[PANTING] I feel dizzy. I need to hold on to something.
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Thank you.
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[GUNSHOT]
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HARLEY: Might I remind you you're not the queen? No, she has sent me to speak for her. She is unwell. PRIME MINISTER: What says she? That Harley is a fop and a prat and smells like a 96-year-old French whore's vajuju. Oh?
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Let her go.
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I hoped I might be employed here by you... as something. A monster for the children to play with, perhaps?
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Abigail.
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[MELODY FADES]
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Find her!
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[INHALES SHARPLY] WOMAN: Stop infection.
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I'm sorry, I did not mean to present as a...
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MASHAM: She took a horse, Your Majesty. It did not come back and nor did she.
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GODOLPHIN: I shall send riders. No.
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I love you, but that I will not do. - ANNE: If you love me... - Love has limits. It should not.
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GODOLPHIN: It is not like a party. ABIGAIL: I'm sorry, Prime Minister, a passing thought. I think it is like a party. - A perfect analogy. - ANNE: We will wait.
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ANNE: There are wolves out there, are there not? GODOLPHIN: No, Your Majesty. I don't think so. Perhaps she's gone to Blenheim, her palace? There is no palace yet. It is the woods. We should check in the trees, just to be sure. - ANNE: Mr. Harley! - I apologize.