The Madness of King George Page #2

Not like you, Mr Pitt.

You don't have ideas.

Ah, well,

you have one very big idea

balancing the books...

and a very good idea

it is to have, too,

and one with which

I absolutely agree.

As I agree with you,

Mr Pitt, on everything.

Apart from the place

we mustn't mention.

The colonies!

They're now called

the United States, sir.

Are they?

Goodness, me.

The United States.

Well, I haven't mentioned them.

I prefer not to,

whatever they're called.

They are a fact, sir.

The vicar of Lichfield!

- Sir.

- The vicar of Lichfield.

It was his niece that married

the second son of the organist

at Norwich Cathedral.

Good night, Mr Pitt.

Good night, Your Majesty.

# Greensleeves #

(Sighs)

(Whispering)

(Giggling)

Fascinating stuff, what, what?

Let's have it again.

(Muffled groans)

Your Majesty, Lady Townsend

wishes to sit down.

Well, certainly not!

What?

Lady Townsend wants to sit down.

What for?

Because she is

five months pregnant.

So? You've had 15 children.

If everybody who is having

a baby wants to sit,

the next thing will be

everybody with gout!

Before long, the place

will look like a Turkish harem,

what, what?

Oh, that's enough.

Thank you, gentlemen.

Thank you.

(Coughing)

(Cough cough)

(Cough cough)

(King) Ah, Greville.

Thank you.

- Yes, that's better, what, what.

- Your Majesty.

You don't look at the king.

Didn't they tell you?

- I forgot, sir.

- Don't.

(Door opens)

That's Lady Pembroke.

Handsome woman, what?

Daughter of the duke

of Marlborough.

Stuff of generals.

Blood of Blenheim.

Husband's an utter rascal.

Eloped in a packet-boat.

Yes.

Good evening, Mrs King.

Good evening, Mr King.

When we get this far,

I call it dandy, hey?

Yes, Mr King.

Ohh.

I ate a pear at supper.

Two pears, sir.

It's as tight as a drum!

Aah! Rrrah!

Ha ha ha.

Saving your presence,

I will try a fart.

No?

Cold fish, Pitt.

Never smiles.

Yet he works hard, though.

Never stops. Drinks, they say.

They all drink.

His father, poor man...

went mad.

Huh. Doesn't show

any sign of that.

(Queen) Mmm.

Not at the moment, anyway.

Ohh!

Oh, the pain!

George! George!

Ohh! Oh! George! Oh!

Oh! Help me. Help us!

Help us!

Help!

(Doctor) He looks well enough.

I sent over some senna.

Was that given to him?

Yes. The pain got worse.

Whereabouts was the pain?

Would it not be better

to ask His Majesty?

How long have you

been in waiting?

I cannot address His Majesty

until he addresses me.

I cannot inquire after

His Majesty's symptoms

until he chooses

to inform me of them.

Sir George,

whatever his situation,

His Majesty is just a man.

You're the king's equerry

with radical notions like that?

Good God!

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