KING   Yes. You don’t look at the King, Greville. Didn’t they tell you that?

GREVILLE   Forgot, sir.

KING   Well, don’t forget.
Lady Pembroke appears, carrying a candlestick, indicating that the Queen is ready to retire.
Now, that’s Lady Pembroke. Handsome woman, what?
Daughter of the Duke of Marlborough. Stuff of generals.
Blood of Blenheim. Husband an utter rascal. Eloped in a packet-boat.
A look passes between Greville and Lady Pembroke, as the King goes into the Queen’s bedroom.

INT. WINDSOR. KING’S APARTMENTS. QUEEN’S BEDROOM. NIGHT.

The Queen is sitting up in bed in her nightcap, tatting.

KING   Good evening, Mrs King.

QUEEN   Good evening, Mr King.

KING   When we get this far I call it dandy, hey?

QUEEN   Yes, Mr King.
The King is restless and uncomfortable. He takes the Queen’s hand and puts it on his belly.

KING   I ate a pear at supper.

QUEEN   Two pears, sir. It is as tight as a drum.
She gives him an affectionate hug.

KING   Saving your presence, I will try a fart.
He does so unsuccessfully.

QUEEN   No?
He shakes his head.

KING   Cold fish, Pitt. Never smiles.

QUEEN   He works hard, though.

KING   Never stops. Drinks, they say.

QUEEN   They all drink.

KING   His father, poor man, went mad. Doesn’t show any sign of that. Well, not at the moment anyway.
They both laugh, but then the King cries out in pain.
Pain in my belly now.

QUEEN   Oh, George!
He begins to groan and shout.

KING   Oh, oh!

QUEEN   Help! Help us! Help!

INT. WINDSOR. KING’S APARTMENTS. DRAWING ROOM. DAY.

Peering through the keyhole into the King’s bedroom is the portly figure of the King’s First Physican, Sir George Baker.

BAKER   He looks well enough. I sent over some senna. Was that given to him?

GREVILLE   Yes. The pain got worse.

BAKER   Whereabouts was the pain?

GREVILLE   Would it not be better to ask His Majesty that?

BAKER   How long have you been in waiting? I cannot address His Majesty until he addresses me. I cannot enquire after His Majesty’s symptoms until he chooses to inform me of them.

GREVILLE   Sir George. Whatever his situation His Majesty is but a man …

BAKER   You’re the King’s equerry with radical notions like that? Good God. With any patient I undertake a physical examination only as a last resort; it is an intolerable intrusion on a gentleman’s privacy. With His Majesty it is unthinkable.
Shouts of ‘Sharp! Sharp! The King! The King!’ The King comes in, followed by the pages.

KING   Ah, Baker. Yes, a ninny, what, what? Well, you can tell him I am much better. I had a pretty smart bilious attack, very smart indeed, but it has passed.

BAKER   Sir. Would it be possible to take His Majesty’s pulse?

GREVILLE   Would it be possible to take Your Majesty’s pulse, sir?