Original subtitles

In 1648, King Charles was in flight from

the wrath of Cromwell and his roundheads.

Only 2 men remained faithful, risking

certain death by their fidelity to the

crown. One was the sole descendant of a

great historical English dynasty, his

name Sir Edmund Blackadder. The other was

the sole descendant of an unfortunate

meeting between a pig farmer and a

bearded lady. History has quite rightly

forgotten his name.

Yes, sir. Get me some

mulled ale, will you?I'm freezing. How's

the king, sir?How about as comfortable as

can be expected for a man who's spending

the winter in a blackcurrant bush?Do

you think the roundheads will find him?

Certainly not. I've assured him that he

is as likely to be caught as a fox being

chased by a pack of one-legged hunting

tortoises. Is

that true?Yes, of course it's true. Have

you ever known me to lie to the king?Yes.

No. Exactly. He's

absolutely safe, as long as you keep your

fat mouth shut. You can trust me, sir.

Right, Baldwick, I'm off to answer the

call of nature. If by any freak chance

Oliver Cromwell drops in here for a cup

of milk in the next 90 seconds, remember,

the king is not hiding here.

Yes, sir.

Green slaves is my...

Good evening, citizen. I

am Oliver Cromwell. My men have

surrounded your house, and I am looking

for royalist scum. Is the king

hiding here?Um..

No. On

pain of death and damnation, are you

absolutely sure?Yes, I

am. I see.

Well then, my proud

beauty... You won't mind if

my men come in from the cold, will you?

Men come in from the cold, will you?

Now, we should all have a cup of milk by

your fireside. All right, but don't touch

the purple cup. Why not?That's the

king's.

Thank you, citizen. You may leave me

alone with King Charles. Ah, Mr.

Cromwell, how delightful to see you

again. Do get up, tell me, tell me.. Have

you come far?I have, sir.

From country squire to Lord Protector of

England. Fascinating, absolutely

fascinating. Tell me,

what exactly does a Lord Protector do?He

spells your doom, sir. He spells my

doom?Wonderful. Well, that's particularly

exciting, because so many people these

days can't spell at all.

Particularly, as you know, in the inner

cities, which is my area of interest.

Pretty speak, sir. But all your fine

words won't save you from the scaffold.

Jolly good. Fascinating. Carry on.

A priest, sir, to help you make your

peace with God before you die. Oh,

hello. You mighty see. I can

arrange for certain monies to be paid to

allow you to escape. Black Elder, you're

dressed as a priest. How dangerous and

stupid and perverted. It's just like

school. Sire, this is a matter of

life and death. Nonsense, Black Cat. I

don't think there's a jury in England

that would bring in a verdict of guilty

against me. Your Majesty, the verdict of

the jury. So, what does it say,

guilty or not guilty?I'll give you two

guesses. Not

guilty. One more guess.

Oh, damn. One measly

civil war in the entire history of

England, and I'm on the wrong bloodyside.

Is something wrong, sir?Yes, Baldrick,

yes, there is. Don't you realise if the

king dies, we royalists are doomed?We

will enter a hideous age of puritanism.

They'll close all the theatres, lace

handkerchiefs for men will be illegal,

and I won't be able to find a friendly

face to sit on this side of belonging.

If they so much as suspectWe left our

loyalties. Our property will be forfeit

and we'll be for the chop. Ooh, I love

chops.

Mulric, your brain

is like the four-headed, man-eating

haddock fish beast of Aberdeen.

In what way?It doesn't exist.

Oh, God, what are we going to do?Don't

despair, sir. Something will pop up. Not

under Puritanism, it won't.

We must do something, otherwise the

blackadders are as doomed as that ant.

What ant?

That one. So this is the

day of the execution of Charles I?

Absolutely not, Your Majesty. Those

round-head traitors have one final hurdle

that they will never straddle. How

fascinating. What is that exactly?They

will never find a man to behead you.

They'd have hundreds of volunteers to cut

Crumwell's head off. He's such an ugly

devil. He's got so many warts on his

face, it's only when he sneezes that you

find out which one is his nose. But

they will never find a man to execute

you. Well, you see, I find that

absolutely tragic. You know, there are so

many young people who would leap at a

chance like this. You know,

all they need is the initiative, somehow.

I suppose, in a sense, that's what my

wart scheme is all about. Really?

Yes. On the other hand, of course, I

didn't want my head cut off. It's a

question of balance, isn't it?Like so

many people. Shut up with the greatest

respect, Your Majesty. They will never

find an executioner, and if they do, may

my conjugal dipstick turn into a tennis

racket. A

message for the King.

Ah

There's a trap on in the tail! For God's

sake, stop that, Baldrick!

It's bad enough having one's life in us

are ruined without being serenaded by a

moron with all the entertainment value of

a tap-dancing oyster.

I'm sorry, sir. I can't help it. See,

I've just had a little windfall.

Baldrick, I've told you before, if you're

going to do that, go into the garden. I

mean, I've come into some money. Really?

Family inheritance?No, I ate that ages

ago. Of course, your

thoughtful father bequeathed you a

turnip. No, it was 50

pounds, actually. It was delicious. But

this is just a little something that fell

in my lap. Not the first time that

there's been a little something in your

lap. No, but this one

is a job. Really?I just

don't understand it. Where on earth did

they find a man so utterly withoutand

soul so low would be graded as

to accept the job of beheading the

King of England.

That little job that fell into your lap.

It wasn't by any chance something to do

with an axe, a basket, a little black

mask and the King of England.

Go on. I couldn't find a basket.

very small, total bastardOh,

please, sir, don't kill me. I have a

cunning plan to save the king. Well,

forgive me if I don't do a cartwheel of

joy. Your family's record in the

Department of Cunning Planning is about

as impressive as Stumpy Oleg

McNoleg's personal best in the Market

Harborough Marathon.

All right, what's the plan?

A pumpkin is going to save the king.

AhBut over here,

I have one that I prepared earlier.

I will balance it on the king's head like

this. Then I will cover his real head

with a cloak. And then, when I

execute him, instead of cutting off his

real head, I will cut off the pumpkin and

the king survives.

I'm not sure it's going to work, Borders.

Why not?Because once you've cut it off,

you have to hold it up in front of the

crowd and say, This is the head of a

traitor. At which point they will shout

back, No, it's not. It's a large pumpkin

with a pathetic moustache. I

suppose it's not 100% convincing. It's

not 1% convincing.

However, I'm a busy man and I can't be

bothered to punch you at the moment. Here

is my fist, kindly run towards it as fast

as you can.

I just don't understand it. What

possessed you to take the job?Oh, I'm

sorry, sir. It was just a wild, silly,

foolish plan. I thought, with the money I

got from executing the king, I could

sneak out and buy a brand-new king where

no one was looking and pop him back on

the throne without anyone noticing. Your

head is as empty as a eunuch's

underpants. You'd do

anything for 30 pieces of silver,

wouldn't you?It was 1000 pounds,

actually, sir. Plus tip.

Well, I suppose somebody's got to do it,

haven't they?And if it's going to be

done, it's got to be done in a single

stroke by someone who actually owns an

axe. We don't want you hacking away at it

all afternoon with that cheap pen knife

of yours. It'd be so embarrassing to have

King Charles staggering around Hampton

Court tomorrow morning with his neck

flapping like a fish's peel. Sir,

you don't mean... Yep. I'm doing it. Lend

me your costume. Then go immediately to

the king and inform him that Sir Edmund

Blackadder cannot be with him tomorrow.

And make sure you think up a bloody good

excuse. So, that's

why he can't be here. Sorry. I see you, I

quite understand. Yes.

Sir, the moment has arrived. Are you

ready to meet your maker?Well, I'm always

absolutely fascinated to meet people from

all walks of life, but... Yes,

particularly manufacturing industry.

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 had hoped that my good,

loyal chum, Sir Edmund Blackadder, would

be here with me, 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.

And may I say how much I mourn for your

lot. And bid you remember others before

you who have died unjustly. Well, thank

you. I take great solace from this. Sir

Thomas More, for instance, a great

generous man to the last. He apparently

tipped his executioner handsomely.

Oh, I'm so sorry. I thought service was

included. I beg you. Here you are.

And then there was the Earl of Essex. Was

there?A truly great man. They still

sing his famous ballad down the

Chepstow Arms. What ballad is that?The

Earl, he had a thousand sovereigns, hey,

nonny, no. Gave them all away to

the man with the axe. Oh. A

thousand sovereigns?Well, you can't take

it with you, Your Majesty. Very true.

Well, there you are. Do 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.

Beckard! Hello, Your

Majesty! You cunning

swine! Yes, well, uh..

Marvelous, splendid! You've duped,

Cromwell, and you've concocted a cunning

plan to help me and my infant son escape

to France. Ah, 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. You do?

After you?Right,

yes. Oh, yes.

Yes, right. And it's a very good plan.

It's a staggering, bowl-shatteringly good

plan. Is the King

Wadi?Yes. 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. Oh, quite.

On the other hand, you can stay here, and

as a known loyalist, the Roundheads will

come and cut your head off. Exactly,

Bulrick. Oh, my God. Oh,

no! We'reWhat will we do?

Well, at times like this, Baldrick, there

is 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!

and just 3,000 pounds will