All language subtitles for Penny.dreadful.S02E06.LOL.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

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Previously on
Penny Dreadful...

- They were here!
- Take it easy.

I can't live
with this anymore.

You're safe here.

We've had some trouble
here in London. Murders.

Were the people
who were killed shot?

Not a one.

How can I help?

There was something different
about the Mariner's Inn.

There was a survivor.

I can honestly say I've never
met a woman like you.

You have no idea.

I care for who you are,
not what you wear.

I was having coffee
with a friend.

He's in love with someone,

though I don't know
he knows it.

She touched his hand.

And on his face...
A kind of peace.

It's lethal, that touch...

for it leaves your heart
at the mercy of another.

I don't know what got into me.
I have to be with you.

It is the most important thing

to have the flesh
of the enemy.

Consume it...
you take their power.

Your hair. So they got
what they came for.

Utterly.
They're making a fetish.

A voodoo doll.

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Good morning.

How do you like your eggs?

Sleep tight, dear.

You're going to have
a challenging day.

- Good morning.
- Oh.

God!

You can't see me
without my makeup.

I'm a holy terror
in the morning.

And how shall we
spend our day?

I've got to go home
and change.

Do you mind
if I bring some clothes here?

Not at all.

Then some shopping, perhaps?

What do you favor,

Burlington Arcade
or Bond Street?

That's awfully public.

Perhaps discretion.

Anathema.

In this house,
we celebrate the unusual.

We set the tune,
and the world follows.

That's a reckless philosophy.

But exciting.

The thrill of the forbidden?

There's nothing to match that.

In fact...

I'm going to throw a ball.

Invite everyone who's anyone.

Let them gape
at our uniqueness.

Dorian...

You deserve
a proper coming out.

Good morning!
Splendid day, isn't it?

Sir Malcolm,
we need to speak with you.

First, you must acknowledge
the splendidness of the day.

Perhaps you should sit down.

What is it?

Why don't you
sit with me here?

Vanessa, what's going on?

Mr. Boyd came to see you.

- My solicitor?
- Yes.

You see...

something awful's happened.

Yes?

I'm terribly sorry...

but your wife is dead.

Gladys?

I'm so sorry.

How?

That's not important now.

How?

She took her own life.

Gladys did?
That doesn't seem like her.

If there's anything
we can do...

How did she take her own life?

- I really don't think...
- She cut her own throat.

Where?

- "Where?"
- Where did she do it?

In the master bedroom,
apparently...

at the country house.

Oh, I see.

I shall have to have
the carpet replaced then.

Good morning. Morning.

Of course, I can't
mold them from scratch,

we've a man who does that.

But I give them
that final touch of life.

It's very impressive,
all told.

Oh, yes.

Well, I like to think
my blindness

makes my fingers
a bit more sensitive

to the nuances.

Here, I'll show you.

Come over here.

Let me take your hand.

It's so cold.

Sorry, Miss. It's...

It's how I am.

No. It's too cold, I mean.

It doesn't feel fully alive.

- Sorry, Miss. I've work to do.
- Wait!

Mr. Clare...

why does your hand
not feel alive?

I can't speak to that, Miss.

It is how it is.

Then why am I frightened?

You've no cause.

Whatever your past...

I know you are kind.

But why am I frightened?

There you are!

We've veritable
mountains of work

before the crime scenes
open tomorrow.

Grab some blood, come along.

Yes, sir.

By the way, I'm expanding
down here in the cellar

for a new attraction.

More crime scenes?

Something much more ingenious.

There'll be some
construction work,

but I've hired others
for that,

so no need to bother about it.

What's the attraction?

Just another ballyhoo.

See you at luncheon, dear.

Come along.

It's like he doesn't care.

When he found his son dead,
I was there.

This is not him.

- Maybe he just needs time.
- This...

is not him.

Maybe he doesn't
really care that much.

Not all deaths
are the tragedies

we think they should be.

The woman cut her own throat
with his razor.

Mr. Chandler.

You have a visitor.

Hello, old pal.

Gonna introduce me?

Give us the room.

Hell of a nice setup
you got here.

Much more commodious
than the old place

and I dare say
much less blood splatter.

Planning for a battle?

You tell me.

I just smiled at that.

Can't tell
if you can see that.

Still getting used
to the brace, you understand.

Hard to express much through
a quarter-inch of leather.

You're not gonna try
and gun me down, are you?

Give me one reason
I shouldn't.

Come on, sport,

in cold blood,

right in the middle of this
fashionable drawing room

with your friends outside?

What do you want?

- Can I tell you a story?
- No.

It's not long.

I figure you owe me
at least that.

Before I became
the fine Pinkerton man

you see before you,

I was a Texas Ranger.

We was after some Mexicans,
rustlers they were.

We spent months
on their trail.

Finally, we captured them.

End of the day

we were so fucking sick
of hunting them

that we couldn't face
dragging them back to Abilene,

so we shot them down,
took their scalps.

Which fulfilled the warrant,
you see.

It was proof of apprehension,

as the lawyers say.

I'm not going back to America.

Oh, you are.

Or maybe I'll sell you
to a freak show.

That's quite a trick you have.

Never seen the like,
and I've seen most everything.

Now there will be
no more fisticuffs

or gunplay between us.

Your daddy wants you back
in the all-together,

so back you go.

You know...

I see you
outside of this house...

and I'll kill ya.

Well...

you might try.

But let me present
an alternative tale for you.

Say you fall asleep.

Say you take a walk.

Say you blink.

Say I come in here.

I can do it, you know that.

There's no door
that can keep out the devil.

Say I have my Bowie knife.

Say I roam.

Say I take the scalps

of every blessed person
under this roof.

Mr. Chandler,
I bid you good day,

and I await a speedy
and pacific resolution

to our particular situation.

Your girlfriend there
is on the second floor...

at the back...

corner window.

Such hair she has.

You're forever trying
something else,

that's the problem.

The public's imagination

soon tires of the familiar.

Repetition is
the bane of sensationalism.

Well,
we'll soon see, won't we?

Mr. Clare.

There's something wrong
about Mr. Clare.

What do you mean?

I touched his hand today.

It was cold.

Lots of people
have cold hands.

Not like his.

It's like...

It's like
he's not really alive.

Go on, my dear.

"He took us
by our winged backs

and raised us over His head.

Thence did he fling us
from his Heavenly Throne

and...

and cast us down,
to Earth and to Hell.

So we were..."

Damned?

At the very least.

I'm sorry, this is
a fascinating narrative...

but I don't see
it's much help to us.

It's the hidden language
of the demon.

It must have a purpose.

Not everything does.

Hmm. You sound like
my friend Mr. Clare.

What did you say?

A man I met recently.

Same name as the poet,
John Clare.

He breaks my heart, Mr. Clare.

A kindred spirit, I think.

We met in the strangest way.

Is it random we met,
I wonder...

or is there a hidden design,
like these relics?

Science would tell us...

there's always
an inner clockwork.

Nothing is happenstance.

Yet you wear a flower.

How's your cousin?

Functioning.

You can't fool me, Doctor.

I saw your eyes light on hers.

It's the oddest thing,
Miss Ives.

My whole life,
I've thought I was...

bound to live
with exceptionality.

I was not like my brothers.

I was resolutely this...

disjointed thing,
this freakish thing.

So I came to celebrate
what uniqueness I had.

And now?

I wear a flower!

I find, lo and behold...

I'm just like everyone else.

Then I'm glad for you.

My cousin and I...

it's not without
its complications.

That's what they call
the workings inside watches,

did you know that?

The intricate gears
and mechanisms.

Complications.

Then enjoy them, Doctor.

They will tick away,
no matter what we do.

Mr. Gray for you.

Show him in.

Miss Ives.

Mr. Gray.

May I present
Dr. Victor Frankenstein.

- How do you do?
- Mr. Gray.

I like your flower.

- I come bearing adventure.
- When do you not?

I'm hosting a ball.

I wanted to
invite you personally.

And Sir Malcolm, of course.

Would you do me
the courtesy of attending?

Oh, I haven't been to a ball
in some time.

There's a woman
I'd like you to meet.

It's rather
a coming out for her.

It seems the world is filled
with romance these days.

I would love to
have you meet her.

And, Doctor, of course
you must come.

I'll get your address

and dispatch an invitation
if I might.

That's very kind, thank you.

Do say you'll think about it.

- Of course, Mr. Gray.
- Is it not Dorian?

After all this time?

It is safely Dorian.

Then I'll bid you good day.

Doctor.

Vanessa.

So, Doctor,

will you give me
the first dance?

Perhaps the second.

Come in.

Ah, Vanessa.

What do you think of my beard?

- I'm sorry?
- My beard.

I've had it
for as long as I can remember,

but I don't know
that it entirely suits me.

Why not?

It makes me look older.

Sir Malcolm.

Is everything all right?

What do you mean?

You're not as I thought
you might be.

Ah.

You mean Gladys, poor thing.

I'm not going down
to the funeral.

So much going on here.

What's that?

Yes, it's, uh...
it's an invitation.

Mr. Gray's hosting a ball.
I was confident you wouldn't...

Do you know, I've not been
to a ball in ages.

I used to be quite the dancer
in my salad days,

if you can believe
such a thing.

Of course I'll attend.

Can you find
a proper escort without me?

What?

Yes.

I just don't know.

Of course I'll attend.

My gallant young swain
was most insistent.

Poor love-addled fool.

Are you sure that's wise?

Miss Ives will be there.

The time comes when the spider
must touch the fly.

And if the fly
eats the spider?

You admire her.

Fine.

In our dolorous old bestiary,

she's a truly...
unique creature.

More than you know.

Did you know
that during the Renaissance...

women used to put poison
into their eyes?

A little drop of belladonna
to dilate the pupil...

to simulate erotic excitement.

But like all addictions,
it took more and more

to produce the desired effect.

So they slowly...
killed themselves.

What won't we do for beauty?

And youth.

Ah, yes.

Youth.

That takes more than
a drop of poison.

That takes everything...
doesn't it?

Such a price we pay.

Such a price.

Despite what you may think...

I didn't turn from God.

He turned from me.

From all of us.

Look around.

You tell me, where is He...

in this city
of perpetual suffering?

In this life?

You tell me where.

There are those who say
you can find Him within.

They're wrong.

So...

we must carry on...

and earn our reward
from the Master.

And that reward?

To live forever
while the world suffers.

Such a sad prize, isn't it?

We've had an invitation.

To a ball.

- Quite the gala, I imagine.
- Are we going to go?

We would have to prepare.

Dancing, for one.

And there would be
a lot of people you don't know

you'd have to talk with.

You're afraid
I'll embarrass you.

No.

No.

You could never do that.

I'll work very hard not to.

I promise you.

Of course we'll go.
It's a ball.

What's the worst
that could happen?

Who's giving the ball?

A fellow I met today...

name of Dorian Gray.

- What are you making?
- Shepherd's pie.

Now go upstairs.
I'll call you when it's ready.

Ah, ah!

Mmm.

Step up, step in!

Awaiting you, a panoply

of London's most
heinous crimes

in living color!

Explore the lurid byways

of terrible homicide
and atrocious depravity!

Step inside
and steel yourself...

Witness the gruesome marvels

of genuine terror

as they unfold before you.

Putney! Putney Wax Works!

_

"Whodunit?"

- Inspector.
- Mr. Chandler.

Is it realistic?

What?

The depiction of the inn.

Can't rightly recall.

Place didn't leave
much of an impression.

- And the crime scene?
- Oh, very accurate.

I think they must have gained
access to our photographs.

Not all of the particulars,
of course.

- Such as?
- There was more cannibalism.

When I was in the Transvaal...

I saw lions feed.

It was much like
the Mariner's Inn.

They were always tearing
pieces off and stealing away.

With a purpose... to eat.

Not always.

Sometimes a shock
would run through the animals,

like a tremor,

for no reason at all.

A kind of bloodlust.

I often wondered if they
remembered it afterwards...

this frenzy.

What do you think?

I've no experience
with lions, I'm glad to say.

Well, other predators then?
In America.

Grizzly bears, I suppose.

Hmm.

Wolves?

I suppose.

Why are you here?

I saw the sign. And you?

Well...

it's an old trope
but not without merit...

the murderer returning
to the scene of the crime

to relive the glory of it.

Only here enacted in wax.

I know you're involved.

- And your proof?
- I'll find it.

I always find things.

When they cut off my arm,
I was anesthetized.

When I woke...

I went and found it
in a pile of discarded limbs,

not unlike this tableaux.

- What did you do with it?
- Oh, I tossed it back.

I just needed to finish
the story in my own way.

Write "finis"
in bold letters...

and move on.

Then I wish you luck

rooting through
this pile of bodies.

Thank you, Mr. Chandler.

And don't worry,

we shan't try and follow you
this time.

No need.

Why's that?

Because no man involved
in crimes like this

can live with them forever.

Better the quick hanging...

than the slow torture
of guilt, eh?

Fish, fresh fish!
Fresh today.

Read all about it!

Mr. Chandler.

Mr. Chandler!

Miss Ives... sorry.

Is everything all right?

Lot on my mind.

I've a personal request,
if I may.

I... I was wondering
if you might like

to accompany me somewhere.

To a ball, actually.

- As your escort, you mean?
- Yes.

- When is it?
- Friday.

Friday.

No, I can't.

Ah!

Oh, you did!

No, I...

...very naughty boy.

Do come with me.

...your good health
with me.

Absolutely.

- Miss Poole.
- Mr. Lyle.

Will you dance with me?

Oh, I would be a poor partner.

I can't imagine
you're not schooled

in all the social graces...

especially mendacity
and betrayal.

I'm not sure what game
you're playing, my dear,

but I so enjoy
watching your scales

catch the light as you coil.

Don't you like games,
Mr. Lyle?

Some.

And is your mother
aware of yours?

My mother has
games of her own.

Mine are more far-sighted.

But there's time enough
for that.

I am, after all, very young.

As is she.

For now.

My Lord! Victor!

Rather puts our tiny rooms
to shame.

No, it doesn't.

Doctor Frankenstein,
good evening.

May I present
Miss Hecate Poole.

Miss Poole.

This is my cousin, Lily.

And Mr. Lyle.

- Charmed.
- Miss Lily.

Such beautiful jewelry.

Oh, they're very old.

Scarabs, I think they are.

- Hecate is an unusual name.
- I had unusual parentage.

Now, please tell me you will
dance with me, Doctor.

Mr. Lyle is proving oddly
recalcitrant to my desires.

Perhaps later.
I'm promised to my cousin.

I'm bereft.

Come along, Miss Poole.

We'll drown your sorrows
elsewhere.

Oh, Victor,
this is all so splendid.

But I have
the funniest feeling

I've been in this room before.

I would think that unlikely.

Will you really dance with me?

If you'll do me the courtesy.

Doctor Frankenstein, hello.

Mr. Gray,

thank you so much
for having us.

This is my cousin,

Miss Lily Frankenstein.

Mr. Dorian Gray,
our generous host.

May I present Miss Angelique.

How do you do?

Doctor, Miss Lily.

That's a shattering dress.

Thank you.

Miss Lily...

will you do me the honor
of this dance?

We're abandoned, Doctor.

I think some champagne, yes?

I don't drink spirits.

I won't hold that against you.

- You dance beautifully.
- Surely not.

Though Victor did his best
to teach me.

Do you like the room?

All those paintings
looking down

make me a bit nervous.

I have the strangest sense
we've met before.

Do you think that's possible?

In some other lifetime?

I don't know that
there are other lifetimes.

Surely there are.

Echoes of the past everywhere.

My past, your past.

Can't you feel it?

Perhaps I can.

Your hands.
They're... cool to the touch.

- Oh, I'm sorry.
- Don't be. They suit you...

like the touch of marble.

Do you think it bold
if I compliment your eyes?

Yes.

But please do.

Will you help me
with something?

Miss Ives
is without an escort.

Very daring, she is.

- What are you up to?
- Be still, little man.

You mustn't hurt her.

Oh, believe me,
she is sacrosanct.

- Doctor, hello.
- Miss Ives.

May I present Miss Angelique,

Mr. Gray's companion
this evening.

How do you do.

I understand you're rather
the guest of honor tonight.

Apparently so.

Hello, Miss Ives.
I'm so glad you could come.

My pleasure.

Lily, you look lovely.

Mr. Gray says pink's my color.

Well, he would know.

Some women
should only wear pale colors.

- May I have this dance, Lily?
- Don't steal her yet.

May I stay and talk?

Victor's afraid
I'll embarrass him.

You couldn't.

Natural grace,
unschooled by society...

that's the greatest gift,
isn't it?

Lots of natural grace
in the country.

I grew up
in the country.

- Oh, where?
- Lake District.

The realm of poets.

And livestock.

- Dance with me, Dorian.
- In a moment.

First, a toast.

She doesn't drink spirits.

Maybe just a sip.

As you say.

None for you, Doctor?

No.

He's very wise, our doctor.

I don't know what we'd do
without his level head.

Not sure this is a night
for level heads,

is it, darling?

It's a night for anything but.

Welcome to my home.

To my dear Angelique.

And a special welcome

to Miss Frankenstein
to our glorious city.

Cheers.

Thank you.

Good evening.

Oh, it's fantastic, Malcolm.

I wanted her to
succeed here tonight. I...

Be still your heart, Doctor.

This is but one evening.

Mr. Gray is being
a proper host

to a new guest, that's all.

You're smarter than that,
Miss Ives.

I wanted her to have life.

Now she does.

Miss Ives, good evening.
Dr. Frankenstein.

I don't believe
you know Mrs. Poole.

- How do you do.
- Doctor.

And of course I remember
dear Miss Ives.

It was the seance.
Madame Kali?

Oh! Of course.

So you shaved your beard
after all.

Quite alarming, the change.

I banished the old bear
to the cave

and lured out the cub.

I feel
like a new man.

I've even been
boasting shamelessly

to Evelyn about
my dancing prowess.

Then you must.

Hold on tightly.
It's a complicated dance.

Excuse me.

Shall we take to the floor?

Perhaps a drink first,
Malcolm?

With pleasure, my dear.

- He's a changed man.
- Is he?

Since he became reacquainted
with you, I mean.

Well...
he has shaved his beard.

Interestingly, I wasn't
speaking of his facial hair.

What then?

More his...
friendship with you.

No more than a touch of warmth
in the winter of his years.

I've known him for some time,
and never like this.

You're a friend of his
late daughter, I believe.

And his late wife.

Such a tragedy.

Life does batter at us.

But we must persevere
with spirit

for as long as
we possibly can.

That's the trick to staying
young, don't you think?

That's not a trick I seek.

He speaks very highly of you,
Mrs. Poole.

While he speaks of you
so rarely.

I suppose we could say

you're something
of a ward to him?

A friend, I like to think,

who cares a great deal
for his welfare.

Sounds like a warning.
Do you disapprove?

- Would it matter if I did?
- But of course.

I hope to be welcome
in your life, Vanessa.

Then perhaps you should come

and visit us
at Grandage Place?

In time.

I need you to chain me here.

Now I need you
to sit over there.

Whatever happens...

do not move from that chair.

All right?

And what am I to do?

Watch.

You're so gorgeous.

You'll feel better
in the morning.

Come here! Do not
embarrass me like this!

Miss Ives.

A dizzying panorama, isn't it?

All the toys of love
out of the box

and scattered
around the floor.

And at the end of the night
to be put carefully away.

These terrible games.

And do you ever play...

or only spectate?

I never learned the rules.

Ah.

The "complications",
as Doctor Frankenstein said to me.

Like the workings in a watch.

My dear Miss Ives,

will you let me
escort you home?

This place isn't safe for you.

Safe?

There are too many
complications.

And you don't know the rules.

- Do you, Mr. Lyle?
- I thought I did.

But the stakes are too high.

Let me escort you home,
please.

Let me say good night
to the doctor.

I'll be right back.
And thank you.

It's not every night I leave

with the most beautiful woman
in London on my arm.

We won't be able to do it
again, will we? Will we?

Miss Ives. Miss Ives.

Can you hear me?
Can you hear me?

Miss Ives.

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