help, I'm being repressed!
Bloody peasant!
What a giveaway. Did you hear that?
That's what I'm on about. Did you see him repressing me?
You fight with the strength of many men, Sir Knight.
I am Arthur, King of the Britons.
I seek the finest and bravest knights
in the land to join me in Camelot.
You have proved yourself worthy. Will you join me?
You make me sad. So be it. Come, Patsy.
None shall pass.
What? None shall pass.
I have no quarrel with you, good Sir Knight,
but I must cross this bridge.
Then you shall die.
I command you, as King of the Britons, to stand aside.
I move for no man.
So be it!
Now, stand aside, worthy adversary.
'Tis but a scratch.
"A scratch"? Your arm's off.
No, it isn't.
Well, what's that, then?
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