The Drunken Feathers

Scene x

The PRINCE OF WALES' bedchamber in Carlton House, several weeks later. The PRINCE OF WALES lies in his bed wearing his nightgown, looking very sickly and pale. He holds an ice-pack against his head as he suffers from a fever. KEATE bleeds him.

PRINCE OF WALES: What happened last night?

KEATE: Your Royal Highness attended Lady Hopetoun's ball, where you became drunk, threatened to fight everyone there, were dragged out by your companions, and fainted in your carriage.

PRINCE OF WALES: God, not again...

KEATE: I was called this morning to treat Your Royal Highness.

PRINCE OF WALES: What ailment has thus afflicted me, Mr. Keate?

KEATE: A moderate fever and swelling of the glands.

PRINCE OF WALES: Am I likely to die?

KEATE: With Your Royal Highness' hearty disposition, I have strong reason to doubt that.

PRINCE OF WALES: Damn shame.

KEATE finishes bleeding the PRINCE OF WALES and, while putting his knife away, notices several empty bottles of liquor scattered om the floor.

KEATE: I sincerely hope Your Royal Highness hasn't succumbed to the drink; it can do you no good.

PRINCE OF WALES: On that point, sir, I must disagree with you. Liquor is all that keeps me from hanging myself.

KEATE: Is Your Royal Highness' life in danger once more?

PRINCE OF WALES: No, no... Can you take no more blood?

KEATE: Not at present, but I shall return by the end of the week. I hope to find Your Royal Highness greatly improved by that time.

KEATE finishes packing his tools and stands to leave.

KEATE: [Bows] Good day, Your Royal Highness.

KEATE exits. Suspicious, he waits outside the door for several seconds before suddenly reentering. He finds the PRINCE OF WALES bleeding himself with a knife he had hid under his pillow. 

KEATE: [Worried] Your Royal Highness!

PRINCE OF WALES: I was only letting another ounce.

KEATE: Your household has forbidden Your Royal Highness from keeping your own knives and swords.

PRINCE OF WALES: But blood-letting eases my nerves.

KEATE: If you please, sir...

KEATE holds out his hand, and the PRINCE OF WALES reluctantly gives him the knife.

PRINCE OF WALES: Had I known that one self-inflicted stab wound would subject me to these infantile restrictions for the rest of my life, I might have reconsidered it.

KEATE: They have been temporarily implemented for Your Royal Highness' protection.

PRINCE OF WALES: I have no intention of slitting my throat...at least, not at this instant. Can a man not bleed himself when he is nervous and frenzied as I am?