All language subtitles for The History of Tom Jones, A Foundling 1997 Episode 2

Go an! Get!

Ah!

And now, before we resume
the second chapter of our entertainment,

I must beg leave to detain you
with some moral observations.

For as the great Latin author Martial says,
"Aliter non fit... "

TOM: "My dearest Sophia,

"the thought of leaving you
almost rends my heart asunder,

"But the consideration of reducing you
to ruin and beggary racks me yet more.

"I am resolved, therefore,
to fly from your sight,

"and desire you should forget
there was ever such a wretch as...

"Your Tom.

"May guardian angels protect you forever. "

Oh, Honour, I am undone.

I have thrown away my heart
on man who has forsaken me.

Mr Jones has taken his leave of me forever.

He's desired me to forget him.

Could he have desired that if he loved me?
Could he have borne such a thought?

- No indeed, Your Ladyship.
- I detest all mankind!

And to be sure, Your Ladyship
has had enough ta give you a surfeit of them.

To be so ill-used by a poor, beggarly,
bastardly fellow as Tom Jones...

How dare you disrespect
his name before me?!

He? Use me ill? Never!

His poor bleeding heart suffered more
when he wrote those cruel words

than mine from hearing them.

Oh! He is all heroic virtue
and angelic goodness.

It is my good which only he consults.

The apprehension of ruining me
has driven him away.

And to be sure, Your Ladyship,

it surely would be ruin to give yourself away
to someone that is turned out-of-doors

and not worth a farthing.

Turned out-of-doors?

My master no sooner spoke to Squire Allworthy
about Your Ladyship and Mr Jones...

than he had him stripped stark naked
and turned out-of-doors without a penny.

- Turned naked out-of-doors!
- Without a penny.

Oh!

Was ever such a dolt as you, Brother?

I can scarce forgive myself for all the advice
I have thrown away on you.

Why will you not confide in me
for the management of your niece?

You have now undone
everything that I have brought about.

English women, I thank heaven, are no slaves.

We're not to be locked up in our rooms
like the Spanish and Italian wives.

We're to be convinced by reason,
not governed by force.

Certainly.

- I am to blame.
- Oh, yes. You are to blame, Brother.

And I have often been obliged to tell you so.

However, I hope you will gather much experience
from past blunders.

And if you promise to interpose no more,
I will, out of regard to my niece,

undertake to manage the whole business.

Right.

Halt.

Well, Tom, what'll you do now?

Have I any hopes of seeing Sophy again?

Shall I lurk about the country like a thief?

No, George.

The ocean,

that hospitable friend to the wretched,
will open her capricious arms and welcome me.

Hmm.

- I shall go to sea, George.
- Oh.

Thank you kindly, Tom.

The road to Bristol lies that way.

Matrimony, my dear Sophia, is to be regarded
as men do offices of public service,

only as a means of making their fortune.

Love, in the polite world,
is at present entirely laughed at.

Now, my brother is resolved immediately
to conclude the treaty with Mr Blifil

and I have promised your concurrence.

Indeed, madam,

this is the only instance
which I must disobey both yourself and my father.

What objection can you possibly have
to the young gentleman?

A very solid objection, in my opinion.

- I hate him.
- Hate? Ha!

By hatred you mean no more than dislike.

Which is no sufficient grounds
against marrying him.

I have known many couples
who have entirely disliked each other

lead very comfortable, genteel lives.

I, madam, shall never marry a man I dislike.

This is such out-of-fashion,
romantic nonsense!

The very imagination of it is shocking!

I am resolved against him, madam,
whatever the consequences.

Your feelings, mistress,
are of the least importance.

This is not a match between two persons,

but an alliance between two great families.

And you ought to have a greater regard
far the honour of the Westerns

than for you own person.

I hope, madam, that I shall never do anything
which might dishonour my family.

But I will not marry Mr Blifil.

Damn me if you won't.
That's all I say. That's all I say!

- Damn me if you won't!
- This is astonishing, Brother,

that you should interfere in a matter
that you had left totally to my negotiation.

Pox! You're enough
to conquer the patience of the Devil!

As for your manners, Brother,
I tell you they deserve a cane!

It is your preposterous conduct
which has taught her such disobedience.

She was obedient to me
before you took her in hand

and spoiled her, filling her head
with a pack of damn court notions.

And it is by living here with you

that she has learnt
these romantic notions of love and nonsense.

I despise you beyond expression.

You may kiss my arse with your expression!

'Sblood! 'Tis like to make
my own daughter undervalue me!

Believe me, no one could
undervalue such a boar!

Boar?

I am no boar.

Ah. Parting company...

Excuse me.

... for a short time with Squire Western
and his conduct of domestic affairs,

we must turn to matters
of an altogether greater moment.

For our hero now finds himself abroad

at the very height of the
great rebellion of 1745.

The pretender to the throne,
Charles Stuart and his papist rebels,

are now marched into England

to fight the forces of King George and threaten
the great metropolis of London itself.

What terrible fate,

what heroic deeds, lie now
in store for Mr Jones

in the bloody pages of history?

Sir, may I crave the favour to know
if this the right road to Bristol?

Friend, I perceive thou hast lost thy way.

If thou wilt take my advice,
thou wilt not attempt to find it tonight.

It's getting late and the road is difficult ahead.

Friend, I see some
sad disaster hath befallen thee.

Pray, be of comfort. We're
all born to affliction.

I myself have sorrows as well as thee,
and most probably greater.

Yes, friend, I should be concerned
to think thee as miserable as myself.

I'm sorry for your unhappiness, sir,
whatever is the occasion for it.

My only daughter hath run away

and married without my consent.

I provided a proper match.
A sober man of substance.

But she has gone with a young fellow
who's not worth a groat.

She's married for love.

Let her live and love if
she can, the cunning slut!

You know your own concerns best, sir.

It must have been a long-premeditated scheme
to cheat me,

for they've known each
other from their infancy.

Well, let them beg or steal or starve.

Devil or farthing will I give either of them.

- I really must be excused.
- Come, come my fine friend.

You see, there are other people miserable
besides yourself in the world.

I see, friend,
there are madmen and fools in the world.

Come here!

Don't you get away.

MAN: Oi.

God bless King George.

King George.

We are marching, sir.

North. North against Bonnie Prince Charlie
and his rebels.

Rebels?

To be commanded by the glorious Duke of...

of, of...

Are you, sir, a hearty well-wisher
to the glorious course of liberty

and the Protestant religion?

And I am now convinced that there is no other way
to succeed with my niece but by violent methods.

- Madam?
- By which I mean, rather, hasty measures.

Firm measures.

I shall on no account be accessory
to forcing a young lady into marriage

contrary to her own will.

However, if the end proposed is religious,

as surely matrimony is,

the means are quite irrelevant.

- Yeah.
- On the contrary, sir, the end is immaterial,

so long as the means are consistent
with moral philosophy.

I promise you, sir.

I would not myself, for any consideration,

no, not for the whole world,
consent to marry this young lady

if I were not persuaded
she has all the passion for me which I desire.

Passion with a pox!

Women never give their consent
if they can help it!

If I had stayed for her
mother to give her consent

I'd have been a bachelor to this day.
You shall have her tomorrow!

Damn me if you shan't!

Damn me if you shan't.

You jolly dog.

Very well.

Supple!

Supple!

What does Your Ladyship think?

To be sure, it must certainly surprise you,
aye, and shock you, too.

Dear Honour, there are very few things
which can surprise me.

And fewer yet which can shock.

Well, ma'am, I just overheard
my master talking to Parson Supple

about getting a licence this very night.

And to be sure, I heard him say

that you were to marry Mr Blifil
first thing tomorrow morning.

Company, halt!

Company, dismissed!

Two today, sir.

Farmer's as fine a gentleman
as any in the county, sir.

Six feet and strongly limbed and...

he'll do well enough for the rear, sir.

Why, a gentleman, if I'm not mistaken, sir.

Would you do us the honour
of joining our company for dinner?

Here you are. Bring them sausages.

Hurry along, boy. Haven't got all day.
Evening, gentlemen.

Mr Tom Jones, a gentleman.
Ensigns Northerton and Adderley.

Ensign Adderley informs me, sir,

that you are desirous of enlisting in the company
I have at present under my command?

Indeed, sir. I'm most zealously attached

to the glorious cause
for which we are going to fight.

Then, sir, we gratefully receive a gentleman

who promises to do so much honour
to the company by bearing arms in it.

And I look forward, sir, to the great satisfaction
I shall have in serving under your command.

- King George.
- King George.

I do not know what may be
your opinion, Mr Jones,

but I believe no man can engage in a nobler cause
than that of his religion.

Indeed, sir.
I've observed, in the little I have read of history,

that no soldier fought so bravely
as those who were inspired with a religious zeal.

I am very glad, sir, that you have chosen
our regiment to be a volunteer in.

For if our parson should,
at any time, take a cup too much,

I fancy you can supply his place.

I presume, sir,
that you have been at the university?

May I crave the favour
to know at what college?

Sir, so far from having been at the university,
I have not even had the advantage of yourself,

for I was never at school.

- But such great learning!
- Such manners.

Well, sir, it is possible for a man
to know something without having been at school,

as it is to have been at
school and know nothing.

Well said, young volunteer.

Your turn for the toast, sir.

Come, sir.

- Give us the toast.
- As toastmaster, I must insist.

Well then...

Miss Sophia Western.

Miss Sophia Western.

Western? Western?

Miss Sophia Western?

Why, I know one Sophia Western

who's been lain with
by half the young fellows in Bath.

Perhaps it's the same woman.

I assure you the contrary, sir.

The lady I speak of
is one of great fashion and fortune.

Aye, aye, and so she is.

Her father and aunt have great estates
in Somersetshire.

Damn me, it is the same woman!

Pray, sir, choose some other subject
for your jesting.

Jesting? Damn me if I was
ever any more earnest.

Tom French, of our regiment,

he's had both her and her aunt in Bath.

Zounds! I was but in jest with the fellow.

You richly deserved to be hanged!

Pie coming!

- He's dead.
- Dead?

Dead.

FIELDING: Hushed be every ruder breath.

May the heathen ruler of the winds
confine in iron chains

the boisterous limbs of noisy Boreas...

and the sharp-pointed nose
of bitter-biting Eurus.

Oh!

Very well, then.

Well, let us return, then,
without further consideration

to our beauteous heroine,
whose situation is scarcely more fortunate.

Squire Western, overjoyed at the arrangements
of his daughter's wedding for the morrow

hath ordered the beer to flow
very liberally this evening.

So that by midnight,
there is not a single person awake or sober

in the entire house.

Oh, Your Ladyship, I beg Your Ladyship
one last time to consider the consequences

before you undertake this rash action.

Where, oh where, could
your Ladyship possibly go?

To London, Honour. To London.

There's a relation of mine
who's often desired me to visit her.

I would not have my Ladyship
too confident of that.

For the first lady I lived with
used to invite all sorts to her house

but if she heard afterwards they were coming,
she would get out of the way.

I make no doubt of being
very well and kindly received by her.

But when she hears Your Ladyship
has run away from master.

You are mistaken, Honour.
for though she is a woman of very great note,

she looks upon the authority of a father
in much lower light than I do.

So I have no doubt that she will receive me
and protect me

until my father, finding me out of his power,
can be brought to some reason.

But would Your Lady think
of riding about the country at night? And alone?

Not alone, Honour.
You have promised to accompany me.

Yes, to be sure, I will follow Your Ladyship
to the end of the world.

But consider how cold the nights are now.

A good brisk pace will
preserve us from the cold.

But consider, ma'am,
I shall not be able to defend you

if any robbers or other villains
should meet with you.

And to be certain, they would ravish us both.

Well, if you cannot defend me
from villains and ravishers, Honour,

then I shall have to defend you.

Bang!

Oh, my head.

All present, sir.

Save Ensign Northerton.

MAN: Get your hands off me!

SOLDIER: Hold him.

Hold him.

Sir!

Surgeon!

Skull's fractured.

If only I had been called sooner.

Fractures are not always
your most dangerous symptoms, mind.

I'd rather see a man's skull broke all to pieces

than some contusions I have met with.

I was once, I remember,

called to a patient who had received
a violent contusion in his tibia

by which the exterior cutis was lacerated

so that there was a profuse
sanguinary discharge.

As the inner membranes were divellicated,

with some febrile symptoms
intervening at the same time,

for the pulse was exuberant
and indicated much phlebotomy,

I naturally apprehended
an immediate mortification.

But in short...

within six weeks my patient was able to walk
as perfectly as ever he could.

Yes, indeed it would have gone better for
that young gentleman if I had been called sooner.

A pretty sort of gentleman indeed!

Nothing but a penniless parish bastard

taken into the house of the great Squire Allworthy
of Somersetshire.

One of the richest men in all England.

Well, so he told the recruiting officer,
who told my husband.

Squire Allworthy? Why,
I know that gentleman.

And to be sure, so they say,
the good squire bred him up as an apprentice,

but turned him out-of-doors
for robbing the house...

and getting the daughter of Squire Western
with child.

- With child?
- Yes, Miss Sophia Western.

Who hath been lain with by all the young fellows
in Bath, as everyone knows.

MAN: That's what they say.

And what is the name of
this young scoundrel?

Why, they called him Jones.

But perhaps he goes by a wrong name.

I just...

Madam, may I be of some service?

I am delighted, sir, that I was able to effect
so prompt a recovery in your case.

But since I have other patients in need of me,
I must request prompt payment for my trouble.

Two journeys at five shillings each,
plus consultation, seven and six,

and another half crown for phlebotomy.

Who are you, sir?

He is, sir, a charlatan and a scoundrel.

And I'll thank him for immediate payment
for his breakfast.

LANDLADY: Come back here, you villain!

- LANDLORD: Hey!
- Stop!

Stop, thief!

LANDLORD: Come here!

LANDLADY: Didn't pay for his breakfast!

This way, my boy.

The wedding breakfast is
set forth in the parlour.

There, come in, come in.
Come in, Parson. Come in, philosopher.

Madame Sophia is,
I regret to say, not to be found.

Not to be found?

Zounds and damnation! Blood and fury!

Where, when, who, how, what?

Not to be found?!

Now, Brother, you are always throwing yourself
into such violent passions for nothing.

To be sure,
my niece has only walked out in the garden.

I protest you are grown so unreasonable.

It is impossible to live in the house with you.

Nay, nay, nay, nay, nay, nay.

If that be the matter, it signifies not much.

Madame Sophia is not to be found
in the garden, either.

Brother, this is all your own doing.

You have nobody to thank but yourself!

Why would you interfere?

You know she has been educated

all within a manner directly
contrary to my advice.

And now you see
the consequences of such... indulgence!

You must comfort yourself that it was
all your own doing. I have nothing to answer for.

And I have taken such pains
to rectify your errors in judgement

and in policy.

You're going to have to pay! You! Pay!

How often have I told you?
Had I been trusted entirely with this affair...

Sister, kiss my arse!

Sophy!

Sophy!

MAN: Come on.

All right, get in, that's it.

- George?
- Miss Western.

What are you doing here?

Why, ma'am, I come with Master Thomas
far as here on my cart.

Mr Jones came by here?

Indeed he did, Your Ladyship, just last night.

And which way did he go?

Why, to Bristol, your Ladyship.

- He's gone to sea.
- To sea?

Guide me to the same road, George,
and I'll give you a guinea.

l beg your pardon, Ladyship,
but master has ordered me to come home today.

I shall lose my position
if I do other than that I am ordered.

Two guineas.

Sir, sir.

Have no fear, sir. I am quite alone.

Benjamin Partridge, sir.

Surgeon, scholar, schoolmaster,
tailor, barber, clerk, at your service.

May I crave the favour to know
if your name is not Jones?

It is, sir.

How strangely things come to pass, Mr Jones.

I find you do not know me,

which indeed is no wonder,
since you never saw me but once.

And then you were very young.

Pray, sir, may I without offence inquire
whether you are travelling this way?

Since you do me the honour of asking, sir,

I am marching north against the Pretender
and his rebels.

In the service of liberty
and His Majesty King George.

Indeed, Mr Jones.

I hope you do not think me
a man of impertinent curiosity,

for that is a vice
which nobody can lay to my charge.

But when a gentlemen of your figure
travels without his servants,

we may suppose him to be,
shall we say, in casu incognito?

Pass the bottle, sir, and
ask no more questions.

Well, sir,

if only you had thought me as worthy
of your confidence as you had some other people.

Indeed, I should not have degraded
your name in a public kitchen

as did the landlady
of the White Hart this morning.

You surprise me greatly, sir.

I'm sure it moved me greatly to hear the stories
she told Your Honour, and I hope it is all lies.

For I do assure you, sir,
I have a great respect for you, sir.

And for your benefactor, Squire Allworthy,
whom I know of old.

Well, my friend, since you've already heard
something of my affairs

and seem desirous to know the truth...

FIELDING: And so our hero
related his who/e history.

Oh, thank you, Edmund.

Forgetting only a circumstance or two.

Namely, everything which had passed
between himself and Molly Seagrim

and the circumstances surrounding
his fight with Blifil

and the Very Reverend Thwackum,
that day in the woods.

For let a man be never so honest

the account of his own conduct will,
in spite of himself, be so very favourable,

his vices will come purified through his lips,

and like liquors well-strained,
leave all their foulness behind.

I must express my surprise, Your Honour,

that so good a gentlemen as Mr Allworthy...

... should have dismissed
you in such a manner.

Unless your enemies
had made up many lies against you.

I doubt not but villainous arts have been
made use of to destroy me.

But now, sir, you must confess
I have the right to hear your story.

Indeed I will very readily acquaint you
with all my misfortunes, Your Honour,

when you have sufficient leisure,

for I promise you,
it will require a good deal of time.

But first, I must begin by telling you, sir,

that you yourself have been
the greatest enemy I have ever had.

I? Your enemy, sir?

Did you never hear, sir, of one Partridge,

who had the honour of
being reputed your father

and the misfortune
of being ruined by that honour?

I have indeed heard of this Partridge

and always believed myself to be his son.

Well, sir.

I am that Partridge.

But I assure you, sir, you are no son of mine.

But...

Only your mother, Jenny Jones,
may tell you that, sir.

But I am convinced by this
extraordinary meeting

that you have come to make me amends
for all I have suffered on your account.

I should be glad to make your amends, sir,
though at present, see no likelihood of it.

However, I will deny you nothing
which is in my power to grant.

It is in your power, sure enough,
for I desire nothing more

than leave to attend you on your journey.

Nay, sir.

It would be cruel to suffer you to go with me.

For to deal plainly with you,

my only desire is a glorious death

in the service of my king and country.

As your resolution is to go
on, so is mine to follow.

FIELDING: In reality, of course, Partridge barely
believed a word of what Tom had told him.

He suspected, in fact, that Tom had run away
from Squire Allworthy's

after a petty quarrel of some kind.

So it came into his head then

that if he could persuade the young gentleman
to return home to his doting guardian,

he should be very well rewarded for his pains
and received once more

into the bountiful favour of Mr Allworthy.

But we must attend our fair heroine,
who's just arrived, as you see.

A gentleman indeed. A fine spark.

Nothing but the bastard
of a fellow hanged for horse-stealing,

dropped at Squire Allworthy's door,

and the Squire bred him up to all the world
like a gentleman.

But he told me himself, the shameless scrub,

how he made love to his
neighbour's daughter.

One Sophia Western,

daughter of the great Squire Western
of Somersetshire,

the richest man in all England,

and got her with child,
so that she was turned out-of-doors and ruined,

and has since lain with all
the young men in Bath,

as well as the company of soldiers
that passed by last night.

HONOUR: Do you think, then, madam,
that people of quality and fashion

are content to wait around all night
listening to your gossip?

Honour.

Sure, you people that keep inns
imagine your betters to be like yourselves.

Indeed, I expected to get nothing
at this wretched place.

It's a wonder my lady would stop at it.

I suppose none but footpads and tradesmen
ever call here.

Honour.

Very good quality frequent my inn,
thank ye, madam.

Don't talk to me of quality.

I believe I know more of
quality than such as you.

My mistress, madam,
is none other than Miss Sophia Western...

... daughter of Squire
Western of Somersetshire.

But consider, ma'am, your Master Jones
must be a very pitiful fellow indeed,

and can have no love for
a lady such as yourself,

if he be content to prostitute your good name
thus in a common alehouse.

For heaven's sake, Your Ladyship, if we are to
go to London, let us proceed there directly.

Very well.

Oh, yes, a pretty couple indeed.

Him like to be hanged
for murdering a clergyman, they say.

And she the biggest trollop in the shire.

Squire Western's daughter, indeed.
A pretty slut to be sure.

They say he got her with child
and made her swear it to Squire Allworthy,

who bred him up to all the
world like a gentlemen.

But they were both turned naked out-of-doors.

And he abandoned her to
run around with whores.

So that she was ruined,
and went with all the young men in Bath.

As well as the company of soldiers
that passed by last night.

Oh, Partridge.

Could I hope only once again
to see my Sophy's face?

But, alas,
those golden dreams have vanished forever.

Then surely, sir,
were we but to return to Mr Allworthy,

instead of rambling about this freezing country,
the Lord knows whither,

or desiring a glorious death
in the service of your king and country,

I doubt not that we might
in time effect a reconciliation.

If you're inclined to quit me, Partridge,
you may do so.

But I am resolved to go on.

It is unkind in you, sir, to suspect me
of such inclination.

Really, Partridge, are you never susceptible
of love in your life?

It would have been well for me
if I had never known what love was.

Was your mistress unkind, then?

Very unkind indeed, sir, for she married me.

What?

I fancy, sir, you did not
expect to see me again in this world.

But fortune has brought me
once again together with you

to give me satisfaction for
the injuries I received.

Yes, it is very much like a man of honour indeed,
sir, to take satisfaction

by knocking a man down behind his back.

I shall waste no more time
in discourse with you.

Madam.

Are you familiar with a justice of the peace
in this neighbourhood?

Sir, I'm an entire stranger
in this part of the world but...

- Upton, I know, is the nearest town.
- Yes.

- Right, indeed.
- Mrs Waters, sir.

- Wife of the late Captain Waters.
- Tom Jones, madam, your servant.

- Partridge?
- Coming, sir!

Out of my way.

Let us proceed to Upton, madam,

where we may procure you
some decent clothes.

Some of you may be wondering how
Miss Jenny Jones, late of Mr Allworthy's service,

came to be in this most distressful situation.

Well,

as we plainly see the good lady
industriously avoiding any explanation,

we may suspect
it doth no great credit to her reputation.

To spare the ladies' blushes, then,

we shall draw a discreet veil
over the past with the thought

that the ways of fate are uncommon strange.

And thus our hero arrives
at a house of exceedingly good repute.

Where Irish ladies of strict virtue
are accustomed to resort on the way to Bath.

My good woman, prithee,
show us up ta a room.

- Eh, Jane, where is that beggar wench going?
- Beggar wench?

Madam, we require a gown
and any other vestment you may have to cover...

Whores in rags? Not in this house!

- Shabby vermin...
- Madam...

... that leave more lice behind than money?
Not in this house.

Madam, I beg you, madam.

- Master!
- Most unfair this is, madam!

I must warn you, madam.

SERVANT: Look, ma'am.

Welcome, Your Ladyship.

Welcome.

Now, this fine lady, whose footsteps
fate have guided to this tavern at Upton,

is none other than Sophia's cousin,
Mrs Harriet Fitzpatrick,

and she has a most important part to play
in our history.

But not just yet.

Back below stairs,
the voice of reason has at last prevailed,

and Mr Jones has been able to explain
the wondrous circumstances of their arrival.

How should I have imagined
that a lady of such fashion

would appear in such a dress?

To be sure,
now she is dressed in one of my gowns,

Mrs Waters looks like a very good sort of lady.

Very good lady, indeed.
And if you had not been so hasty,

you would not have quarrelled
with her as you did.

I must confess, our appearance was perhaps
a little suspicious when we first came in.

My poor first husband always used to say,

"Never affront any customer
that's a gentleman. "

And if it had not been for your nonsense,
nothing had happened at all.

But you must be meddling
with what did not belong to you.

Throw in your fool's discourse.

It please you, sir, dinner is set forth
in Mrs Waters' apartment

and she asked if Mr Jones
would care to join her.

And might we inquire
where you and your master are travelling, sir?

I am no manservant, I assure you.

For though I have had misfortune in the world,
A-rank gentleman after my name.

Where, then...

... if I may venture to be so bold,
may you and your friend be travelling?

We are indeed friends.

Friends and companions.

And I promise you,
I am as good a gentleman as my friend.

Though my friend
is one of the greatest gentlemen in the kingdom.

He is the heir
of the great Squire Allworthy of Somerset.

Our house is well-known to be a house
that is frequented by gentry of the best quality.

I thought the moment I saw him
he looked like a good sort of gentleman.

My husband here to be sure
is wiser than anyone.

- Is there a lady in the house?
- Why, no, sir.

This is a house of good repute.

No, damn you, woman. I have lost my wife,
and have come from Ireland in pursuit.

My husband is here.

If my wife be in the house, do but carry me up
in the dark and show her to me,

and I will make you
the richest woman in the nation.

What do you mean, sir, by daring to burst into
this lady's chamber in this outrageous manner?

- Master.
- Murder! Robbery! Rape!

Master!

- This gentleman hath debauched my wife!
- What wife?

I know not what you mean, villain.
I am wife to none of you.

I thought myself in a sober inn, madam,
and not in a bawdy house,

but these villains have broke into my room
with intent upon my honour, if not my life.

- Your pardon, madam.
- You numbskull!

May I pray crave the favour
to know the reason for this disturbance?

- I appear to have committed a mistake.
- A mistake?

Why, I merely ran to the lady's assistance
upon hearing the door broke down.

I apologise for having
appeared before you thus, madam.

But I assure you,
nothing but a concern for your safety

could have prevailed upon me to do it.

Your Ladyship?

I shall be much obliged, sir,
if you will please get my apartment ready

as soon as possible, as I am resolved
to be back on horseback within three hours.

I'm sorry, madam, but all
my best rooms are full.

Some people of the first
quality are now in bed.

There's a great young squire, and many other
great gentlefolks of quality.

Why the devil would you not keep
the best rooms for the quality,

when you know...

scarce a day passes without
some calling here.

A room that is commonly decent
will serve me very well.

As Your Ladyship is so condescending
to take the best I have...

Madam, pray broil me a chicken this instant.
The cold, I find, has given me an appetite.

Why, madam, I must confess I have no chicken.
But we have mutton.

Do you think I have the stomach of an horse
to eat mutton at this time of the morning?

I entreat you, madam, not to make me sick.

Is there nothing decent to be had
in this horrid place?

Why, truly, madam. You could not have taken me
again at such a disadvantage.

Indeed, I expected nothing
better at such a place.

I would never have had my lady stop here,
if we had not lost our way in the dark.

My house, madam, is frequented
by people of great quality and gentlefolks.

Oh, indeed?

Indeed, there is a fine
Irish gentlemen just come.

And young Squire Allworthy of Somerset,
as that gentlemen there knows.

And who, pray,
is this young Squire Allworthy of Somerset?

Who should he be, but the son and heir of
the great Squire Allworthy of Somerset.

Upon my word, you tell
me strange news indeed,

for I know Mr Allworthy of Somerset very well,
and I know he has no son alive.

Indeed, madam, it is true everybody does not
know him to be Squire Allworthy's son

- but as certainly as his name is Jones...
- How?

His name is Jones?

Well!

Couple of fancy Bath trolls, I'll warrant.

How? Trollops? In my house?

Your real quality don't ride about
this time of night without servants.

Madam.

Mr Jones is here in this house.

- Mr Jones is here?
- Yes.

My lady bids you immediately wake Mr Jones
and tell him she wishes to speak with him.

No doubt, but my friend went to bed very late
and would be very angry to be disturbed so soon.

I'm sure he would be of the highest degree
delighted when he knows of the occasion.

Another time, perhaps, he might but...

One woman at a time is enough
for a reasonable man.

What do you mean one woman at a time?

To deal with you plainly, madam,
Mr Jones is already in bed with a wench,

so your companion must wait her turn.

How? I can never believe it.

The man has belied him.

I suppose the fellow in the kitchen is his pimp,
for I never saw so ill-looked a villain.

Pray give this to Mr Jones when he rises.

Hey-day, I believe we landed
in a bawdy house here, Mr Jones.

To be sure, only with much ado
did I prevent a wench

from disturbing Your Honour
in the middle of the night.

A wench?

The lady bade me give you this, sir.

Lady?

My Sophy's brooch. How came this here?

Why, I saw that upon the cloak
of the saucy trollop who would have disturbed you,

if I had allowed her.

Good morning, sir.

Good morning, master.

Jones!

It's treachery!

Where is my daughter? Where is she?
My daughter...

- Ere, we have been...
- Don't...

Pox! I warrant the bitch is not far away.

WESTERN: Fetch a justice of the peace!

Stop him! Don't stand, stop him!

Justice of the peace!

A justice of the peace!

By God!

The noise in this bawdy house!
I haven't closed my eyes all night!

Right!

Stop, thieves! Stop!

You will allow, I think,
it would be difficult for the Devil himself

to contrive much greater torments for poor Tom
than those in which we now see him,

but something tells me that cruel fortune
hath barely yet served its second course

to our long-suffering hero.

TOM: Sophia!

Sophia!