Þriðjudagur, 06. september 2005
Edmund: Tell me Young crone, is this Putney?
Young Crone: That it be, that it be.
Edmund: "Yes it is". Not "that it be". You don't have to talk in that stupid voice to me. I'm not a tourist. I seek information about a Wisewoman.
Young Crone: Ah, the Wisewoman.. the Wisewoman.
Edmund: Yes, the Wisewoman.
Young Crone: Two things, my lord, must thee know of the Wisewoman. First, she is ... a woman, and second, she is ...
Edmund: .. wise?
Young Crone: You do know her then?
Edmund: No, just a wild stab in the dark which is incidentally what you'll be getting if you don't start being a bit more helpful. Do you know where she lives?
Young Crone: Of course.
Edmund: Where?
Young Crone: Here. Do you have an appointment?
Edmund: No.
Young Crone: Well, you can go in anyway.
Edmund: Thank you Young crone. Here is a purse of moneys... which I'm not going to give to you.
Wisewoman: Hail Edmund, lord of Adders Black.
Edmund: Hello.
Wisewoman: Step no nearer, for already I see thy bloody purpose. Thou plot is, Blackadder, thou wouldst be king and drown Middlesex in a butt of wine. Ah, ah, ah, ah.
Edmund: No, no, no, no. it is far worse than that. I'm in love with my man servant.
Wisewoman: Oh well, I'd sleep with him if I were you.
Edmund: What?
Wisewoman: When I fancy people, I sleep with them. Oh, I have to drug them first of course! Being so old and warty.
Edmund: But what about my position, my social life?
Wisewoman: Very well then. Three other paths are open to you. Three cunning plans to cure thy ailment.
Edmund: Oh good.
Wisewoman: The first is simple. Kill Bob!
Edmund: Never.
Wisewoman: Then try the second. Kill yourself!
Edmund: No. And the third?
Wisewoman: The third is to ensure that no one else ever knows.
Edmund: Ha, that sounds more like it. How?
Wisewoman: Kill everybody in the whole world. Ah, ha, ha ...
