All language subtitles for Mary.and.George.S01E02.720p.x265

The following program me
contains strong language,

and scenes of a sexual nature.

Lady Villiers, I'm sorry
about your husband's death.

And, I'm afraid, the
estate is bankrupt.

There's only one
option. Marry again?

Sir Thomas Compton? Afraid
so. You? Your next wife.

Where are we? France.

'Own your body.'

Have you found me a wife?
I think we aim higher.

So... are you ready
for His Majesty or not?

If we tread right,
George, he'll be yours.

Mine.

Ours.

May I help you, sir?

Make you happy and glad
all over for a shilling?

Wrong tree, bark...
and all that.

Fine, two shillings, then.
Why'd the price double?

Logistics.

Men want a quick pump and a
squirt in any old warm pit, but

women want the real thing,
done in no rush, as a matter.

Twice the care, twice the rate.

Market forces. Don't
blame me, I'm just

a powerless cog. Are
you a specialist?

Interested?

Why pay for a fruit
so easy to pluck,

whenever you like for free?

You're the one in a
fucking brothel, love.

I'm just here to meet someone.
Well, he can watch for his shilling.

He may need your
services, but I do not.

No, but I'd say you need something,
love. And what's that? My need?

I've seen enough
half-souls in my days.

Worn down by Mistress Time.

Those who never feel

full of heart, and.

I see you.

If I were you...

I would avoid the prunes.

Why suggest this
place, Sir David?

Because I don't
trust my servants.

Or yours. Or...
fucking anybody's.

And this is a locals'
venue. Are you certain?

Oh, no, that's my man Wearstrap.

Low, base fellow.

But he could wrestle a bear to
death. What's so secret to discuss?

His Majesty is at Newmarket
soon for the races.

And pretty boys always turn
up, trying to lure the King.

But only I know the route.

George will have an
open road to be seen.

That's your plan? Stand by the
road like a pretty piece of meat?

Somerset has had the
King basically locked up.

This is a rare excursion
and opportunity.

Let us avoid another
violent disaster.

The King took his side against
Somerset, as did the Queen.

The Queen detests Somerset,
so that was no surprise.

But the King not siding with
his lover? George got lucky.

Why does the Queen
hate Somerset?

Well, you met him. But the Queen
also hates me... and all men.

Especially those
the King... favours.

Maybe George's

girlish qualities appeal to her?

More prunes? Thanks.

Anyway... Newmarket.

Are you in? Or not?

Never on time is he, His Maj?

Bet you thought you
were being clever,

avoiding the crowds
on the High Street?

But, not the only
one with the idea

are ya, sweet?

No, we get all the
Peacock Petes here

when the King visits
for the gee-gees.

All hoping his eyes,
or lower, will wander.

I'm just here on business.

What's your business, sir?

Are you hammer or anvil?

Shovel or bucket? Or both?

I'm going to punch you
in both of your eyes.

I don't mind, I like it rough.

As long as we cuddle after. Mm.

Though, I can pay. A
bit. I'm not for hire.

You'd bend over for the King.
His body's no better than mine.

Well, he's the King.

And you are what, exactly?

Available.

The King already has
his honeypot slot.

Somerset.

Aim lower.

No.

Do you know how the
King and his boy met?

See, young Somerset
broke his leg at a joust.

The King took pity on
him. That was that.

Let me pity you, son.
I don't need your pity.

Once he sees me, he will bring
me into his court, I know it.

I'm not like them.

Your Majesty!
Well, we'll see, won't we, love?

Your Majesty! Your Majesty!

James! Your Majesty!

Oh!

Please, Master John?

Thank you, Miss Ashcattle.

Jenny. MARY: So?

So whoever told you the road was
clear, don't trust them again.

I've missed you, George.

Will you hunt with me?

Just us.

So what are we hunting?

John is not well.

Hasn't left his bed in days.

Is that Miss Ashcattle's hound?

I found him this morning.

A man's hands
choked him, I'd say.

And you think it was John?

Maybe it attacked him
first? Hm, possible.

But it was a docile thing,
for all its yapping.

If this body is found

and dug up by man or fox,
people will know it was John.

His wounds. His moods.
The servants talk.

Other houses talk.
It's a pet dog.

I don't think- We are on
the edge of something.

Who marries John if this is
known? Who marries John, anyway?

Sir Edward Coke,
the Chief Justice,

is looking for a
soft, delicate man

to wed his young daughter.

Soft?

Delicate? John is
both, in his heart.

Who does not have some
violence in theirs?

I thought our
focus was the King.

John needs a future too.

What happens to him
if I die, or you?

Why I wrote to Sir Edward

that he may visit.

Now, won't you
help your brother?

It will involve a lie.

And to lie well, you
must believe it too.

What lies have you told?

None, ever.

See?

Now shoot.

For John.

What's that, Master George?

As I was hunting

he came out of nowhere.

Before I knew it...

It was a

a terrible accident.

It was all my fault, really.

I know you loved him like a son.

I hope you can forgive me.

Adam's not fresh dead.

Wound's wrong.

Not enough blood, Master George.

I'm telling you the truth.

You can tell your little
story all over, son.

I'll tell no other.

But do not piss up my
back and tell me it rains.

Tell this to my Lady.

I'm too old.

And I've seen too much.

Any more news from your friend?

What next? I dive into the Thames,
hope the King jumps in after me?

No, none yet. He's the slow
sort. He can afford to be.

More pressing to us -
will John behave today?

I don't know.

He speaks so little. Well,
maybe that's for the best.

Leave Sir Edward to me.

Not like that. I know the sort.

Wants a young man
to look up to him.

Paternally, Mother.
Whatever works.

Is that her?

She looks so frail.

Ugh! Don't worry.

I'm sure Frances Coke is a
tough little blooming flower.

Her mother is, at least.

Lady Hatton, they call her.

Her first husband, Lord Hatton,
died and left her all his Estate.

She kept the dead man's
money. And his name.

How humiliating for Coke.

You two, stop your gossiping.

Sorry. Just excited
for dinner, Daddy.

Yes. It will be a glorious night of
wit, wisdom and absolute frolics.

A wonderful home.

I thank my husband for that.

A wonderful daughter, you have.

And you have your John. Mm.

He's quiet tonight. He
prefers to savour his food.

I like a man of reserve.

Too many loud, raucous
sorts, these days.

A curse of my generation.

Many feel the need to strut
around like a Peacock Pete.

Yes, the young have lost their
way. I won't comment on womenfolk.

They've always mystified me.

Oh, I'm sure.

Speaking of the, uh... feminine,
and not to reminisce, but

we had a golden age
under Elizabeth.

What was she like?

Perhaps it was her

celibacy? Her unspoilt heart.

Living only to rule, and.

I admit, I was more
in favour then,

in her Court, than
I am in the current.

Just because Elizabeth
never shared a bed,

or admitted to

why must she be touted as
some Magic-Hymened Saviour

of all mankind? But
she was our saviour.

Against the Spanish Armada.

Ireland's insurgents.
The French.

Any bloody filthy
Catholic, come to that.

And would've done that if she'd
eased on to the odd coil of flesh.

Coil of flesh?

Whatever nomenclature
you prefer.

I mean, is King James
really any worse?

Because his favourite pursuits
are to hunt and to fuck.

Uh... Perhaps we
change the subject?

There are young, unspoilt minds
and bodies here we must protect.

Aren't we here for the exact
opposite fucking purpose?

What do you mean?

The point of this dinner
is to consider sacrificing.

Frances's body and mind,
to a union with... him.

Clarify your position. I mean

how dare you pretend he
is good enough for her?

And you want my inheritance
to pay the dowry?

I-I would rather
strangle her dead.

Mother!

It would be a kindness. This
is why I never listen to him.

Does she mean me? Yes.

Thank goodness I don't
rely on his money to do

anything.

What an ever-closing
prison that would be.

Scrabbling for coins,

position, favour, like some, um

streetwalker!

Shall we go? I think
we shall. Come.

You haven't heard my son
speak. Oh, do I need to?

Been like it since
birth, hasn't he?

The cord around his
neck, inside you,

strangled any
sense from the lad.

And it isn't just him, is it?

A whole dark brood,
the lot of you.

Starting with her. What
sort of Lady is she?

I hear rumours -
nothing of the sort.

And I might just believe them.

And then there's the sodomite son
with the... with the gallows eyes,

who thinks his shaft and taint
the very centre of the Earth.

Those other fucking
two. Jesus Christ.

I mean, one might stab you
to death and eat the remains,

and the other would vapid and
bore you to an early death.

And then there's poor Sir Thomas,
who has no idea who is in his bed.

What did I get wrong?

Girl. With me, if you would.

Now.

Uh...

I cannot apologise enough.

No, you cannot... Sir Edward.

I need a drink.

Peacocks are my
friend, aren't they?

Yes.

Good friends.

Now finish your food, John.

Keep up your strength.

I didn't mean to... hurt him.

We were playing
and he got so loud.

I know.

We all get away from
ourselves sometimes.

All of us.

How is he?

What does 'gallows eyes' mean?

Don't waste another second's
thought on that hateful cunt.

How will the King
ever see me again?

Hm

A better question

how do you stand out in
a very cluttered field?

If he saw me dance,
he'd remember.

Perhaps we should
take a trip together.

To London.

Move things along.

We need be less like the hound,

and more like sweet John.

Let us seize what
should be fucking ours.

She's back. Change your mind?

Mm... no, not yet. Well,
you know where I am.

And if you don't like it
here, I've got my own place.

Not to brag, but I do. Mm.

A fine specimen
there. Well done.

Who's that? A local artisan.

I ordered house prunes.

Dig in. He cannot digest them.

I hate them.

Is this... a brothel?

He's quick, isn't
he? He's catching up.

And why bring him
today? I am here.

Younger men rule nations,
empires. Our Majesty did.

And George learns
more every day.

It's more us. We need
better use his gifts.

I hear that. But how?

Get me a moment with the Queen.

I told you, she hates me.
How do I... The Queen?

She hates Somerset more.

She may hate you, but let her
hold her nose as you explain

that this is the chance to replace
Somerset in the King's bed.

And risk death when Somerset
finds out? You are mad and wild.

Oh, possibly. But I've
lived a sane, tame life

waiting for change,
and it does not come.

Unless you grab
opportunity by the hand,

and never let go.

Your Majesty.

The private scheduling
conversation we discussed?

Now might be the time.

Your Majesty, I am honoured
to be in your presence.

Do you know how many
compliments I receive

on a full average day? Enough?

Nervous? Sufficiently so, yes.

Your late husband was of a
noble house of long standing.

But what of yours?

The Beaumonts... I know less.

A good family of a long line.

So George's blood is pure?

There have been others
suggested to eclipse Somerset.

But can you control
him, your George?

He is subject to my rule.

Is he a worthy knight?

Yes.

Good.

And how would this work?

I imagine you have
given that some thought.

I might have.

'George need be centre stage

'where he cannot be unseen.'

Ooh!

'After, find somewhere private

'for His Majesty to meet my boy.

'Perhaps with the excuse to
see your young Prince Charles.

'Pretend he's sick and
wants his father's care?'

What's the matter?
He's not feeling well.

'Somewhere Somerset
will not care to follow.

'Let your husband see my George

'to be knighted.'

I think it's time for a new
member in your bedchamber.

Kneel.

Rise...

Sir George.

'And from that close position

'give the King
whatever he wants.

'Of course, Somerset
will resist.'

Out! All of you!

'But if I've taught
him anything'

'George knows how to endure.'

'And what will
you do during all this?'

'With everything
in motion, I will

'busy myself somehow.'

You were followed, love.

Are you certain? I... I thought.

Already bringing trouble
to my door. Should I go?

Well, you're here now.

And if we let every strange
wandering man ruin our day...

Have you ever been
with a girl a girl before?

Bodies are just bodies.

That's more than two shillings.

I expect more.

There's only so
much that buys you.

In here, in this
room... who's in charge?

You are.

Mm.

Out!

You are like the plague.

Or an unwanted
morning stiffness.

Always there, however
much you bash it away.

He wouldn't have dared
ennoble you if I'd been there.

But you weren't.

Pity.

And where is the King?

Readying for today's hunt.

Hunting excites him more than

anything.

Even more than you?

No.

Tell me, are you a hunter?

Mm-hm. Mm.

Well, know this

the stags are in rut out there.

Liable to attack

rather than flee.

So do be careful

today, on the hunt.

Not only plagues and
passions end our days.

How long have you
lived in England?

Never ask me anything
like that again.

My past is mine.

Instead, you should
address your present.

Speaking of which, he's
still out there, that man.

Pretending to be
idle, but he's not.

Who are you?

I'm a simple wife and mother.

I'm trying to advance my son.

With the King. In his household.

Fuck. Yes.

Well, if he wanted
you dead or beaten,

he would have done
it last night.

No, he wants something else.

Information.

Secrets.

I'd imagine you have a few.

So, if I were you...

I would clean house before he burns
it all to the dirty fucking ground.

I was told to clean my house.

Looks like you need
do the same, no?

Who did this?

A paragon of evil appeared.

Told me I must tell
him all I know of you.

I... refused.

After...

I was more compliant, and I...

Go on.

In my fear and pain

told him what you had burnt.

Its contents. Its significance.

So he had me write out
a signed statement.

Is anyone else too
full of anticipation to dine?

I often consume
more when I'm enthused...

Your Majesty.

Consume too much and your
horse might throw you off,

as too great a load.

Well, younger men can eat
more without becoming bloated.

Do you not find that, my
Lord, the older you get?

Woah!

Sit down. No malice
was sought or.

Am I a topic of amusement to
you? Every last one of you?

No, you are the most serious thing
in the entire history of the world.

To me and all here. In aeternum.

Tell me, can you hunt
as well as you dance?

Oh, you speak French?

I tried to teach the
Earl of Somerset once,

but he's much more
stone than sponge.

Well... I love to hunt.

Some mock me for it, I know.

Say I should spend more time in
London at the business of state.

But what is a more
natural state than this?

It is Eden.

But be a careful, Adam.

We lost a boy recently.

Fell from his steed. Tragedy.

There! MAN: Gee-up! Ya!

Stag's likely to double
back, we must hem him in.

Ya! Ya!

Ooh!

Giddy up!

Circle him! Circle
him! Give him here!

He's not going
anywhere.

He pushed you?

No. It was my own fault.

Poor riding.

Are you protecting
his honour or yours?

Or perhaps mine?

Some say gallantry and all human
dignity died under my reign.

They whisper it,

but I hear them.

You're living proof
that they lie.

Mm.

Since when do we go
back for fallen riders?

Do you really want to lecture us
today on morality and protocol?

He fell of his own fucking- He
says just the same. But enough.

He's in pain.

It is his time.

Uh-uh.

Now, this

is wintergreen.

It's a herb

to reduce the swelling.

It's costly to
use quite so much,

but the King told me,
'Spare no expense.' So...

I am lucky.

Yes, well, don't get too cosy.

Did you hear about the
servant boy who died?

Someone sabotaged his saddle

after the King and
he rode together.

And that 'someone'

has men everywhere.

Who is yours, the girl?

My Wearstrap.

And what is this... venue?

A, uh... bolthole,
so to speak, sir.

Prunes, boys?

Go on.

Make them feel comfortable,
these... good men.

Here you go. Right.

Um... Shouldn't we be drinking?

To celebrate your boy and his

successful hunt?

Yes. Let's go for a drink.

Discuss our future together.

Somerset is furious, losing
the first round of a fight.

George realised the King
was tired of fighting.

Wanted what he first
had with Somerset

a young lover to pity, an
injured bird to tend to.

The battle isn't over.

Somerset still shares
the King's bed.

However we can help
George from here, we must.

However... However?

From here on, let
us guide George.

You've done your
bit, now let us.

Why?

As you may know,
Wearstrap has been busy.

Helped us discover your
poor, dead drunk of a husband

took a shine to you when you
were some lowly girl in service.

And, profligate as he was,
paid for papers to be forged,

proving you a Beaumont and of
good birth, when you are neither.

You are no Lady.

You're barely a woman, really.

Either of you.

You have evidence?

I do.

And it's safe, somewhere
you will never find it.

Don't care to try.

I am at your mercy, then? Ah.

And George? Uh...

And the King? (COUGHS,

Oh.

Feeling thirsty? What's
she talking about?

You should avoid prunes
in a brothel, apparently.

They drug them.

Just enough to make it easier
to part men from their money.

But it's fairly
simple to up the dose.

If you know a sailor or three.
You... perfidious harlot.

I have powerful friends.

Agh!

Take me. Bury me.

I want to forget who I am.

I am nothing but your subject.

Did you ever see a
man perish before?

'I have.'

'It's never pretty, is it?'

No.

Something I want to
protect my son from.

'The true
barbarism of the world.'

Scars ♪

♪ Cauterise your youth

♪ Here's an uncomfortable truth

♪ If I wanna get on

♪ Then make the past gone

♪ Whispers said

♪ I'm friends with the dead

♪ There's a light

♪ But I want to be sad

♪ I just want to be sad

♪ Bless your little scars ♪

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