The Spanish Prisoner and the Winslow Boy

by David Mamet

  ANGLE. ON CATHERINE AND JOHN.

  CATHERINE: (Pause) Do you want to marry me, John?

  JOHN: What?

  CATHERINE: I said: Do you want to marry me?

  JOHN: Have I ever wavered?

  CATHERINE: Never before.

  JOHN: I’m not wavering now. I’m telling you the course that we should take.

  CATHERINE: But isn’t it too late? Do you want to marry the Winslow Girl?

  JOHN: All that will blow over in time.

  CATHERINE: And we’d still have the allowance—

  JOHN: (Quietly) It is important, darling. I’m sorry, but you can’t shame me into saying that it isn’t.

  CATHERINE: I didn’t mean to shame you—

  JOHN: Oh, but you did.

  CATHERINE: (Pause) I’m sorry.

  JOHN: The case is lost, Catherine. The case is lost. Give it up. (Pause) What is your answer?

  CATHERINE: I love you, John. The answer is I want to be your wife.

  JOHN: Well, then. You’ll drop the case.

  CATHERINE: Yes. I will. I must tell Sir Robert.

  54. INT. HOUSE OF COMMONS. DAY.

  A MEMBER reading a newspaper. A subhead reads:

  “Winslow Case, Call for Closure.”

  The FIRST LORD is on his feet.

  FIRST LORD: To continue to squander, to squander, I say, for the time, manpower, public esteem, public trust.

  While the FIRST LORD carries on, SIR ROBERT gets up, takes his feet across the “White Line,” and moves to a bench on which we see several papers. A newspaper headline reads, “Winslow Case: A Call for Closure.”

  ANGLE.

  On SIR ROBERT, mopping his brow, sitting in the House.

  FIRST LORD: (VO) For a child, Gentlemen, for a child, a guilty child, mind you, to squander all, for … Sentiment … one cannot sue the Crown, Justice has been done to the tenth decimal point, and it is time to lay aside nursery gossip, and to proceed with the business of Government.

  ANGLE. ON THE COLLEAGUE AND SIR ROBERT.

  COLLEAGUE: You’re all in, Bobby.

  SIR ROBERT MORTON: What?

  COLLEAGUE: I say you’re all in, go home.

  M.P.: We’re finished, Bob.

  COLLEAGUE: You fought the Good Fight. You fought the good fight, but we ain’t got the votes. It’s over. (Pause) Don’t break your Heart over it.

  M.P.: Everybody loses one. There’s no shame in it.

  COLLEAGUE: Listen to Tony, Bob.

  M.P.: You can’t hold back the tide.

  SIR ROBERT nods.

  In the background we hear the FIRST LORD go on.

  ANGLE.

  On SIR ROBERT, as he bends to a sheet of paper on the bench, picks it up, and looks at it.

  COLLEAGUE: You couldn’t have fought it harder. The House is against you, let it go.

  ANGLE, INS.

  The sheet music “How, Still, We See Thee Lie, or The Naughty Winslow Boy.” We see the picture of RONNIE holding off the admirals and the lyrics, “How dare you sully Nelson’s name for this land did die …” et cetera.

  ANGLE.

  On SIR ROBERT, as the COLLEAGUE helps him on with his coat.

  FIRST LORD: (VO) When I believe I can state, with certainty, that the mood of this House is sure, correct, and supportive of the Admiralty.

  The COLLEAGUE helping SIR ROBERT on with his coat holds various papers in his hands. Among them is the sheet music copy of “How, Still, We See Thee Lie.” We see SIR ROBERT take the sheet music and peruse it.

  ANGLE, INS.

  The sheet music, SIR ROBERT’s hand turning it over to read it.

  MEMBER: Put the question.

  A MEMBER comes out of the House and puts a comforting hand on SIR ROBERT’s shoulder.

  SIR ROBERT MORTON: … they’re calling the question.

  COLLEAGUE: Let them call the question. We’re done … there’s no shame in it, Bob.

  ANGLE. IN THE CHAMBER ON THE CHAIRMAN.

  CHAIRMAN: The motion is …

  ANGLE. ON SIR ROBERT IN THE PASSAGEWAY.

  SIR ROBERT puts down the sheet music.

  SIR ROBERT MORTON: Point of order.

  ANGLE. ON A MEMBER IN THE HOUSE.

  Turning his head to look at SIR ROBERT, reentering the chamber.

  ANGLE. ON SIR ROBERT.

  Reentering the chamber in his coat and hat. Camera takes him to his seat; he is nodding to the CHAIRMAN.

  SIR ROBERT MORTON: Point of order, point of order.

  FIRST LORD: I’m on my feet!

  SIR ROBERT MORTON: Point of order, I say.

  FIRST LORD: I’m on my feet.

  CHAIRMAN: There is a motion that …

  SIR ROBERT MORTON: Point of order … I must insist.

  FIRST LORD: … upon what grounds?

  SIR ROBERT MORTON: Well, sit down and I’ll tell you …

  FIRST LORD: (Sitting)… make your old speech.

  SIR ROBERT MORTON: Thank you. I have a point of order. I should like to read into the record … two items. Two items … first item: Popular Song of the Day. “How, Still, We See Thee Lie, or The Naughty Winslow Boy.” (He displays the sheet music.)… read it into the record … two items. “How dare you sully Nelson’s Name Who for this Land Did Die? Oh, Naughty Cadet, for Shame, for Shame. How, still, we see thee lie …” (He lays down the sheet music. To himself)… they suggest our concern for the boy might perhaps tarnish the reputation of Lord Nelson.

  Pause.

  FIRST LORD: You said two items.

  SIR ROBERT MORTON: (Nods) The other one is this: It’s from a slightly older source. It is this: “You Shall Not Side with the Great Against the Powerless.”

  ANGLE. ON A MEMBER, IN THE STANDS.

  MEMBER: Point of order.

  ANGLE. ON SIR ROBERT.

  SIR ROBERT MORTON: I’m on my feet.

  CHAIRMAN: Will you yield?

  SIR ROBERT MORTON: I will not yield. YOU SHALL NOT SIDE WITH THE GREAT AGAINST THE POWERLESS.… Have you heard those words, Gentlemen? And do you recognize their source …? And I shall add, from that same source, this injunction: What you do to the least of them, you do to me … Now, Now, Gentlemen … (He removes his coat.)

  DISSOLVE TO:

  55. INT. HOUSE OF COMMONS, LOBBY. DAY.

  CATHERINE coming up the stairs. She enters the lobby, which is buzzing, full of excited MEN.

  REPORTER: (Overheard in passing as he exits the House.) Most scathing denunciation of a Government department, ever heard in my life.

  CATHERINE: … what happened?

  REPORTER: What happened …? What happened? The First Lord, thought he was safe. Thought he was safe. Sir Robert spoke, all of a sudden, he’s under attack.

  CATHERINE: He’s under attack, whom?

  REPORTER: The First Lord … The Admiralty … they … MICHAEL, SIR ROBERT’s assistant, has come out of the main chamber and is holding a coat. CATHERINE comes over to speak to him through the press of the crowd.

  CATHERINE: What happened?

  MICHAEL: It seems, miss, it seems, that, rather than risk a division, the First Lord has given an undertaking that he will instruct the Attorney General to endorse the Petition of Right.

  He looks over CATHERINE’s shoulders. She turns to see SIR ROBERT coming out of the House, congratulated by all.

  MICHAEL: (Cont’d.) It means that the case of Winslow

  Versus Rex can, therefore, come to Court.

  Pause.

  SIR ROBERT comes over and puts on his coat.

  SIR ROBERT MORTON: Well, miss. What are my instructions? (Pause) Miss Winslow: What are my instructions?

  CATHERINE: Do you need my instructions, Sir Robert? Aren’t they already on the petition? Doesn’t it say, “Let Right Be Done”?

  Pause.

  SIR ROBERT MORTON: Well, then, we must endeavor to see that it is.

  DISSOLVE TO:

  56. INT. PRINT SHOP. DAY.

  Lemonade on the stove. The window open, a PRINTER wearing a si
nglet, eating his sandwich, mops his brow.

  57. EXT. WINSLOW HOUSE. DAY.

  A hot June day, PASSERSBY in light summer clothes, the women holding parasols.

  DICKIE, aged several years, dressed as a commercial traveler, carrying a briefcase. Dogging him, a REPORTER, scribbling in a notebook.

  DICKIE: My views on the case? … I can’t say that I’m all that sure I have “views” on the case.

  REPORTER: You’ve been following the case in Court?

  DICKIE: Been following the case in the papers. Thanks to you chaps. Just come down from Reading.

  REPORTER: Come down for the verdict?

  DICKIE: Come down for the verdict—That’s right. Camera takes them onto the sidewalk opposite the Winslow House. We see a mass of reporters on the pavement opposite.

  DICKIE: (Cont’d.) Good place to’ve opened a restaurant. (Pause) Steady clientele, mm?

  He starts off across the street.

  REPORTER: What’s your brother like?

  DICKIE: Yes … hot, eh? (Wipes his brow.)

  He starts up the stairs, through the REPORTERS.

  58. INT. WINSLOW HALLWAY/DINING ROOM. DAY.

  DICKIE enters, goes to a humidor, and takes a cigar. GRACE is putting out ARTHUR’s lunch in the dining room. She comes out and embraces DICKIE.

  GRACE: You’re thinner. I like your new suit.

  DICKIE: Off the peg at three and a half guineas. I say—does that still go on all the time?

  GRACE: Waiting for the verdict.

  DICKIE: Where’s Kate?

  GRACE: Kate takes the morning session, I go in the afternoon.

  DICKIE: (Pause) How’s it all going?

  GRACE: I don’t know. I’ve been there all four days now and I’ve hardly understood a word.

  DICKIE: Will there be room for me?

  GRACE: Oh, yes. They reserve places for the family.

  DICKIE: How’d Ronnie get on in the witness box?

  GRACE: Two days he was cross-examined. Two whole days. Imagine it, the poor little pet! I must say he didn’t seem to mind much. He said two days with the Attorney General wasn’t nearly as bad as two minutes with Sir Robert. Kate says he made a very good impression with the Jury—

  DICKIE: How is Kate, Mother?

  GRACE: Oh, all right. You heard about John, I suppose—

  DICKIE: Yes, that’s what I meant. How has she taken it?

  GRACE: You can never tell with Kate. She never lets you know what she’s feeling. We all think he’s behaved very badly.

  She indicates ARTHUR’s presence on the terrace. DICKIE heads out there.

  59. EXT. WINS LOW TERRACE/STUDY. DAY.

  DICKIE steps out onto the terrace, and ARTHUR walks slowly toward him.

  ARTHUR: How are you, Dickie?

  DICKIE: (Shaking hands) Very well, thank you, Father.

  DICKIE proceeds into the study. ARTHUR sits by a chair at the terrace door.

  ARTHUR: Mr. Lamb says you’ve joined the Territorials.

  DICKIE looks around at various broadsheets and pasted-up newspapers on the study walls: “The Winslow Case,” “Response of the Admiralty,” a profile of Sir Robert Morton, et cetera.

  DICKIE: I’m sorry, Father, what?

  ARTHUR: Mr. Lamb says you’ve enlisted, in the Territorials.

  DICKIE: Yes, Father.

  ARTHUR: Why have you done that?

  DICKIE: Well, from all accounts there’s a fair chance of a scrap soon. If there is I want to get in on it—

  ARTHUR: If there is what you call a scrap you’ll do far better to stay in the bank—

  DICKIE: Oh, no, Father. I mean, the bank’s all right—but still—(Pause) How’s Catherine?

  ARTHUR: Catherine’s late. She was in at half past yesterday.

  GRACE appears at the hallway door. They move toward her.

  60. INT. WINSLOW STUDY/HALLWAY. DAY.

  GRACE: Perhaps they’re taking the lunch interval later today.

  ARTHUR: Lunch interval? This isn’t a cricket match. (Looking at her) Nor, may I say, is it a matinee at the Gaiety. Why are you wearing that highly unsuitable getup?

  GRACE: Don’t you like it, dear? I think it’s Mademoiselle Dupont’s best.

  ARTHUR: Grace—your son is facing a charge of theft and forgery—

  GRACE: Oh, dear! It’s so difficult! I simply can’t be seen in the same old dress, day after day. (A thought strikes her.) I tell you what, Arthur, I’ll wear my black coat and skirt tomorrow—for the verdict.

  ARTHUR: Did you say my lunch was ready?

  GRACE: Yes, dear. It’s only cold. I did the salad myself. Violet and Cook are at the trial.

  DICKIE: Is Violet with you? She was under sentence the last time I saw you—

  GRACE: Neither your father nor I have the courage to tell her—

  ARTHUR: I have the courage to tell her.

  GRACE: It’s funny that you don’t, then, dear.

  ARTHUR: You see, Dickie! These taunts of cowardice are daily flung at my head, but should I take them up I’m forbidden to move in the matter. Such is the logic of women.

  He goes across the hallway into the dining room. DICKIE and GRACE stay in the hallway. They watch ARTHUR sit down and then move away.

  61. INT. WINSLOW HALLWAY. DAY.

  DICKIE: Will you take him away after the verdict?

  GRACE: He’s promised to go into a nursing home.

  DICKIE: Will he?

  GRACE: How do I know?

  DICKIE: But surely, if he loses this time, he’s lost for good.

  GRACE: I can only hope that it’s true.

  CATHERINE comes in through the backstairs door.

  CATHERINE: Lord! The heat! Mother, can’t you get rid of those reporters—Hullo, Dickie.

  DICKIE: (Embracing her) Hullo, Kate.

  CATHERINE: Come to be in at the death?

  DICKIE: Is that what it’s going to be?

  CATHERINE: Looks like it.

  ARTHUR: (Calling from his chair in the dining room) You’re late, Catherine.

  CATHERINE: I know, Father. I’m sorry. There was such a huge crowd. (Mops her brow. To herself) I have to change …

  She starts upstairs, checks her watch, and heads for her room.

  GRACE: (Calling after her) Is there a bigger crowd than yesterday, Kate …?

  CATHERINE: (On the stairs) Yes, Mother. Far bigger.

  GRACE: How did it go this morning?

  The camera cranes up with DICKIE as he climbs the stairs, looking around and looking back at ARTHUR and GRACE.

  CATHERINE: (VO) Sir Robert finished his cross-examination of the postmistress. I thought he’d demolished her completely. She admitted she couldn’t identify Ronnie in the Commander’s office. She admitted she couldn’t be sure of the time he came in. She admitted that she was called away to the telephone while he was buying his fifteen-and-six postal order, and that all Osbourne cadets looked alike to her in their uniforms …

  62. INT. WINSLOW HOUSE, CATHERINE’S ROOM/UPSTAIRS LANDING. DAY.

  CATHERINE is doing up her hair. DICKIE is standing on the landing.

  CATHERINE: … so that it might quite easily have been another cadet who cashed the five shillings. It was a brilliant cross-examination. He didn’t bully her, or frighten her—he just coaxed her into tying herself into knots. Then, when he’d finished the Attorney General asked her again whether she was absolutely positive that the same boy that bought the fifteen-and-six postal order also cashed the five-shilling one. She said yes. She was quite, quite sure because Ronnie was such a good-looking little boy that she had specially noticed him. She hadn’t said that in her examination in chief. I could see those twelve good men and true nodding away to each other. I believe it undid the whole of that magnificent cross-examination.

  GRACE has come into the doorway.

  GRACE: If she thought him so especially good-looking, why couldn’t she identify him the same evening?

  GRACE hands CATHERINE a cup of tea.

  CATHER
INE: Don’t ask me. Ask the Attorney General. I’m sure he has a beautifully reasonable answer.

  DICKIE: Ronnie good-looking! What utter rot! She must be lying, that woman.

  GRACE: Nonsense, Dickie! I thought he looked very well in the box yesterday, didn’t you, Kate?

  CATHERINE: Yes, Mother.

  DICKIE: Who else gave evidence for the other side?

  DICKIE walks downstairs.

  CATHERINE: The Commander, the Chief Petty Officer, and one of the boys at the college.

  DICKIE: Anything very damaging?

  CATHERINE: Nothing that we didn’t expect.

  CATHERINE emerges from her room with her cup of tea.

  Her hair is up.

  GRACE: Did you see anybody interesting in Court, dear?

  CATHERINE: Yes, Mother. John Watherstone.

  GRACE: John? I hope you didn’t speak to him, Kate.

  CATHERINE: Of course I did.

  GRACE: Kate, how could you! What did he say?

  CATHERINE: He wished us luck.

  GRACE: What impertinence!

  ARTHUR: (Offscreen) Grace—you will be late for the resumption.

  GRACE: (To herself) I wonder if Violet will remember to pick up those onions. Perhaps I’d better do it on the way back from the Court.

  GRACE: (Pause) Kate, dear, I’m so sorry—

  CATHERINE: What for, Mother?

  GRACE: John proving such a bad hat. I never did like him very much, you know.

  CATHERINE: No, I know.

  They head downstairs.

  63. INT. WINSLOW HALLWAY. DAY.

  ARTHUR examines DICKIE.

  ARTHUR: You look very well. A trifle thinner, perhaps—

  DICKIE: Hard work, Father.

  ARTHUR: Or late hours?

  DICKIE: You can’t keep late hours in Reading.

  ARTHUR: You could keep late hours anywhere. I’ve had quite a good report about you from Mr. Lamb.

  DICKIE: I took him racing last Saturday. Had the time of his life and lost his shirt.

  ARTHUR: Did he?

  GRACE and CATHERINE appear.

  GRACE: Now, Dickie, when you get to the front door put your head down, like me, and just charge through them all.

  ARTHUR: Why don’t you go out by the garden?

  GRACE: I wouldn’t like to risk this dress getting through the roses. Come on, Dickie. I always shout: “I’m the maid and don’t know nothing,” so don’t be surprised.