All language subtitles for Rumpole s02e05 L.eng

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(Girl) "'How camest thou hither,
tell me and wherefore?

'The orchard walls are high
and hard to climb'

"And the place death,
considering who thou art,

"If any of my kinsmen find thee here."

(Man) "With love's light wings
did I o'er-perch these walls

"For stony limits cannot hold love out

"And what love can do,
that dares love attempt.

"Therefore thy kinsmen
are no stop to me."

"If they do see thee
they will murder thee."

"Alack there lies more peril
in thine eye

"Than twenty of their swords

"Look thou but sweet
And I am proof against their enmity."

"I would not for the world
they saw thee here."

"I have night's cloak to hide me
from their eyes

"And but thou love me,
let them find me here.

"My life were better ended by their hate

"Than death prorogued
wanting of thy love."

Mowersby, come and pick it up.

Come on.

Just because you've got
a tin ear, Charles Mowersby,

and your sole ambition is to end
your days as a chartered accountant,

don't spoil life for everyone here
who may care just a little for poetry.

And love. Now, go on, back
to your place. And put your tie in.

(Class laughs)

OK, Francesca... I mean, Juliet.

"By whose direction
found'st thou out this place?"

(Headmaster) "By love, that first
did prompt me to enquire.

"He lent me counsel
and I lent him eyes.

"I am no pilot, yet, wert thou as far

"As that vast shove?"
What's this?

"As that vast shore washed
with the farthest sea,

"I should adventure
for such merchandise."

You, Ransom, were writing
this slush?

It's not slush, Headmaster,
it's Shakespeare.

You were writing these
amorous ravings to a girl who,

according to your form register,
is exactly 15 years and 11 months old.

11 months and 25 days.
You see, it's her birthday next week.

(Headmaster) Francesca Clapstick.

Capstick, sir. Her friends call her Frank.

We're doing "Romeo and Juliet"
for O Level,

so naturally I sent her that quotation.

"...and since our night
at the Festival Hall

"and the cannelloni
and Orvieto at Luigi's,

"I realise I love you spiritually
and physically

"more than anyone
I've ever loved before."

- Is that a quotation from Shakespeare?
- No, Headmaster.

- It's a quotation from me.
- I rather thought it was.

- You see, I've got all your letters.
- Yes. I wonder who gave them to you.

- What does that passage mean?
- It means we went to the Festival Hall

where we heard a Vivaldi concert,

and afterwards we went to Luigi's
in Covent Garden

where we had cannelloni
and a bottle of Orvieto.

- Anything else?
- Anything else? Oh, yes. Yes.

Francesca had a large cassata ice,
I had a black coffee and a Strega.

We didn't go to bed together!

We'll have to see what Miss Clapstick
says about that.

I'm sure she'll say the same.

She might even tell you
that her name's Capstick, sir.

I'm glad you reminded me of that.

I shall have to send a full report
on this case to the proper authorities.

- Has it become a case?
- That, Ransom, will rather depend

on what Francesca tells me.

Yes... Yes, of course.

Right.

(Rumpole) "'Ah, me!
For aught that I could ever read

"'Could ever hear by tale or history

"'The course of true love
never did run smooth.

"'But either it was different in blood

"'Or if there were a sympathetic choice

"'War, death or sickness
did lay siege to it.

"'Making it momentary as a sound

"'As swift as a shadow,
short as any dream."'

- (Guthrie) Rumpole!
- Ah!

- (Guthrie) You're an early bird.
- You too, Head Of Chambers.

(Guthrie) I couldn't face Marigold
at breakfast.

(Rumpole) Ah.

Quite frankly, she's on about it again.

On about what?

- On about divorce.
- Oh.

You, see, I told her about that...

well, that little fling I had with
the temp from the Clerk's Room.

It never ceases to astonish me why
people make confession statements.

I just couldn't face the stink
of a divorce.

A divorce plays hell with your chance
of getting your bottom on the bench.

- Is that where you want to get it?
- It's not me so much, it's Marigold.

Marigold fancies being a judge?

She says she'll divorce me unless I am.

- Oh.
- There's something I want to ask.

- Yes.
- That judge we're before today...

- Oh, the dreaded Vosper, you mean?
- Yes.

Do you think he has any sort
of say in judicial appointments?

- I wouldn't put it past him.
- That's what I thought,

so I'm playing golf
with Mr Justice Vosper on Saturday

and Keith from the Lord Chancellor's.

- My friend, you are desperate!
- Absolutely desperate!

Well, you'll have to excuse me.
I've got an early con.

- Unlawful carnal knowledge.
- Isn't that rather distasteful?

Well, what's marriage?
Lawful carnal knowledge?

Yes, I suppose that's the difference.

(Door shuts)

(Rumpole) "I wonder by my troth
what thou and I

"Did till we loved.
Were we not weaned till then?"

What are you talking about?
You're always babbling.

The course of true love.
You should know about that.

- Is it?
- Well, you are engaged to be married

to the Portia of these Chambers,
to our Miss Trant.

Don't you think that love has been
greatly overestimated by the poets?

- Sorry?
- Take Lord Byron as an instance.

Or Doctor John Donne. I mean,
they can't have been at it all the time,

can they, as they'd have us believe?

Rubbish. I'll bet Lord Byron, for example,
spent many an evening on his own

with a poached egg
and the "Times" crossword. Oh, dear!

The trouble with schoolmasters is they
have conferences early in the morning.

I only ask, Erskine-Brown,
for information.

Don't you think the power of love

has been exaggerated by contributors
to the "Oxford Book of English Verse"?

- Don't ask him!
- Oh, Miss Trant.

I doubt he has any opinions
on the subject.

Phylli, don't start again,
not in the Clerk's Room.

I may see you down at the Bailey later.

Oh, I'll be there later. I've got a robbery

against our Head Of Chambers,
Guthrie Featherstone.

- I hope to find time for breakfast.
- I may see you there, Horace.

I am sorry. I thought you were engaged.

We were. According to Phylli,
we aren't any longer.

- It's what I was always saying.
- What?

"The course of true love
never did run smooth."

I have your headmaster's statement.
This girl Francesca confessed to him.

He grilled her. She's only a child.

I don't think we'd better dwell on that
aspect of her character, Mr Ransom.

Apparently she confessed to him
that, quote,

"intimacy had taken place
between you..."

Intimacy. Well,
that's old Potter's word for it.

He's a mathematician. I suppose
that's why he can't speak English.

- No ear for the verse, is that it?
- Absolutely right, yes.

Well, apparently she told him
that "it" happened

at the house of a friend
of yours in Hampstead,

after you'd taken her
to a concert and a restaurant.

She says your friends
were away for the night.

The Singletons, yes.

- They were in France.
- (Rumpole) I see.

And on other occasions
in your Ford Capri

in a wood near St Albans,
the art room after a school dance...

- That's not true!
- (Rumpole) Isn't it?

It would have been impossible.
There's no lock on the art-room door.

- Were you looking for one, Mr Ransom?
- No!

Um, what do you mean?

If it is not true,

it is far safer to confine yourself
to an unembroidered denial.

Now, this occasion,
the house in Fitzjohns Avenue,

after the Vivaldi and the Orvieto,
did "it" happen there?

Mr Ransom has thought the matter over
and has decided to plead guilty.

Has he indeed? Why?

Well, she... she told the old boy
I did it, didn't she?

- It doesn't make you guilty.
- Doesn't it?

Fantasy! That's why she said that.
Pure fantasy.

I shall have to educate the judge,
who no doubt considers

the All England Law Reports
as the height of erotic fantasy.

I'll have to explain to him how strongly
poetry can affect a young girl's mind.

- How about the body?
- Better forget about the body.

Judges in this class of case don't
like to be reminded that the body exists.

This case, I shall say,

this case exists entirely
in a young girl's imagination,

over-stimulated by indulgence in the
love scenes from "Romeo and Juliet".

- Miss Fanny Chopstick...
- (Ransom) Capstick.

...whatever her name is,
reads that she is someone's mistress

and imagines herself to be precisely that.

- You'd have to cross-examine her?
- (Rumpole) Just gently,

to point out the vividness
of her imagination.

I'm sorry, but I just couldn't have her
put through that in court. I'm sorry.

May I remind you of the overcrowded
conditions in our penal institutions?

- Do you wish to add to that?
- Of course not.

(Rumpole) May I also remind you
of the unpopularity

with other inmates of people convicted
of offences against young girls.

It's so very easy to spill a cup of
boiling cocoa over someone's head.

- It's called cocoaing the SOs.
- What... what's an SO, Mr Rumpole?

A sexual offender, Mr Ransom.

(Grayson) My client does want
to keep out of prison.

(Rumpole) How unusual.

It wouldn't be prison, would it?
I mean, she was nearly 16.

- She is 16 now.
- Exactly.

Now is not the point. Whether
Mr Ransom goes to prison or not

depends on the judge concerned.

Could you give me an idea
of who that might be?

- (Grayson) Yes, I can tell you that.
- It's not Judge Bullingham?

Oh, no, no.
It'll be at our local Crown Court.

It will be His Honour Judge Frobisher.

George Frobisher? My old friend
Judge George Frobisher?

Mr Ransom, fate has spun the wheel
and handed you the jackpot!

Breakfast.

Thank you.

- Miss Trant! Ah, may I join you?
- Yes.

Dear me! You don't look
in the least well.

- Are you sickening for something?
- Yes, I'm afraid I am.

What can I get you? They do excellent
bacon and egg here with a fried slice.

No, thank you... I've just thrown
up in the loo at Blackfriars Station.

Oh, I'm sorry. Gastric flu.
Lot of it about.

As a matter of fact, I'm up the spout

and there's a lot of that about.

Miss Trant, you astonish me.

You're such a careful young lady,
always beautifully prepared in court.

Yes, well, I wasn't in court at the time,
and I wasn't prepared.

I don't know why
I should be telling you all this.

I suppose it's because, well, you've
brought me up in the law, haven't you?

You're a sort of father figure.

The, er... proposed offspring

does emanate from
Claude Erskine-Brown, I suppose?

Yes. I can't bring myself to tell him.
He'll want to marry me or something.

- You wouldn't like that?
- No.

Claude would want me to stay at home
and mix up the Ostermilk.

Look, I've got three new firms
of solicitors

and a three-months fraud
starting in Portsmouth.

Why would I want to get married?

I'm just getting a practice.

Lady barristers are so much keener
on being barristers than barristers are.

And I'm prosecuting you
next week, Rumpole.

Spot of unlawful carnal knowledge in
Hertfordshire. Before Judge Frobisher.

Ah, yes, dear old George.

And my dear Miss Trant,
my little schoolmaster's struck it lucky.

You don't think it's going
to take long, do you?

I mean, I don't want it to clash
with my super fraud in Portsmouth.

- Oh, I'd say about three weeks.
- What?

Well, of course, unless I can twist my
client's arm, get him to plead guilty.

- Is there any hope of that?
- Anything's possible.

But I wouldn't like him
to be sent to prison.

Yes.

(Sighs) I must be going.
I've got a bail application at ten o'clock.

Why should he get
sent to prison anyway?

She was almost 16. In my opinion,
the wretched girl asked for it.

- Nearly there, Guthrie.
- Mmm.

Got your final speech for
the prosecution ready, have you?

Well, I have a few words to say
about your ridiculous defence, Rumpole.

Of course, if you, er...

if you really want the High Court Bench,

I suppose we'll be seeing you starting
to do your cases in a different way.

- Rumpole?
- Yes?

What exactly do you mean?

Oh, come on, Guthrie,
you know exactly what I mean.

You'll stop trying so hard to win.

Yes, you'll probably be adopting the...
well, the judicial attitude, will you?

Will I? Oh, yes, of course!

- (Usher) Be upstanding in Court.
- The judicial attitude.

Er, yes, Mr Featherstone.

Um...

Of course... members of the Jury,
as prosecuting counsel,

I... adopt an attitude which is fair

and, I hope, judicial.

The prosecution has to prove its case,

otherwise the defence
is entitled to succeed.

So, er... if you think the accused

did win the money in his bank account
at the races,

even if he has forgotten the name
of the horse, or the track concerned,

then you must acquit him.

If you think he... he was taking those...
various... animal masks

to a party at Dr Barnado's homes, or...

or if you think... as he says,

he needed those heavy tools to...

put up his do-it-yourself shelving

to accommodate his
Encyclopaedia Britannica,

then the prosecution
will not have proved its case.

And the defendant,
Higgins, is entitled to be acquitted.

(Guthrie) Er...

(Low murmurs around the court)

(Guthrie) In... in all things

we must be... judicial,

totally fair and keep a balanced view.
We must judge all things fairly.

What's up with him, Mr Rumpole?
Is he ill or something?

No. He's just suffering from
the terrible consequences of love.

Oh, nice! Nice.

"And his dark secret"...blank...

"doth thy life destroy." Four letters.

(Mutters) Good Lord! Love. I'll give you
another clue. There's a lot of it about.

- There's a lot of what about, Rumpole?
- Love. L-O-V-E.

- Love!
- Mmm.

Oh, that's right. That fits.
Love, oh, four letters. Thank you.

Yes, apparently Miss Trant, the Portia
of our Chambers, is expecting offspring.

She told you that, Rumpole?
Whatever for?

I suppose to explain why she didn't
fancy two eggs and a fried slice.

I suppose that man
Claude Erskine-Brown is responsible.

I imagine so. The poor infant's probably
in the womb at this very moment

boning up on the law
of landlord and tenant.

They'll expect it
to get a place in Chambers.

Are they getting married at any time?
Or will she be too busy with the baby?

And Marigold wants Featherstone
to be a judge.

She threatens divorce
unless he gets a red dressing gown.

Marigold Featherstone has had
a great deal to put up with.

I think that love has been greatly
over-estimated by the poets.

If all the time that I've devoted to
the passion of love was put end to end,

I doubt it would fill up
a single summer holiday.

I doubt very much
if it would, Rumpole.

I was rather smitten by that girl I was
engaged to when I was at Oxford.

So you told me.

The engagement had to be broken off
by reason of a sudden death.

- And speaking of love...
- Were we?

Of course. I'm doing an unlawful carnal
knowledge in Hertfordshire tomorrow.

Before old George Frobisher, who,
as you know, is now a circuit judge.

- George Frobisher?
- Mmm.

You'll be able to twist him
round your little finger, won't you?

(Rumpole) My dear old friend! My dear
old friend Judge George Frobisher.

Very good to see you. I must say,

I've looked forward
to the day I had you before me.

I'm sure you have, George. But I won't
be before you today for very long.

- Oh, really?
- No, I've, er...

I've had a word with my friend,
the prosecution.

You remember Miss Trant?

Indeed. Glad to have you
before me, too.

I'm sure it'll be a pleasure, Judge.

- We've put our heads together.
- Have you?

I've come to no sort of view
at all, of course.

I find it better in this job
not to come to any view

until one has heard all the evidence.

- Yes.
- Miss Trant, would you...

(Phyllida) Thank you.

Well, George,
how's the job treating you?

Life is very Ionely nowadays,
I must say that it is.

Bring you in a decent lunch
though, do they?

Sandwiches. The usher
brings me in sandwiches.

It's usually cheese with tomato

but, for some reason or other
on Fridays, he brings me sardine.

Probably got a Catholic usher there.

Catholic, do you think? Do you know,
that hadn't occurred to me, Rumpole.

Bring you in decent plonk
from the off-licence?

There is a machine in the outer hall

that expels a warm sweet liquid
into a plastic cup

and I'm never sure whether my usher

has pushed the button marked "tea",
"cocoa", "coffee", or "oxtail soup".

Oh, George! Your working conditions
are positively squalid!

Oh, no, not squalid. Not squalid really,
just extremely Ionely.

But then I...

I led a Ionely life in my evenings at
the diggings at the Royal Borough Hotel.

But I had the companionship of you
fellows in Chambers during the day.

And a friendly glass of plonk in
Pommeroys after a hard day's work.

Oh, yes, indeed. I must say
I look back on those evenings with...

well, with considerable nostalgia.

But you say you're not going
to be here for long?

(Rumpole) No, George, not long.
(Frobisher) What a pity.

Well, as far as I'm concerned, yes.
But, er... for my client...

- Rumpole says it's going to be a plea.
- Really? That's not like you, Rumpole.

He always taught me
never to plead guilty.

I didn't say it would be a plea,
George. I said it might be.

- (Frobisher) Mm-hm.
- Look, this silly old client of mine...

- The schoolmaster?
- Yes.

Of course, he was in loco parentis.

Oh, don't let's get bogged down
in the Latin.

Let's start from some sort of reality.

My client doesn't want this young girl
put through the considerable ordeal

of being cross-examined by me,
which I'd say is very decent of him.

I'd have thought should earn him
a considerably lower tariff.

- Would you?
- When you bear in mind

she started the whole thing.
On her own evidence!

- Did she?
- (Phyllida) Yes, that is perfectly clear.

The prosecution will go so far
as to say she led the man on.

The very first letter,
you will see from the depositions,

was the one she wrote to him
and left in his locker in the staff room.

It contains a quotation
from "Romeo and Juliet".

Yes. I wonder if there isn't too much
poetry taught in school nowadays.

Oh, George, look, dear old fella...
Look, pull yourself together, George.

The girl would have been 16 in a month.
She's 16 now.

Is that a defence? Remind me.

Do you know how old Juliet was
when she met Romeo, George?

No, but I'm sure you'll use the fact
in your speech to the jury.

She was under 14!

You remember more Shakespeare
than I do. I always admired you for it.

But now, um, Juliet came to rather
an unfortunate end, as I remember.

What was it now? Locked up in
a tomb, was it... taking poison?

Well, of course, I mean, when
you talk about locking up...

Nothing of that sort
would be appropriate here.

The prosecution wouldn't regard this
as an offence that warrants prison.

(Rumpole) Mmm.

But it's got nothing to do
with the prosecution, has it?

Well, not strictly.

You know perfectly well I can't come
to any bargain with you.

You could at least say
that there would be no prison involved.

We know each other well enough!

Well enough for me to be able
to tell you both this...

that if Ransom is found guilty, I couldn't
rule out the possibility of prison.

I couldn't rule it out at all.

- Does that help you?
- You know bloody well it doesn't!

Come on, Miss Trant.

Thank you, Judge.

Enjoy your sandwiches, George!

(Departing footsteps, door shuts)

Thank God it's not Friday!
He won't even get sardines.

I thought you said he
was a friend of yours?

That bloody mauve dressing gown,
it's gone to his head!

- I don't want Francesca to suffer.
- All right, then, you suffer.

Would you like to go away
for a year or 18 months?

My old friend Frobisher's
ready to hand it to you on a plate!

Unless, of course, you tell me
that you bedded the young lady.

- No. No, I don't tell you that.
- Then we plead not guilty, we win,

we teach old George a lesson
he will never forget.

How do we do that, Mr Rumpole?

By having a go at Miss Capstick.

Please, Mr Rumpole, just...
well, just treat her gently. Please.

- How much is known about her?
- Nothing, as far as I'm concerned.

- Except...
- (Rumpole) What? What?

Martin might know something.
In fact, he might know a good deal.

Martin? Who is this invaluable grass?

My son, Martin. He's in her class
at the William Shakespeare.

- He'd know all of Francesca's friends.
- My dear fellow!

Could you get Martin down here
with all available despatch?

- Well, I'll telephone.
- Splendid! Thank you.

Tell me...

who is that malignant youth
with Francesca? A brother?

No, no, no.
It's someone called CJ Mowersby.

He's known as Chas.
He's a pain in the neck in class.

He's got no ear for poetry at all.

(Vosper) It's a funny thing
what makes a fella

a likely candidate for the High Court
Bench. Am I right, Keith?

Funny thing, yes, Judge.
That's what I'm always saying.

(Vosper) You needn't be a great lawyer.
Or a great advocate even.

Of course, you need common sense.
Isn't that right, Keith?

Common sense, yes, Judge.

And complete respectability.
Wouldn't you say that, Keith?

(Keith) Respectability of course.

No good one of Her Majesty's Judges
being dragged through the divorce court.

- No good at all, Judge.
- (Vosper) Unthinkable.

(Vosper laughs)

Not one of your most
memorable drives, Keith.

(Keith) No, Judge.

(Sighs heavily)

Also, a potential judge must come
from a respectable set of chambers.

Who's in your chambers, Featherstone?
Not that fellow Rumpole?

- Well, he, er...
- Fellow with the peculiar old hat.

Well, there are other fellows
besides Rumpole, Judge.

Claude Erskine-Brown,
do you know him?

Has a very good class of practice.
Does a lot of civil.

That's a bit better
than Rumpole's life of crime.

(Vosper) Civil, eh? All the same,

the important thing is respectability.

Brilliant fellow,
who shall be nameless,

came from a chambers where
they were always getting divorced.

Hopping in and out of bed
with his lady pupils,

producing a lot of by blows.

Never got his bottom near
the High Court Bench.

- (Vosper) Did I slice that?
- Hardly at all, Judge.

Vosper has a lot of influence when
it comes to judicial appointments.

Yes, I know.

He doesn't like losing at golf.

Thanks. Keith...
thank you very much.

I'II, er, do my best.

This isn't going to be
one of my best drives.

I have that feeling.

Oh, super!

Good God, Featherstone...
you're on the green!

- Blast!
- Bad luck.

So far as judge material is concerned,
I always say

you know a man by the way he runs
his chambers, isn't that right?

Absolutely right, Judge.

Does he run a happy,
respectable ship?

Our Chambers is, without a doubt.
All shipshape and very happy.

And terribly respectable.

What a hopeless lie.
Absolutely hopeless!

Oh, damn!

What a total fluke, Judge!

I promise you it won't happen again.

- And after Mr Ransom had left you?
- I sent for Francesca Capstick.

When she came to your room,
what did she tell you?

(Rumpole) Your Honour?
(Frobisher) Yes, Mr Rumpole?

An unsworn complaint made
by Miss Capstick is no evidence.

I won't press the matter.

The evidence of a complaint
is admissible, surely?

In a sexual case, to negative consent?

But the learned lady for the prosecution
doesn't press the point.

It is my responsibility to rule on
the evidence and I do so now.

The evidence of this young girl's
complaint is admissible.

- (Mumbles) George!
- Miss Trant, what was your question?

What did Francesca Capstick
tell you, Headmaster?

She made it quite clear to me that
sexual relations had taken place

between herself and Mr Ransom,
on a number of occasions.

(Phyllida) Thank you.
(Frobisher) Yes, thank you.

This might be a convenient
moment to rise for luncheon.

(Usher) Be upstanding in court.

(Mutters) I hope your sandwiches
come from British Rail.

It was love.

That's all it was.

It has to be dragged out in court
and cheapened.

I'm afraid it must.

That boy Mowersby, such malevolence!

- He looks as if he really hates you.
- Yes, he does.

(Grayson) Ah, there you are,
Mr Rumpole. Here's my son Martin.

My dear fellow, I'm so glad you could
come. Could he spare us half an hour?

- Certainly.
- Splendid.

There we are. Care for a mint?

Um...

I'd rather have one of your small cigars.

Would you indeed? Well, let's go and
have a nice quiet smoke somewhere.

There's a Counsel's consulting room

and they'll never let your father
or headmaster know.

Nothing for me this afternoon?
Just the Judge in Chambers at 3:30.

Mr Featherstone wants to see you, sir,
as a matter of urgency.

Oh, all right.

- Erskine-Brown!
- Yes, Guthrie, whatever is it?

Look here... Claude...

I'm trying to run
a happy and respectable ship.

Particularly a respectable ship.

Ships should be respectable.

I mean, we simply can't afford
any sort of...

scandal, can we?

I haven't got the faintest idea
what you're talking about.

The point is... I was playing golf
with Mr Justice Vosper.

Did you beat the old idiot?

Yes, I did, damn it! He made
the point to me very clearly...

about respectability.

Well, you're not making it
in the least bit clear to me.

Splendid. Go on, Martin.

- You interest me strangely.
- Well...

The point is, Erskine-Brown,
that my wife Marigold

sings in the Bar Choral Society.

- They're putting on "Elijah".
- Well... congratulations.

And the point is that Hilda Rumpole

sings there also.

She's a contralto.

- Featherstone...
- Yes, Erskine-Brown?

- Are you feeling quite well?
- Well? Yes, of course I'm feeling well.

Did you call me here urgently
to tell me that Hilda Rumpole

is to sing contralto in the "Elijah"?

No. Not altogether... no.

I'm up before the Judge in Chambers
at 3:30 and need to look up authorities.

Face the facts, Erskine-Brown!
During the intervals between singing,

Hilda Rumpole and my wife... talk.

I think I can face it,
with a certain amount of courage.

During one such talk,
Hilda Rumpole told my wife

what Phyllida Trant had told Rumpole.

- Is this some sort of a game?
- It may be some sort of a game to you,

but it's my whole future in the law!
I have some hopes of a Judgeship!

I suppose the Lord Chancellor
moves in a mysterious way.

But not if I'm from a chambers

where you get our only
lady barrister pregnant

and show absolutely no sign
of doing the decent thing!

I get what? What am I
supposed to have done?

Well, surely, Erskine-Brown...

you must be the first to know?

But I don't know. I know nothing
apart from what you've told me.

Oh, thank you, Guthrie, my dear fellow!
This is the most wonderful news!

Wonderful! Poor Phylli, she's so shy.
She doesn't like to talk about... things.

Oh, thank you for telling me!

Erskine-Brown, I keep trying to explain!
Marigold wants me to be a judge!

Well, be one, then!
I'm going to be a father!

You kept all the letters
that Mr Ransom wrote to you?

That's right.

And you kept copies of the letters
you wrote to him?

- Mm-hm.
- Speak up, please.

Yes, I did. I kept copies.

- Why?
- I don't know. I just wanted to.

Was it because you were in love
with Mr Ransom?

I just kept copies.

This correspondence started with you.

Did it?

This is the first letter of that
correspondence in date order

and you wrote it to Mr Ransom.

"And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay,"
you wrote,

"And follow thee, My Lord,
throughout the world."

It comes from the play
we were doing, "Romeo and Juliet".

(Rumpole) Oh, thank you.
What did you mean by "all your fortune"?

I don't know.

Well, you weren't offering your teacher
your pocket money were you?

- Not exactly.
- No, you were offering your love.

- That's what I said.
- Offering to do anything for him.

- I suppose so.
- And to follow him wherever he asked.

Mr Rumpole, your client wasn't bound
to take advantage of that offer.

Oh, no, Your Honour, of course not.
I merely wish to establish

who made the first approach.

Miss Clapstick, have you any idea

how this bundle of letters
got onto the headmaster's table?

- No. No idea.
- Presumably you kept them safely?

I gave them to a friend
to keep for me.

- Could we have the friend's name?
- Really, Mr Rumpole, is that relevant?

Perhaps not, Your Honour.
I'll leave it for the moment.

You have many friends
at school, haven't you?

- Of course I have.
- Yes, you're a very popular girl.

At the time you wrote this first letter
to Mr Ransom,

did you have a particular friend?

Girlfriends, you mean?

You know perfectly well
I don't mean girlfriends.

You mean anyone
I was going out with?

Ah. "Going out with" so often
means staying in, doesn't it?

- Really, Mr Rumpole!
- Doesn't it?

- You mean Chas?
- (Rumpole) Yes. Mr Mowersby.

You mean I was going out with Chas
Mowersby? Yes, I was. What about it?

Is Mr Mowersby in court?
Perhaps he would stand up.

(Rumpole) Perhaps he would stand up?

(Rumpole) Is that CJ Mowersby?
(Francesca) That's Charles, yes.

Before you embarked on
this correspondence with Mr Ransom,

did you go on a school holiday
to France, camping with Mr Mowersby?

With all our class, yes. I was sharing
a tent with my girlfriend.

Quite so,
a girl named Mary Pennington.

With Mary, yes.

(Rumpole) And did a boy called Martin
Grayson go on this holiday with you?

Martin did, yes.
He was sharing a tent with Charles.

(Rumpole) Quite so.
And on the first night,

did you ask Mary Pennington
to go into Martin Grayson's tent

so Mowersby could come into yours?

I might have done.

Did you spend the night with
Charles Mowersby, sleep with him?

I'm really wondering
what the relevance...

- (Yells) Did you?
- I might have done.

And did you say to CJ Mowersby
of the William Shakespeare School,

"I'll follow thee, My Lord,
throughout the world"?

- No, I didn't.
- (Rumpole) Oh? Why not?

- Charles doesn't like poetry.
- No, he doesn't like poetry

and he doesn't like
Mr Ransom either, does he?

- Mr Rumpole...
- Does he?

Because Mr Ransom writes rude
remarks on his Wordsworth essays.

Mr Ransom reports him
to the headmaster.

Mr Ransom suggests he continue
his education elsewhere.

- So, Charles doesn't like your teacher.
- He doesn't like him, no.

- (Rumpole) He hates him!
- Perhaps.

And this friend to whom you
gave your letters for safekeeping,

was that CJ Mowersby,
by any chance?

- Yes.
- (Rumpole) And was it Mr, Mowersby

who gave them to the headmaster?

- He might have done.
- Mr Rumpole, suppose all this is true...

Suppose all this is true, My Lord,
then this whole charge is a pretence!

It is nothing but a cruel joke played
on my client by this... this young woman,

who merely wanted to help
her boyfriend get his revenge.

This first letter you wrote
to Mr Ransom, full of Juliet's love,

did Mr Mowersby suggest you write it?

(Francesca)
He wanted to show Mr Ransom up.

(Rumpole) For a fool whose head
is turned by young girls writing poetry?

- Something like that, yes.
- So it was Charles Mowersby

who suggested you write that letter?

(Francesca) He found the bit
out of the play.

Oh, really? That must have been
the very first time

Mr Mowersby ever took an interest
in literature.

And did you hand on my client's replies
to Mr Mowersby as you received them?

- More or less.
- (Rumpole) I suppose he was delighted

with the way things were going, a nice
little bundle of trouble for Mr Ransom

all ready to drop
onto the headmaster's table.

- (Francesca) I suppose he did.
- Thank you.

He never wanted me
to go to the concert, though.

- Thank you, Miss Capstick.
- (Francesca) Chas never wanted that.

But I'd found out he was taking
Mary Pennington out.

Martin Grayson told me
he'd seen them together at the pictures.

So... well, I went to the concert.
And then...

But not to bed with my client?

Not to bed with the man on whom
you were playing an elaborate joke,

so your boyfriend could get him
into trouble with the headmaster?

Your victim, your poor wretched gull,
you didn't go to bed with him, did you?

I told you, I'd heard that Charles
was taking out Mary Pennington,

so that's how it happened.

(Frobisher) How what happened?

(Francesca) How I had it away
with Mr Ransom.

- You mean sexual intercourse?
- Yes.

Just because you were annoyed
with Charles, you did that?

I wasn't annoyed,
I was furious with him!

Because of that you say you
"had it away",

as you call it, with my client?

(Francesca) That was the reason, really.

- Without love?
- Yes.

Did you enjoy the experience?

Not much. He kept on spouting poetry.

- Phylli...
- Heavens, are you everywhere?

Phylli, what wonderful news!
Darling, why didn't you tell me?

I have absolutely nothing to discuss!

Phylli!

Phylli, darling!

Phylli! Phylli, I understand...

Ah.

- Phylli!
- What on earth are you doing?

- That's the Ladies' Robing Room.
- You can't keep anything to yourself!

Thank goodness for it! Phylli!

Love! It's bound to have something
to do with love. It doth make men mad.

Phyllida! Now, then! Phyllida!

(Erskine-Brown)
Love that bloom in the Spring, tra-la

Breathe promise of merry sunshine

- I'll drive you home.
- I'm walking to the station.

I can't understand
why you never told me.

It's the most wonderful thing
that's happened to anyone.

I thought it happened
to everyone all the time, like flu.

I've done some reading on the subject

and it seems that Dr Spock
is more or less completely discredited.

- You've been reading?
- We'll give it loving authority.

What we'll have to give it
is bloody bottles

at inconvenient hours of the night

and awful spoonfuls of mashed
spinach puree out of little tins,

and groats and Farex and dill water!

Nonsense, Phylli.
Dill water went out with the ark.

And after a couple of months
you can drop the night feed.

- Goodnight.
- Goodnight, Horace.

Goodnight, Rumpole.

Have you been subscribing
to "Nursery World?"

But I don't mind doing some of the feeds
if you want to sleep.

I don't to sleep, I want to be in court!

Of course. And so you shall, Phylli.

I always thought once we started
a family I'd try to get more paperwork,

and then I could do it at home.

You could cope with the Ostermilk,

if I was in court, say,
for the odd long-firm fraud?

Come on, Phylli. You really shouldn't
carry all this stuff, you know.

- Well, thanks for Martin.
- Not at all. Glad he's of some use.

- Keep your fingers crossed.
- We'll do that. Goodbye.

- Goodbye.
- Come on, Martin.

(Frobisher) Ronald Ransom,
very few of us in this world are perfect

and I have no doubt that
this young girl Francesca Capstick

had her faults and imperfections.

They certainly provided no excuse
for what you did.

I have no doubt
that you used your position,

and the poetry
you were employed to teach,

to turn this young girl's head
and corrupt her morals.

The least sentence
that I can pass on you

is one of two years' imprisonment.

Very well. Take him down.

(Usher) Be upstanding in court.

(Brass band plays,
indistinct chatter)

(Indistinct chatter and laughter)

"For never was a story of more woe

"Than this of Juliet and her Romeo..."

Oh, Rumpole, how can you say such
a thing? It's all ended beautifully.

No, I was thinking about
the other pair of star-crossed lovers.

But it's been such a lovely wedding.
It made Marigold cry.

Oh, that's something
of an achievement.

Hello, tide's gone out. Excuse me.

Er, excuse me. Thank you.

(Indistinct muttering)

- Oh, Guthrie!
- Yes, Marigold?

Doesn't it all remind you of something?

Er... of a wedding.

- Of our wedding.
- Oh, yes!

Yes, of course.

Couldn't we just start all over again?
As if it were our wedding day too?

Oh, Marigold!

What a splendid idea!

Oh, look, there's Vosper.

Why don't you ask him
if he'd dine with us this evening?

Er... a sort of a celebration?

- It's all going wonderfully.
- Ah...

Yes. Marigold's so moved
by Erskine-Brown's wedding

that she's offered to forgive me,
without conditions.

- It's amazingly generous of her.
- So, you don't even have to be a judge?

Well, I hope to get my bottom
on the bench eventually.

Have to get my "butting" worse.
Ha ha ha!

Actually, Vosper's dining with us...

Ah, Judge!

...this evening.

Hello, Featherstone. How are you?
Let me introduce my daughter.

(Photographer) Come on,
everybody, big smile!

Marvellous.

- (Rumpole) Very dapper, Claude.
- Oh, thank you, Horace.

(Photographer) Come on,
another one for the album!

- Horace!
- Hello, George.

I'm sorry I had to pot
that fellow, Ransom.

I really had no alternative.

Was, er... two years too much,
do you think?

Two days would have been
too much, you know that.

- They're not prosecuting Mowersby.
- Oh?

- Probably a wise decision.
- Different, isn't it, for the young?

Because they're much more grown-up
and experienced than we are?

Your client was her schoolmaster.
He was In charge of her.

No, George, she was
in charge of him. Totally.

Are you angry with me, Rumpole?

- (Rumpole) I was. Exceedingly.
- I was only doing my job, you know.

You don't blame me, do you?

No, no, not really, George.

What do you suggest? Blame life,
blame love, blame youth?

Blame Shakespeare? Blame the law?

But not you, George, no. Certainly not.

- I suppose your client hates me?
- Oh, of course he does.

- Not half as much as he hates me.
- You, Rumpole?

Well, you only took his liberty away.
I deprived him of the part of Romeo.

I cast him as the fool.

(Erskine-Brown) Come on!
We're cutting the cake.

(Cheers and applause)

(More cheers and applause)

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