The Lion in Winter Page #3

When I bellow, bellow back.

I'll mark that down.

This too:

We are the world in small.

A nation is a human thing. It

does what we do, for our reasons.

Surely if we're civilized,

we can put away the knives.

We can make peace.

We have it in our hands.

I've tutors of my own.

Will that be all? Oh, think.

You came here for a reason. Don't you

want to ask me if I've got an offer?

Have you got an offer? Not

yet, but I'll think of one.

Oh, by the way,

you're better at this

than I thought you'd be.

I wasn't sure you'd noticed.

Well, what shall we hang...

the holly or each other?

Would you say, father, that I have

the makings of a king? A splendid king.

And would you expect me, father,

to give up without a fight?

Of course you'll fight.

I raised you to.

I don't care what you offer Philip,

I don't care what plans you make.

I'll have the Aquitaine

and Alais and the crown.

I'll not give up one

to get the other.

I won't trade off Alais or the

Aquitaine to that walking pustule!

No, your loving son will not.

Did you hear what he

called me? Clearly, dear.

Now, run along. It's nearly dinnertime.

I only do what father tells me.

Go and eat.

Did I say something wrong?

I'm always saying something

wrong. And don't pout.

I'm not pouting. And stand up straight!

How often do I have to tell you?

And that's to be the king.

And I'm to be his chancellor.

Has he told you?

John will rule the country

while I run it, that is to say,

he gets to spend

the taxes that I raise.

How nice for you. It's

not as nice as being king.

We've made you duke of

brittany. Is that so little?

No one ever thinks of crown

and mentions Geoff. Why is that?

Isn't being chancellor

power enough?

It's not the power I feel deprived

of. It's the mention I miss.

There's no affection

for me here.

You wouldn't think

I'd want that, would you?

Henry?

Hmm?

I have a confession.

Yeah?

- I don't much like

our children.

Only you... the child I raised but

didn't bear. You never cared for me.

I did and do, believe me.

Henry's bed is Henry's province.

He can people it with sheep

for all I care,

which, on occasion,

he has done.

Rosamund's been dead

for seven years.

Two months and 18 days.

I never liked her much.

- You count the days?

- I made the numbers up.

He found miss clifford

in the mists of wales...

and brought her home

for closer observation.

Liking what he found,

he scrutinized her many years.

He loved her deeply, and

she, him. And yet, my dear,

when Henry had to choose

between his lady and my lands...

there is no sport in

hurting me. It's so easy.

After all the years

of loving care,

do you think I could

bring myself to hurt you?

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