All language subtitles for Number 10 - episode 6 Dizzy (Disraeli) - starring Richard Pasco (1983)

I'll put a touch more of your greenery yellow in that frozen charlie.

Yeah, right.

You look, Bettenesville's a bit of a connoisseur of your wild primo shape.

Beaten's field, you don't mind at all.

Well, if he likes to be called anyway.

Beaten's field.

Yeah. Beaten's field, Bettenesville. What's the difference?

Everyone calls you dizzy anyway.

Oh, here we go.

That looks more like a case of John Disson wild primo.

Now, as through the fireplace, I should like a new grate in the modern taste with a tiled serone.

That's another forty-pound.

Parquet flooring, extending some three feet into the room from the wainscot.

That'll be fifty-bounds at least.

Then to cover the center of the floor, just overlapping the parquet of fine-person copied.

Person copied.

Person copied.

Person copied.

Say, uh, twenty-three feet by twenty.

That's another hundred and forty-pound.

I'd like the same carpet in the same pattern for the passage outside.

Say thirty-eight pounds.

And, uh, curtains of rich silk.

With valences and cornices.

Indeed, my dear modding.

With valences and cornices.

Valences and cornices.

Say, a hundred and forty-five pounds.

Now, as to the furniture.

The furniture, my dear.

Well, the articles upon which one reclines, sits or reposives.

What does the border geeks expect me to do?

Squat in the middle of the floor like a Turkish parcher?

No, no, no, because he's not.

Mr. Gotham.

A mortar.

Oh, a mortarman.

This is the second time in my life that I have managed to climb to the top of the greasy pole.

On the first occasion I had misjudged quite how greasy it was.

And I slither back down it with humiliating celebrity within ten months.

This time, however, I have managed to remain on my only aginous perch somewhat longer.

And I purpose to remain even longer yet.

But in comfort, Mr. Mortimer.

In comfort.

It's up to eleven hundred pounds already, my lord.

We're merry hands still alive.

It would be merely a beginning.

But here you see me and poor helpless widower of frugal wants, modest tastes.

I have no doubt improvements will occur to me, and you of course.

If you respect my lord, the board of works is fantastic to move on the board of works.

And I've already saved them two years of expense by conducting the prime minister's suit from my own home.

Using the cabinet room as my office.

But it's only diminished mobility imposed by my gut that induces me to move in at all.

However, having done so, I propose to transform this crumbling beggar's refuge into her home.

And for the art I shall exercise in so doing, I will charge the board of works no fee.

Well, there is that, of course.

I will further make the board this proposal.

When I leave, which I do not purpose for some time,

I shall leave all my improvements behind me, but will be happy to pay for any depreciation.

See? Yes, when I will prepare a memorandum along those lines to my superiors, my lord.

Thank you, Mr. Mortimer.

Good day to you.

Good day.

Good day Mr. Corrin.

You had a really. You didn't have to make a concession.

Appreciate it.

My dear Monte, next to knowing what to see is an opportunity.

The most important thing is to know when to forgo an advantage.

A poor fellow will put forward the proposal as his own, be commended for it by his superiors.

And then after I shall have anything I want from him.

You've been meeting Mackey Valley.

I feel the need to read a book I write it myself.

Good morning, gentlemen.

Morning, me, no.

No.

Perhaps a little more prim and a little less rose.

Very good, me, no.

I may have imagined all the cabinets.

Please.

Left of themselves.

There's no knowing what mischief they'll be up to.

I know perfectly well what does he will say.

Not what is the justice in the matter, but where do England's interests lie?

When he resasked as a young man, what his politics were, did he say that England?

He hasn't changed.

That blind patriotism could land us in trouble.

What prey could land us in trouble?

Oh, please, my lord.

Gentlemen, sit down.

I may be your elder and your better.

Don't be prepared to forget it, if you will.

I apologize for being late.

With my infirmities, make the journey from home ever more onerous.

In fact, I propose to move in here.

But it hasn't been used as a home for what?

Two generations.

The place is ruined.

To bin Salisbury, the house and I should march very well together, don't you think?

You were saying, Darby.

What could land us in trouble?

Mr. Gladstone has been in flaming public opinion about this business in Eastern Europe.

I thought the hysterical old spouter was sicker than I am.

He's recovered sufficiently to write a pamphlet about the Turkish atrocities against the Bulgarians.

And I indifference to them.

He has already sold 45,000 copies.

Mr. Gladstone's political secret was the combination of a first-rate digestion of the second-rate conscience.

He cares as much about the bulgars as he does about the African water buffalo.

What is his point?

The Turks and infra-dells.

The bulgars, Christians.

Ah.

Everything's to have me.

He forgets that I am the blank page between the Old Testament and the New.

Both Jew and Christian.

Were they English Christians against whom these alleged atrocities are being committed?

Mr. Gladstone, that purger-doll hypocrite, would not find me lacking.

Nevertheless, Mr. Gladstone is demanding that we should take action.

You two wait as long as needs be put yourself at her complete disposal.

Run errands for her if she wishes it.

But make it clear Lord Beaconsfield is expecting a letter in return.

Yes, son.

Turkey is our bulwark against Russia.

All my life, the Russian bear, has been trying to creep forward, to eat up smaller countries,

to dip its massive paw into a warm water pot.

Thus giving herself access to wider hunting grounds, in particular the British Empire.

And of the British Empire in particular, India.

Well, that's her fear, how said?

She tried it 20 years ago and the Crimea.

Turkey stood in her way then.

She stands in her way now.

We shall do nothing to alienate Turkey.

Austria, Germany and Russia have united in an alliance to move against the Turks.

We shall not join it.

Prime Minister, that is a selfish policy.

The foreign minister, patriotism is of necessity, selfish.

Furthermore, I wish the battleships Rupert, Sultan and Mullock, order to the Darden Olds.

Thus bringing the number of iron clads in Turkish waters up to ten.

The Queen will be alarmed.

Her Majesty is able to grasp the truth of any matter that is put to her clearly.

We do not wish our country to be dragged into a war on behalf of Turkey, Lord Beakinsfield.

I cannot tell you Majesty, how much I am aided by the breadth and the cuteness of the

majesty's understanding of these metals.

That is precisely why the naval reinforcements were sent to the Darden Olds.

I will dispatch too further iron clads tomorrow.

Had your Majesty agreed to the move against Turkey by the three powers,

Constantinople would at this moment be garrisoned by Russian troops,

gazing hungrily out of the gateway to your Majesty's Empire.

Quite so, quite so.

We have a surprise for you.

One, Anjuli has finished the portrait.

You find it becoming?

No artist could completely capture the singularly regal beauty of your Majesty's aspect, but...

Yes.

I think it most like, and pleasing.

I think it is for you.

For me?

Your Majesty, you do me too much honour.

I am quite unworthy of such a gesture.

Be concerned.

Do not worry, Lord Beakinsfield. We require something of you in return.

Your Majesty has only to name it.

We wish you to have yourself painted by Bon Angeli, so that you may present a portrait of yourself to us.

Your Majesty finds me speechless.

You're unique condition for you, Lord Beakinsfield.

Now, is there anything else that we should talk about?

Guy, I think not. Your Majesty?

Then we suggest that you return.

The air begins to strike a little chill.

We must be vigilant of that bronchitis of yours.

The thunder of Lord Beakinsfield.

Your fond of Lord Beakinsfield.

He has the feminine principle in him.

He actually likes women. He does not address us as does that irretrievable lunatic Gladstone.

As though we were a public meeting.

Do you think it prudent?

What?

The whole thing. What you've been doing.

Monty, you're my secretary. Not my tutor.

Yes, my Lord.

Don't forget. You have to take charge of Lady Chesterfield.

Even me with her sister, Lady Bradford. Indeed, my Lord.

A gray hair by God. Nonsense.

Your hair will be black as long as you live.

Maybe black as long as I die.

Lady Bradford?

Selena.

If you only knew what it means to me to have you here.

You know how much my sister and I have been longing to see your hand.

I'm surprised it took you so long to ask us.

My natural disposition is timid.

Oh, you timid.

The timidity that springs from being bullied at school.

From being made to feel not quite in society.

But your famed arrogance, your invulnerability.

Armor. The shell of the snail.

But characteristics people remark upon in my speaking style in Parliament.

They were all adopted in my earliest days to conceal my teller.

The hands grasping the lapels, all hooked into the armholes of my waistcoat.

To prevent them from trembling.

The imprecivity of my face.

Expressionless. Unsmiling.

Even when unleashing my most flashing retorts.

That was simply to stop my mouth from trembling.

Throwing back of the shoulders?

Give me courage.

You need no armor now.

I need none against you.

But in public life, the manners have become the man.

People have much mistaken me.

Or rather, I have misled them.

The bumpshoe's pretty juby my youth.

The inscrutable, oriental grand vizier, my middle and later years.

All illusion.

Pantomime.

My need has been simple.

It has been that my life should be one perpetual love.

You had that for over 30 years with your wife, dear Mary Anne.

Oh, yes, yes, I did.

She used to say to people, I'm 12 years older than Dizzy, you know.

He married me from my money.

But if he had it to do again, it would be for love.

When I had a late sitting in the Commons,

she would light every room in the house to await my return.

I have seen the finest sights that Europe has to offer.

But none to match those glowing windows that grove negate

as I clattered towards them through the fog of a winter's night.

Once, when she was over 7 to 7,

she set up half the night to await my return from some triumph or other.

They tried to detain me with a celebration of the Carlton Club,

but I broke away and are at home.

There she was, with a grouse pie and a bottle champagne.

I had half the pie, drank all the champagne.

I said to her, you're more like a mistress to me than a wife.

Then do you think it right what you were doing to me?

I am conscious of doing you no wrong.

Benjamin, you know perfectly well what I mean.

You have been laying siege to me.

You call incessantly at Belgrade Square.

I presume friends may call upon one another.

You call upon me every day.

There are some friends, one cherishes more than others.

You rack me constant letters.

It's a well recognized form of human communication.

Please, you will not evade me by irony.

These are letters of passion.

I have never asked anything from you but your presence.

When I have that, I have everything.

You have it often enough in society.

I have to see you in society as different from seeing you alone as moonlight is from sunshine.

The visits, the letters, more than 900 so far.

Benjamin, they are excessive.

If nothing else may not the memory of your beloved wife restrain you.

I have been gradually sorting her papers.

She kept every scrap of paper on which I had written three words.

Every fortnight for 33 years she cut my hair.

I have discovered that she kept it.

Every hair in packets.

There are hundreds of them.

I also found this, addressed to me.

It was written 16 years before she died.

Being older than me, she always assumed she would go first.

My own dear husband, if I should depart this life before you, leave orders that we may be buried in the same grave.

At whatever distance you may die from England.

You have been a perfect husband to me.

We put by my side.

And now farewell my dear dizzy.

Do not live alone, dearest.

I honestly hope you may find someone as attached to you as your own devoted Mary Anne.

I cannot be that someone.

For most his sake or a friend of my husband, you like him.

What kind or condition of man are you?

I see you every day because it is absolutely necessary to my existence.

Yes, I write to you every day, sometimes two and three times a day, because the image of you obsesses me.

I write in cabinet, I scribble on my knee on the front bench, I write while dealing with the plenty of potentials of fallen powers.

I keep messengers by me, constantly to carry to you the promptings of my love.

The difficulties between us only animate me the more.

The very thought of you who excites me.

My misfortune is that my body has grown old, but my heart is still that of a boy.

I am 73 years old, stifled by asthma, saturated with gout.

Yet I have lived to know that the twilight of love has its splendor and its richness.

It is only my acute sense of the absurd that prevents my going down on my knees and begging you not to banish me.

Also the knowledge that I would probably be unable to get up again.

Dizzy, Dizzy, Dizzy.

What am I to do with you?

What you will.

You may call upon me three times a week, not more, preferably less.

You may write to me once every two or three days, I do not guarantee to answer.

Those are my conditions.

If you do not accept them, you must sever all connections.

I accept.

I am doing you a service.

I am no goddess.

I am a very ordinary matron of 58 who loves her husband.

I can never be what you want me to be.

Will you at least do one thing for me?

It is a silly fancy.

The little token I give to those of whom I am fond.

I call it my queen bee symbol.

Will you wear it for me sometimes and think of me?

I am sure your husband will not be jealous of my family.

I am a poor little bee.

My husband is a man who trusts his friends.

Then you will wear it.

Sometimes.

I am glad to be here.

Mr. Corry has given me the grand tour.

I must congratulate you, Benjamin.

The house is the most perfect work of art.

I might say the same of you, dear Anne.

Except that you are perfect, yet you are no art.

My dear, dear dear, that honey tongue of yours will get you into trouble yet.

You have prepared to guarantee that, Ma'am.

Lord, I know that suffering is a mark of thy love.

But just for once, wouldn't they headache do?

Germany and Austria have held their hand.

But Russia has decided to take on the Turks by herself.

Large part of the populace believe we should aid the Russians.

They have been stirred up by Gadsden's words.

Five millions of Christian Bulgarians, he tells them,

Cowed and beaten down to the ground,

Hardly then trained to look upward, even to their father in heaven,

have extended their hands to you.

Remarkable feat of contortionism, if nothing else.

A morn-ring-old pentaloon,

intoxicated as usual by the exuberance of his own verbosity.

But danger is not turkey, it is Russia.

It has been ears and always will be.

Russia. We shall not lift a finger for Russia.

Trust you're not suggesting, Prime Minister,

that we should go to war against her.

I am proposing merely to maintain our fleet in Turkish waters,

Lord Darby, and to keep our shells greased.

I have not made a majesty in the Empress of India

to have a tribe of Cossacks to spoil it.

The Baron and the Baroness Rothschild, my lord.

For me, home is Sunday with the two of you.

You are my family.

Darling, busy, you are ours.

My dearest, dearest lady, Lionel.

But what a difference you've made to this house.

You're a genius.

And all achieved so quickly.

I'm an old man in a hurry.

Well, you hurry to some effect.

Look what you've done in three years of office.

You've empowered local councils to build houses for rent.

You've legalized peaceful pickety.

My sweet darling bee.

But I could have lost him.

Look, the class was undone.

Here, let me.

May I?

Of course.

You've stopped workers being imprisoned for breach of contract.

You've brought in compulsory education.

Stopped factories polluting rivers.

The pin goes behind.

I should know.

You've introduced the ten hour day and you've saved the empire

by buying into the Suiz Canal.

With the loan of your four million pounds.

There.

Don't you feel proud of what you achieved?

I'm proud of my country.

I'm proud of Tory democracy.

But for me, personally, it's all come too late.

But to achieve power, it's empty.

It's too late.

It started from too low a base.

The school nobody's ever heard of.

No university.

It took me 30 years to reach the level of respect and acceptance

with which the Gladstones, the Darby's, the Salzbres,

were their eterns, their oxfords and their Cambridge's started.

Yet you are prime minister.

They are not.

I'm also 73 years old.

I'm like an old steam engine, a wheezing up a gradient

which in its youth it would have flown with a speed that curved the wind.

Oh, enough of my whining.

Here's to us.

And to her Majesty the Queen.

The Queen.

God bless her.

And now to dinner.

I haven't seen much of Selena Bradford lately.

I've been seeing rather more of her sister, Lady Chesterfield.

Lady, that's all right.

Look after Lady Chesterfield.

Very good, sir.

Lady Chesterfield.

For me to say you're looking delightly countess.

Permission granted.

You sweet liar.

They tell me he manages her very well.

He believes he does.

If I flattery, he once told me everybody is susceptible to flattery

with royalty.

We're not going to afford to lay it on with a trowel.

I think he deceived himself.

Oh, yes, undoubtedly he flatters her.

And she responds.

All these flowers, for instance, are fresh today from the royal gardens.

Yet, oh, form, he has a genuinely romantic conception of the monarchy.

I have a strong suspicion he still believes in divine right.

In private he calls her his fairy queen.

I wouldn't be surprised if he was a little in love with her.

Darling, did he yet?

I do believe he's a little in love with all of his children.

My dear darling, precious Anne.

Countess?

Lord?

Hmm.

I should rarely have brought a chaperone,

but I'm hard pressed with these days to find anyone older than myself.

Oh, come now.

You're as young as the dew that sparkled on these primroses this morning.

You hear where it counts.

Excuse me.

At least it shows somebody's home.

My dear darling, you're the greatest man I've known.

And yet you still can make me laugh like a girl.

And you, my dear Anne, have always had the power to move me in quite a different way.

I remember the first time we met at Lady Kay's, the indelible impression he made upon me.

Your violet eyes and full sunshine, your comedious skin, your hair.

To his top head.

You make me some positively botanical.

But you are a garden in which all sweets grow.

In your letter, you said you had something to say to me.

First of all, you're beloved tea.

Milk or lemon ala rus, or in some mysterious manner of your own.

Fordom knows perfectly well how I like it, don't you, fordom?

I do, my lady.

A cake, sweet meats. Turkish delight?

Thank you, no. I'm banding.

I wish to share the considerable quantity of weight before Lady H is born.

What a slip of a girl like you.

You're going to a decline and fade away.

A slight exaggeration.

Thank you for them. That'll be all.

The chair suits your coloring.

You're like a jewel in its setting.

It's a pleasure just to look at you.

Benjamin, what was it you wanted to say to me?

Anne, I believe I have given you innumerable marks of the esteem I feel for you.

You cannot be unconscious of the...

...affection, I feel for you.

Esteem, affection.

These emotions flow from many things.

They are the intangible filaments of the delicate web that is friendship.

That is our friendship.

Lately, these feelings have undergone a subtle change.

They have deepened and divergent.

Benjamin, I'm not sure.

Benjamin, I think we should not talk of these things now.

We'll talk of it, we must. I must.

I keep recalling that poem by one of the metaphysicals.

A harrick was a little marvel.

Had we but world enough in time, this coinless lady were no crime.

But ever at my back I hear, time's winged chariot drawing near.

I was not constructed to live alone.

I am sure you were not.

And you have been a widow longer than I, a widower.

Would it not be fitting, my dear Anne, were we to become one?

Believe me, I would love you as ardently as any boy.

Anne, my dearest, what I'm saying,

may I have the honor of your hand in marriage.

My dearest, does he?

You have paid me the greatest compliment a man can pair, woman.

And I will be sensible of that for the rest of my time.

But at our age, both set in our ways.

We are as young as the dole.

We have a delightful relationship now in which each encounter is fresh

and we demand nothing of each other.

That is the point. I am demanding more.

I would soon bore you.

Well, I was a Jew, wrote in your novel, The Young Duke.

It destroys one's nerves to be amiable every day to the same human being.

That was written when I was young and insufferable.

If I were to write that novel again.

I recall reading a novel last month.

Oh, one of those French trifles.

Nothing that would stand comparison with your works.

How did the narrative proceed?

Ah, yes. I have said, a French cant,

maybe acquainted with two sisters in Paris, Lyon, somewhere.

One sister was married, the other was not.

The cant had them as fortunate to fall in love with the one who was married.

But he proposed to and wed the one who was not.

His idea, Mr. French, novelist would have us believe,

was that by being married to the sister would give him unlimited opportunity

to be close to his true beloved.

As a tale, it was diverting.

But as I said, nothing likes only of the truth in real life as your novel.

In real life, the unmarried sister would know where the cant's true affection lay.

And however fond of him she was,

she would know that only misery would result from such falsity.

And, my dear, you are the best of all combinations.

A woman who is not only clever, but kind.

I promise to be my friend for always.

With all my heart.

Do one more thing for me.

Anything.

Wear this for me, sometimes.

Oh, my dear.

What are we going to do with you?

You see me through.

Gladstone, I know, Gladstone.

You're going to miss the debate on the Russo-Turkish War.

That might be called a misfortune, but hardly a calamity.

What's the difference?

Where Mr. Gladstone to fall into the Thames, that might be called a misfortune?

Or anyone to pull him out again? That would be a calamity.

The British people will always be on the side of the underdog.

Justly not advocating that we should become involved in the conflict ourselves.

War is humanity in the grip of an epileptic seizure.

No sane person would want it.

Russia, however, must be stopped somewhere.

She will be stopped the easier if she is convinced that we are prepared to fight.

I apologize for the little hurt.

I apologize for the fact that the strength of the Empire.

British Empire and full mobilization is the most fearsome sight on God's earth.

Oh, for a man.

We should like to get those russians such a beating.

Any person of your majesty's refined sense of honour down to feel so.

Russians are more cruel and barbarous than the Turks.

Slow death by imprisonment.

Exile to Siberia.

We do not understand your inaction.

The princess of Cambridge said something of the sort to me last night at dinner.

I cannot imagine she said what you are waiting for.

Put Tato's madam at this moment, I said.

We are not entertained, Lord Bekinsfield.

Give me, ma'am. I was merely trying to lighten for a moment.

For burden, your majesty carries.

To be brutal, ma'am, we shall let the Turks do our fighting for us while they can.

Why shall a single British life be lost if it is avoidable?

I believe it to be completely avoidable if we are a droid.

We know we were against going toward the beginning of this business.

Certain stances change.

And now let us move on to more pleasant topics.

We have a gift for you.

Another one, ma'am.

We would like you to accept a copy of our own modest contribution to literature.

We call it leads from the journal of our life in the highlands.

You overwhelming, ma'am.

We have by now read a great menu. Your novels, Lord Bekinsfield.

You have a flattering romantic concept of women.

Flattery plays no part in it, ma'am.

Women have made me.

It was a woman, my sister, who kept up my faith in myself when I was young.

It was a woman, Mrs. Austin, who found a publisher for my first novel.

It was the Sheridan Sisters, the ladies, Cork and London Denny, who launched me into society.

It was a woman, my dear wife, who found me a seat in Parliament.

There is nothing so sweet as feminine friendship.

Nothing so terrible as a dinner party of men.

I count myself the luckiest man on earth, that the sovereign whom I am sworn to serve,

should be a woman.

I have been fortunate in my experiences as a woman kind, ma'am.

All but one.

There was one who was not kind.

My mother, ma'am. God bless herself. Never thought anything of me at all.

So much for feminine intuition.

If it is any consolation, the Duke Wellington's mother was the same.

Dad Lecherseung, he must have cheated at Waterloo.

Sileen.

Despite your promises.

And then, this attempt to marry me, I said, well, about proxy through my sister.

Oh, dizzy!

I said, to realise that you and Anne have no secret...

Despite all this, I say, your visits have been as frequent.

You keep pouring out your letters. Look at this one.

This latest.

Asking me if I am going to the mastbar.

And if so, will I please give you a secret sign so that you may be able to find me and make an acid nation?

To see it's ridiculous. It's the letter of a youth.

I cannot and will not play these games.

I have come here to ask you not to come to the ball at all.

Not come?

Not to write to me at all again, ever. Not even the most prosaic notes about ordinary things.

You don't mean it.

I never meant to think more.

Very well.

We will meet naturally in society.

But no letters, no competences.

No letters, no competences.

Please don't think me cruel.

We may still be friends.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, Selena.

Oh, dizzy.

I came only the privilege of the lamb before it slaughtered.

Please, to the last, I crop the flowery food and kiss the hand just raised to shed my blood.

My dearest Selena.

You cannot know the pain.

The Russians have smashed through. They're under the walls of Constantinople.

Turkey has surrendered. She's agreed to peace terms.

And read document called the Treaty of Sans to Fauna.

The Treaty of Sans to Fauna cannot be countenance by Her Majesty's government.

Why not? It brought peace. The tax signed it voluntarily.

She signed it while being crushed to death under the iron military heel of Russia.

It robs her of half her territory and creates a Bulgaria which is destined soon to be merely a part of...

Mother Russia with access to a warm water port.

At last, the bear can break out.

What we are looking at, gentlemen, is Russia's first move to get her claws into the British Empire.

That fades to complete as little we can do about it.

It's a very great deal we can do about it. And I propose to do it.

For instance.

We should demand that Russia refers the Treaty to a European Congress for consideration and revision.

Failure to agree to do so would elicit from us an immediate threat.

Get!

Declaration of War.

There are already 7,000 seapoys on the high seas on route to Malta from India.

To show the Russians that we mean business.

My dear seapoys, they are so splendidly marshal.

Can they fight like Genghis Khan himself?

The Lord Dabi has resigned as foreign secretary. Lord Salisbury has agreed to replace him.

Excuse me, Mom.

We shall go to the Congress in Berlin together.

Why are you sure the Russians are agreed to this Congress?

Oh, yes, Mom.

They know we can thrash them.

We've got the people totally behind us now, too.

The Majesty may not have heard the latest music hall, did he?

We don't want to fight. But by Jingo, if we do, we've got the ships, we've got the men.

We've got the money, too.

Oh, my dear, Dizzy, how weak you look.

Did you get the little snack I sent you from the country?

You call six large baskets of English strawberries.

Two hundred head of Parisian asparagus.

And the finest foie gras strawsburgers have ever seen.

A little snack. Then, yes, I got it.

That must have done your gout a part of good. How is it, by the way?

For medicinal purposes, they've put me on a bottle of wine a day.

The quacks have an advance since the days have bit the younger.

And they must be strong, strong for my country.

I must fight Russia or maneuver her. I can't do either like this.

That's why we're here. We've come to tell you about a new doctor.

He's a positive miracle worker.

His name is Dr. Kidd. He uses homiopathy.

He treats like with like. Roughly speaking, he gives you highly diluted doses or whatever knocks your substance it is that hails you.

Do you think he might dilute Mr. Gladstone?

I will tell you the truth, Lord Began's view.

Whenever a man is anxious to tell the truth, one can be sure that something unpleasant is coming.

You have abused your constitution by a lifetime of overwork. I cannot give you a new body.

To hold the old one together, until after the Berlin Congress is all I ask.

You are conversant with my underlying theories.

Are you conversant with mine?

No.

And let us agree to trust one another.

Let me have your potions and your elixirs.

I'll give you my word. I will obey your instructions to the letter.

I should thank you to procure one of the new refrigerators and keep my preparations in that it's a machine for keeping things cool.

Oh, dear God, I could put Europe in one.

But my breathing is my voice. My utterance is my artillery.

When I did my guns are spiked.

Pump the bulb and breathe in.

You must not use it more than me.

Ha.

Ha.

Ha.

You have before you, sir, a convert to homey...

Homey, up...

Homey, up a thing.

No. For those.

Cossacks!

I wish you could have seen him. All the craft, the guile, the steel, all his courage.

He was fighting for his country. He sent Russia packing out of Turkey.

Denied her access to the Mediterranean? Got all Turkey's territories back for her and persuaded her to give a Cyprus in return.

I did Russia fight back.

At one point it looked as if she wasn't going to give a centimeter.

Dizzy ordered a special train to take the British mission back to Calais saying there was nothing for it but war.

Bismarck was alarmed, angry Russia, frantic France and Italy astonished. Austria delighted but incredulous it wasn't until the locomotive had steam up that the Russians gave in.

At the end of the Congress I saw Bismarck gazing at Dizzy. I heard what he said.

The old Jew he said.

There is a man.

The French general, Dédébé, said.

The traditions of England are not altogether dead. They survive in the hearts of a woman and an aged statesman.

So long as the power and advice of England are felt in the councils of Europe, peace I believe will be maintained.

I am not ashamed of the noblest of human sentiments now declared by philosophers the sentiment of patriotism.

But man, I have brought you peace.

And I believe it to be peace with honor.

Come on Dizzy, this isn't like you.

Bismarck, they are peeling for you. Peace with honor. You are the first man in Europe.

I wanted to be someone and I became someone.

I wanted fame and I got fame.

It is all too late.

Too late.

And fame will let a woman to share it is ashes in the mouth.

You share it with the nation.

Give me your health and your strength, Monty. And I might be able to enjoy.

The life is the wrong way round.

We should start as ignorant, weak old men.

And grow into wise, strong, young ones.

You are as young in your heart as I am.

In my heart, ha.

Yes.

But the final break up of my constitution has begun.

Old Doctor Kidd held me together in Berlin. He went marbles it.

What does the psalmist say?

Now days are consumed as smoke.

My bones are burned as a hearth.

I watch and am as alone as a sparrow on a house top.

Finish it.

What?

For thou, Lord,

shall endure forever.

And thy remembrance unto old generations.

For you, my Lord.

Thank you for it.

It's from the Queen.

She wants one of your diamond bees.

Help me. Help me.

Monty.

Perhaps we're not done for. Yet.