The Prince and the Pauper

- -

It's a boy!

A prince is born!

Oh! A boy... Oh, long live the Prince of Wales!

Long live the Prince of Wales!

Sit up and drink hearty!

The only cost of a tankard

is that it's drunk

to his wee Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales!

Long live His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales!

Here, milords and ladies,

I ask you to toast my son, Edward Tudor.

One moment.

You drink too fast.

I advise you that as you drink,

you pray for your own sakes that my son be a good king

because, good or bad, sickly or hale,

craven or brave,

he will be King!

You drank sparingly, my good Norfolk.

Wine does not agree with me, Your Majesty.

A pity. Because losing one's head from wine

is so much less permanent than losing it from treason.

Surely Your Majesty

does not think me guilty of that.

Not at all, my good Norfolk. Merely capable of it.

It's a boy, Henry.

So I've been informed.

You're glad?

Very. And grateful to you, madam,

not only for furnishing the House of Tudor with an heir,

but also for freeing your King

from further necessity of your being.

Poor little thing.

Brought into this world to wear a crown

whether it fits him or not.

It shall weigh him down

until he'll wish he'd been born

to the meanest pauper in London.

Poor little thing.

Poor, nothin'.

He's a healthy brat.

Healthy, is he?

You would have an healthy son

when all the time you knows it's only the sickly ones

who can beg a farthing nowadays!

A prince was born tonight, too, little baby.

So go to sleep

and pretend the bells are for you.

Here he is, Your Majesty.

And I think this cur ought to have his head whacked off!

Boil him in oil, I says, Your Highness.

A good stewing's what he needs.

- He's right, Your Highness. - Let's give it to him!

What has he done, my good lords?

He won't play, that's what.

Let this miscreant kneel before me.

Down, you scurvy nipper.

Why don't you want to play, bumpkin?

'Cause I don't want to be boiled in oil.

- It'd hurt. - Coward!

Hold your tongue.

He's right. It would hurt.

A good king is a merciful king.

I will show mercy.

If I make you one of my lords, will you play?

Yes, I will.

I dub thee Sir Hawkins.

Arise.

What's that?

It's Latin, and it means "Let there be no malice."

Father Andrew taught it to me.

He'd do better to teach you how to bring home a farthin'!

I'll knock them royal ideas out of your head!

You droolin' beast,

I'll cuff your mouth and like it!

Now, then!

He's certainly thumpin' the King good.

Maybe that'll keep the tears in your eyes

long enough to beg a penny

to pay for the food you've been eating!

Now, be off with you!

May I come in?

But you are in.

Thomas, have you been crying?

Oh, no, sir. It's sweat.

You see, I've been running.

Hmm. And how did you come by that?

Your father?

Oh, no, sir.

My father wouldn't beat me.

He likes me.

I apologize.

Thank you.

Someday I'm going to discuss you with your father.

Oh, no, I wouldn't, sir.

You see, he doesn't like to see anyone

on account of he feels so badly

about me having to beg.

Oh.

Uh, I thought maybe you'd let me read some more

out of that Latin book.

Of course.

The more you read,

the greater opportunity you'll have

of escaping Offal Court when you grow up.

But you've read most everything, I'll warrant,

and you're still in Offal Court, Father.

God's will and the whimsy of a king

are two things it isn't for ordinary people to understand,

I presume, Tom.

But, Father, why did His Majesty

turn you out of your house

and take away your pension

when you didn't do anything to him?

I'm afraid nowadays

the King knows very little about his subjects,

except those in his court,

who take great pains

he shouldn't learn the plight

of others less fortunate than themselves.

Do you know what I'd do if I were the King?

I'd send the little prince out to play with other little boys.

Then he'd learn about the people

and be a good, kind king when he grew up.

A rather unlikely suggestion.

Better get on with your reading while the light is good.

Perhaps I'd better,

because I've been at it two days now,

and I haven't got Caesar cross the Rubicon yet.

Tell me all about it.

Well, I'll tell you, there's more gold there

than you ever thought was in the world,

just dyin' to be took.

What's that you're readin'?

A book.

Stole it, eh?

No. Father Andrew gave it to me.

To keep.

Now, wasn't that kind of him?

I should say so. It's very valuable.

Only rich people can afford to buy books.

Give it here.

Please, father, don't tear it.

Tear it, you barmy mooncalf?

Who's gonna tear it? I'll sell it.

This'll fetch a nice bit of meat and ale.

Please, give me back my book.

Come on, Hugo.

We're goin' to the thieves market.

A windfall from heaven, I calls it.

And if I catch you with that smirkin' priest again,

I'll peel the hide off both of ya!

My book.

Go away! Get out of here!

Go on! Go away!

Penny, please? Penny, please?

Penny, please?

But it is time we spoke of certain things, Your Majesty.

My death among them, I suppose.

Death?

What made you think of death, sire?

For one thing, finding a carrion crow

flying around my bed.

Banish the thought, sire.

You're still a hale man.

I'm not a man at all.

I'm a disease.

An infernally painful one.

Go on, go on.

It merely occurred to me, sire,

that when Prince Edward comes to the throne,

it is likely the court will impose

the Duke of Norfolk on him as Lord High Protector.

And with reason, Hertford.

With reason.

Oh, what a sorry thing it is to be a bad king,

to worry on your deathbed about your dynasty

and not about your people,

to be able to forgive a man his sins and not his virtues.

And Norfolk has virtue,

and the House of Tudor has sins,

but they won't be judged by the Howards.

You are very right, Your Majesty.

The Protector will be a man

who nibbles at the Hand of the court.

Whose power frightens only the ladies,

and whose chief ambition

is to build a safe nest in the throne.

You'll forgive me if I say

the description greatly resembles

that of a palace rat!

- You mean-- - I mean you.

I am unable to tell my gratitude