Regis regum rectissimi
prope est dies domini
dies irae et vindictae,
tenebrarum et nebulae,
dies quoque angustiae
maeroris ac tristitiae
Near is the day of the lord, most righteous king of kings. The day of wrath and vengeance, of gloom and darkness.
And the day of extraordinary, powerful thunder. Also the day of distress, lamentation and sorrow.
Henry II: My life, when it is written, will read better than it lived. Henry Fitz-Empress, first Plantagenet, a king at twenty-one, the ablest soldier of an able time. He led men well, he cared for justice when he could and ruled, for thirty years, a state as great as Charlemagne's. He married out of love, a woman out of legend. Not in Alexandria, or Rome, or Camelot has there been such a queen. She bore him many children. But no sons. King Henry had no sons. He had three whiskered things but he disowned them
Henry II: [to his sons] You're not mine! We're not connected! I deny you! None of you will get my crown, I leave you nothing and I wish you plague! May all your children breach and die!
Henry II: [storms out the corridor, turns and looks back] My Boys are gone
Henry II: [he starts unsteadily down the corridor] I've lost my boys
Henry II: [he stops, glares towards the Deity] You dare to damn me, do You? Well, I damn you back
Henry II: [like a biblical figure, shaking his fist to the sky] GODDAMN YOU!
Henry II: [moving blindly down the corridor again] My boys are gone. I've lost my boys. Oh, Jesus, all my boys...
[collapses, weeping on the stairs]