All language subtitles for Taboo - 1x03 - Episode 3.en

He bought some land
and he bought a wife.

Nootka was my mother's tribe.

This small piece of land will be
incredibly valuable to the Americans.

Sell this land for a reasonable price.

Nootka Sound is not for sale.

I have something of
great value to your nation,

something the British
are trying to kill me for.

Someone has been brought
to London to try and kill me,

and I will need your eyes
and ears from now on.

You used to straighten your skirts

and march away like nothing
had ever happened.

And what exactly is it
that my father owed you?

All that is due from
a husband to a wife.

This widow will
have sole claim on Nootka

in the event of Delaney's death--

an event which may be imminent.

sync and corrections by othelo
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Over there, a body.

Try her pockets.

It's a man.

The fishes ate his heart out.

Maybe the fishes, maybe not.

The silver tooth is mine.

Who has a blade for the dentistry?

Relax, Mr. Delaney.

You're in safe hands.
Your devil saved you.

I had you followed.

My agent said that he saw
some unspeakable acts.

I had to give him the day off.

Your man's in the river.

The British want you dead.

We want you alive though.
That's something, huh?

You take pain like a stone.

Is that something you picked
up in Africa, maybe?

How many more are left?

I gave your name to our friend.

He said something about a piece
of land up there in the Pacific.

He said that you've been swaggering
all around town with it in your hat

like a peacock feather.

Well, you don't appear
to be swaggering now.

I need to speak to Carlsbad himself.

I need him to take a message
to Thomas Jefferson

and the President of the United States.

In Ponta Delgada, Colonnade told me

that he would find me an emissary
to Thomas Jefferson.

So just tell me what
you want to say to Carlsbad,

and I'll stitch you
up and set you loose.

No?

Interesting knife
they used to carve you up.

Is that Chinese, you think?

Or Malay?

When you came in here with bits of
a man's flesh between your teeth...

we kind of had a silent deal.

I stitch you up and you
give me information.

Tell me what you want
in return for Nootka.

What's your price?

I don't have a price.

So what do you want?

Tea.

- Tea?
- You tell Carlsbad that I want tea.

Carlsbad said, "You know,

Delaney might just be crazy
enough to take us all on--

the King, the Company
and the free fifteen."

Huh?

Maybe she was right.

Well, you tell Carlsbad...

from me...

that I will cede sovereignty of
Nootka Sound to whichever nation

offers me their monopoly...

on the trade of furs for tea

from Fort George to Canton.

A monopoly.

That's what I want.

All the tea in China.

You should have
said that from the start.

Could have saved yourself
a lot of pain.

And you just said...

"she"...

didn't you, when you said Carlsbad?

So now I know I'm looking for a lady.

Big berry, popping balls.

And spitting fire, what, and
she will glide over Lake Ontario

and blow kisses across
the temporary border

until they learn to toast
the King once more.

- Your highness.
- Ah, Coop.

Your highness, I have people
within the East India Company.

Oh, no, no, no.

I'm in too fine a mood
to discuss the East India.

James Delaney, a private individual,

has recently inherited
a piece of land--

Nootka Sound.

Now, this piece of land
naturally affords the possibility

of a direct trade route with China.

If you care to look more closely,

you will see that the piece
of land in question

lies along the line of our disputed
border with the Americans.

- Oh...
- No, no, no, God's work. Good fortune.

If the land lies on the border,
it is an issue for the Crown.

An issue of war.

- And who is this man? Is he loyal?
- Erm, well, we think not.

A republican?

An adventurer of very poor repute.

Stories of madness, savagery,

theft and worse.

Then, Mr. Coop...

he is a man that you will be
able to do business with.

You slept in a bird's nest.

We need a carpenter.

Yeah, the door gets stiff in winter.

Shave it and it'll
be loose in the summer.

- Oh...
- Dear God.

We have business at
the river, you and I,

but first I need to put
a fresh dressing on this.

- Give me brandy and bandages.
- Who did this?

A Malay with a knife and then
an American with his needles.

Brandy and bandages, man.

- They'll try again.
- Who, for God's sake?

So, when the carpenter comes,

tell him I want all
the windows boarded up

and that river hatch,
I want that closed too.

So... we are besieged.

I suppose I can use the same carpenter

to board up the windows
that your father used

when he was under siege

and he can put the same old
nails in the same old holes.

You can sit there with the same
old gun cocked on your lap.

And when you sit there with that
same look of defiance on your face,

I will ask you the
same old question--

for what do you risk your life?

Can you loosen up these bindings
so that I may move?

Get up. Come on.

Up. Up!

Bill, what are you doing?

- Here, take this.
- Yes, boss.

No reason we can't laugh at each
other just cos we're now partners.

I didn't say that you were my partner.

The word along the Wapping Wall

is you cut up an assassin
and ate his giblets.

Did you bring me my guns?

Don't trust the snake.

10-bore Richardson Man Stoppers.

Same power as a musket but you
can hold one in each hand.

Good. Better, better.

- All right.
- So if we ain't partners, what are we?

Well, I'm a merchant,
you're my victualler.

You can also be my ferryman.
I can't use the roads...

not for now at least.

You see the heathen?

He's my brother-in-law.

He says the best bit of
a man to eat is this.

It's tender.

Did you bring me salt beef?

- Pork.
- No.

- Fresh from a sloop from somewhere cold.
- No pork.

- Short notice.
- We don't eat pig!

All right, all right.

The stuff he's brought
has been on the dock for ages.

Yes, probably, but I trust him,
so please pay him. Thank you.

Who are you?

French Bill.

Argh!

- You all right?
- No.

Look, may I suggest Tilbury
while you heal?

No, I'm not leaving London.

- Atticus, talk sense to him.
- No, I'm not leaving London.

- Go home. What's that?
- A boat.

- I know it's a boat. Does it float?
- Yeah, yeah, of course.

- How many will it take?
- Us. Where are we going?

Lincoln's Inn.

- Lincoln's Inn.
- What the hell for?

There is a hand-written note
on my desk in the attic.

I need you to deliver it to the
secretary of His Majesty the King.

Hand deliver it.

Today, Brace!

- There's a Mr. James Delaney, Sir.
- Oh, God.

He's with some men with guns
and apparently a cannibal, Sir.

Tell him I'm dead.

He says he wants to make a will.

Fuck off.

Sir, I have news.

I said, "Fuck off!"

News of James Delaney, Sir.

Come.

Oh, my God!

The whipped hounds
with their apologies.

The assassin we sent
to kill Delaney is...

dead.

Delaney lives, Sir.

That's not news, Mr. Pettifer. I
was aware of that by first light.

This, however, is news.

Delivered by hand from
Thoyt an hour ago.

Read it.

"This is the last will and
testament of me, James...

"In the event of my death, all of
my possessions and landholdings

will be bequeathed..."

In severalty and in perpetuity

to the sovereign nation of the
United States of America.

So, now we know, the savage
boy is cunning too.

And when peace comes
and this border is drawn,

it will not be by soldiers

but by more fucking lawyers...

hundreds of them, from both sides.

And every scratch and claim staked

will be cited as legal precedent.

And not only can we not resolve
this disaster by killing Delaney,

it is now in our urgent interest
to keep the bastard alive.

Get four nails and a wooden board

and a man called Solomon Coop
into this room by tomorrow at noon.

Can you manage that?

By midday, Mr. Pettifer.

I do what I can with the rotten
dock trash Atticus brings,

so the least you can do
is sit before you refuse it.

And if that sickly youth on the
doorstep is there to protect you

from East India assassins,

know that by 2:00 AM he's easily
distracted by whores.

Well, you needn't worry about
the East India Company.

No need to worry about the Crown...

any longer.

For now I'm only in danger
from the Americans

but I reasoned that they are the
lesser of the three adversaries,

wouldn't you agree?

I've been searching every
fucking room in this house

but not the cellar,
so I must beat the tide.

I must beat the tide.

Hello?

Winter, what are you doing here?

This is where I come
to sleep sometimes.

You sleep here?

I saw you.

I saw you do for the Malay.

And like a wolf you tore out his heart,

and then threw him into the river.

Splash.

And down he floats...

directly into Winter's arms.

So I cut out your spoils.

Take it.

It's for you.

Teach me about magic.

I want to be a wolf, too,

or a bird so I can fly.

The bird on your neck...

I know what
it is--

the Sankofa.

Now, you go home to Helga...

because you are not safe here.

Your eggs and coffee
are getting cold, Sir.

When was my mother last in this room?

When she was sick.

Sick?

For the purpose of restraint?

No.

For her own protection.

What's that?

That mark.

Did she make it?

What mark?

In the later days she did things...

no-one understood.

In the later days,

when she wasn't allowed
to walk the streets,

nor show her face in public,

nor speak in English,

nor her savage tongue
because she was a mad woman.

- James.
- No.

Explain this.

I have the very same mark on me...

from when I was
taken prisoner in Africa.

What is it?

You tell me.

You don't speak but
you do have answers.

You do.

And you will give me answers.

It's unconsecrated ground.

It's for heathens, pagans...

and those damned by suicide.

They're clearing Bedlam out now.

Won't be anyone left here before long.

Mr. Solomon Coop, Sir,

private secretary to
His Majesty King George.

Thank you, Godfrey.

Unless we find common cause.

Well, none of the
King's causes are "common"

and at the moment one only
has to say "the Company"

with a certain degree of disgust
to get his undivided attention.

Forget India.

Tell him to put India to one side.

The King will not move on India.

The Regent does what you
and your coven say.

You seriously underestimate him.

I underestimated Delaney.

Look at this.

He's written a will.

- You knew?
- You have 104 spies in London...

and we have 202.

So who the hell do you have
in Thoyt's chambers?

They're all mine.

Don't spoil the bloody game, Stuart.

I just know everything.
Always assume I just know.

Then you know we have a problem

that cannot be solved
with a musket or a knife.

You have a problem,
the King really does not.

I received a letter
from Delaney this morning.

I suppose you would
call it a pincer movement.

He says he's happy for
the Nootka trading post,

the smoke house and the tanning factory

to be incorporated into the
territory of the British Crown,

but only if we give him
a monopoly on the trade

in smoked sea otter pelts from...

Vancouver coast to Canton.

Canton?

Curiously, the word "tea"
does not appear in the letter.

So you'll write back to him
and tell him to go to hell.

Well, perhaps,
before I write to Delaney,

we should speak about India.

You'll allow this savage to determine
our American policy?

Our American policy
is simple--

restitution of all lands
taken by force.

West of Michigan,

the line of the border
will be determined by lawyers,

which means almost certainly
that Delaney can give us Vancouver.

And, in return, you would
sell out the East India?

Settle your dispute with the King
regarding Bombay and we can talk.

It all seems rather neat
and terribly simple to me.

You do realise this whole
business is about revenge.

And why would James Delaney
hate the India so?

What the hell did you
do to him, Stuart?

Always assume I just know.

Then know this.

Delaney will as easily sell
Nootka to the Americans

if they offer him the same monopoly.

Now, there, the King and the Company

may be able to find our common cause.

My spies tell me there is a widow.

My Lady, I am so sore to have
to bring you this news.

The death of my father was not
the work of fate but of one man!

The cursed dwarf Frenchman
with a bullet head!

Napoleon!

...that shames the hearts
of a weary nation.

- Their heads cut away...
- Fuck the French!

Fuck Napoleon!

The natural rulers thrown
like carcasses into the Seine.

And out in the streets...

there are still those that say
that only a beast can tame a beast.

And that to avenge the death of the
good people, like my dear father,

we must find our own monster
and call him Napoleon!

God save the King!

♪ God save our gracious King ♪

♪ Long live our noble... ♪

Begging pardon, Sir,
the show is almost done.

Should any girl in the chorus
have taken your eye, Sir,

they're sixpence each for one hour.

Any girls who spoke are a half crown.

There are boys in the
chorus too, Sir, if you prefer.

The unfortunate lady
whose father was...

somehow killed by Napoleon.

- What of her?
- Her name is Lorna Bow.

Yes, well, I'm afraid Miss
Bow is unavailable.

Always or tonight?

Always, Sir, on account of her
being a fussy, stuck up bitch, Sir.

I am here on behalf of
His Majesty the King.

Give it to Miss Bow

and only Miss Bow...

on pain of execution.

You bad, bad man.

- Keep doing that.
- Tickle, tickle!

♪ I gave it to a bonnie lad ♪

♪ A bonnie lad, a bonnie lad ♪

♪ I gave it to a bonnie lad ♪

♪ For just as good again ♪

♪ How can I keep my maidenhead...? ♪

Spoken for, Sir.

♪ How can I keep my maidenhead ♪

♪ Among so many men? ♪

Dear, God.

♪ The boring out, the riving out ♪

♪ But, oh, the double driving out ♪

♪ Oh, for the Lord again... ♪

Spoken for, Sir.

You haven't changed a bit, Godders.

Ah, I need to speak to you.

Your secret won't remain a secret for
very long in the East India Company.

- Blackmail?
- Yes.

But between friends,
so where's the harm?

Now, you take the minutes,
don't you, of every meeting

and you also hear everything
they say when they raise their hand?

I want that information.

I will pay you for it.

I'll pay you a pound every month.

How did you know about me?

Because I have eyes and ears
everywhere throughout the city

in many places, much like
the Company itself.

I honestly mean you no harm, Godders.

- If I were caught...
- What?

If I were caught passing
company secrets to a Delaney...

You're not going to get caught
because I will protect you.

You know, at the seminary,
I was in love with you.

Of course you do.

Of course.

And there was I thinking that
we were just brothers in arms.

Didn't we share a bed sometimes
in the great hall?

It was torture.

Exquisite.

Mm.

So you can trust me...

and I will protect you.

Your work starts now.

Oh, God.

How fair is the split between
the East India and the King?

I'm a little drunk for business.

Have they found common cause
or are they still divided?

Talk to me, for fuck sake.

Dear, Sister...

I am restoring our father's offices,

I have registered the
Delaney Trading Company

with Lloyds of London
and I will ready my ship

so that when the time is right
and the Company has fallen,

we can leave.

I am accruing a band of loyal servants,

none of whom have any value to me

beyond the facilitation
of this greater good.

When I left England, I was just a boy.

Now I am back, much has changed.

Your leaving England was the click
of the hypnotist's fingers.

I woke from a trance and realised
the depth of our sin.

I have found forgiveness
in God and in my husband,

and I want no part in your
plans or your future.

But we are the future.

Your husband is already passed

and you can see that by the
way that he follows you.

You should let him go, poor soul.

You torture him.

There is enough treachery
already surrounding us

that there is no need
for us to add to it.

The arrival of letters at this
address does not go unnoticed.

My husband is harsh and is
a Christian. I welcome it.

I deserve it.

Your husband is also a fool.

He cannot see all that you are.

I have sailed to places
where there is no damnation.

We used to talk to each other
without words in dark corners.

Your curiosity and hunger for
all that is possible out there

could never be tethered
by base religious morality,

ship insurance and new china.

Please understand that from this
moment I will burn your letters

without opening them.

Then I will visit you
in your dreams, my love.

Please. I'm your sister.

Let all else lie.

There is a woman here to
see you and I swear the only way

I could have stopped her would have
been to use the pistol you gave me

and don't think I would be loathe
to use it because she's mad

- and she claims she is my mistress.
- Your mistress?

She says she owns this house.

Right.

I have engaged the services
of the best lawyer in London.

Is that your lawyer?

My lawyer assures me that,
as Horace Delaney's widow,

by natural law of the land,
this house is therefore half mine.

- It's a copy.
- It's now kindling.

My servant wants to shoot
you in the face.

Your servant is also now half mine.

So did I just burn advice
or did I burn speculation?

You actually burnt a letter of intent.

Oh! And what do you intend to do...

with my house?

Firstly to change those awful boards.

- Miss Bow...
- Mrs. Delaney!

Miss Bow, do you know why there are
boards on the windows of this house?

So the fortunate people outside

can't see inside of the state
of this place, I imagine.

No, because there are wicked men
out there who would wish me dead.

However, neither the East India
or the King will kill you

because of your will.

The only people who would benefit
from your death are the Americans,

but you're already in negotiations
with the Americans,

so surely once the boards
have gone we could put curtains up.

You seem to know such a lot for
somebody who knows so very little.

You should know that I
am a very dangerous man.

I was told that, too.

And who keeps
telling you all this shit?

I was told the details of your
situation by a representative

of his Majesty The King, George.

And indirectly it was the King
who financed the drawing up of

that very expensive piece
of paper, which you just burnt.

As a rule, the King's council
very rarely makes business

with an actress unless it's up
the back alley of Maiden Lane.

The piece of paper you just
burnt also states that,

as Horace Delaney's widow,

I also own half the trading
post at Nootka Sound

and I believe Nootka is of value to you

and to the King.

So, as you can see, it's a very
simple swap, Mr. Delaney.

Your half of the house
for my half of a piece of land

that I have no interest in or use for.

I also have a trunk full of
your father's belongings,

letters to you, to your
father from your mother.

Paintings of Nootka, drawings...

No! No!

Brace!

Brace!

Do I fetch the pistol?

No. Make this woman
a room up right now.

- I'd like a river view.
- Granted.

Go on now. Make her a fire in my
mother's old room immediately.

I hate to see these things caged up.

If you are in contact with the King

then you are already in grave danger.

You may stay here whilst
we work out our business.

Good evening, Miss Bow.

I was passing,

from Greenwich.

I have business.

Hm.

I see in the Gazette
you now have a ship.

Mm-hm.

At 7:00 AM every day
I read the Gazette.

My wife eats toast.

I look for newly purchased ships.

- I underwrite for Lloyds.
- Coffee?

No.

I'm willing to take care of
the insurance of your ship.

I can make sure the hull
is tarred properly--

they don't miss a layer
and pocket the change.

The salt and worms will get through
and you'll sink off Africa.

Ah, but my business is
not in Africa, it's out west.

That letter there is from my carpenter.

In my profession, we believe in luck.

In the business of ship insurance,
luck is the Goddess of Profit.

Your luck, Mr. Delaney, is poor.

Your record is poor.

You sink ships.

You're as good as a hole in the hull.

I did check the records.

You were aboard a ship
that sank off Africa.

A slave ship?

I believe that a man
is capable of change...

and I also believe that that
is of no consequence to you.

And whilst you're here,

this document will show you...

that my ship is already insured
by an insurance broker

by the name of Cope.

And, if you look very closely,

you will probably recognise
my handwriting.

I wonder, does the offer
of coffee still stand?

Mm.

You know...

it excites me,

the thought of it...

when I realise the woman beneath me...

is capable of what she did.

She can seem so cold,

at least, she used to.

Now I know the secret in her head.

And it makes me so hard...

and so angry.

Mm.

And she likes it.

Since you came back, our fucking
has become almost murderous.

It exhausts us.

To think I have this wicked...

wicked thing beneath me and it's
my lifelong duty to punish her.

It exhausts us both.

A beautiful exhaustion.

And in the morning I read the Gazette

and she eats her toast...

like a sweet little bird.

I didn't come to sell
you insurance, Mr. Delaney.

I came to thank you.

You summoned me.

I am here now. What do you want?

Shall we pray?

I used to think we were
the same person.

We are.

We're not.

Now...

I never want to see you again.

We will speak again.

No, we won't.

Oh, but we will.

- Madam.
- Mrs. Delaney.

Do you drink wine?

- Not before a performance.
- There'll be no performance tonight.

There will be a performance or there
will be a riot in Covent Garden.

Until the necessary arrangements
have been made,

I advise that you go
absolutely nowhere.

As of now, you are a weakness.

These fantasies elude me...

If you go outside,

they will find you and they
will find a use for you.

I am seldom used.

There is no "they" and there
will be a performance.

Are you armed?

Get me a carriage to
Drury Lane, would you?

You have to get that woman
out of this house

or I swear I will kill her
and her bloody canary.

Brace...

get two carriages.

I see that you're bleeding again.

I saw blood.

How?

Where? You searching the laundry?

It is equally my business.

It seems that jointly we are unable
to stop the moon from rising.

Could you fetch some oranges?
I would like some oranges.

Is it the goose or the gander
who has bad sauce?

Do you know we can't
even afford new china?

So that's your reason for not taking.

The dock boys I pay in pennies
have litters of children.

I just get blood.

My dearest Zilpha...

I apologise...

that I am not related to you.

But you could allow your cunt

to swallow the work of an honest man,

who will promise to
buy you the finest china...

if you just agree to
stop fucking bleeding.

- Oranges, madam.
- She doesn't want fucking oranges!

We all know what she wants.

How like you the young German,
the Duke of Saxony's nephew?

Very vilely in the morning
when he's sober

and most vilely in the afternoon
when he's drunk.

When he's best he's little
worse than a man,

and when he's worst he's little
better than a beast.

- Hurry up!
- Vestris!

Vestris!

Hey! Hey! If you're
here just for a wank,

pull your pudding and get it over with

and let the rest of
us enjoy Shakespeare!

You can't fetch up
until you bring Vestris!

Vestris!

Vestris! Vestris!
Vestris! Vestris! Vestris!

Hey! Hey!

Lorna Bow?

I am an admirer of your work.

Please, share my carriage.

Come, come.

If you could take me to Old
Street, I'll find a cab.

You looked to be fleeing from someone.

You were following me?

You have many suitors
among the rabble, I imagine,

and I, for the longest time,
have been one of them.

I am a lady of particular tastes.

An admirer from the darkness
and from on high.

Oh...

I'm sorry...

but you'll have to remain
in the darkness.

Why have we turned?

We were given your name.

The price was two sovereigns.

I'm not a courtesan.

But we are here and there
is a room with a bed and fire.

Now this gentleman is a Duke.

He asked for you particularly and
he was told by your theatre manager

you would comply.

He will pay to be in the room
with us while we play.

- Then you were given the wrong name.
- There she is.

Give her to me.

Very well.

Your manager sold me
the costume you wore

when you played The Little Princess.

You will wear it for me tonight.

There appears to have been
a misunderstanding.

Somebody has given you the wrong name.

I'm the fucking Duke of Richmond.

That bitch is dead.

That bitch is on the gallows...

before Mass!

Down there.

Perhaps now you will listen to me.

This diamond...

this is yours.

I have a man that will
take you to Paris

and you will stay there
until this business is done.

You are a weakness.

She's just come back.

She went straight up to bed.

I didn't light the fire in her room,
so she can dry in the draught.

How many people know that she's here?

Apart from me and the canary, no-one.

What's wrong?

Delivery boys, hmm?

Only Atticus delivers.

She's only ever taken one coach. Why?

Because tonight she stabbed
the Duke of Richmond.

For what reason?

Because that was their plan.

They knew that she was not a whore
and that she would fight back,

and now they have a
good reason to come for her.

And they will come.

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