Original subtitles

We are now at last, my friends, arrived at the final stage of our long journey together.

But I must warn you,

before we reach its end, there is a road ahead both dark and difficult

and fraught with unseen dangers for our hero and heroine.

Miss Western is once again a prisoner of her cruel father,

while unbeknown to her, Mr Jones languishes beneath,

friendless and penniless and trapped in a web of evil intrigue,

which he can but little suspect will lead him straight to the gallows.

My Lord Fellamar, I followed Jones to his new lodgings.

I trust the arrangements are in hand?

You need have no fear on that account, my lord.

Believe me, my lord,

nothing can be more commendable than the part you act.

And, as for myself,

I'm very glad to have my share in the preservation of a young lady for whom I have such esteem.

Partridge, we must find Miss Western today or I fear it might be too late.

I shall call again on her cousin Mrs Fitzpatrick, for I am convinced she knows where Sophy is.

And you will seek out Honour, who may likewise have news of her former mistress.

Gladly, Your Honour.

WOMAN: Is anybody gonna pay for this? Here, come back!

As Mr Jones and Mr Partridge set off on their perilous search,

let me now reintroduce two old acquaintances who we met earlier on our journey.

You may be pleased to remember firstly Mr Fitzpatrick,

the Irish gentleman of jealous temper

who attacked Mr Jones so intemperately at the inn at Upton.

And Mrs Waters, who was a-bed with Mr Jones at the time.

And you may likewise recall that they bath parted from their adventures at Upton

in the same coach.

Mr Fitzpatrick had temporarily mislaid his wife at the time

and consequently, that office was vacant.

During their journey, he examined Mrs Waters thoroughly

and found her extremely fit for the position.

Since she did him the honour of accepting his proposal,

they have continued as husband and wife ever since.

For some reosan, however, Mr Fitzpatrick hath never mentioned his wife to Mrs Waters,

nor seemed fit to confide that he hath come to London expressly to find her.

But fate hath not by any means done with its tricks.

For as poor Mr Partridge searches the streets of London for Honour...

Here is the lady herself, come to call secretly on Miss Western

in the hope of regaining her former position.

She is even prepared to bridle her tongue to such an unprecedented degree

that her mistress might be persuaded that she had lost the power of speech altogether.

And now, here is Miss Western's cousin Harriet,

who, after the scandal of her disgraceful marriage to Mr Fitzpatrick,

hath come to affect a reconciliation with her wealthy relations, the Westerns!

Did you not, Brother? Did you not promise that you would take none of these headstrong measures?

What am I to say to Lady Bellaston now?

Odrabbit it. I expected you to compliment me for what I'd done.

The honour of the Westerns so basely compromised.

- A family so noted far its delicacy... - Ah, pox!

Show me my daughter, and if I cannot come at her,

you can call me a fool for the rest of my life.

Peradventure, good sir, but communing with the young Madam Sophia,

Her Ladyship has done more than you have ever been able to do in all your vigorous life.

- If you do babble, I would thee imprison thee. - Mr Western, is this the language to a clergyman?

Mr Supple is a man of sense and gives you the best advice.

I beg you, madam, not to irritate His Worship.

Mr Supple, you're as great a fool as he.

I will speak with my niece.

Dear Aunt, Uncle Western, aye, it is I, Harriet, your niece.

- That's it! I'll teach you to marry... - Put me down!

- ... an Irishman. - Put me down!

Harriet?

Madam! Would you get back here now!

Quick! Quick, get in. Quick, quick, quick.

FITZPATRICK: Get back here with you!

COACHMAN: Hyaa!

Madam!

Give us a coin! Give us a coin!

Your Honour! Your Honour!

May I beg leave to inquire if such a fine gentleman as Your Honour

has ever considered the advantages of joining His Majesty's Navy?

The Navy?

Excuse me.

Excuse me, madam.

Get out of my way, will you?

Give me that horse! Get off with you!

Get back. Madam!

- Mrs Fitzpatrick. - Mr Jones!

Whoa. Whoa.

Thank you for your timely rescue, madam. Can I be of any other service?

My husband!

My good friend, give me your hand.

I hope there is no ill blood remaining between us

upon that small misunderstanding about your wife...

at the inn at Upton.

I remember you very well, sir!

Sir!

I beg you, sir!

Sir!

Sir, I protest!

Please...

Since you seem desirous of avoiding the Navy,

may we crave, sir, the favour of accompanying you to the justice?

Take him off.

- Father? - All my misfortunes...

are about you, Sophy.

Father.

You, you'll be the cause of your poor dear father's death at last.

Oh, Papa.

You know I could never marry anyone without your consent.

That's my little darling.

My dearest cousin, when I heard the scandal, the horror...

Hush, madam.

We all know your brother, I think. You need make no apologies.

But I cannot wait to tell you the news.

What should it be, but a nobleman of the very first rank and fortune

- has made a proposal of marriage to our Sophia. - No.

What think you, cousin, of Lord Fellamar?

- One of our most gallant fellows about town. - Lord Fellamar.

Lady Fellamar.

May I then convey to my lord that his proposals have been accepted?

As you know, cousin, my niece's interest is in greater danger than the nation.

But I am certain she will look favourably upon such a fine gentleman who offers her both a title

and a large estate.

I have always observed that there is something in persons well-born which others can never acquire.

Indeed, indeed.

However, I must do Sophia the justice to confess, this Blifil is a hideous kind of fellow

and hath nothing but his fortune to recommend him.

Nay, then, I don't so much wonder at the unfortunate attachment she has to that Mr Jones.

Which I attribute entirely to the folly of my brother's management.

For this Mr Jones, I promise you, is very agreeable.

Indeed, he is.

What do you think, my dear? I shall certainly make you laugh.

Indeed, I can hardly tell you myself for laughing.

Would you believe this fellow has had the assurance to make love to me?

Here is a proposal of marriage in his own handwriting.

Upon my word, I'm astonished.

With your leave, my lady, I may possibly make use of this letter.

You have my full liberty to apply it to what purpose you please.

However, I would not have it shown to any but Miss Western.

Nor to her, unless you find occasion.

How did you use the fellow?

Not as a husband.

I have tried the comforts once already, and once I think is enough for any reasonable woman.

And you, dear cousin?

No man kissed more of me than my cheek.

It's as much as one can bring oneself to give lips to a husband.

Goad lord, my dear uncle. What do you think has happened?

Your adopted son, that Jones, that wretch whom you nourished in your bosom,

has proved one of the greatest villains upon Earth.

By all that's sacred, Mr Jones is no villain. He is one of the worthiest creatures breathing.

And if any other person had called him a villain, I'd have thrown all this boiling water in his face.

Hope you'll not be angry with me, I would not offend you, sir, for the world.

I must own, madam, I am a little surprised to hear you so warmly defend

- a fellow you do not know. - Oh, I do know him.

Indeed, I do.

He has preserved me and my little family. We have all reason to bless him while we live.

And I pray Heaven to bless him and turn the hearts of his malicious enemies,

and I see he has such.

I'm sure, madam, you must mean some other.

He has been grossly abused to you, sir. I know he has.

Or you, whom I know to be all tenderness and goodness,

would not, after all the kind things you've said about this poor, helpless child,

have so disdainfully turned him out of doors.

I see, sir, Mrs Miller really does know him.

I suppose you will find she is not the only one of your acquaintance

upon whom he has practised his deceits.

As for my character, I perceive by some hint she has thrown out he has been very free with it.

But I forgive him.

And may the Lord forgive you, sir.

Upon my soul, Mrs Miller, I do not take this behaviour of yours kindly.

I assure you, madam, it was on the fullest and plainest evidence

that I resolved to take the measures I have taken against Mr Jones.

And if you say a word more against my nephew,

that best and worthiest of men, I will depart from your house that instant.

Well, child, what has Mr Jones done now?

In short, sir...

he has killed a man.

Well, madam?

What say you now?

Why I say, if the fact be true, I'm convinced the man was at fault.

With your leave, sir, I will pay my addresses to Miss Western.

The wounded gentleman, Your Honour, is now under the surgeon's hands.

He reports that the wound is certainly mortal, and there is no hopes of life.

JUDGE: Thank you...

The justice before whom our hero has been brought

is Mr John fielding, a blind judge and my brother.

Are there any witnesses to this foul crime?

These gentlemen, Your Honour, were present, sir, at the aforementioned incident.

To the jail with him.

But Your Honour!

A man with some few imperfections in his magistratical capacities, I own.

TOM: I'm innocent! I beg you, Your Honour!

SOPHIA: Lady Fellamar!

How, mistress, is this the return you make me for my kindness?

Do you think there is no difference between Lord Fellamar and Mr Blifil?

Very little, in my opinion.

Well, I tell you, I'm expecting His Lordship this afternoon,

and I shall take the very first opportunity of leaving you alone with him.

Well, then, madam, I shall take the first opportunity of leaving him by himself.

Then my pleasure, I find, hath very little weight with you,

but that consideration shall not move me.

I act from nobler motives.

The view of aggrandising our family, of ennobling yourself, is what I proceed upon.

Have you no sense of ambition?

No charms in the thought of a coronet on your coach?

- None upon my honour. - Never mention honour,

becomes not the mouth of such a wretch.

I deplore your gravelling temper. You have none of the blood of the Westerns in you.

What single objection can you possibly invent, child,

to a gentleman of such title and fortune?

Indeed, madam,

I am almost too ashamed to say.

Lord Fellamar used me in the vilest and cruellest manner.

He caught me in his arms, pulled me down onto the floor

and thrust his hands into my bosom

and kissed it in a way so violent that I have a mark upon my left breast.

Indeed?

Luckily, my father came in at that moment, or heaven knows what evil he intended.

I'm astonished and confounded.

NO woman of the name of Western hath ever been treated so.

I don't know.

The age allows too great freedoms.

A distant salute is all I would have allowed before the ceremony.

Be that as it may,

the world shall never say I let you refuse one of the best matches in England!

A match which nothing but a hankering after that vile Mr Jones could make you decline.

Madam, you wrong me.

After what has passed, I have banished all thoughts of Mr Jones forever.

- But I will not marry Lord Fellamar. - Indeed?

Then this letter,

addressed to Lady Bellastan, will be of no consequence to you.

I trust, mistress, you recognise the hand.

Oh, Brother,

will you never learn any regard to decorum?

Why, what the pox is the matter now?

None of your brutality now, I beseech you.

You have upset my niece so, she can barely control herself.

Why the devil don't you control yourself?

I tell you, Sister, you are mad!

I brought Mr Blifil here to court her. He's come upon purpose.

I am sure I apologise to Mr Blifil.

But I am confident he understands himself better than to think of visiting our niece this morning.

I am very sorry, madam, that Mr Western's extraordinary kindness...

Oh, there is no need to apologise. We all know my brother.

Oh, hark ye, Sister, when can he come to see her?

Brother, I shall be glad to see you alone

for I have something very important to mention to you.

I am condemned, I see, to misfortune, but I shall always own my obligations to you.

BLIFIL: I have spoken at length, sir, with Mr Allworthy.

He is very desirous of having Mr Jones brought to justice.

Seek out the family of Mr Fitzpatrick and ensure they have all the assistance

they need to continue the prosecution.

And assure the witnesses they will lose nothing by being honest men

and telling the court how Mr Jones struck the first blow.

Upon reflection, my lord,

the gallows are much preferable to the Americas.

I've heard that everywhere said, my lady.

More leeches, nurse.

Go on and deliver this to Mr Jones in his lodgings.

Yes, me lady.

FIELDING: As you may recall, Partridge was dispatched earlier in the day by Mr Jones

to seek out Miss Honour.

Although he hath unaccountably failed to find her in any of the taverns

between Cheapside and Holborn, fate, it appears,

is now finally about to smile upon his endeavours.

My ladyship. My ladyship.

Oh, Mr Partridge.

FIELDING: Oh, good gracious.

So, our hero passes a lonely night in Newgate

until Partridge belatedly discovers Jones's fate, which is already the talk of all London.

Your Honour, Your Honour, I came as soon as I heard the news.

Have you found Miss Western?

And indeed, Your Honour, one may hear it everywhere,

for Your Honour's latest misfortune is the talk of London.

Confound London, Partridge. Have you any news of Miss Western?

I have more than that, sir. I have a letter from her.

SOPHIA: Sir, my aunt has shown me a letter from you to Lady Bellaston

which contains a proposal of marriage.

I am convinced it is in your own hand and all I desire

is that your name may never more be mentioned to Miss S Western.

The hounds have changed at last,

and when we imagine we had a fox to deal with,

odrabbit it,

it turns out to be a battle!

Good my neighbour, drop your metaphors and speak a little plainer.

Why then, to tell thee plainly,

we have all this time been afraid of a son of a whore and of a bastard of somebody's.

And now, here is a son of a whore of a lord's, who may be a bastard too for all I know,

but he shan't have my daughter by consent!

Am I to understand that some person

has made proposals to Miss Western which are not to your liking?

Not to my liking? How the devil should it?

I am fixed upon Mr Blifil here

and have him she shall, though she doth hang herself the next day!

Now, now. No thoughts of violence, no, no. No.

- Nothing of that kind. - Zounds, Allworthy.

But I must say, and take it how you will,

I thought you had more sense.

Alas.

I am too sensible to that wickedest of men.

Mr Jones still remains utmost in her heart.

Aye, so he does!

But surely when she hears of this murder which he has committed...

Murder?

Aye, he's a good lad at bottom, is old Tom.

It is almost a pity the bastardly vagabond has to be hung for him.

Now, come, Sophy. Now, be a good girl and put an end to your father's troubles.

Do but promise to marry Mr Blifil, and you'll make me the happiest man on earth.

You will have the.. the finest clothes and the finest jewels and a coach

and six.

Indeed, Sophy, you don't know how I love you.

Indeed, you don't or you would never have run away and left your poor father

who hath no joy, no other comfort on earth,

save for his little Sophy.

Come, Mr Jones, cheer yourself up.

I knew you could not be the aggressor, and I told Mr Allworthy, too.

My dear Tom, why afflict yourself so upon an accident

in which your conscience cannot accuse you of having been in the least to blame?

I am indifferent to what happens to me...

for I have lost what I hold most dear to my heart on earth.

Shall I go to Miss Western, Your Honour? I will say anything you would have me say.

Mama, we shall go and inquire into the state of Mr Fitzpatrick's wound

and attempt to mitigate his family's wroth.

Jack, you must find the persons that saw the duel.

If they will testify, as they surely will, that Mr Fitzpatrick struck the first blow,

then Tom has nothing to fear.

Beer.

Have I the honour, madam, of addressing Mrs Fitzpatrick?

What is your business, sir?

I am sorry. I am a messenger of bad news, Tom, but I fear it is my duty to tell you...

Fitzpatrick is dead, then.

Well, Your Honour, what misfortune. What a cruel fate.

Partridge.

You must have more patience, Your Honour.

Well, I hardly begun to recount the progress of our diligent enquiries.

We discovered the fellows who were present at the incident,

and I am sorry to say

they do not relate the stay so much in your favour as you yourself have told it.

What do they say, then?

They all agree, sir, that the first blow was given by you.

Oh, Your Honour.

You will surely be taken in an open cart to Tyburn

and see the vulgar mob like any common rebel or thief

and hang by the neck until you are dead.

But what could induce them to accuse me falsely?

Well, that I cannot know.

And if we cannot guess their reason, how should a court of justice?

Poor Jones. Such are the calamities in which his imprudence has involved him

that even the Reverend Thwackum would pity him,

perhaps.

Though to confess the truth, I fear that Tom doth not yet know the worst of his fortune,

and that a more shocking piece of news than any he hath yet heard

remains for him in the unopened leaves of fate.

Indeed, sir, I little thought that our next meeting would be in such a place.

- Mrs Waters? - I do not wonder at your surprise, sir.

By the most extraordinary accident in the world, I'm acquainted with Mr Fitzpatrick.

First account I had this affair came today when a lawyer arrived to inquire into the business,

and I discovered that the gentleman who'd given Mr Fitzpatrick his wound

was like to be the very same person I knew from Upton.

Pray tell me, madam, if you have any news.

- How does the gentleman? - Surgeon says he is not yet dead.

Sir, I learned from that lawyer something which greatly affects and surprises me.

Is it indeed true that you had the goad fortune to be adopted as an infant

by Squire Allworthy of Somerset?

Indeed, madam. I had that honour.

Then there is a matter.

I...

- Forgive me, sir, I must go. - Mrs Waters.

TOM: Madam!

Mrs Waters!

Your Honour, Your Honour! That woman, sir! Oh, good heavens, that woman, Your Honour...

She was with me at Upton, Partridge. What about it?

No, no, no, no, sir! That woman is...

That woman was with you at Upton?

And did you really, sir, go to bed with that woman?

You know I did, Partridge.

Then the Lord have mercy upon your soul and forgive you.

As sure as I stand here alive, sir, you have been a-bed with your own mother.

My mother?

Mrs Waters, my mother?

That woman, sir, was Jenny Jones.

When a tragic writer hath brought his principal character to the highest pitch of human misery,

he concludes his work to be done and his work has come to an end.

What then remains to complete his tragedy but a murder or two and a few moral sentences?

And you will allow, I think,

it would be difficult for the Devil himself to have contrived any greater torments for poor Jones

than those in which we now leave him.

- Aunt! Please, Aunt! - It's all right.

- Please, Aunt! - Now, it's all right. Come on, inside.

I beg of you, madam, to tarry until Mr Western has returned!

Lord have mercy on us if all affairs are under the directions of men.

Most lovely, most adorable charmer, I have no view, no ambition, but to throw myself,

honour, fortune, title, everything, at your feet.

My lord, these charms have seduced my relations, but to me they are things indifferent.

I am obliged to you for the offer you have made, but I cannot accept it.

If I were not as great a philosopher as Socrates himself,

this would surely overcome my patience.

Yes, indeed, madam.

Is there no way, madam, in which I could atone for that moment of madness

when the violence of love deprived me of my senses?

If Your Lordship will merit my gratitude, there is but one way.

Name it, divine creature.

Let me beseech you to cease a pursuit in which you can never have any hope of success.

It is to me nothing but a cruel persecution,

and you are taking most ungenerous advantage of my unhappy situation.

Is it, then, madam, that I am so unhappy

as to be the object of your dislike?

My lord, I am not accountable to you for reasons of my conduct.

I am ashamed, my lord, of the reception you have met with.

I assure Your Lordship we are all sensible of the honour done to us.

Indeed, my lord, the child hath had a foolish education.

Her father's perpetual jargon of turnips has always been perfectly unintelligible.

No matter, madam.

I wish you both heartily to the devil!

Hold, sir, while I show the sovereign contempt I have for your sex!

No matter. I have made a shift to gulp it down.

Sophy, my child.

I'll give thee meddling with my daughter.

I'll lick your damn jacket this time.

I must inform you, sir,

you are no longer beneath my contempt.

And now, I will have satisfaction.

Come on, my love.

Nancy?

Forgive me.

Mr Thwackum?

Your humble servant, sir.

- Mr Square. - The atheist, sir.

He is bound for the place of wailing and gnashing of teeth,

and, I am sorry to say, is determined to quit this world

without first confessing his many sins.

He did, however, express a fervent desire to see you before his descent.

Mr Square.

My worthy friend.

When I reflect, sir, on the actions of my life,

I know of nothing which sits heavier on my conscience

than the injustice I have been guilty of to your adopted son, Thomas Jones.

Believe me, my dear friend, when I tell you on the word of a dying man,

he has been basely injured.

As to the principal accusation for which you discarded him,

I solemnly assure you he is innocent.

When you lay on your supposed deathbed,

he was the only person in the house who testified any real concern.

What happened afterwards...

was the result of the wildness of his joy on your recovery

and, I am sorry to say,

the baseness of your nephew and Mr Thwackum.

I have connived, sir, at the villainy of others

and worldly motives were the wicked reason

of my concealing this injustice from you for so long.

Let me...

now make amends for this past offence.

Mr Square.

Where is Mr Thwackum?

He has gone, sir, with Mr Blifil to pay a visit to Miss Western.

Mr Allworthy, sir.

I knew your goodness and tenderness

would not permit you to abandon one who was once so dear to you.

It was indeed kind of you, sir, to send your lawyer to inquire into Mr Jones's case.

- What lawyer? - Why, your lawyer, sir, that I saw just last night.

Upon my honour, sir, I am still in the dark.

Well, sir, I saw your lawyer in Greenwich

in the company of the fellows who were present at the encounter between Tom and Mr Fitzpatrick.

- Are you certain Mr Dowling was the gentleman? - Most certain, sir,

though I did not know his name.

And did you hear what passed between Mr Dowling and these fellows?

No, sir. He left as I arrived.

- And did you not send him, sir? - Indeed, I did not.

I think I shall pay my nephew a visit at Mr Western's lodgings.

Mr Blifil, it is well met.

We're off to the doctor's commons to obtain the marriage licence!

Miss Western.

I am heartily pleased and surprised to see you here.

I merely overlook events, Mr Blifil,

like the King of Prussia, in a state of perfect neutrality.

You shall have Sophy tomorrow morning, with or without Allworthy.

Damn thee, you shall have her. Come on, Thwackum. No time to be lost.

TOM: I beg you!

- I am innocent! - Tom!

- No! - Tom!

TOM: Sir, please!

Benjamin Partridge, sir, at your service.

Partridge.

I thought you were dead, sir. So what strange chance brings you to this place?

I come on behalf of my friend, Mr Jones, Your Honour,

to inquire into the health of the gentleman he wounded.

But since that gentleman is no longer here, I fear the worst.

I'm sure, sir, you are the strangest of all human beings.

Not only to have suffered as you have formerly for obstinately persisting in a falsehood,

but to persist in it thus to the last

and pass yourself upon the world as the friend of your own son.

What can be your motive?

I swear to you, sir, I am no more the father of Mr Jones than is the Pope of Rome!

Will you yet deny what you were formerly convicted of

upon such unanswerable, such manifest evidence?

What am I to make of this matter?

I see, sir, that Your Worship is resolved not to believe anything I say.

I...

Your Honour, by the grace of God, sir, here is the mother of Mr Jones.

I'm sure she will acquit me before Your Worship.

I believe, sir, it is so long since we last met that you do not recollect me.

Indeed, madam. You are not so very much altered.

Then, sir, I have very particular business with you,

and with you, Mr Partridge.

Well, madam. Pray, proceed.

And take care, madam. Remember, there is one above from whom you can conceal nothing.

Partridge.

You may be pleased to remember, sir, I formally told you you should one day know.

And I own I have been guilty of a cruel neglect in not having discovered it to you before.

Indeed.

But believe me, sir, I little knew how necessary it was.

Have I then ignorantly punished an innocent man?

Is Mr Partridge not the father of the baby which was found in my bed?

Indeed, sir, he is not.

You must remember, sir,

and you, Mr Partridge, a young man in the village whose name was Summer?

Summer?

PARTRIDGE: The parson. ALLWORTHY: Ah, very well, I remember him.

Mr Allworthy.

He was a young gentleman for whom I had the highest regard.

WATERS: And perhaps the handsomest man I ever saw.

I plainly perceive you are about to tell me he was the father of your child.

- Indeed, sir, he was not. - How?

To what, then, tends all this preface?

Well, sir, Mr Summer was indeed the father of the child, but not by me.

But you.. you yourself, you must remember, you confessed it to me.

Indeed I did, sir.

And you may be sure I was generously paid by the mother for my secrecy and my shame

and for all the affronts I suffered on her account.

Who was this woman?

She was your sister, sir.

Bridget?

The day he was to ask you for your sister's hand he was taken ill with the smallpox

and passed away the following morning without ever knowing she carried his child.

You may be pleased to remember, sir, I was at some time employed as your sister's maid,

and it was to me she entrusted that secret

in which her honour and, consequently, her life were concerned.

She was determined at all cost to prevent discovery of this misfortune.

And then, by chance, you went away to London on business

three months before the child was born.

- All else, sir, I think you know. - Indeed.

I still remember the helpless, innocent situation in which I found him

and feel the tender pressure of his little hand.

He was my darling. Indeed, he was.

Oh, Mr Partridge, I trust you can in time come to forgive me.

Oh, heaven, how have I been deceived.

I hereby sentence you to be taken from this court

to a place of execution and hanged by the neck until you are dead.

And may God have mercy upon your soul.

Thomas Jones, Your Honour.

Ah, yes. Indeed.

- Has the prisoner anything to say? - Yes, Your Honour.

Even before this terrible accident, sir,

I had resolved to quit a life of wickedness and vice.

A life which has been attended

with so much ill consequence that I shall be unpardonable if I did not take warning.

I assure you, sir, I shall sin no more.

And I assure you, sir, you shall not!

I hereby sentence you to be taken from this court

to a place of execution and hanged by the neck until you are dead.

And may God have mercy upon your soul.

This is Mr Fitzpatrick, Your Honour!

He is now out of all danger of death and hath come here to testify

that he fell upon the defendant himself and gave the first blow.

I knew it.

Release the prisoner.

The testimony of the witnesses, Your Honour,

hath therefore been proved a rank falsehood.

Madam!

Come back here!

It was all her doing, Your Honour!

Madam! Get back here, will you?

Get out of my way!

Mr Dowling.

- Do you know this lady, sir? - That lady, sir?

Yes, sir.

Upon what business did you visit her, sir? And who sent you?

Why, Mr Blifil, sir, to inquire about Mr Jones.

- And what did you say concerning that business? - Sir, it would be difficult to recollect everyword.

You said we should be assisted with any money we wanted

to carry on the prosecution against Mr Jones.

I believe I did speak to that purpose, sir.

Did Mr Blifil likewise send you to Greenwich to bribe those witnesses?

Indeed he did, sir.

But I only did what I did in order to oblige you, sir.

You should have not thought to oblige me, so I believe,

had you known that Mr Jones was my own nephew.

I'm afraid I do not follow you, sir.

- Why, did you know it, then? - Indeed I did, sir.

For they were almost the last words your sister did speak when she gave me your letter.

What letter?

The letter in which she communicated to you all the circumstances of Mr Jones's birth.

And what did you do with this letter, sir?

Why, as you were ill when I came, I delivered it into the hands of Mr Blifil.

He told me later that out of regard for your sister,

you had destroyed the letter and desired to conceal the contents from the world.

Oh, my child. My child!

How have I injured you!

What amends can I ever make?

Mr Allworthy!

I must confess, sir, I am not at all surprised to hear from your worthy nephew

a fresh instance of the villainy of Mr Jones,

the atheist's pupil.

I shall not wonder at any murders he may commit.

I tell you, sir,

had my hand not been withheld from due correction in his infancy,

I might have scourged much of the diabolical spirit from that devil!

Let it serve as a warning to you, sir, not to despise my advice.

Mr Thwackum, your part, sir, in the villainous conspiracy against Mr Jones

has now been laid bare.

You will quit my house forever.

I will see you no more.

MAN: Excuse me, sir.

Mr Blifil,

I would have you show me, sir, the letter that your mother sent me on her deathbed.

I bear you no malice, Brother,

and will furnish you with what money you require.

But Mr Allworthy would have you depart immediately.

Am I then condemned?

I know, Brother, that fortune may tempt men of decent dispositions to injustice.

Sir...

Tom.

I ask pardon.

Nay, I implore your forgiveness as a Christian...

for what Mr Dowling made me do.

He, Mr Thwackum and the atheist, Mr Square,

have led me from the path of righteousness. I confess it.

But I beg you to speak with Mr Allworthy...

Our uncle would have me say he cannot hold out any hopes of reconciliation or forgiveness.

Fine goings on, Allworthy.

Oh, the devil, to be plagued with a daughter.

And I hear there is no hope of hanging that bastard of yours,

for that damn villain Fitzpatrick has survived.

Od...

... rabbit it.

I must acquaint you, neighbour.

Mr Blifil, I now find, has been the worst of villains. I have been obliged to turn him away...

without hope of forgiveness.

- I've made my nephew, Mr Jones... - Nephew?

Well, so he is, madam.

... the sole heir of my estate and fortune.

Well, my old friend Tom.

I am glad to see thee with all of my heart!

Congratulations! I have always liked him! I have always liked him!

Come, I'll carry thee to Sophy this very moment. Thou shalt...

By your leave, neighbour, I would speak with your daughter.

Your reputation was always assured by me, Mr Jones.

Another nephew, Mr Allworthy?

It is surely strange I have not heard of him before.

Mr Jones, madam. He is my nephew.

Indeed, he is my own sister's son, and as such, I shall always own him.

Nor am I ashamed of owning him.

I'm much more ashamed of my past behaviour to him.

But I was as ignorant of his merit as of his birth.

And I shall never be able to reward him for his sufferings without your assistance.

Let me beg you, sir, please.

After you have released me from one cruel torment, do not engage me in another.

When I forbid her, then she's sighing and whining and writhing and writing!

And then when I'm for Tom Jones, she's against him!

Odrabbit it!

I'm determined to have this marriage, and have it she shall,

though she does hang herself in the morning!

You yourself, sir, are the cause of all the trouble you complain of!

Indeed, you use her cruelly, and I cannot bear to see it!

Oh! I wish she were thine,

- with all my heart... - She deserves the best of treatment!

- She deserves, I'll show you what she deserves! - For the last time, let me beseech you, sir.

Beseech my arse, Allworthy. A pox on you all.

Your pardon. I...

Madam.

I...

Sure, sir, you are the most fortunate man in the world.

Do you really think me so fortunate?

Sophy, have I any hopes for forgiveness?

I think, Mr Jones, I may leave it up to you to pass sentence on your own conduct.

It is mercy, not justice I implore at your hands, madam.

- Justice I know must condemn me. - Indeed, sir.

Have I not enough to resent you for?

After what passed at Upton,

so soon to engage in a new amour with another woman while I fancied.

And you pretended your heart was bleeding for me!

Can I believe the love you have professed to be so sincere?

And if I can, what happiness can I assure myself of

with a man capable of so much inconstancy?

Madam, if you shall have goodness enough to forgive what has passed,

- no repentance was ever more sincere. - What has passed?

How... how can you expect I should ever take you upon your word?

Then don't take me upon my word.

I have a better pledge for my constancy, which no man can deny.

There. Behold it there...

in that lovely face.

Your eyes. The mind that shines through your eyes.

What man could ever be inconstant to such jewels?

If I am to judge the future by the past, sir,

my image will no mare remain in your heart when I am out of your sight

than my face in this glass when I'm out of the room.

If by your repentance I can be prevailed on to forgive you,

I promise I will insist on the strongest proof of its sincerity.

Name any proof in my power.

One thing alone, Mr Jones, can convince me that you are a true penitent

and have abandoned your vicious courses.

Time.

Halt! Steady. Steady.

Thomas!

Bridget!

Have you missed me, my angel?

Ah.

And thus we have at length brought our great history to a conclusion.

In which, to our great pleasure, though contrary perhaps to your expectations,

Mr Jones and his wife appear to be the happiest of humankind.

For as the most serious authors have observed,

"What happiness this world affords... "