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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It is a great jape. Do you agree?
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[AMBIENT NATURE SOUNDS]
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[AMBIENT NATURE SOUNDS CONTINUE]
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[AMBIENT NATURE SOUNDS CONTINUE]
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ANNE: Get Lady Marlborough.
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Where am I? You're in heaven. That's God. You'll meet him later.
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I worry something has befallen her.
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[CLASSICAL MUSIC PLAYING]
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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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You all right?
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The people hate the war, you realize, they begin to hate you.
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[GRUNTING AND GROANING]
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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.
