All language subtitles for Green Acres - S05E25 - The Wealthy Landowner.eng

♪ Green Acres is the place to be

♪ Farm livin' is the life for me

♪ Land spreading
out so far and wide

♪ Keep Manhattan, just
give me that countryside.

♪ New York is
where I'd rather stay

♪ I get allergic smelling hay

♪ I just adore a penthouse view

♪ Darling, I love you,
but give me Park Avenue

♪ The chores ♪
The stores ♪ Fresh air

♪ Times Square ♪ You are my wife

♪ Goodbye city life

♪ Green Acres, we are there

- Hello there, Mr. Drucker.

- Oh, good morning Mrs. Douglas.

- Hi.
- Mr. Douglas.

I'll be right with you.

- Yes, we just came
over to pick up...

- I've been workin' all morning,

inflationizing the prices
on my canned goods.

- Inflationizing?

- Yeah.

I read somewhere
that the cost of living

had gone up 5%.

So I thought I'd get in on it.

- Mr. Drucker, did
our mail come in yet?

- Yes, sir, but there's
nothing interesting.

You got a bill
from the same fella

that sent you one last month.

Guess you didn't pay it, huh?

- Well, Mr. Drucker I...

- Oh, there's a letter from
London, England, Mrs. Douglas.

From your mother.

The last letter you got
from her was from Paris.

Hm, guess she
didn't like it there.

- No, no.

She got into a fight
with the hotel manager.

- Yeah, she wanted
her to pay the bill.

- Well, that's a fine
thing to say for someone

who got a bill from
a fellow this month

that he didn't pay last month.

- What bill?
- Here it is, Mr. Douglas.

- That's not a bill,
it's a credit for $3.

- For what?

- I returned the
diamond cuff links

your mother gave
me for my birthday.

- It isn't the gift,
it's the thought.

- Doesn't take much thought

to give somebody a
$3 pair of cuff links.

- Oh, here's your
letter, Mrs. Douglas.

- Well, look at this,
Mr. Mother Knocker.

Mama sent me a
check for $50,000.

- 50,000?

- It's all made up.

All you have to do is sign it.

- Aw, that old.

Is there anymore mail
for us, Mr. Drucker?

- No, sir, just for Eb.

- Well, we'll take
it along for him.

- Well, here it is.

480 letters.

- Would you mind explaining
what this is all about?

- Didn't you see my ad?

- What ad?

- The one I had in the
lonely hearts section

of Playmate magazine.

- What did you
put in the ad, Eb?

- Oh here, I'll read it to ya.

Handsome, sophisticated,
wealthy landowner,

looking for wealthy mate.

Address all applications
to Eb Dawson,

wealthy landowner, Hooterville.

- Wealthy landowner?

- Well, I will be.

You're gonna leave the
farm to me aren't ya, Dad?

- I am not your dad, and I'm
not leaving the farm to you.

- Well, you might as well.

I don't want it.

- Eb, you should be
ashamed of yourself.

Trying to hook some poor,
trusting girl with a pack of lies.

- I guess all people
tell a few white lies

when they're jockeying
for marital position.

- White lies are all
right, but that ad.

Now look, why don't
you take all this mail

and dump it into
the stove and burn it?

- Burn it?

Do you realize that
somewhere in these envelopes

there may be the
future Mrs. Eb Dawson.

- May the lord have
mercy on her soul.

Look Eb, you're supposed
to help fix the tractor.

- I'll be right out as soon
as I finish opening my mail.

- Well I'm not gonna...

- Eb got a lot of
interesting letters.

- Yeah.

- Listen to this one.

Dear Squire Dawson,

I have five children, I'm
considered good-looking.

I would be interested
in marrying you,

if you would send me
money for a divorce.

Signed Sarah Maxwell.

- Put Sarah with the rejects.

- Look, Eb, we've got the...

- Aw, Li, listen to this.

Dear Mr. Dawson,

this is the first time I've ever
answered an ad like yours.

But I happened to pick up a copy

of Playmate Magazine
in the Paris airport

while I was waiting
for my father's plane

to pick me up to
take me to Rome.

- What kind of dribble...

- Your ad intrigued me,

and I thought it
might be amusing

to start a correspondence.

Please write and tell
me more about yourself.

Very truly yours,
Miss Celia Ward.

Plaza Towers, Park
Avenue, Penthouse B.

- That's about the swankest
place on Park Avenue.

- Boy, she has sexy handwriting.

And she included
her measurements.

72, 23, 31.

- 72?

- Oh, that's her zip code.

- Oh, thank goodness.

- Well, it looks like you'll
find yourself a nice girl.

- Let's go out
and fix the tractor.

- Not until I've
answered Celia's letter.

Dear Miss Ward, I received
your wife application.

You write a neat letter,

and you sure have
a nifty zip code.

Since you want to know
more about me, I will tell you.

Besides being tall and handsome
and a wealthy landowner,

my hobbies are collecting
money, racing my sports cars,

and playing polo on
alternate Sundays.

But most of my time is spent
overseeing my huge estate

with its thousands of acres
of my various enterprises.

I would like to know
more about you.

Your's truly, the
honorable Eb Dawson.

- Dear Mr. Dawson.

Compared to your life,
mine is rather boring.

I spend evenings
at cocktail parties

or at the theater
seeing a new play.

I usually spend weekends
at our home in Southampton,

which is where my
father keeps his yacht.

I am not too interested in polo.

But your estate sounds fabulous.

Please tell me more about it.

Your friend, Celia.

Dear friend Celia.

When I received your
letter saying that you

didn't like polo, I
sold all my ponies.

Life here in Hooterville

is one gay adventure
after the other.

That's why when my old
school pal, Lord Sonny Bodkins

called me to fly over to London

for the weekend,
I turned him down.

Yesterday I... - Eb.

- Excuse the slip.

My chauffeur just hit a bump.

- Eb, you're supposed
to be splitting this wood.

- Ooh, I'm waiting
til I grow a beard

so as I can do an imitation
of Abraham Lincoln.

- Just chop the wood.

- Yes, sir.

I'll have to close
now as I'm having

a little labor trouble with
one of my underlings.

Fondly, Eb.

Dear Eb, I received
your seventh letter today.

And to think, since I
last heard from you

you've been to Brussels,
Paris, and Hong Kong.

I was sorry to hear...

- That your horse was
disqualified in the Kentucky Derby.

- Mm-hm.

And why was that, may I ask?

- Because the judges smelled
mint julep on his breath.

- Oh brother, I never
heard such junk in my,

Eb, how could you
possibly write her such lies?

- They're not lies.

I just exaggerated a few facts

to brighten up this poor
creature's boring life.

- Boring?

- Well, you heard some
of the stuff she wrote Eb,

that she has nothing to
do but to go to Southampton

and ride around on
her father's yacht.

And you know how
boring that can be.

- Oh yes, yes.

- You sound like
you don't believe her.

- Believe her?

She's as phony as you are.

- Nobody is as phony as I am.

No, I didn't mean it
to come out that way.

- Why don't you write
to her, ask if you could

spend a weekend at her
penthouse or on her yacht?

See what she says.

- I would, but I can't run off

and leave my vast
holdings unattended.

- Oh you.

Eb, I don't know whose tall
tales are worse, yours or hers.

- Well, what difference
does it make?

In Hungary we have a saying.

A man who tells the
truth to the girl he loves

is going to end
up lying to his wife.

- Hello, Mr. Douglas.

- Oh, how are you, Mr. Kimball?

- Fine.

Well, not fine.

I can't get out of this.

- Here.

- Oh, that's the way that works.

Well, I wish I had
of met ya last night.

I wouldn't of had to
have slept in the car.

- Ah, well what can I do you?

- Do for me?

It's not what I can do for you,
it's what you can do for me.

No, it's what...

- Hank, what did you
come over here for?

- Oh, I stopped
in at Sam's store

and he gave me something for ya.

- Well, what was it?

- What was it?

Now I remember.

It was a telegram.

Well, it's been
nice talking to ya.

- Where's the telegram?

- I don't know.

Where'd you put it?

- You didn't give it to me.

- I didn't?

Oh, that's funny.

Sam handed it to
me and I put it in my.

Oh, I couldn't put in that
because I wasn't even wearing it.

- All right, just take
your time now, hm?

Now think.

Where did you put the telegram?

- Let's see.

Telegram.

Hm, where'd I put that?

- What's that on your head?

- Oh, it's a new
hair tonic I've been,

what's this?

- Why I believe
that's the telegram.

- Oh, gee, what was
it doing under my hat?

- I haven't the faintest idea.

May I have it?

- Why certainly.

- Hey, aren't you
going to open it?

- Not the hat, the telegram.

This is for Eb.

- Well what are you
doing with it then?

- Eb!

Eb!

- Well, I gotta
be running along.

- Eb!

- Yes, sir.

- This is for you.

- Hey.

Holy smoke.

- What's the matter?

- Celia's coming to visit me.

- Will you stop following me?

- But Mr. Douglas,
you gotta help me.

- You got yourself into
this, you get yourself out.

- How?

- That's your problem?

- What's my problem?

- No, I'm talking to Eb.

- What does he know
about my problem?

Boy here got a telegram
from Miss Lonely Hearts

and she is coming to visit us.

- Ah, that's nice.

- Well, maybe you won't think so

when you hear what
he wants us to do.

He wants us to move
out of the bedroom

and let Celia sleep in here.

- It's the least you could
do after all the nice things

I wrote her about you two.

- Oh, eh?

Like what?

- That you're the best
butler and maid I ever had.

- What?

- Well, a wealthy
landowner like me

couldn't be expected to
do his own housekeeping.

- That's right.

- Yeah.

Now, what size butler
suit do you wear?

- I'm not wearing a butler suit.

- But she's expecting
to see my servants.

What'll I tell her?

- Just tell her the truth.

- Yeah.

How does this sound?

My butler and maid
drank up all my champagne

and got stoned,
and I had to fire 'em.

- That sounds good to me.

- Look Eb, once and for all,

you got into this,
you get out of it.

- But Mr. Haney,
I can't afford it.

- I'm sorry, Eb, but my
standard fee for playing the part

of a chauffeur for a
wealthy landowner is $10.

- All I have is seven.

- Could you find your way
clear to pay another dollar?

- No sir.

But I can own it to ya.

- Well.

- Please, Mr. Haney.

If I show up at the
station to meet Celia

without a chauffeur she'll
know I'm a phony right away.

- Seeing it's in the
interest of true love,

I'll take your $7 and your IOU.

- That must be her.

Holy smoke, she's
dripping wealth.

- Eb?

- Celia?

- Eb.

- Celia!

Welcome to the ancestral
halls of the Dawsons.

My car's parked.

- Oh, my bags are...

- My man Haney will get them.

Chop, chop, Haney.

- Could I have a word
with you, young master?

- What's the matter?

- Well, the $8 is
just for chauffeuring.

Bag carrying is extra.

- How much?

- 50 cents?

- I'll owe it to ya.

- Very good, sir.

- I'm sorry.

My man had a financial problem.

Did you have a good trip, Celia?

- Yes, except
for the train ride.

- You didn't like my train?

- Yours?

- Yes, one Christmas
I made the mistake

of asking Daddy for trains.

And this is what he bought me.

- I've never known a man that
owned his own railroad before.

- Eh, it's a tax write off.

- I'll put these in your
high-priced car, sir.

- Fine.

- Where is that kid?

I need the car.

- Oh, he'll be here.

- The train is in
over an hour ago.

It only takes 15 minutes to
drive here from the station.

- Well, maybe he
took the girl for a ride,

saw his vast landholdings.

- Oh, what vast
landholdings does he have?

- Over there, my
grouse reserves.

I imported them from Scotland

in case I ever get
the urge for a grouse.

- Very interesting.

- Over there are
my timber holdings.

- You know, it's amazing.

We've been driving for hours
and we're still on your estate.

- We still have two
more days to go.

- You mean, you own the
whole Hooterville Valley?

- Yes.

I named it after a pet owl I
used to have, Herbie Hooter.

- You're very cute.

- I should be.

I paid Jack Lemon
$10,000 for cute lessons.

- Where to now, young master?

- Just keep driving.

- Well now, where is he?

- Well, maybe they
stopped to get married.

- Married?

- But that's why Eb put
the ad in, to get a rich wife.

- Lisa, you're a fairly
sensible woman, sometimes.

- You couldn't leave it alone.

You had to put in the sometimes.

- Lisa, why would a
rich girl answer an ad

in a lonely hearts column?

- I guess you're wondering
why I answered your ad.

- Not really.

It was a real eye-catcher.

I got hundreds of answers.

Oh, that's one
of my dairy farms.

- It's very nice.

I must tell you, I
was a little skeptical

when I first read your ad.

I thought to myself, why
would a wealthy landowner

have to advertise in a
magazine to meet a girl?

- That's easy to explain.

That's how my
father met my mother.

- How romantic.

- So much for my folks.

How about yours?

- Well, there's just my daddy.

He spends most of
his time on Wall Street.

He has a seat on the Exchange.

- Yeah well, I guess
that's better than standing.

- I'd love to see your home.

- My home?

Oh, the plantation.

I'm saving that for last.

Keep on driving, Haney.

- They're still not back.

- Well, maybe right
after they got married

they went on their honeymoon.

- Oh honeymoon.

Oh Lisa, it's 5:30 and
I needed the car to...

- 5:30, no wonder
you're grouchity.

It's time for your bottle.

- What?

- But it's cocktail time.

Would you like to have a drink?

- I'd love a drink.

- How 'bout a root beer?

- Fine.

You know, this
place is charming.

- Yes, I'd like to modernize it.

But the old family retainer

that's running it
for me is a little uh.

Would you like a straw, Celia?

- Mm, please.

- Ah, hello, Eb.

- Hello, Old Sam.

- Old?

- This is the retainer I
was telling you about.

Old Sam, I'd like you to meet
Miss Celia, a wealthy heiress.

- How do you do?

- I'm pleased to meet you.

How long have you worked
for Mr. Dawson's family?

- How long have
I been working...

- He can never remember.

- Now see here.

- How's business, Old Sam?

- Will you stop calling me...

- Not that it matters.

You've got a job
running this store for me

as long as you live.

- Now look.

- Come on, Celia.

- Nice to meet you, Mr. Drucker.

- Nice to meet you too, I think.

Hold it.

What about the root beer?

- It's very good.

And by the way, Old
Sam, bring your family

up to the main house for
Christmas dinner anytime.

Well, here we are, Celia.

- What is this?

- Oh, this is the outskirts
of the old plantation.

- But the house.

- Oh this.

Ah, this belongs to two of my
sharecroppers, Oli and Lisa.

The main house
burned down last week.

Didn't it, Haney?

- Oh, may I talk to you
alone, young master?

Now fibbing about fires
will cost you another dollar.

- Put it on my bill.

- Yes, sir.

Yes, miss, it was
quite a fire, yes.

- It was a million dollar loss.

Mm, but then I needed
another tax write off.

- Are you living here now?

- Not exactly.

My sharecroppers
are a nice old couple.

And I didn't have the
heart to put them out.

- Oh, hello dear.

- It's about time you...

- Oh, Celia, may I
present my faithful

old sharecroppers, Oli and Lisa.

- Wait a minute.

How's that again?

- Did you make
supper for us, Lis?

- Well, not quite.

- Good girl.

Come on, Celia.

- Oli, carry Miss
Ward's bags in.

- Look, I'm not carry...

- You heard what the
young master said, Oli.

- Beat it now.

- Well we better get the
young master's dinner ready.

- We're not getting.

Hey hey, come back with my car.

- Well, you told him to beat it.

- Well, I didn't
mean it, that did it.

Eb!

Eb, come out here.

- What's the matter, Old Oli?

- You call me that once more.

Look, I've had enough
of this nonsense.

I want you to go in that
house and tell that girl the truth.

- What is the truth?

- That you're nothing
but a hired hand.

You don't have any land.

You don't have a chauffeur.

You don't have anything.

- Oh, that truth.

- Yes.

Now go in and tell her.

- But Mr. Douglas, I...
- Tell her!

- Well, that'll make him
lose the wealthy heiress.

- Wealthy?

She's just as big
a fake as he is.

All those letters about
her father's yacht.

And then showing up here

in an imitation mink
coat and paste diamonds.

- That's where you're wrong.

That's a genuine mink
coat worth at least $8,000.

- $8,000?

- Wholesale.

As for the diamonds,
they are real.

About $38,000 worth.

- Are you sure?

- Oliver, I can tell a
real diamond at 30 paces

with one eye tied
behind my back.

- I don't believe it.

I just don't.

But why would a wealthy girl...

- Excuse me.

Is this the Eb
Dawson plantation?

- That's right.

- Oh Lisa.

- Is a Miss Celia Ward here?

- Yes, she's in the
sharecroppers house.

- I wonder if I could
have a word with her?

- Certainly.

Celia, Celia.

- Who are you?

- I'm Benson, her chauffeur.

- Her...

- Miss Celia.

- Oh, it's you, Benson.

- Yes, Miss.

I've been driving all over the
countryside looking for you.

Your father wants you back
in New York immediately.

- Celia, is this your
chauffeur-driven car?

- Well...

- Forget what I told you about
being a penniless hired hand.

That was a lie.

I just told you that to see if
you were after my money,

which I have plenty
of in the Argentine.

- Eb.

- Shall we go, Miss?

- Oh, yes, Benson.

Good bye, Eb.

And thanks for a fun afternoon.

- Good bye.

- Well, you did it to me.

My chance to marry wealth,

and you made me
tell her the truth.

- Well I thought...

- I'll never forgive ya,
never, never, never.

- Never, never, never do
anything like that again.

- But Daddy.

- Now put Mrs. Baxter's
fur coat back in the closet

and those jewels back in
her safe before she gets home.

- But I was only
trying to impress Eb,

because from his ad I
thought he was a wealthy...

- I don't care why you did it.

Just change into
your maid's uniform

and help the cook with dinner.

And don't answer any more ads.

- You had no right
to burn all my letters.

I might have found
another girl among 'em.

- When are you going to learn?

- Hi, you Mr. Dawson
the wealthy landowner?

- Well uh...
- I'm Sarah Maxwell.

Remember I answered your ad.

I asked you to send me
some money for a divorce.

- A divorce?

- Well, I didn't hear anything
from ya to the contrary

so I just figured you'd agreed.

- Well no, I didn't...

- Now it's only going to
cost you about $8,000.

But that shouldn't matter to
a wealthy landowner like you.

- Well, I'm not really a...

- Look at it this way.

$8,000 ain't much for a
wife and a ready-made family.

- Family?

- Sure, I wrote
ya I had five kids.

Children.

Say hello.

- Hello, Daddy.

- Daddy.

- What's going on here?

- Oh, this lady is here in
answer to your ad, Mr. Dawson.

This is the fella
you want to talk to.

Bye.

- Oh...
- Oh, so you're Mr. Dawson.

- Hello, Daddy.

You're a lot better age
for me than the young kid.

- What?

- Now the divorce will
only cost about $8,000, see.

And we're all ready to move in

just as soon as the
whole thing's finalized.

- Please, please, kids.

What?

- Finalized.
- Finalized?

- Yes.

- Watch it, hey.

- Yes, I'll let you to
get to know the kids.

Lisa, Lisa!

This has been a Filmways
presentation, darling.