ACT 1. The guests arrive.
Sussex, entering left, courtseying : “You sent for me, Ma’am?”
Cornwall, whispering to HM: “See how he removes the Royal Cloak and hangs it on the peg? No son of mine…”
Cambridge: “Welcome, let us hug so that we may be Brothers in Arms.”
Sussex pushing him aside: “Fuck’st off, thou unchin-nosed fustelarian.”
ACT 2. The Queen’s Drawing Room.
HM: “So tell me Sussex – I’ll call you Harry – let’s speak of Meghan, whom thou didst marry.”
Sussex: “I love her Ma’am, with all my heart; I hear sweet music, tho’ she doth loudly fart.”
HM: “’Tis love for sure; I used to feel the same to hear my Edi snore.”
Edinburgh, aside to Cornwall: “It’s those Swan Down pillows, mate; they me do nightly suffocate.”
Cambridge, earwigging: “Suffolk Kate? Yet it is sworn by certificate: she’s Pangbourne born and no mistake.”
Edinburgh: “Sir Tiffy Kate? Is that her dad?”
Cornwall: “The hour – ’tis late – the sun glows red. Come on, father, let us get thee back a-bed.”
HM: “To business, Harry, now, in verse, how willst thou manage without my Purse?”
Sussex: “I’ve thirty million in my account. I may not be Rees-Mogg, but ’tis still a good amount.”
HM: “But, in America, ’tis no wealth! Illness there comes free, one has to pay for health.”
Cambridge: “Bro, you married a beauty; but where’s thy sense of Royal Duty? Hast thou lost it?”
Sussex: “Go away, you pompous git.”
ACT 3. In the hallway.
A knock on the front door is heard. (‘Tis Andrew, delivering pizzas.)
HM: “Quick, let us in the garden walk. I know that knock. It’s that dork, York.”
ACT 4: At the back garden gate.
HM: “Oh bugger, there’s the Press! Butler, fetch one’s crown – one’s hair is such a mess!”
HM (to the assembled reporters): ”Summit’s aborted. Come back Wednesday.”
Sussex (to camera): “Sorted.”
[photo credit: By USDAgov – https://www.flickr.com/photos/usdagov/8674435033/sizes/o/in/photostream/, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=25727555]