[In Edmund’s bedroom, Edmund is asleep. Beside his head is a pair of feet. The owner of the feet is named Mollie.] [knock at door]
Edmund: Go away.
Baldrick: (standing at open doorway) My Lord, there is someone at the door to see you.
Edmund: (wearily) Oh God. What time is it?
Baldrick: Four o’clock.
Edmund: Baldrick, I’ve told you before: you mustn’t let me sleep all day; this woman charges by the hour.
Baldrick: No, My Lord, it’s four o’clock in the morning.
Edmund: Someone wants to see me at four in the morning? What is he, a giant lark?
Baldrick: No, he’s a priest.
Edmund: Tell him I’m Jewish.
Mollie: (pushing herself out from beneath the covers at the foot of the bed) Aren’t you going to introduce me, then?
Mollie: Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?
Edmund: Oh very well, but I think you’re making a terrible mistake. Baldrick, I’m delighted to introduce you to … I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.
Edmund: Of course, Mollie. Baldrick, this is Mollie, a dear friend of mine.
Mollie: I’m not dear. I’m very reasonable actually, Baldrick. Most girls would charge an extra sixpence for all the horrible things he wants to do.
Edmund: Alright, alright. Baldrick, this is Mollie, an inexpensive prostitute. Mollie, this is Baldrick, a pointless peasant. Now let me get some sleep.
Baldrick: Well, what about this priest?
Edmund: Tell him to take his sacred backside out of here, and what’s more, if he comes begging again, tell him I shall report him to the Bishop of Bath and Wells, who drowns babies at their christening and eats them in the vestry afterwards.
Baldrick: Yes, My Lord.
Mollie: (sweetly) Bye, Baldrick!
Baldrick: (just as so) Bye, bye, Mollie!
Edmund: Get out; go on! (Baldrick leaves) You’re a one, aren’t you? When you should be whispering sweet conversational nothings like "Goodness me, something twice the size of the Royal Barge has just hove into view between the sheets," you don’t say a word, but enter the Creature From The Black Latrine and you won’t stop jabbering.
Mollie: He was treating me like a human being.
Edmund: Look, if I had wanted a lecture on the rights of Man, I would have gone to bed with Martin Luther.
[Baldrick flies through the door, literally, and remains lying on the floor with door fragments.]
Edmund: (he had just put his head down, and remains so with his eyes closed) Yes, what is it, Baldrick?
Baldrick: It’s that priest. He says he still wants to see you.
Edmund: And did you mention the baby-eating Bishop of Bath and Wells?
Baldrick: I did, My Lord.
Edmund: And what did he say?
Bishop: (enters; shouts) He said, "I *am* the baby-eating Bishop of Bath and Wells!"
Edmund: (sits up with a start) Good lord!
Bishop: You haven’t any children, have you, Blackadder.
Edmund: No, no, I’m not married.
Bishop: In that case, I’ll skip breakfast and get straight down to business. Do you know what day it is today?
Bishop: It was exactly one year ago to the day that the Bank of the Black Monks of St. Herod — "Banking with a smile and a stab" — of which I am the assistant manager, lent you one thousand pounds. (kneels down to be face-to-face with Edmund, who begins cowering) Our motto is "Repayment or Revenge."
Edmund: Of course, and naturally I’d have paid you back, but — and this is the real bugger, I’ve gone and lost my wallet. Has that ever happened to you? Disastrous! It had all my things in it: all those little notes saying "Forget ye not" and, of course, all my money!
Bishop: That’s no concern of mine. The debt is now due. Failure to pay back a loan is a sin, and we Black Monks, we HATE SIN!
[Bishop lifts up the sheets, revealing that Edmund — dressed in a brief black loincloth — is in bed with Mollie.]
Edmund: Ah. Erm, Your Grace, may introduce my mother … Mother, this is–
Bishop: (recognizes Mollie) Good morning, my dear! (sits on the bed) I hope you haven’t forgotten our appointment.
Mollie: (sweetly) Of course not, Pumpy!
Bishop: You know, I have a mind, my pretty, to play "Nuns and Novices," so don’t forget your wimple.
Bishop: (to Edmund) And, as for you, you come with me.
Edmund: (stands) Where?
Bishop: To visit the last poor fool who (draws his sword) LOST HIS WALLET! (hits Edmund’s bare buttocks with sword; Edmund runs out)
[at graveyard; a mad beggar is dancing around (the same one whom Edmund chases in the final credits of each episode).]
Edmund: (reading over a tombstone) "William Greeves: born 1513 in Chelshood with the love of Christ; died 1563 in … agony with a spike up his bottom."
Beggar: (comes behind Edmund) Ah! ‘Tis ever (in sown uncle?) with the Black Monks! (fondles the tombstone) Oh! Screamed, did he — scream and gurgle as they skewered his catflap for once of a farthing!
Bishop: I think you get my message.
Edmund: (stands; the beggar grabs onto his leg; he tries to shake him off as he speaks) Erm, yes, yes indeed. But, tell me, Bishop, let me just test the water here, so to speak. Erm, supposing I was to say to you something like, "I’m a close friend of the Queen’s, and I think she’d be very interested to hear about you and Mollie and the wimple, so why don’t we just call it quits, eh, Fatso?"
Bishop: I would say, firstly, "The Queen would not believe you," and, secondly, (draws a hot poker) "You’ll regret calling me `Fatso’, later today!"
Bishop: I will have my money by Evensong tonight or … YOUR BOTTOM WILL WISH IT HAD NEVER BEEN BORN!!! (exits)
Beggar: (letting go of Edmund’s leg finally, stands) Oh! Poor Tom’s cold! Pity poor Tom, for his nose is frozen, and he does shiver, and HE’S MAD! (waving his arms quite dramatically)
Edmund: Oh shut up! (pushes the beggar into an open grave)
(at Edmund’s home)
Edmund: So, lads, I’m up a certain creek without a certain instrument. Either I raise a thousand pounds by this evening, or I get murdered. What should I do?
Baldrick: It’s obvious.
Baldrick: You’ll have to get murdered. You’ll never raise that sort of money.
Percy: (looks up from his book, waves his handkerchief about, chuckling) Oh, come now, Baldrick. A piffling thousand? Pay the fellow, Edmund, and damn his impudence.
Edmund: I haven’t got a thousand, dunghead! I’ve got 85 quid in the whole world! (holds up a small bag)
Percy: But you’re always boasting to the Queen about how wealthy you are.
Edmund: Ah, a cunning web of deceit, subtly spun about the court to improve my standing, unfortunately.
Percy: (stands) What, do you mean you’ve been … fibbing?
Edmund: (sits in chair by the door) Yep. My whole life has been a tissue of whoppers. I consider myself one of England’s finest liars. (looks out the door) Oh, my god, Percy! A giant hummingbird is about to eat your hat and cloak!
Percy: Oh no! (runs out)
Edmund: (to Baldrick) You see? I’m terrific at it.
Percy: (comes back) It seems to have gone now. Well, couldn’t you just dip into the family fortune?
Edmund: There isn’t one. My father blew it all on wine, women and amateur dramatics. At the end, he was eking out of a living doing humourous impressions of Anne of Cleeves.
Percy: (sympathetic) Oh, Edmund, I am sorry — I had no idea. But do not despair, for I have some small savings carefully harvested from my weekly allowance, set aside against my frail old age. By lucky haps, it is just over a thousand, methinks, and has for years has been hidden beyond the wit of any thief, in an old sock…
Edmund and Percy: …under the squeaky floorboard…
Baldrick, Edmund and Percy: …behind the kitchen dresser.
Percy: (smiles, slightly warily) You’ve seen it!
Edmund: Seen it, pinched it, spent it. And same goes for the two farthings Baldrick thinks he’s got hidden inside that moldy potato.
Baldrick: Oh, bloody hell!
Percy: Then you are doomed. Alas. For God’s sake, let us sit upon the carpet (sits on the floor) and tell sad stories.
Edmund: Certainly not! When Lord Blackadder is in trouble, he does not sit about.
Baldrick: You won’t be able to sit about with a spike up your bottom.
Edmund: Well, exactly. (sits at his desk) But still, I’ve got 85 quid and that’s a start. I’m sure I’ll think of something, as long as I’m not disturbed.
[a messenger enters]
Messenger: My Lord, the Queen dost demand your urgent presence on pain of death.
Edmund: Oh god! The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil’s own Satanic herd!
[Edmund walks briskly up the hall and enters court.]
Edmund: Madam, you sent for me…
Queen: (playing chess with Melchett) Did I? I don’t remember. What a naughty scatterbrain I am! (makes a move on the chess board) Zap! (takes off one of Melchett’s pieces)
Edmund: Well, perhaps, Ma’am, if I might be allowed to withdraw, I have one or two tiny matters to attend to.
[Edmund bows, turns, and opens the doors. Melchett, Queen and Nursie break into laughter. Edmund turns back.]
Queen: That was a terrific joke, wasn’t it?
Melchett: Oh, magnificent!
Nursie: And so naughty!
Edmund: What, My Lady?
Queen: I do know why I wanted to see you, and I just pretended I didn’t, and I fooled you. And it worked brilliantly, didn’t it!
Edmund: It was terrific, Madam. I thank God I wore my corset, because I think my sides have split. So why *did* you want to see me?
Queen: To crack the lovely joke.
Melchett: Or perhaps, Blackadder, you don’t think the Queen’s jokes are funny enough for you to be troubled with.
Edmund: Au contraire. I’m ecstatic about the whole incident. I only didn’t laugh out loud because I was afraid if I did, my head would’ve fallen off.
Queen: If you don’t start soon, your head *will* fall off! (all laugh) Now pay Melchy his 85 pounds and run along.
[Melchett, sitting on the floor, his back to Edmund, holds out his hand.]
Edmund: 85 pounds?
Queen: We had a bet. I said that you wouldn’t fall for my trick, and Melchy said you would because I’m so super and you’re so stupid. So you owe him 85 pounds.
Edmund: Fine, fine. I mean, it’s only money, isn’t it! (gives it to Melchett)
[Edmund’s house, in hallway. Baldrick is sweeping the floor. Edmund enters.]
Edmund: I can *not* believe it! She drags me all the way from Billingsgate to Richmond to play about the weakest practical joke since Cardinal Woolsey got his knob out at Hampton Court and stood at the end of the passage pretending to be a door.
Edmund: Oh, shut up, Baldrick — you’d laugh at a Shakespeare comedy.
Percy: (rushes out of the living room) Edmund, oh Edmund, I’ve awaited your return! (hugs him)
Edmund: And thank God you did, for I was just thinking, "My god! I die in 12 hours. What I really need now is a hug from a complete prat!" (enters the living room)
Percy: But fear not, for I have a plan to save the life of my dear dear friend.
Edmund: Look, I’m not interested in your bloody friends! What about me?
Percy: (giggles) Not bad, Edmund. That’s a good one.
Edmund: Oh, alright, then. (sits) What’s your big plan, blockhead?
Percy: I intend to discover, this very afternoon, the secret of alchemy — the hidden art of turning base things into gold.
Edmund: I see, and the fact that this secret has eluded the most intelligent people since the dawn of time doesn’t dampen your spirits at all.
Percy: Oh no; I like a challenge! (exits, as Baldrick pours a drink)
Edmund: Well, Balders, I lost the 85 quid. The grave opens up before me like a … big hole in the ground.
Baldrick: (gives the cup to Edmund) Well, I did have one idea, My Lord, but … nah, it’s stupid, you wouldn’t… (turns to leave)
Edmund: What is it?
Baldrick: (turns back) Well, I have heard there’s good money to be made down the docks, doing favors for sailors.
Edmund: Favors? What do you mean? Delivering messages, sewing on buttons — that kind of thing?
Baldrick: Erm, not quite.
Edmund: (starts to stand) Baldrick!
Baldrick: My Lord?
Edmund: Are you suggesting that I become a rent boy?
Baldrick: Well, good-looking bloke like you, posh accent, nice legs — you can make a (bomb?). Just stick a pink carnation in your hat and, er, make the old sign.
Edmund: I’d rather die.
Baldrick: Oh, fair enough, that’s all right, then. I’ll just put the kettle on while we wait, shall I? (turns to leave)
Edmund: (reaches out and grabs Baldrick’s shoulder, turning him round) On second thought, with a slight alteration, your sick and sordid plan might just work.
[at docks, Baldrick is dressed in Edmund’s clothes. His hat has a pink carnation in it, and he holds a sign reading "GET -IT- HERE." He bounces seductively as a burly sailor named Arthur strides up.]
Arthur: Give me a kiss and I’ll give you a penny.
Edmund: (comes from round the corner) A penny?!
Arthur: Well, alright then — tuppence!
Edmund: Oh, all right, go on. (disappears behind the corner)
Arthur: Nothing fancy. Just a peck. I miss my mum, you see. When I a little kid, my mother always used to come up–
Edmund: (appears) Look, get a move on! He’s a prostitute, not an agony aunt!
Arthur: Go on, please! Just a little peck on the cheek, and say, "There there, Arthur — Mummy’ll kiss it better, and you shall have a story."
Edmund: Well, I don’t know. Do you do requests, Baldrick?
Baldrick: What, kinky stuff? Yeah, I’m game.
Arthur: Oh, go on, please! (crying) I miss my mother so much. I mean, she was like a mother to me!
Edmund: Well, alright, go on, Baldrick. (disappears)
Baldrick: (starts to reach up to Arthur’s cheek, but pauses) I’ve forgotten what I’m supposed to say.
Edmund: (appears, fed up) Get out of the way; I’ll do it. (takes the sign) There there, Arthur (*smooch*). Mummy kiss it better, and you shall have a story.
Arthur: (excited) What kind of a story?
Edmund: Well, I don’t know … one about a squirrel, I suppose.
[some time later]
Edmund: …and then Squirry the Squirrel went…
Arthur and Baldrick: (everyone has their arms around each other) …"Neep neep neep!"…
Edmund: …and they all went home for tea.
Arthur: Ah, thanks very much, me ol’ shivering mateys! That was wonderful. (turns to Edmund) Now then, how much do you charge for a good hard shag?
Edmund: (nervous) A thousand pounds.
Arthur: A thousand pounds? You’ve got to be joking!
Edmund: Well, I’m sure we could negotiate. (tosses the sign to Baldrick)
[Arthur smiles at Baldrick]
[back at Edmund’s house]
Edmund: Right, so we’ve got sixpence.
Baldrick: Yeah, now all we need to do, My Lord, is to go down the cockfights and put it on a bird that’s a dead cert but has got odds of forty thousand to one.
Edmund: Know you of such a bird?
Baldrick: No. But we could make one.
Edmund: No we couldn’t, Baldrick. Oh god, I suppose you have to be told sometime. Sit down. What happens is: a mummy bird and a daddy bird who love each other very much get certain urges…
Baldrick: No, no, My Lord. What I mean is: we could get a mad wild killer bull, and disguise it as a bird, but it’ll be such a strange-looking bird that no-one will back it, but we’ll know it’s a killer bull so we’ll put money on it.
Edmund: Only we will know.
Baldrick: Yeah — if we stick enough feathers on it and hang an egg between its legs.
Edmund: Yes, alright, alright, Baldrick. A chat with you and somehow death loses its sting.
Messenger: (enters) My Lord, the Queen dost demand your presence on pain of death.
Edmund: You’re not making any friends here, you do know that, don’t you, messenger!
[Edmund runs up the hall and enters court.]
Edmund: Madam, you sent for me again.
Queen: Yes, Edmund. I wanted to apologize for the silly trick I played on you.
Queen: It was naughty and bad of me.
Nursie: It was, my little rosebud. If you weren’t quite so big, it’d be time for Mr. and Mrs. Spank to pay a short sharp trip to Bottyland.
Queen: Thank you, Nursie. And thank you, Edmund.
Edmund: That’s all…
Queen: Yes. Thanks for coming. (extends her hand to him vertically (to shake))
[Edmund quickly turns and opens the doors; court party cracks up as before.]
Queen: That was very funny too, wasn’t it?
Edmund: My Lady?
Queen: Dragging you all the way across town again just to say sorry for dragging you all the way across town the first time! (stops laughing) It was Melchett’s idea. I think it’s wonderful, don’t you?
Edmund: It’s fantastic. Melchett, I prostrate myself at the feet of the world’s greatest living comedian. (bows)
Queen: Oh, you are super, Edmund. Oh, Edmund, erm, I promised Lord Melchett that I would play [Sharp?] Halfpenny with him, but we have no coin. Do you have a halfpenny?
Edmund: Unfortunately, only a sixpence, Ma’am. What a shame!
Queen: Oh, no — a sixpence will do just as well. (holds out her hand)
Edmund: Oh, good! (hands it over)
[back home, Edmund enters the hallway, which is full of smoke]
Edmund: Oh god, this place stinks like a pair of armored trousers after the Hundred Years War! Baldrick, have you been eating dung again?
Percy: (rushes out the living room, dirtied) My Lord! Success!
Percy: (drags Edmund into the living room) After literally an hour’s ceaseless searching, I have succeeded in creating gold. PURE GOLD!
Edmund: Are you sure?
Percy: Yes, My Lord! Behold! (uncovers the top; their faces get bathed in green light)
Edmund: Percy, it’s green.
Percy: That’s right, My Lord.
Edmund: Yes, Percy, I don’t want to be pedantic or anything, but the color of gold is gold — that’s why it’s called gold. What you have dis- covered, if it has a name, is some green.
Percy: (stupefied; picks up the green) Oh, Edmund, can it be true? that I hold here, in my mortal hand, a nugget of purest green?
Edmund: Indeed you do, Percy, except, of course, it’s not only a nugget as it is more of a splat.
Percy: Well, yes, a splat today, but tomorrow, who knows? or dares to dream!
Edmund: So we three alone in all the world can create the finest green at will.
Percy: Thus so! (whispers) I’m not sure about counting in Baldrick, actually.
Edmund: Of course, you know what your great discovery means, don’t you, Percy.
Percy: (smiles) Perhaps, My Lord.
Edmund: That you, Percy — Lord Percy — are an utter berk! Baldrick!
Baldrick: My Lord?
Edmund: Pack my bags; I’m going to sell the house.
Baldrick and Percy: (shocked) What?
Edmund: There’s nothing else for it. I mean, I shall miss the old place, I know. I’ve had some happy times here, when you and Percy have been out. But needs must when the devil vomits into your kettle. Baldrick, go forth into the streets and let it be known that Lord Blackadder wishes to sell his house. Percy, just go forth into the street.
[Later, Edmund shows his place to a couple, Mr. and Mrs. Pants]
Edmund: (coming in) …and this is the den.
Mrs: (looks around) Ooh, dear.
Edmund: But I have to tell you, Mr. Pants, that I’ve had an extremely encouraging nibble from another client, and I think you know me well enough to know that I’m not the sort of man to ignore a nibble for long.
Mrs: I noticed some dry rot in the bedrooms, Timothy.
Edmund: Well, Mrs. Pants, dry rot is what dry rot does. (to Mr. Pants) Stop me if I’m getting too technical.
[Mr. Pants starts to speak, but is interrupted.]
Mrs: And the floor (??) is a little uneven.
Edmund: Indeed yes, Madam, and at no extra cost!
Mrs: Strange smell.
Edmund: Yes, that’s the servant; he’ll be gone.
Mr: You’ve really worked out your banter, haven’t you?
Edmund: No, not really. This is a different thing. It’s spontaneous and it’s called `wit’.
Mrs: What about the privies?
Edmund: When the master craftsman who created this home was looking at the sewage, he said to himself, "Romeo," — for ’twas his name — "Romeo, let’s make them functional, and comfortable."
Mr: Oh, well, that seems nice, doesn’t it, Dear!
Edmund: I think we understand each other, sir. So it’s sold, then. (goes to a pot and pours into a cup) Drink?
Mrs: (insistent for a real answer) What about the privies?
Edmund: (doesn’t give away either of the two cups he holds) Well, what we’re talking about in, erm, privy terms is the very latest in front-wall, fresh-air orifices, combined with a wide-capacity gutter installation below.
Mrs: You mean you crap out of the window.
Mrs: Well! In that case, we’ll *definitely* take it! (takes a cup from Edmund) I can’t stand those dirty indoor things.
[later, Edmund counts the money]
Edmund: There, that’s the lot. He only wanted to pay a thousand, but I managed to beat him up to eleven hundred.
Percy: Oh, Edmund, you wily old trickster, you!
Edmund: Oh, credit where credit’s due — I just named the price; it was Baldrick who actually beat him up.
Edmund: Percy, what is that on the front of your tunic?
Percy: Ah! ’tis a brooch, My Lord — a brooch cunningly fashioned from pure green.
Edmund: It looks like you’ve sneezed.
Percy: It is with trinkets such as this brooch, and here, a ring, that I intend to revive your fortunes and buy back your house!
Edmund: You think there’s a big market for jewelry that looks like snot, then?
Percy: (upset) My Lord!
Edmund: The eyes are open, the mouth moves, but Mr. Brain has long since departed, hasn’t he, Perce.
Messenger: (enters) My Lord–
Edmund: Ah, messenger, thank God you came. Percy and I could not have waited another second without you.
[Edmund sprints up the hall and enters court, where the trio is hunched over a war map]
Queen: Thank God you’ve arrived — terrible news!
Melchett: The French intend to invade, Blackadder.
Edmund: My god!
Queen: So I need some money.
[Edmund, fearing the worst, falls down into the throne]
Melchett: Yes, every nobleman must pay 500 pounds towards the upkeep of the navies.
Queen: But we’ve decided to make you a special case.
Edmund: (sitting up a bit) Oh, thank you, Ma’am!
Queen: Melchy here hasn’t got a bean, so we thought, as you’re so fabulously wealthy, you could pay for both!
Melchett: It would be awfully sweet of you.
Edmund: Yes, well, unfortunately, Ma’am, I’m in the middle of a cash-flow crisis and I just haven’t got any money on me!
Queen: (looking down at him) But, Edmund…
Edmund: (realizes that he’s in the throne, expecting that this is what she is addressing him about) Sorry. (stands and moves across to his proper place)
Queen: …what’s that in your tights? (points her figurine-moving stick at his groin)
Edmund: Oh, good lord. (he takes out a pouch)
Queen: It looks like … just over a thousand pounds!
Edmund: So it is.
Queen: I thought you said you didn’t have any.
Edmund: Oh, I thought you meant *real* money. This is just a bit of loose change. I must have left it in my codpiece when I sent these tights to the laundry.
Queen: Gosh, a thousand pounds just loose in your tights… That *is* flash! OK, hand it over. (he does) Thanks. ‘bye. (turns back to the map, making whistles and `boom’ noises as she plays with the figurines)
Edmund: Well, goodbye indeed. (backs out of the room slowly) ‘bye, Ma’am. Goodbye, Melchett. Goodbye, Nursie. Byeee… (shuts the doors)
[Melchett peeks between doors to make sure he’s gone; all crack up once more; Melchett falls to the floor; Nursie claps her hands; Queen falls onto Melchett; Nursie goes to her knees]
Queen: Silly old Edmund! He was completely fooled! That was a brilliant joke, Melchy!
Melchett: Brilliant, Ma’am!
Queen: (serious suddenly) And now I’m going to have you executed. (stands)
Melchett: (stammering) Majesty?
Queen: It’s for taking the mickey out of my beloved Edmund so cruelly. I’m gonna knock your block off.
Melchett: (begging) But, Majesty, I only intended to please! Oh, please! I so want to live!!!
[Queen slowly breaks into laughter]
Nursie: Ooh! (slaps Queen’s hand)
Melchett: Ah! (laughs forcedly)
[Nursie falls over; Queen falls onto her]
Melchett: (still faking a laugh, but obviously rather frightened and angry) Praise the Lord for the gift of laughter!
[Edmund rushes into his living room]
Edmund: Right, Balders, I’ve lost the money. I’m going to have to run away.
Baldrick: Why, My Lord?
Edmund: To avoid these monks, of course!
Baldrick: No point — the Black Bank’s got branches everywhere.
Edmund: Oh damn! (falls to the floor) If I die, Baldrick, do you think people would remember me?
Baldrick: (stepping over Edmund as he continues packing) Yeah, of course they would.
Edmund: Yes, I suppose so.
Baldrick: Yeah. People would always be slapping each other on the shoulders and laughing, and saying "Do you remember old Privy-breath?"
Edmund: Do people call me `Privy-breath’?
Baldrick: Yeah, the ones who like you.
Edmund: Am I then not popular?
Baldrick: Erm, well, put it this way: when people slip in what dogs have left in the street, they do tend to say "Whoops, I’ve trod on an Edmund."
Edmund: (stands) Bloody cheek! I’ll show them.
Baldrick: What, have you got a plan, My Lord?
Edmund: Yes I have, and it’s so cunning you could brush your teeth with it! All I need is some feathers, a dress, some oil, an easel, some sleeping draught, lots of paper, a prostitute and the best portrait painter in England.
Baldrick: I’ll get them right away, My Lord! (rushes out)
[later, enter Baldrick and painter]
Baldrick: My Lord, the most famous painter in England: Mr. Leonardo Acropolis.
Edmund: Right, are you any good?
Leonardo: (turns away, speaks in silly Italian accent) No! I am … a genius!
Edmund: Well, you’d better be, or you’re dead!
[Leonardo sticks out his tongue; there’s pounding on the front door]
Edmund: Right, in the bedroom, Beardface. Baldrick, get the door.
Baldrick: My Lord.
[Baldrick and Leonardo leave; Edmund shuts the door behind them and then sits down, puts his feet up, and begins reading a book. Baldrick flies through the door, again quite literally, and lies on the floor with the shrapnel.]
Baldrick: My Lord, the Bishop of Bath and Wells.
Bishop: (enters) The time has come, Blackadder!
Edmund: Oh, hello, Bish.
Bishop: The Black Monks will have their money, or I will have my fun.
Edmund: You enjoy your work, don’t you?
Bishop: Bits of it, yeah.
Edmund: The violent bits.
Bishop: Yes. (begins massaging Edmund’s shoulders) You see, I am a colossal pervert. No form of sexual depravity is too low for me. Animal, vegetable or mineral — I’ll do anything to anything.
Edmund: Fine words for a Bishop. It’s nice to hear the Church speaking out for a change on social issues.
Bishop: Have you got the money?
Bishop: Good. I hate it when people pay up. Say your prayers, Blackadder. (holds out the hot poker) IT’S POKER TIME!!!
Edmund: Fine. (closes the book and sets it down, then stands) Are you ever concerned that people might find you out?
Bishop: No. No, no, I kill, I maim, I fornicate, but as far as my flock is concerned my only vice is a little tibble before Evensong. (Baldrick hands him a drink) Oh, thank you. (drinks) BEND OVER, BLACKADDER!
Bishop: THIS IS WHERE YOU GET– (staggers backward, choking) DRUGGED BY GOD!
Edmund: No, by Baldrick, actually, but the effect is much the same.
[in bedroom; Edmund pulls open a curtain, behind which Bishop lies in bed]
Edmund: Wakey, wakey, Bish. Dear me, you clerics really are sluggerbeds.
Bishop: (groggy) Where am I? I remember…drugged…
Edmund: That’s right.
Bishop: You should have killed me while you had the chance. (sits up) You have looked in wonder at your last dawn, Blackadder!
Edmund: Well, I’m not sure about that. I did wonder, though, what people who saw this might think.
[Baldrick stands nearby, holding a portrait]
Bishop: Heavens above, what creatures from Hell are those?
Edmund: They make an interesting couple, don’t they? I think you probably recognize this huge, sweating mound of blubber here, eh, Fatso?
[Bishop charges toward the portrait, but Edmund pushes him back to the bed]
Edmund: There’s no point, anyway; we have the preliminary sketches. We’ll soon bang off a couple of copies. Let’s see, one for the Queen, one for the Archbishop, a couple kept aside, perhaps, to form the basis of an exciting exhibition of a challenging young artist’s work.
Bishop: By the horns of Beelzebub, how did you get me into that position?
Edmund: It’s beautifully framed, don’t you think? which is ironic, really, because that’s exactly what’s happened to you.
Bishop: You fiend! Never have I encountered such corrupt and foul-minded perversity! Have you ever considered a career in the Church?
Edmund: No, I could never get used to the underwear.
[Bishop nods in understanding and apprehension]
Edmund: What I could use, though, is, let’s say eleven hundred pounds to buy back my house, four thousand pounds to cover some sundry expenses, ten shillings for the two doors, and let’s say thruppence for a celebratory slapper binge at Mrs. Miggins’ pie shop… (last bit said to Baldrick)
[Baldrick smiles and nods]
Bishop: Yes, yes, but first, one question: Who is this second figure? Who could you have got to have performed such deeds, to have gone lower than man has ever gone, to have plunged the depths of degradation just in order to save your filthy life?!!!
[From beneath the covers, Percy wakes and sits up. He is dressed in red leather with chains and assorted items.]
Edmund: Ah, Percy, may I introduce His Grace, the Bishop of Bath and Wells. Your Grace, Lord Percy Percy, Heir to the Duchy of Northumberland.
Percy: (speaks weakly) Hello. (shakes Bishop’s hand) It was lovely working with you.
[As the theme music plays, the bard dances down the path. Edmund walks a short distance behind, and puts his hands on his hips as he looks back at the camera. Edmund then walks again toward the bard, who then continues moving down the path. Edmund motions for him to stop, but he doesn’t. Edmund begins to trot as the bard dances around to behind the fountain. Edmund begins to jog as the bard dances down the path further. Edmund runs, but the bard still eludes him as he half dances, half runs down the path, into the distance.]