Our last farthing to protect England if we must. HARLEY: And our last man, too? Look, the dead pile up, as do the resentments. - Or that does not concern you? - SARAH: I grieve them all. In my heart, a scar for each, and I send my own beloved with them, chest bared. So do not lecture me on the cost.
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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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Must the duck be here? Fastest duck in the city. Horatio is a prize worth stealing. He does not leave my side. Keep him away from me, or I will pull his liver out and eat it with a cornichon.
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We shall both make our case to the queen. Yes, where is the queen? We've been waiting an hour. - FOOTMAN: Lady Sarah Marlborough. - I'm here.
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Madame Tournee. You may have the tapestry budget you asked for. Spend one penny more and I will take your fingernails in lieu.
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HARLEY: And how are we going to pay for this? The land tax is to be doubled.
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She has decided to continue with the war.
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Well, I really doubt you're quoting.
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[MUSIC FADES] [DUCK QUACKS]
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Yes, Lady Marlborough.
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The war you will be fighting will be in our own countryside. She relies on you and your love of England to hold the Tories together. - There are limits. - SARAH: The love of your country? To me, there is no limit on that.
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She feels another victory in will put us in a stronger position for a treaty. Her letters.
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Lady Marlborough. The queen will ride on Wednesday.
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Would you like a bite of my new maid before you leave?
