Ian McKellen Monologues

Does it ever wake you in the middle of the night? The feeling that one day they will pass that foolish law or one just like it, and come for you? And your children?

You know this plastic prison of theirs won't hold me forever. The war is still coming, Charles. And I intend to fight it, by any means necessary.

Because there is no land of tolerance. There is no peace. Not here, or anywhere else. Whole families destroyed, simply because they were born different from those in power. Well, after tonight, the world's powerful will be just like us. They will return home as brothers, as mutants. Our cause will be theirs. Your sacrifice will mean our survival. l'll understand if that comes as small consolation.

Why do none of you understand what I'm trying to do? Those people down there- they control our fate and the fate of every other mutant! Well, soon our fate will be theirs.

Are you a God-fearing man, Senator? That is such a strange phrase. I've always thought of God as a teacher; a bringer of light, wisdom, and understanding. You see, I think what you really fear is me. Me and my kind. The Brotherhood of Mutants. Oh, it's not so surprising really. Mankind has always feared what it doesn't understand. Well, don't fear God, Senator, and certainly don't fear me. Not any more.

Your aide, Mr. Gyrich, has been dead for some time, senator. I've had Mystique here keep you company. She takes so many shapes.

So, the senator survived the fall, and the swim to shore. He's become more powerful than I imagined.

So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world Frodo, besides the will of evil. Bilbo was meant to find the Ring. In which case, you were also meant to have it. And that is an encouraging thought.

You cannot pass! I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, Flame of Udun! Go back to the shadow. You shall not pass!

Pity? It was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand. Many that live deserve death. Some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them, Frodo? Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. Even the very wise cannot see all ends. My heart tells me that Gollum has some part to play yet, for good or ill before this is over. The pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many.

A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.

His treachery runs deeper than you know. By foul craft, Saruman has crossed Orcs with goblin men. He's breeding an army in the caverns of Isengard. An army that can move in sunlight and cover great distance at speed. Saruman is coming for the Ring.

My dear Frodo. Hobbits really are amazing creatures. You can learn all there is to know about their ways in a month, and yet after a hundred years they can still surprise you.

They have taken the bridge and the second hall. We have barred the gates but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes, drums... drums in the deep. We cannot get out. A shadow lurks in the dark. We can not get out... they are coming.

There is one other who knew Bilbo had the Ring. I looked everywhere for the creature Gollum, but the enemy found him first. I don't know how long they tortured him, but through the endless screams and inane babble, they discerned two words:

Don't… tempt me Frodo! I dare not take it. Not even to keep it safe. Understand, Frodo. I would use this ring from a desire to do good… But through me, it would wield a power too great and terrible to imagine.

For sixty years, the Ring lay quiet in Bilbo's keeping, prolonging his life, delaying old age. But no longer, Frodo. Evil is stirring in Mordor. The Ring has awoken. It's heard its Master's call.

No, Frodo. The spirit of Sauron endured. His life force is bound to the Ring and the Ring survived. Sauron has returned. His Orcs have multiplied. His fortress of Barad-Dur is rebuilt in the land of Mordor. Sauron needs only this Ring to cover all the lands with a second darkness. He is seeking it, seeking it, all his thought is bent on it. The Ring yearns to go home, to return to the hand of its Master. They are one, the Ring and the Dark Lord. Frodo, he must never find it.

I think there's more to this Hobbit than meets the eye.

Well, what can I tell you? Life in the wide world goes on much as it has these past age, full of its own comings and goings, scarcely aware of the existence of Hobbits… for which I am very thankful.

Always remember, Frodo, the Ring is trying to get back to its master. It wants to be found.

I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves... Men... and Orcs.

Knock your head against these doors, Peregrin Took! And if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will try to find the opening words.

"The year 3434 of the Second Age. Here follows the account of Isildur, High King of Gondor, and the finding of the ring of power. 'It has come to me. The One Ring. It shall be an heirloom of my kingdom. All those who follow in my bloodline shall be bound to its fate, for I will risk no hurt to the ring. It is precious to me, though I buy it with great pain. The markings upon the band begin to fade. The writing, which at first was as clear as red flame, has all but disappeared. A secret now that only fire can tell.'"

All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you.

All your long years, we've been friends. Trust me as you once did. Hmm? Let it go.

He hates and loves The Ring - as he hates and loves himself.

Why, I can smile… And murder while I smile!

Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York.

Let us to't pell-mell, if not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell.

A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!

But in your daughter's womb, I bury them: Where, in that nest of spicery, they will breed.

Simple, plain Clarence! I do love you so, that I shall shortly send your soul to heaven. If heaven will take the present from my hands.

Your beauty which did haunt me in my sleep could make me undertake the death of all the world.

Since I cannot prove a lover, I am determined to prove a villain - and hate the idle pleasures of these days.

I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, nor made to court an amorous looking-glass. I, that am rudely stamped, deformed, unfinished, sent before my time, into this breathing world scarce half made up. And that so lamely and unfashionable, that dogs bark at me as I halt by them. Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, have no delight to pass away the time, unless to spy my shadow in the sun and descant on mine own deformity.

And now, I'll marry. What though I killed her husband and his father?

The world is grown so bad that wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch!

Who is it that complains unto the King that I, in truth, am stern and love them not? Because I cannot flatter and look fair smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive and cog, I must be held a rancorous enemy. Cannot a plain man live and think no harm?

Teach not your lip such scorn, for it was made for kissing, lady, not for such contempt.

Let's leave this keen encounter of our wits. Your beauty, which did haunt me in my sleep, could make me undertake the death of all the world - so I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.

We have many goodly days to see. The liquid drops of tears that you have shed, shall come again, transformed to orient pearl.

If! Thou protector of this damned strumpet, talk'st thou to me of if? Thou art a traitor! Off with his head. By St Paul I shall not dine until I see the same. Those who love me stand and follow me!

I must be married now, to young Elizabeth, or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass.

Relenting fool and shallow, changing woman!

I did but dream. Oh, coward conscience. What do I fear? There's none else by. Richard loves Richard. That is, I am I. Is there a murderer here? No. Yes... I am. I love myself. But why? For any good that I myself have done unto myself? Oh, no. Alack, I rather hate myself... For hateful deeds committed by myself. I am a villain. But I lie. I am not. Fool, of thyself speak well. Fool, do not flatter. My conscience has a thousand, several tongues thronged to the bar, crying all, "Guilty! Guilty!" I shall despair. There is no creature loves me, and if I die, no soul will pity me.

Let's do it pell-mell. If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell.

This it is when men are ruled by women.

Your eyes drop millstones when fools' eyes fall tears.

Let me put in your mind, if you forget what you have been before and what you are; indeed what I have been and what I am.

When these troops of mine have chastised the petty rebel Richmond and dull-brained Buckingham, bound with triumphant garlands will I come and lead your daughter to a conqueror's bed.

Remember whom you are to cope with - all a sort of vagabonds, rascals and runaways. And who does lead 'em but a paltry fellow, a milksop? If we be conquered, let men conquer us. Let's whip these stragglers over the seas again! Shall these enjoy our lambs? Lie with our wives? Ravish our daughters?

Be sudden in the execution. For Clarence is well spoken and perhaps may move your hearts to pity.

Can you keep secrets? Can you know a thing and never say it again? And codes? I imagine they lie down for you like lovers.

The Good Book did not arrive by facsimile from heaven.

And he who keeps the keys to Heaven rules the world.

As long as there has been... one true God, there has been killing in his name.

If it's so important for you to stop us, then you're just going to have to shoot us.

You can start with him.

And the chalice resembles a cup or vessel, or more importantly, the shape of a woman's womb. No, the Grail has never been a cup. It is quite literally this ancient symbol of womanhood. And in this case, a woman who carried a secret so powerful that if revealed, it would devastate the very foundations of Christianity.

And it turns out, she makes an appearance right there.

Are they? What about that figure on the right hand of our Lord seated in the place of honor, hmm? Flowing red hair. Folded feminine hands. Hint of a bosom, no?

And then, my dear, Jesus goes on to tell Mary Magdalene that it's up to her to continue his Church. Mary Magdalene, not Peter. The Church was supposed to be carried on by... a woman. Few realize that Mary was descended from kings, just as her husband was. Now, my dear, the word in French for "Holy Grail".

From the Middle English, Sangreal, of the original Arthurian legend. Now, as two words. Can you translate for our friend?

When the legend speaks of the chalice that held the blood of Christ, it speaks, in fact, of the female womb that carried Jesus' royal bloodline.

Mary was pregnant at the time of the crucifixion. For her own safety and for that of Christ's unborn child, she fled the Holy Land and came to France. And here, it is said, she gave birth to a daughter, Sarah.

I trust you recognize "The Last Supper," the great fresco by Leonardo da Vinci. And, my dear, if you would close your eyes.

You asked for my help, I recall. Allow an old man his indulgences. Now, mademoiselle, where is Jesus sitting?

Good. He and his disciples are breaking bread. And... what drink?

Splendid. And one final question: how many wine glasses are there on the table?

Open your eyes.

No single cup. No chalice. Well, that's a bit strange, isn't it? Considering both the Bible and standard Grail legend celebrate this moment as the definitive arrival of the Holy Grail. Now, Robert, you could be of help to us. If you'd be so kind as to show us the symbols for man and woman, please.

Oh, at least that. Some say millions. Imagine then, Robert, that Christ's throne might live on in a female child. You asked what would be worth killing for. Witness the greatest cover-up in human history. This is the secret that the Priory of Sion has defended for over 20 centuries. They are the guardians of the royal bloodline. The keepers of the proof of our true past. They are the protectors of the living descendants of Jesus Christ… and Mary Magdalene.

And venturing into the even more bizarre, uh, notice how Jesus and Mary appear to be joined at the hip and are leaning away from each other as if to create a shape in the negative space between them. Leonardo gives us the chalice.

Yes. Oh, and, Robert, notice what happens when these two figures change position.

No. But history, she does make it true. Now listen to this. It's from the gospel according to Philip.

Yes, it was rejected at the Council of Nicaea along with any other gospels that made Jesus appear human and not divine. "And the companion of the Savior is Mary Magdalene. Christ loved her more than all the disciples and used to kiss her on the..."

The Bible, as we know it, was finally presided over by one man: the pagan emperor Constantine.

Oh, hardly, no. He was a lifelong pagan, who was baptized on his deathbed. Constantine was Rome's supreme holy man. From time immemorial, his people had worshipped a balance between nature's male deities and the goddess or sacred feminine. But a growing religious turmoil was gripping Rome. Three centuries earlier, a young Jew named Jesus had come along, preaching love and a single God. Centuries after his crucifixion, Christ's followers had grown exponentially and had started a religious war against the pagans.

But we can at least agree that the conflict grew to such proportions that it threatened to tear Rome in two.

So Constantine may have been a, uh, lifelong pagan, but he was also a pragmatist. And in 325 anno Domini, he decided to unify Rome under a single religion: Christianity.

And to strengthen this new Christian tradition, Constantine held a famous ecumenical gathering known as the Council of Nicaea. And at this council, the many sects of Christianity debated and, uh, voted on, well, everything from the acceptance and rejection of specific gospels to the date for Easter to the administering of the sacraments, and, of course... the immortality of Jesus.

Well, ma chere, until that moment in history, Jesus was viewed by many of his followers as a mighty prophet, as a great and powerful man, but a man nevertheless. A mortal man.

Not even his nephew twice removed.

As long as there has been a one true God, there has been killing in his name.