All language subtitles for Cold.Comfort.Farm.1995.720p.WEBRip.x264.AAC-[YTS.LT].eng

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I saw...

something nasty
in the woodshed.

Help! Help! Help!

I've always found your choice
of hobby, madam, quite unique.

Yes. What do
you think, Sneller?

Not really
my department,
madam.

Venus design.
Waber Brothers, 1918.

Famed corsetiers to the gentry.
And if you look carefully,

you'll see it's got only
two elastic panels in front
instead of the usual three.

So it has, madam.

It's Miss Poste.
Oh, poor thing.
Go and let her in.

Sneller, how are you?
Very well, miss.

I'm so sorry to hear
about your parents.
Thank you, Sneller.

Do you have one and six
for the driver?
I'll see to it, miss.

Flora, darling, was
the funeral too awful?

Ugh! Horrid.
Though I'm bound to say...

all the London relatives
seemed to enjoy it no end.

Did any of them ask you
to go and live with them?
I meant to warn you.

Relatives at funerals
always do that.
Not me.

I've only
a hundred pounds a year,
and I can't play bridge.

And I was never
very close to my parents.

Of course you can stay here
as long as you like, darling,

but you'll probably want to take
up some kind of work sometime:

earn enough for
a fat of your own.

What kind of work?

It's ages since I did any,
but there must be something
that would suit you.

Bookkeeping, beekeeping.
I can't
do that, Mary.

Really.
Now, Flora,
don't be feeble.

You know you'd be miserable
if you haven't a job
and all your friends have.

Besides, a hundred pounds
a year.. Ha! Hardly keep
you in stockings and fans.

Oh, thank you, Sneller.
Battenburg! My favorite.

You must have
some ambition.

I do. I want
to be a writer.

When I'm 53,
I mean to write a novel...

as good as Persuasion,
but with a modern setting.

Well, how will you spend
the next 30 years?
Living life.

Collecting material.
Surely no one can
object to that.

I have such a lot in common
with Jane Austen. Neither
of us could endure a mess.

What will you live on..
or off?

As you said: relatives.
I'm peculiarly
rich in them.

They haven't asked you.
The London ones
haven't,

but there are plenty more
all over the country.

I'll send off some
piteous letters tomorrow.
What shall we do tonight?

Are any of your admirers
back from their jungles?

You must see the New River club.
It's ever so smart and select.
Sneller,

are any of
the men home?

I believe Mr. Fairford
and Mr. Biscuit.
Ah, Bikki!

Charles Fairford?
He's a relative,
a sort of second cousin.

Telephone, madam.

Um, Belgravia..

2211.

How was Kenya, Bikki?
I've heard awful things
about it.

It's all true.

More bubbly?
Oh,just pour it,
Bikki.

Mary says you want
to live with relatives.

Oh, you shouldn't have said,
Mary. He might think I want
to go and live with him...

and was angling
for an invitation.

You'd be very welcome.
Mother would love it
if you did.

What do you do, Charles?

Embryo parson, actually.
Oh, well, that really
makes it awkward.

Anyway, you're not enough
of a challenge. I like
to organize things and tidy up.

You seem tidy already.

Besides, I want to learn
about real life.

What for?
To put it in books.

Oh, I see.

How about it, Mary?

I think Bikki
wants to dance.

What about that
game of golf?

I say.

You ever think
of getting married?

I believe in arranged
marriages, don't you?
Rather out of date.

Not at all.
I've always liked the phrase
''A marriage has been arranged.''

When I feel like it,
I'll arrange one.

If you get bored,
wherever you are, phone.

I'll come and rescue you
in my plane.

Have you a plane, Charles?
Mmm. Belisha Bat
called 'Speed Cop Two'.

Are you sure an embryo parson
should have a plane?

Everyone should have a plane.
Oh, really, Charles.

Post, Miss Poste.

There you are.
They've all answered.
Now you'll be sorry.

Well, wait now.
I'll have to see
what they have to say.

Then I'll make
my choice.
Well, go on then.

''My dear Niece,
Such a sad loss..''

But we must all keep
a stiff upper lip.

You'd be most welcome here.

The Worthing air is bracing,
and dear Rosedale is always..

''Full of the happiest
of boarders.

You'll find a true
home atmosphere
and plenty of fun.''

And cousin Peggy,
now Arkela of
her own troop,

would love to share
her bedroom with you.

''Your loving aunt Gwen. ''

Share.
I couldn't.

I was shocked by your letter..

so shocked,
my old trouble is back.

I am very willing to shelter
your wee girlhood under my roof,

eh, but I fear
you could find it dull...

with no company save
my poor chairbound self,

my man.. Hoots..

and my housekeeper,
now totally deaf.

''Still, there is marvelous
bird life to be found
in the marshes...

that surround my ruin
on all sides.''

''I must end now,

''as my old trouble
is returning.

Your loving
uncle McKnag. ''
No, Flora. No.

I've expected
to hear from Robert Poste's
child these 20 years.

Child, my man once did
your father a great wrong.

If you'll come here,
I'll do my best to atone.

But never ask what for.
My lips are sealed.

''We're not like other folk
maybe, but there have always
been Starkadders...

at Cold Comfort Farm.''

Will you stop it?
''And we will do our best to
welcome Robert Poste's child.''

Child, child,

if you come
to this doomed house,

what is there to save you?

''Your cousin,
Judith Starkadder. ''

Judith Starkadder?
The daughter of my
great-aunt, Ada Doom.

whom Mother
couldn't abide.

Oh, it sounds appalling.

Interesting and appalling.
The others just sound
appalling.

Oh, Flora.
I'm willing to bet...

there are also cousins
called ''Seth'' and ''Reuben.''

- Why?
- Highly sexed young men
living on farms...

are always called
''Seth'' or ''Reuben.''

Really. I mean,
there probably isn't
even a bathroom.

It is Sussex,
for goodness' sake.

Well, if you've really made up
your mind to go, you'd better.
You'll soon tire of it anyhow.

I think I will go.

I'm very keen to know
what Cousin Judith means
by my ''rights.''

You have to change
trains four times and get out
somewhere called Beershorn Halt.

Don't worry, Mary.
There'll be plenty of
material for my novel...

and perhaps
one or two family
messes I can clear up.

Something to take
to the country.

Flowers come from
the country, Charles.

Ohh. It's very
kind of you.

May I come with you
to the station?

Please do.
I like to go off in style.

Good-bye, my dove.

I shall expect regular
letters from you letting
us know of your progress.

I can send
you things.
What things?

Oh, proper clothes,
cheerful fashion papers.

You'll need them.
You've never lived
in the country.

I'm sure I'll find it
very amusing.

Mind you,
wire if you want any
gum boots or anything.

It was winter,

the grimmest hour
of the darkest day
of the year.

Oh, no.

Really.

The golden orb
had almost disappeared...

behind the interlacing fingers
of the hawthorn.

Adam Lambsbreath!

Steady, Graceless.

Come on, Feckless.
Fill 'un up.

Adam?
There you are.

How many pails today?
Dunno know how many,
Miss Judith. 'Tis hard to tell.

If Pointless got over
her indigestion, maybe four.
If not, maybe three.

Get out of there,
Seth,you no - good
son of mine.

Good day, Mother.
Do you want to
break my heart?

- That's right.
- Libertine. Who's
that up there?

Just lookin' for eggs,
Miss Judith.

Get back to
the vicarage, Violet.

And another thing, Adam.

You'll have to take the trap
down to Beershorn Halt.
Meet the train.

Robert Poste's child's
comin' today.
After the farm, is she?

Oh, mun I,
Miss Judith?

Can't Seth go
instead of me?

How can I look in
her little fower face
knowing what I knows?

You remember what happened
when he went to meet
the new kitchen maid.

No. You go, Adam.

Don't know how many times
I feared this day would come.

How will I know
the little maidy?

Who else is gonna get off
at Beershorn Halt?

A man's huge body, rude
as a wind-tortured thorn,

was printed dark
against the fame
of sun that--

that throbbed--
that throbbed on the tip
of Mockuncle Hill.

The golden orb..
Beershorn!

Oh.

gh!
How revolting!

Don't you know
this trap's filthy?

Are ye the little maidy,
Robert Poste's child?

Yes, I'm the little maidy.
Who are you?

Adam.
Adam Lambsbreath.

Ye get up.
I'll see to them,
Robert Poste's child.

Miss Poste. Or Miss Flora,
if you want to be
completely feudal.

Ugh!

Where's this?
Howlin; Robert
Poste's child.

Howling?
Are we nearly there?

Another few miles yet,
Robert Poste's child.

Git on, Viper.

What's the farm like?
The seeds wither and the earth
will not nourish 'em.

The cows are barren.
The sows are farren.

All is turned
to sourness and ruin.
Oh, dear.

Is there no money?
'Tain't money.

There's a curse on the place,
Robert Poste's child.

'Tis the Starkadders'doom.

Oh, I'm sure it's not
as bad as all that.

Viper.

Whoa there, Viper.

Well, it is a little gloomy,
I agree.

Whoa. Whoa, Viper!

Get 'e down,
Robert Poste's child.

Oh, how do you do?
You must be Cousin Judith.

It's so good of you to
have me. Isn't it curious
we've never met before?

'Tis Robert Poste's child,
all right.

That's Graceless,
looking out for me.

You get back
to your cows, Adam.
My luggage.

Meriam'll bring it.
This way, Miss Poste.

I think,just for tonight,
I'll eat in my room
if I may.

It's cold there.
I expect a fire
will soon warm it up.

Oh, my sons'll be sorry.

They wanted to see
their little cousin.

Your sons?
Seth and Reuben.

Seth and Reuben.
Really?

Well, I'll see them
tomorrow, I'm sure.

Someone has
a hearty appetite.
Follow me, Miss Poste.

Nobody shall say
we didn't do right
by Robert Poste's child.

No. Quite.

Thank you.

Hey, Elfine.

My little water - vole.
My little water - vole.

Mmm.

Ohh.

You'd never sell Feckless!
I do what I like!

Who could've tended the poor,
dumb beasty better nor I?

I knows what's in her heart
better than I knows what's
in the hearts of some humans.

Look at her! Be hard to find
a knacker's man who'd take her.

And another thing!
I don't pay ye wages
to collect...

chicken feathers and
sell 'em down Beershorn
for good money!

That weren't I!
May I never set hand
on plough again if it were!

That were rk!
I say.

Do you think you
would mind not talking
quite so loudly, please?

Some of us are
trying to sleep.

Oh.
Ohh.

Wife, where's Elfine?

Not up yet,
I expect, Amos.

Godless habit, lyin' abed
of a workin' day.

The reekin' fires lie waiting
for them as do.

What a family
I'm cursed with.

You'll fritter and fry
in hell, the lot of you!

Meriam passed out
this morning.

Oh, bless her.

Ah. Reckon her time's
come, eh, Seth?

Robert Poste's
child here, innit she?

After your inheritance,
eh, Reuben?

Robert Poste's child.

Well, some of us
has farmin' to do.

rk, time the barren field
were gone over
with a prunin'snoot.

Reuben, get plowin'
down Nettle Flitch. Seth,

you drain the well.

There's a neighbor missin'.

So you're
the little lady
from London...

with your
smart ways, eh?

I know your sort.

Drain away a man's blood
soon as look at him.

Seth, after you've
done the well,

you get scrattlin'
up at Ticklepenny Corner.

Come on, Miss Poste.
Adam will get you breakfast.

Is there any
bread and butter
and some tea, Adam?

I don't much care
for porridge.

Bread and butter
in the crocket.
Tea in the pot.

Now leave me in peace.
I mun cletter the dishes,
Robert Poste's child.

That's a twig.
What you want is a nice
little mop with a handle.

It would get the dishes
cleaner and be so much
quicker too.

Don't want no mop
with a handle.
I've clettered dishes...

with an old thorn twig
nigh on 50 year.

And what was good enough
then is good enough now,
is it?

Aye.

Adam, I've been thinking
about the Starkadders' doom.

Why doesn't Cousin Amos just
sell this and buy a farm that
doesn't have a curse on it?

In Berkshire
or Devon, perhaps.
Nay.

There's always
been Starkadders
at Cold Comfort Farm.

'Tis impossible
for any of us to
dream of leavin'.

Mrs. Starkadder's set on us
stayin'. 'Tis her life--
the very life in her veins.

Cousin Judith,
you mean? She doesn't
seem very happy here.

No, I mean the old lady,
old Mrs. Starkadder.

Is she dead?
No.

No, miss, she's
alive right enough.

Her hand lies on us
like iron,

but she never
leaves her room,

never sees no one
but Miss Judith.

Ain't left the farm these
20 year. That be her tray--

Oh, there she is,
my little wennit.

- Gracious. Who's that?
- That's my cowdlin'.

That's Elfine Starkadder.

Does she always
charge about
like that?

She's as wild and shy
as a pharisee of the woods.

Days, she's gone
wandering the downs...

with only
the spyin'magpies and
little rabbits for company.

No thought for them as
loved her and cowdled her
in their bosom...

when she were a mommet.

- How trying. I'll
take the tray, Adam.

Oh, no, miss!
I doubt she even
know you're here.

I understand what to do.
Just leave it outside
her door.

No, m..

Elfine.
What do you want?

Cousin Judith's room.
Be a lamb and show me
the way.

It's that way.

Do forgive me saying so, but
I'd love to see you in blue.

Some shades of green
are good, of course, but...

dull greens are very trying,
I always think.

Definitely blue.
You try it and see.

Oh!
Who's that?

It's Urk.
He's horrible!

He's after me again.
Go away!

Who's there?

Good morning. I'm so sorry
to interrupt you while
you're busy writing letters.

Busy? Oh!
Busy weavin' me own
shroud, be like.

You can do what you please
round the farm,
Robert Poste's child,

if you don't break in
on me loneliness.

Give me time and I'll atone
for the wrong my man
did your father.

Give us all time
and we'll atone.

I don't suppose
you'd care to tell me
what the wrong was.

My lips are sealed,
Miss Poste.

Just as you like,
Cousin Judith.

Now, can we discuss
my keep? I have
a hundred a year.

I wouldn't touch
a single penny of
Robert Poste's money.

While you're here,
you're a guest
of Cold Comfort.

Every middock will be
paid for by our sweat.

While I'm here, might I
make a few changes?

I adore my bedroom, but
do you think I could have
my curtains washed?

I believe they're
red, but I should
like to make sure.

Child, child, it's years
since such trifes...

broke across the web
of my solitude.

Perhaps Meriam
could wash them.

- Oh, not now.
Her time has come.
- She's in labor? Where?

- Is the doctor there?
- You leave her be.

Every year
when the sukebind flowers,
it's the same thing.

Just the hand of nature.
We women can't escape it.

Of course we can!
Who's responsible?

Oh, cursed be the day
I brought him forth...

and the nourishment
he drew from my bosom.

Cursed be the wooing tongue
God gave him...

to bring disgrace
upon weak females.

Right. Well,
if you'll excuse me,
Cousin Judith,

I have a few things
to attend to.

Who's there?
Are you all right?

It's Miss Poste,
from the farm.
What do you want?

May I come in?

Come to mock me
in my shame, mum?

I thought
you were in labor.
I heard you cry out.

Had it last night.
I was just moaning a bit.

It's not so bad if you
keep your spirits up
and eat hearty aforehand.

Is it your first?
'Tis my fourth.

And who knows what'll happen
again when the sukebind's
out in the hedges.

Now look, Meriam, nothing
need happen so long as you
use your intelligence...

and see it doesn't.

Haven't you heard
of family planning?
No, mum.

You can prevent it. All you
need's a little rubber bowler
hat to stop it happening again.

- The doctor can show you.
- What would I look like
in a rubber bowler hat?

- You wear it inside, Meriam.
- Oh, no, mum. 'Tis fyin'
against nature, that is.

Nonsense. Nature's
all very well in her place,

but she mustn't be allowed
to make things untidy.

Now remember, Meriam,
no more sukebind
and summer evenings...

without a few
preparations
beforehand.

If you'll wash
my bedroom curtains
for me, I'll pay you.

That can go towards
buying whatever it is
your children have to eat.

Mornin', miss.

Hello, Mother.
She wants me to wash
her bedroom curtains.

Who's ''she''? The cat's
mother? You speak proper
to the young lady.

Never thought I'd hear anyone
wanting washing done
at Cold Comfort.

She'll wash 'em
for you, miss.
Oh, how is he?

Fine.
They always does.

Well, you needn't sound
as if you wish
they wouldn't.

Lord knows, none of'em
was very welcome,
poor little innocents.

Still, now they're here,
we might as well look
after 'em right.

Come another four years,
I'll start makin' use of'em.

How?

Train the four of'em up
for one of them jazz bands.

They get six pound a night
playin' up west
in the nightclubs.

That's why we got to
look after 'em right.
Yeah.

He's gonna be
a trombone player.
Look at his mouth.

A telegram, madam.

Ooh, it must be
from Flora.

Oh, do read it,
Sneller.

''Worst fears realized.
Seth and Reuben too.

Everything needs changing.
Send magazines.''

Morning.
Morning.

Not so bad now, eh?
No.

Lunches, dear?
We do, but only in August.

Not always then.
You can have what
we're havin'.

Got to cook
my gentleman's dinner.
Oh!

Oh, no, my dear.
That's Mr. Hawk-Monitor
from up the Hall.

He's a real gentleman.
He don't eat here.

My gentleman's
a Mr. Mybug from London.
He's a book writer.

Oh, not another.
There he is now.

Walks the High Weald
all hours, he does.
Then comes in covered in mud.

Good day, all.
Nice walk,
Mr. Mybug?

I have freely wandered
the ample suckling breasts
of the welcoming hills.

A pint of cider,
if you would,
Mrs. Murther.

Ayoung lady
askin' after you.

Ha! Flora Poste,
isn't it?

May I sit down?
We met at the Polswetts
in October.

Did we, Mr. Mybug?
Meyerburg.
Don't you remember?

Harriet Belmont sat naked
on the grass and played
to us on her fute.

Actually, the Polswetts said
you were down here. I rather
hoped I would run into you.

Better go up and dry off,
hadn't you, Mr. Mybug?

Yes, yes. Dear me,
I do seem somewhat soaked
in nature's fecund blessing.

I shall see you
in a very few moments,
my dear Miss Poste.

But let me warn you.
I'm a queer, moody brute,

but there's rich soil
in here if you care
to dig for it.

Mrs. Murther, I think I'll do
without lunch today after all.
All right, dear.

Good - bye.

Hello.

I thought I'd introduce
the custom of afternoon tea.

Do you take milk?

I scranletted 200 furrow
come 3:00 down in the bute.

Did you?
Aye.

Did too.

All the way from
Ticklepenny Corner
to Nettle Flitch.

Could you 'a' done that?

No, indeed.
I certainly
couldn't, Reuben.

But then, you see,
I shouldn't want to.

Take the farm,
pay hired men, I'd wager.

Waste all
the takings.
No, I wouldn't.

I wouldn't care if
Ticklepenny Corner wasn't
scranletted at all.

I'd let you
do it instead.
Let? Let!

That's a fine word
to use to a man...

that's nursed this farm
like a sick mommet,

knows every inch of soil
and patch of sukebind
in the place.

Let's get it straight, Reuben.
I don't want the farm.

I'm the last person in the world
to be any good at scranletting.
Really.

I prefer to leave it
to people who know
all about it. Like you.

What's that
you're makin'?
A bath towel, Seth.

Would you like
some tea?

You women are all alike.

Fussin'over
your fal - de - lals
to bedaze a man's eyes, eh?

And what you really want
is his blood,

his pride
and the heart
out ofhis body.

- Really?
- Aye.

and then when you got him,
bound up in your fal-de-lals
and your softness...

and he can't move 'cause of the
longin' that cries in his blood,
what do you do then, eh?

I'm afraid
I don't know, Seth.

Would you mind passing me
that reel of cotton
on the dresser?

This what you're after?

Thank you.

You eats him.

Same as a hen spider
eats a cock spider.

But I don't let
no women eat me.

I eats them instead.

You don't understand
what I'm sayin', do you,
little innocent?

Yes, and I think
it's dreadful.

What do you do in
the evenings, Seth? When
you're not eating people.

- Go over Beershorn
to the talkies.
- Oh, you like the talkies?

Better than anything
in the whole world.

Seventy-four photos
of Lottie Funchal.

Forty ofJennie Carroll.

Fifty - five, Laura Valley.

All signed ones.
That's where I'm goin' now.

D'you want to come?
They're showin' 'Street Sinners'.

I saw it in London, actually.
Thank you, Seth.
You'll enjoy it.

Women.

You'll be glad to know
my campaign for tidying up
Cold Comfort Farm...

is going rather well.

''I've already begun
to soften the dour Reuben,

and I think I've discovered
the real nature of Seth's
grand passion.''

Ahem. ''I've started
teaching the hired girl
the precautionary arts-- ''

Very good.
''All part of
my mission...

''to drag them
into the modern world,

''and I'm also getting
my bedroom curtains washed,

''but I still have to meet
Aunt Ada Doom,

''and I have no idea what
wrong was done to Papa.

Please send
this month's Vogue.''

From the stubborn interwoven
strata of his unconscious,

thought seeped up
into his dim...

conscious,

not as an integral part
of that consciousness,

but rather as
an impalpable emanation...

from the unsleeping life
of the nature that
surrounded him.

The golden orb--

The golden orb--

Oh, dear.

Amos!

Where you going?
Preachin'.
At Beershorn.

At the Church
of the Quiverin' Brethren.

They'll all burn in hell,
and someone's gotta
tell them so.

May I come with you?
Think you'll escape from
the fires of hell...

if you come along with me
and bow down and quiver?

'Tis too late, young lady.
You'll burn with the rest.

Well, I should like
to see it, even so.

Why are they called
''Quivering Brethren''?

Why? Because
they quiver when they
prepare for torment.

Do you prepare
your sermons beforehand
or does it just come?

Word is never prepared.
It falls on me mind
like manna from heaven.

Really?
How interesting.

Then you have no idea what
you're going to say before
you get there?

Aye. I always know
it'll be summat
about burnin'.

And does anyone else preach,
or are you the only one?

Only me.

Deborah Checkbottom,
she tried onceways to get up
and preach, but she couldn't.

The Lord weren't in her.

Whate'er shall we do
O Lord

When Gabriel blows
o'er sea and river

Fen and desert
mount and ford

The earth will burn
but we will quiver

Whatever shall we do
O Lord

When crops do fail
and blossoms wither

God's great wrath
be not ignored

The earth may fail
but we will quiver

Amen

Ye miserable,
crawlin'worms.

Are ye here again then?
Aye.

Have ye come like Nimshi,
son of Rehoboam,

secretly out of
your doomed houses,

to hear what's
comin' to ye?

Aye.
Have ye come,
old and young,

sick and well,
matrons and virgins--

if there be any virgins
amongst you, which
is not likely,

the world being
in the wicked state
that it is.

Aye.
Have ye come to
hear me tell ye...

of the great crimson,
licking fames
of hell fire?

Aye!
Aye!

You've come,
dozens of ye,

like rats to the granary,
like field mice when
there's harvest home.

And what good
will it do ye?

You're all damned!

Damned!

Do you ever stop
to think what
that word means?

No-o-o-o.
No,you don't.
It means...

endless, horrifying torment.

It means your poor, sinful
bodies stretched out
on red-hot gridirons...

in the nethermost
fiery pit of hell...

and those demons
mocking ye while they
waves cooling jellies...

in front of ye.

You know what it's like
when you burn your hand...

takin' a cake
out of the oven...

or lighting one of them
Godless cigarettes?

And it stings with
a fearful pain. Aye?

And you run to clap
a bit of butter on it
to take the pain away, aye?

Aye.
Well, I'll tell ye.

- There'll be no
butter in hell!
- No!

And your body will be
burnin'and stingin'
with that terrible pain!

And your blackened tongue
will be stickin' out of
your mouth,

and your parched lips
will be cryin'out for--

Cakes and an orange
with sugar on it.
Thank you.

Ah, Miss Poste!
May I join you?

Mr. Mybug.
I suppose so.
Meyerburg.

I'll have what
she's having, please.
Very well, sir.

I do love eating
with a spoon, don't you?

Now, Miss Poste, perhaps
you can help me on a matter
that's been troubling me.

Do you believe
that women have souls?

I'm afraid I'm not
very interested.
Quite.

I do so agree.
Bodies matter so much more
than souls, don't you think?

Or are you, alas, like so many
young Englishwomen, a prisoner
of outdated inhibitions?

Do you know what
D.H. Lawrence said?
I do, actually, yes.

He said there must always be
a dark, dumb, bitter
belly tension...

between the living man
and the living woman.

Mr. Mybug, do tell me about
the book you're writing.
Ah.

Excuse me, sir.
Well--
Thank you.

Thank you, sir.
I intend to prove...

that Branwell Bronte
wrote Wuthering Heights...

and 'Jane Eyre' and
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.

A work of fiction,
is it?

Yes, well, that's enough
about me. Tell me, Miss Poste,
do you care about walking?

What about it?
I thought we might take
some nature walks together,

go on discussing
art and literature like this.

But I'd better warn you.
I'm pretty susceptible.

Well, then, perhaps we
should postpone the walks
until the weather's finer.

It would be too bad
if your book was held up
because you'd caught a cold.

I'm talking about sex,
Miss Poste! Yes. You see,
I believe in utter frankness...

about sexual things.

Aye, ye fornicators.
Fornicators!

No, I assure you, Miss Poste
and I are just old friends.

- We met in London.
- Oh, aye, the devil's city.

The stinkin' pit of whoredom.
Come on, young lady.

It's back to Cold Comfort
for you!

Ye'll fritter and fry.
Ye didn't even stay
to hear the Lord's Word.

I was overwhelmed, Cousin.
You're such a powerful preacher.

Aye, the Word
burns in me mouth,

and I must blow it
on the whole world
like fames.

You ought to do it
more widely, Cousin Amos.
What do ye mean?

You shouldn't waste it
on a few miserable sinners
in Beershorn.

You could go round the country
in a Ford van preaching
on market days.

'Twould be exalting meself
and puffin' meself up...

if I went around
in one of they vans.

Thinkin' of my glory
'stead of the Lord's.

You could save
thousands of souls.
That's how I'd look at it...

if I were going
round the country
in a Ford van.

What kind of Ford van?

Has she been askin' about
me, Robert Poste's child?
What does she want?

She's been here more than
a week. She keeps askin'
to see you, Mother.

Couldn't you come down
just once and talk to her?

You know I never come down
except for the countin',
not after what happened to me.

She's Robert Poste's child.
She has her rights.

Saw something nasty
in the woodshed.

I never spoke of it,
not even to Mama.

But I've always remembered it
every day of my life.
It's made me the way I am.

Yes, Mother.
It's the farm
she wants, isn't it?

She's your sister's
grandchild. She's owed--
She's owed nothin:

She should never have come here.
She's playin' her wiles
on all of you.

I've watched her.
Reuben, Seth, now Amos.

I'm not havin' it, girl.
There've always been
Starkadders...

at Cold Comfort Farm.
At Cold Comfort Farm. Yes,
Mother, don't upset yourself.

Starkadders!
Always were,
always will be.

Tell her, girl. Tell her!
Hear what I said?
Starkadders!

Adam, you're not using that
nice dish mop I bought you
for the clettering.

Nay. I'd never put that
pretty in gurt-greasy
washing-up water.

I mun do that
with thorn twigs.
They'll serve.

'Tis prettier
than apple bloom,
my little mop.

Is something wrong, Adam?

'Tis my little wennit.
What's the matter
with her?

She's always peerin' through
the windows up Howchiker Hall...

to get a sight of that young
chuck-stubbard Master Richard.

Dick Hawk-Monitor?
Arr!
Blast him...

for a setup yearlin'
of a womanizer.

Oh, I hear
he's nice enough.

You knows the ways
of gentry.

Him the young squire
and her just a little
wennit out of nature.

Indeed I do know
the ways of gentry.

I'm sure he means no harm.

The problem is, Elfine's
not quite the sort gentry marry.

'Tis what I mean.
Leave it to me, Adam.
I'll talk to her.

Poor little wennit.

Sister Sun
and Brother Wind,

dancin' through
the woodland trees,

this little ode
to you I sing...

and whisper it
upon the breeze.

Really, Elfine, don't you
think you sometimes
overdo it a bit?

Overdo what?
This will-o'- the-wisp thing.

Who encouraged you
to be like that?

Miss Ashford from
the Arts and Crafts Shop
in Beershorn.

She was so kind to me.
She taught me such a lot:

how to dress,
how to speak beautifully.

And she had
such lovely things.

And she made you
read poetry.
Mmm.

Write it, too, probably.
Yes. I'm going to publish
a volume when I'm 50.

Oh. And that's why
you have to be alone on
the hillsides, is it?

Yes. It's where I can be
with my poetry and my dreams.

Anyway, I can't stand
the farm another minute.
Why not?

Urk, of course.
He's horrible.

He's always in the tree
outside my window,
spying on me.

Mmm.
Grandma Doom says I'm promised
to marry him when I'm 18.

Oh, no! Why?
Because he's
a Starkadder.

And there have always
been Starkadders at
Cold Comfort Farm.

But there's someone else,
isn't there?

How did you know?
There always is.

Dick Hawk-Monitor
at the Hall? Yes?

Are you engaged
to him?
Engaged? No.

No, it's--
It's too binding.

Mmm.
Don't you think it's horrible
to bind someone down?

I see. So he doesn't
want to marry you.

Oh, I think he does
sometimes,

but he's got this London
cousin called Pamela.

It's his 21st birthday
party next month. They're
bound to get engaged then.

Next month?
Well, then,
it's quite simple.

You must go to this party
and win him over.

I can't go to the party.
Grandma Doom doesn't let us
accept invitations.

Only to funerals and
the churchin' of women.

Look! There he is!
Isn't he fine?

Yes. He should
suit you very nicely.

Would you like me
to help you?

Reuben.
Miss Poste.

Goin' to church again
with the old devil?
No.

I was advising Cousin Amos
to address his sermons
to a wider audience.

Wants to frighten the birds
off the trees, does he?

Think about it, Reuben.
If he were away preaching,

someone else would need
to take charge of the farm.

And so I'll have to one day,
when the old devil dies.

But he talks of
leaving it to Adam.

Wouldn't it be better if
whoever took charge got
a real grip on things...

so when Cousin Amos came
back, he could see it ought
to be left to that person?

Oh, I get it.
Meaning you.

No, Reuben, I've told you
before, I don't want the farm.
Meanin'who, then?

Meaning you, Reuben.

Who, me?
Aye, thee.

Ah, 'tis impossible.

Aunt Ada'll
never let him go.

If anyone talks o' leavin',
she has an attack.

She's ill.
How does it show?

Oh, has to know
everythin' as goes on.

Has to see the milk book,
chicken book, cow book.

We keeps back the books,
she has an attack.

We ask for pocket money,
she has an attack.

Anyone wants to wed,
she has an attack.

Anyone want to leave
Cold Comfort--

She ain't like
other people's grandmothers.

She's mad, and that's all.

I see. Well,just because
Aunt Ada is mad,

that's no reason why you
shouldn't persuade Amos
to go on his preaching tour.

Dang me if it don't.

Aunt Ada, isn't it
time we talked?

I saw something nasty.
Saw something nasty!

Aunt Ada!
Something nasty
in the woodshed.

Go away, girl!

How long have you been
in there, Aunt Ada?

Ever since myJudith
married Amos.

Isn't it lonely?
Lonely?

I saw something nasty
in the woodshed.
Did you? What?

I don't remember anymore.
I was little.

Something terrible!

And it was in the woodshed?
Are you sure?

Course I'm sure.

Or maybe the potting shed.
Or the bicycle shed.

Or the tool shed.

All these years,
getting five good meals a day,

running the farm,
ruling the roost,
everyone doing...

exactly as you say
and sacrificing their lives
to yours?

That's not bad, is it,
just for seeing something nasty
in the woodshed?

Everything depends on me.

Does it?

The bull's out.

Big Business?
Is that bad?

That's terrible.
Someone'll get hurt.
Urk, get the bull fork.

Adam, come on!
Bull's out!
Where's Seth?

Dang Seth!
Come on!
All right!

Somethin' to do
with you, isn't it?
Why me, Urk?

I know you're tryin'
to take Elfine away from me.
She's mine.

She were promised me
the day she was born.
You heed what I say.

Urk!
When the water-voles
mate this summer, she be mine.

Better hurry, Urk.
The bull's out.

Come on!

No, boy!
Come on, boy!

Elfine!

Whoa.

Voila.
No, no. Low here?

Oh, that's lovely.
Yes, that's it.

You happy, darling?
Yes, I think that's sweet.

Right here.

Round neck,
I think.

Yes, I think a small train.
And then somewhere here,

we're needing a bit
of uplift, I think.

Here we have a prime example
of Ecole de Paris painting.
He's also very keen...

on the whole calligraphic
effect of his painting,
the very linear quality of it.

Always with his work,
you find--

Flora, what
do you think?
No, please, look at this.

Higher Common Sense.
Very good. Very clever.

Especially
the introduction.

That's for you.
Oh, thank you.

I think she's charming.
Wait 'til
we've finished.

Do you like
your new dress, Elfine?
Oh, it's heavenly.

It's white satin,
straight lines.
Better than poetry?

Do explain to her
about poetry, Mary.

Do I gather that you
love poetry and think
that if you talk about it...

to a young man like
Dick Hawk-Monitor,
he'll be pleased?

- Everybody loves poetry.
- Most decent young
men are totally alarmed...

when they hear that
a girl reads it,
let alone writes it.

Tell her, Charles.
Dick Hawk - Monitor's
a perfectly nice chap.

- You know him?
- Of course. And his mother.
Rather well, actually.

But poetry and Dick--

No, quite frankly.
In fact, when
poetry's combined...

with ill-groomed hair
and eccentric dress,
it's generally fatal.

You're very lucky, Elfine.
He must have seen
your finer points.

I shall write it
secretly then.
Quite right.

It's bad to be dewy-eyed
among smart people, but you can
always secretly despise them.

You see, Elfine, we tell you
these things so you'll have
some standards inside yourself,

now you're going to meet
a new kind of life.

Everything arranged, Charles?
Absolutely.

What's arranged?
Never mind.

Charles is going to help.
I said I might.

Who's this man Mybug?

Oh,just a strange
Lawrentian person who
says he's in love with me.

Jealous, Charles?

Good.
Enjoying yourself,
Elfine?

Oh, it's going to be
such fun.
No, it's going to be...

''amusing'' or ''diverting,''
not ''such fun,'' darling.

Hi there, Flora Poste.

Mr. Neck! Hello!
Back on one of your
London trips?

Yeah, I few
into the Savoy
this morning.

This is Earl P. Neck,
the Hollywood movie czar.
We met at the Paris Film Club.

My friend
Mary Smiling.

Mary!
Elfine.

Elfine!

Charles.
Charles.

Won't you join us?
Thank you, thank you.

Tell me, Mr. Neck,

what exactly
does a czar do?

What do I do?

Imagine the night sky.
What do you see?

- Clouds?
- You see stars.

And what you see up there,
I spot down here.

I take ordinary people,
and I turn 'em into asteroids.

Flora does the same.
This is her latest.

Oh, she's wonderful!
And so are you, Miss Poste.
You care to rumba?

Smythe-Forsythes.
h - huh.

Smith-Jones,
Clyde-Forresters.

Miss Gertrude Forster.
Oh, those unfortunate
Field-Morrisons.

Oh. Oh!
Oh, and I've invited
Pamela's parents.

Just in case there's
a double celebration.
Mother!

Oh, Flora, I feel sick.
You can't feel sick.
Everything's arranged.

Is Urk out the way?
Saw him down
Ticklepenny Corner,

talkin' to
the water-voles.

I say, this is all
awfully Gothic, isn't it?

You do look extremely nice,
Flora. The dress is charming.

And as for your protege,
she's quite beautiful.
Don't chatter, Charles.

Just drive quietly off.

Oh. Oh, I say.

Roger! How lovely to see you.

Oh, my dear,
what a beautiful dress!
Have a lovely time.

James!
How lovely to see you.
Hello,Jane. How are you?

Have fun. Charles!
All the way from London.

You didn't travel up with
Pamela, by any chance.
Afraid not, Mrs. Hawk-Monitor.

May I introduce
Flora Poste? She's
staying locally, actually.

Oh, what a shame, Miss Poste.
We haven't seen anything of you.
Where are you staying?

I'm just staying a few miles
up the road with relatives.
It's my first evening out.

Oh. Well, have
a lovely evening.
Thanks very much.

All right, thank you.
Good evening.
Who's that?

Elfine.
You look incredible.

Is it working?
I should say so.

I must go downstairs.
Oh, Mother.

You're mistaken.
'Tis not the first of May
nor the seventeenth of October.

You bide here.
I tell you
I must go downstairs.

I must have you all round me.
I must have all the Starkadders
round me.

To see if anyone's missing.
Nobody's missing,
Mother.

Get me my liberty bodice, girl.
And the elastic-sided boots.

I hope you're not feeling
neglected, Seth.
No, I aren't.

London girls.
Them told me I was
absolutely body - thrillin:

So you are, Seth.
They're all the same.

Only want your blood,
your breath, the very
heart of your thoughts.

I ain't got no time for that.
What have you got
time for, Seth?

Movies. There was
a dance just like this
in 'Criminal Lusts'.

Shall we
try it then?

Miss Poste.
Miss Poste!

I love you!
Miss Poste!

You do enjoy yourself,
don't you?

I try to bring people round
to the higher common sense.

Oh, I shouldn't let you
do that to me.
Think of all the good I do.

Elfine's the belle
of the ball. Dick has
the girl he wants.

Seth's enjoying himself
teasing all the London
debutantes.

And you're having
a lovely time with me.

Take your disgusting
bourgeois hands off me!

Miss Poste! Miss Poste!
Tell them who I am!

- He's Mr. Mybug,
a famous writer.
- I'm sorry, miss.

This is a private party.
Come on, sir.
Miss Poste! Miss Poste!

I'm engorgingly
in love with you!

I can't help feeling
a bit sorry for him.

Never mind. We're all
purified by suffering.

He's so obnoxious. I haven't
the heart to tell him that's
why I won't let him kiss me.

He thinks I'm inhibited.
I'm not, of course.
I'm not obnoxious.

No, Charles.
Exactly.
Speech! Speech!

Speech!

Ladies and gentlemen,
friends,

Lord Lieutenant,

I'm really glad you
could all come to my 21st.

Mama hasn't thrown a bash
for me like this since I was
wearing a christening dress.

- Anyway, this has been
a particularly fine evening.
- Hear, hear!

No, I mean for me.

Because, well, I've
something to tell you all.

Miss Elfine Starkadder and I
have just become engaged.

- Elfine?
-

For they are
jolly good fellows

For they are
jolly good fellows

For they are
jolly good fellows

And so say all of us

And so say all of us
And so say all of us

For they are
jolly good fellows

For they are
jolly good fellows

For they are
jolly good fellows

And so say all of us

It was wonderful,
Flora! The happiest
night of my life!

Yes, a brilliant evening, Flora.
Congratulations, Elfine.

Just better hope
Grandma don't
stop it now, eh?

I thought you told me
they'd all be in bed.

It's Grandma.
She's come downstairs.

I reckon she's
holding a countin'.
What counting?

We a rum lot, us Starkadders.
Some of us goes barmy.

Some of us dies in childhood.
Some of us pushes others
down wells.

So once a year, Grandma
holds a little gatherin'...
called the countin'.

She must be doin'it
early for some reason.

Charles, thank you.

Come back
to London with me.
No, Charles.

It's not finished yet.

I say, Flora.

When am I going
to get a look in?

'Twas a burnin'noonday
69 year ago,

and me no bigger
than a titty wren.

And I saw something nasty...

in the woodshed.
In the woodshed.

You're all wicked
and cruel. I know
you all want to go away...

and leave me
with what I saw.

But there've always
been Starkadders...

at Cold Comfort Farm.
At Cold Comfort Farm.

And you'll never go,
none of you.

Well, well, the gang's
all here, isn't it?

I don't suppose
there are any sandwiches.

Who's that there then?
It's Robert
Poste's child.

Come and meet
your Aunt Ada Doom.

How do you do,
Aunt Ada?

Look who's come
to see you, Mother.
It's Flora Poste.

I saw something nasty
in the woodshed.

There've always been Starkadders
at Cold Comfort Farm.
At Cold Comfort Farm.

You'll stay here,
all of you.

Amos and Judith,
Seth and Reuben,
Urk and Elfine.

- And Rennet.
- Who's Rennet?

The one who looks as if she just
jumped in the well. She's a kind
of third cousin, we think.

It's time to hold
the countin'.

Where's my Seth?

Here I be.
Ah.

- I'll never leave you, Grandma.
- Aye,you're my mommet,
my pippet.

The Lord sees
your lascivious glances.

But how grand he is
tonight. And Elfine.

Dressed up like
a proper little lady.

What's all this?
What you been doin', boy?
Tell your granny.

He's been to a dance
at the Hawk-Monitors.
So have I.

So has Elfine.
And what's more, Aunt Ada,

Elfine and Richard Hawk-Monitor
are engaged to be married
a month from now.

- No! My little water-vole!
My little water-vole!
- Hey! Hey! Hey!

She b'ain't worth it.
She b'ain't worth nothin'.
I'll go mad!

Elfine was promised to Urk
when she was born.

Amos,you're the man
here. Tell them
what their duty is.

I've got somethin'
to say, Mother.

I been wrestlin'
and prayin' and
broodin' over it,

and I know the Lord's
truth at last.

I mun go abroad
in one of they Ford vans,

preachin' all over
the countryside.

Aye, like
the apostles of old.

I've heard my call,
and I mun follow it.

No,you don't!
No one can leave me!

I shall go mad and die alone
in the woodshed with nasty
things pressin' on me!

She'll go mad!
You strike and torment me
all you want.

I hear the glad voices
of the angels callin' me...

over the ploughed fields,

and the little seedlings
is clapping their hands
in prayer.

'Tis good-bye to ye all.

I've broken your chains
at last, Mother,

with the help of the angels
and the Lord's Word.

Where's me hat?

No, Amos!
What shall become of us?

The Lord will provide.

Or not, according
to His whim.

I'll send you a card
from where I'm going.

I shall go mad, Amos.
I promise you.

I'm sorry, Mother.
The Lord's will.

We're doomed!

Urk, Elfine's yours.
Promised the day
she was born.

You take her
back, boy.

Urk, she just
b'ain't worth it.
No, she b'ain't.

'Ave me instead.
Don't you have him, ducky,
'less you feels like it.

I can always
make him wash a bit,
if I feels like it.

Urk!
Come on,
me beauty.

- Dirt as ye are, we'll sink
into the mire together.
- Urk, wait. Don't you go too.

I shall go mad, I tell you.

I expect there'll be another
little Beetle soon, now
the sukebind's fowerin'.

Amos gone,
Urk gone.

I'm all alone.
All alone in the woodshed.

And who took them away?

It was you,
wasn't it?

You chit!
You scheming brat!

It was you,
Robert Poste's child!

You poured poison
into their ears!

Come on.
Sit down.
Come on.

They're all gone,

and I saw something nasty
in the woodshed.

Don't worry, Grandma.
I'm still here.

You'll break our hearts,
too, you Libertine.
I know it.

Come along, Miss Poste.
'Tis time you were in bed.

Thank you, Reuben.
You're an utter lamb.

Ah, you got the old devil
out o' the way.

Farm'll be mine now,
won't it?

I don't forget,
Miss Poste.
Yes, of course, Reuben.

Good night.

Mr. Neck!
Mr. Neck!

Mr. Neck!

Is the, uh,
House of Usher open?
May I come in?

Mr. Neck,
how wonderful to see you.
I'll come down.

Well, Mr. Neck,
Mary said in her last letter...

that you were still looking
for English film stars.

Sure am, but I don't want
sissies. Sissies give me
a pain in the neck.

They're starting to give
the goddamn American public
a pain in the neck too.

Believe me, it's
red meat time in movies.

Well, there's plenty of red meat
at Cold Comfort Farm.

You mean someone
like TeckJones?
Yeah. Teck's a good kid.

He can ride all right,
but he's got no body urge.

I want a man
to fetch the women.

Some big, husky guy that
smells of the great outdoors.

A guy who can live and love
and still handle a plough.

You mean
like Slake Fountain?

Sure, but it takes 20 guys
to pull a bottle off him
before he gets on set.

That's it!
Hold it there.
Who are you, son?

Oh, Seth, there you are.
This is my cousin
Seth Starkadder.

He's very interested
in the talkies.
Mr. Neck is a film producer.

Seth... Starkadder!
Hit 'em right
with it, eh?

So you're a fan,
sweetheart?

You and me should
get acquainted, huh?

Maybe you've thought of
being in the movies yourself.
What if I have?

He's got the fesh.
He's got the burr
in his voice.

And he can plow
and mollock.

I got the what?
You just got
the big offer, son.

How would you like
to be in the movies,
Seth Starkadder?

I'd like it more than
anything else in the world.

Ain't that dandy!
He wants to be a movie star,
and I wanna make him one!

Seth, no!
You can't leave your mother!

You mustn't go!
Oh, I knew it!

I knew it would come to this!
Got to go, Mother.

It's what I were
always made for.

God, he's terrific!

Gee, ma'am, I know it's raw,
I know it's tough,
but that's life, sweetheart.

Go on, get your coat, boy.
Time to be off!

We take the Transatlantic
Clipper in the morning.

You can't do this to me.
You can't leave your mother.

There's a spring
onion harvest!

'Tis man's work!
Oh, Seth, no!

I'm a dead woman!

I'd take her, too,
but she's gloomy.

Look, Mama, he'll be fine.
I got the perfect part.

Seth Starkadder
in 'Small Town Cowboy'.

He'll send you five grand
from the movie, and you'll
be mama to a star.

Good-bye, Mr. Neck. I'm sure
we'll meet again in London.
I look forward to it.

And thanks for the boy.
He's quite a find.

Mother! Mother!
Come on down!

Mother, he's
taking my Seth!

No!
Oh, Seth!

Oh, Mercy!
It's Great - Aunt Ada.

Seth!
You'd better hurry and go.

Don't leave me!
No! I forbid it!

I saw something nasty
in the woodshed.

- Sure, you did,
but did it see you, baby?

Come on, Seth!
Hollywood's waiting.

Oh, Seth.

Seth, you can't leave us!

You mustn't go!
Good - bye, Mother.

Oh, Seth!

Seth!

Seth! Seth!

I'm a dead woman.

Drive a plough

Or milk a cow

Oh, I can reap and mow

I'm as fresh as a daisy

That grows in the field

And they calls I

Buttercup Joe

Yeah, well,

place looks a lot better,
eh, Miss Poste?

Much better, Reuben.
I knew you were the one
to take charge.

Yeah. Should please
the old devil when he
comes back, eh?

I don't think
he is coming back.
I had a card today.

''Praise the Lord.
I go to spread the Word
among the heathen Americans...

''with the Reverend
Elderberry Shiftglass
of Chicago.

Tell Reuben he
can have the old place.
Amos Starkadder.''

Have the place?
What, it's mine?

One day.
When the old lady--

Oh, Cousin Flora, 'twere
a good day when ye came
to Cold Comfort.

Here,

I don't suppose
you'd marry me?

Oh, Reuben,
that is nice of you.

Oh, I mean it, Miss Poste.
I like your pretty ways.

I like yours, too,
but I'm afraid it
would never do.

I'm not at all
the sort of person to make
a good farmer's wife.

And there's enough marriage
just now with Elfine's
wedding coming up.

She all right up at the Hall?
She loves it,
and they love her.

They ought to have
the wedding feast
here at Cold Comfort,

now you've made it
so nice.

You'll have to ask
Aunt Ada.

Yes, I suppose I will.
But you wouldn't mind?

Oh, no, not at all. No.

That were a no,
by the way, were it?

Yes, it were no.
You'll find someone.

What about Rennet?
Oh!

No one in their right mind
would marry Rennet.

But I'll find someone.

Aunt Ada?
I've brought your lunch.
May I come in?

Who's there?
It's Flora,
Robert Poste's child.

I don't know if there's
enough money for--
Yeah!

Oh, dang me!

What's going on?
No supper?

I didn't like to make
supper, Master Reuben.

Miss Poste went to see
the old lady at noon
and hasn't come back down.

They been talkin'
all day.

Maybe I ought to take up
some sandwiches and cocoa.
No, no, Mrs. Beetle.

Better let 'em be.
Miss Poste knows
what she's doin'.

Something terrible'll
come of it.

What's happened?
Is she all right,
the old lady?

She's absolutely fine.
I've just put her to bed.

What?

How's that, Miss Poste?
Pretty, isn't it?
Lovely, Urk.

Could you fetch the men?
I want to set up the tables
for the feast--

one for the farmers,
one for the county.

Oh! Give us
your toes.

That's it. Whew!

Ah!

Come on, Rennet,
stir that dough!

Don't want 'em eating
their wedding breakfast a week
after the nuptials, do we?

Who would've thought it?
My little wennet.

The seed to the fower,
the fower to the fruit,
the fruit to the belly.

Urk, Grandma Doom's chair,
could you find it and put it
out for me?

She only uses that
for the countin'.
Just find it, please.

Rennet, here's a hat
for you to wear to the church.

Oh, Cousin Flora,
do you mind?

I ain't used to
them collars.
No, of course, Reuben.

Sit down.

Hello!

Rest in peace,
husband mine.

Your loving wife
won't be far behind.

Here lies
my darling George.

Whatever shall I do without you
come the harvest?

Cousin Judith, I'd like you
to meet Dr. Adolf Mudel
from Vienna.

Leave me to me fate,
Robert Poste's child.

It's a very great
pleasure to meet you,
Mrs. Starkadder.

I have heard
something of you
from Fraulein Poste.

You must leave me be.
I'm a dead woman.

Now she's safely
gathered in, delivered
from this life of sin.

Yes. Well,
never mind that now.

Pouring with rain when
your father and I got married.
I must go in.

Yes.
Good luck.

Hello.

Freddie, I wanted
to speak to you about
those cathedral--

It is.
Thank goodness.

Yesterday--
Hey!

Miss Poste!

What a marvelous day
for a wedding!

Dr. Mudel,
this is Mr. Mybug.
Uh, Mybug.

Dr. Mudel, yes.
I know you by reputation,
of course.

We've never actually met.
I did attend one of
your lectures once.

Um, ''The Mind
At War With Itself.''
Ah, so.

Weren't you there, too,
Miss Poste?
Yes, indeed, Mr. Mybug.

Dr. Mudel, could I ask you
to accompany Cousin Judith
into the church?

It will be my pleasure.

Tell me, do you like
old churches?

Ah!
Mr. Mybug, would
you excuse me?

I've spotted someone
I simply must talk to.

Flowers!

Stop it!

Reuben!
Do hurry up, Elfine.

They're all waiting.
Oh, you look gorgeous.

Flora, do I look nice?

Don't be nervous.

Reuben, mind me dress.

My little wennet.

Adam!

Oh!

Oh, absolutely
fascinating.

How kind.
I don't usually.

I must say you're
looking splendid,
Mrs. Beetle.

Oh, Vicar, thank you!

Tell me, my dear,

you can settle a question
that's been puzzling me.

Do you believe
that women have souls?

A wedding present
for ye, maidy.

A gift for my own
wild marsh tigget.

Oh, Adam,
how sweet of you.

Oh. Oh.

Put it in thy bosom.
It'll make ye bear
four children.

That it will.
You'll see.

I must thank you,
Miss Poste.

Dr. Mudel has asked me
to stay with him at
his nursing home in London.

He says I can stay with him
for six months and talk to him,
play some chess if I like.

It's my energy, you see.
It turns in instead of out.

He's going to
turn it out for me.

Grandmama?

Aye, 'tis her!
All dressed up to go out.

'Tis flying against nature.

- Look at her!
Well, I never. Granny!

She must've seen
some'at nasty
in the woodshed.

Welcome to
Cold Comfort Farm.

- There's always been Starkadders
at Cold Comfort Farm.
- Aye!

But it's been
some time since we've
had a wedding here.

I must admit that Elfine's
wedding has not turned out
quite as I'd planned,

but I've never seen her
looking lovelier
or more radiant.

So--

So I give it my blessing.

My great-niece Flora
has told me something very wise.

What a pleasant life--

How'd you put it, dear?

What a pleasant life
might be had in this world...

by a handsome, sensible
old lady of good fortune,

blessed with a sound
constitution and a firm will.

Jane Austen. Jane Austen.
Aye!

So I'm taking her advice...

and leaving for Paris
in a few moments.

Paris?

Oh, good-bye, dear.

God bless you, mum.
Thank you very much. Thank you.

Now, remember,
when you get to Nice,
ask for the Hotel Miramar.

I will, my dear.
I shall do exactly
as you advised.

You won't find me
plucking my eyebrows,
nor dieting.

Nor doting on
a boy of 25.

There is just one thing,
Aunt Ada, before you go.

What was the wrong
Amos did my father?
And what are my rights?

Well--
Yes, my dear?
Aunt Ada.

Adam wants to come to
Hautecouture Hall with us
and look after our cows.

Do you mind?

Who will care for
Feckless, Aimless,
Graceless and Pointless?

Adam, you wouldn't
desert them?

Never, ma'am.
Take 'em with me.

There's room for all
at ''Howchiker'' Hall.

Well, you may take 'em
if you want to, Adam.

Bless ye, Miss Starkadder.
You'me a good 'un after all.

And bless ye,
Robert Poste's child.

You'me lifted the doom
from Cold Comfort.

- Three cheers for Aunt Ada!
Hip-hip!
- Hooray!

Hip-hip!
Hooray!

Hip - hip!
Hooray!

It was the loveliest time of
the loveliest day of the year.

The ermine fowers
and silky leaves...

and... satin leaves...

dazzled against an azure sky.

The gauze - like shadows
crept in...

stealthily.

The dreaming birds
began their sleep song.

Oh.

Golden orb.

The golden orb--

The golden orb--

Oh, Charles, you do have
heavenly teeth.

Come on!

Here, clap that.

This is forever,
isn't it?
Oh, yes, forever.

Now, is it all over,
my darling?
Yes, Charles.

I did it all.
Very clever.
What about the novel?

To be perfectly honest,

I don't really think
I'm cut out to be a novelist.

You know, I never did
approve of you interfering
in other people's lives.

So I shan't be allowed
to interfere in yours?
No!

Of course, you can share it,
Flora. In fact,
I very much hope you will.

Charles, I love you!
What?

I love you!

Good-bye!

Flora!

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