Blackadder: The Cavalier Years Page #3

Well then, have a quick walk and talk

with your executioner,

- and let's get on with it.

- Right.

Well, I'm sorry, my friend.

I'm alone here today.

I'd hoped that my loyal chum

Sir Edmund Blackadder would be here,

but unfortunately his wife's sister's

puppy fell into the strawberry patch.

So, naturally, he can't be with us.

All I can do is bid

you do your duty well.

Well, thank you, Your Majesty.

May I say

how much I mourn for your lot,

and bid you remember others

before you who have died unjustly.

Thank you.

I take great solace from that.

Sir Thomas More, for instance.

A great generous man to the last.

He apparently tipped

his executioner, handsomely.

I'm so sorry,

I thought service was included.

Here you are.

- And then there was the Earl of Essex.

- Was there?

A truly great man.

They still sing his famous ballad

in The Chepstow Arms.

What ballad is that?

# The Earl he had a thousand

sovereigns, hey nonny no #

# He gave them all away

to the man with the axe... oh. #

- A thousand sovereigns?

- You can't take it with you, Majesty.

Very true.

There you are. Keep the change.

Thank you, Your Majesty.

Right, should we go?

Just a moment!

That voice has

a strangely familiar ring.

And so does that finger.

Blackadder!

Hello, Your Majesty!

You cunning swine!

Yes, well...

Marvellous! Splendid!

You've duped Cromwell and you've

concocted a cunning plan...

...to help me and my infant son

escape to France.

Yes, that's right. Yes.

So, let's put your cunning plan

into operation straight away.

Yes, let's...

- Well, you start the ball rolling.

- No, no, after you.

Right... yes...

Oh, yes, right.

And it's a very good plan.

It's a staggering

bowel-shatteringly good plan.

- Is the King ready?

- He is. Come, Your Majesty.

This is the head of a traitor.

No, it's not.

It's a huge pumpkin...

...with a pathetic moustache

drawn on it.

Oh yes, so it is. Sorry.

I'll try again.

Well sir,

they can't say you didn't try.

Now the future

of the British monarchy...

...lies fast asleep in your arms,

in the person of this infant prince.

And with the money you've earned

you and he can escape to France.

Well, quite.

On the other hand, you can stay here

and as a known loyalist,

the Roundheads will come

and cut your head off.

Exactly, Baldrick.

- Oh, my God.

- Surround the house, men.

Oh no! We're surrounded!

What'll we do?

At times like this Baldrick,

there's no choice for a man of honour.

He must stand and fight and die

in defence of his future sovereign.

Unfortunately,

I'm not a man of honour.

Thank God you've come!

Seize the royalist scum!

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