All language subtitles for Renegade.Nell.S01E06.720p.DSNP.WEB-DL.DD5.1.Atmos.H.264-playWEB_eng

She's a highway woman.
Said to be armed and extremely dangerous.

What you gone and done to get yourself
a 40-pound reward on your head?

- She killed him!
- I didn't. It was him!

Get after her!

I need Jackson dead.

Fate has thrown us together, Sofia.

Your abilities have progressed.

I want to learn more. I'm ready.

You shouldn't bother with him.

He's dangerous. Poisonous.

The Queen is a traitor.

You are a Jacobite.

Half of Anne's
Privy Council feels as I do.

Isambard Tulley
captured in Slough.

Do you realize they'll hang you
unless I pull a few strings?

He's only in there because of us.
So I'm gonna spring him.

Look, we were sent to the planet
for these poor souls.

Are you really Nelly Jackson?

- Oh, Nelly!
- Everybody out.

Dull earth dwelling.
Confusion worst confounded.

You're going to die, Nelly Jackson.

Sofia?

I really liked your play.

Aw! Bless.
Now then, where's the other one?

This is a tale of passion and woe
with a nimble heroine,

Polly Honeycombe,

who, inspired by her recent survival
of a brutal highway robbery,

applied to the brooding,
thunderous Mr. Scribble.

Two together brave the fury
of her heartless papa,

ignore his expressed desire
to forbid the match,

and in the tradition
of all great magisterial romances,

throw caution, convention,
common decency to the wind, and elope.

Look up. Aye!

I must confess

that following
the first giddy flush of love,

the noble, ethereal Mr. Scribble

showed himself to be rather more hirsute
than expected.

Oh.

Good morning, my love.

Do you think there might be any highwaymen
in these parts?

Not a one.

And your stunning heroine
found her mind

irrevocably drifting to a certain moment

and a certain rogue with far less hair.

However, with her characteristic charm
and optimism,

your heroine assured herself
that adventure no doubt awaited.

But soon came to find that elopements
have some downsides, dear reader.

Such as not a single robbery,

tidy-ins without a misunderstood brigand
in sight,

and discovering one's favorite dress
upon a serving wench.

My wardrobe is distinct,

and this piece I would recognize anywhere
as the one stolen by my highwayman.

Oh, Mr. Scribble. My reputation.

- Oh, we're practically married.
- But not yet.

I'm not feeling well.

That was when
a thought befell your heroine

like a bolt of lightning.

The highwayman who robbed me
of my garments so many weeks ago,

did so for love.

It was so obvious.

The wench downstairs
is the highwayman's moll!

By gifting her my gowns,

he sought to create
a pale imitation of me.

But Polly Honeycombe cannot be replaced.

I had to interrogate her.

For my heart now belongs irrefutably
to my lovelorn highwayman.

And I shall stop at nothing but...

Alack!

Kidnap!

Your heroine was swooning

- in a most tragical manner when she...
- Hold on.

You're supposed to be writing
a ransom note,

not a blooming novel.

- Just trying to...
- Can't we just put her back?

What are we gonna tell Japhia?

That Amorous is a bleeding fool.

I'm afraid
that in a delicious twist of irony,

these villains have accidentally kidnapped
exactly the right person.

For I, Ms. Polly Honeycombe,

am the true object
of the highwayman's affections.

You don't mean our Nell? Nell Jackson.

Short for Nelson, I presume.

Nell's not a man.

She's my sister.

That's why they took me.

They must have thought
you were Roxy somehow.

A highwayman.

Woman.

Are you absolutely certain?

You keep quiet
if you know what's good for you.

Hey!

Finish the note.

George here.

Me and a toff called "Polly Honeydrone"
have been snatched by strollers.

They thought she was you, Roxy.

They've taken us to a barn
outside Uffington,

where they'll trade our safe return
for Nell.

Stand and deliver.

- Me?
- Yes, you.

Cheers!

Newgate Prison knew your name.

First, Herne, then that.
Something's stirring.

- Like what?
- Something dark.

- A magic, maybe, wants to stop you.
- Why?

Maybe it likes things
the way they are.

This order wherein toffs think

they can do whatever they please
to ordinary folk.

Well, they can't.

What was going on there, it ain't right.

Some of them prisoners
were littler than George.

- It was wrong.
- Yeah.

It needed to be changed.

Maybe it's why I have you.

Yeah.

I don't think I'm supposed to go
to America.

I think we're supposed to stay here.

Are you agreeing with me, Billy?

Well, no. I'm not saying
we should rush into anything.

No, anyone can travel the world
and blow folk up, us.

I think we're meant to stand up
when something's wrong, and...

whack some sense into them
that profit off misery and pain.

- Yeah.
- Yeah.

Yeah. All right.

All right.

- What about George and Roxy?
- They're best safe in Abingdon.

So we're in agreement, then?

We're gonna save the world.

We'll steady on.

We'll start off with the continent,
or England,

or just Tottenham, maybe.

Whoa.

I thought you were magic during your show.

So why go around kidnapping folk?

We used to be a proper troupe.

We was at Drury Lane.

But there were some bad reviews.
Japhia lost his part.

So?

So he beat the poor sod
who replaced him half to death.

The entire troupe
was tarred with the same brush.

No theater would take us after that.

Now we're hedge-crawlers,
barely scraping a living.

And now,
with a baby on the way.

All he wants
is to be known.

Applauded like he was.

These shows are from years and years ago.

- Mm.
- Good morning!

Japhia.

Good morning, Amorous.

Just do what he says,
and he won't hurt you.

Good morning old, reliable...

Good morning, good morning.

Good morning.

You've... You've got...

Ah.

A farmer had some misgivings

about loaning us his barn
for our performance,

but we've sorted it all out now.

Why has the poor dove still got this on?

Look, we was gonna...

Who's this?

Amorous.

Amorous, you thick idiot sod!

Wait!

She had the dress! She had the dress.

What a blunderbuss, eh?

Now we've got this useless bit
of raspberry to be rid of.

I...

My papa is very rich.

How rich?

He sells periwigs.

Everyone wears periwigs.

Well, that's fine then.

I suppose
we won't kill you just yet.

I hope your sister ain't late.

- Hyah! Hyah! Come on.
- Uncle Jack. Uncle...

Where's he going in such a hurry?

We got your back, Nell.

He's gonna get help for George.

Why? What's wrong with her?

She's been taken.

I'm so sorry, Nelly.

What, what do you mean she's been taken?

- Nell.
- Someone's got George?

Some strollers.
They want you, Nell, in exchange. Um.

We got this toff
to read out the ransom note.

- They've got his betrothed too.
- Yes.

- So I... I'd better be off.
- I thought you loved her?

I do. Of course.

But love and circumstance
don't always align.

Coward! We've got to go, Nell.

They've had George all night,
and Uncle Jack won't find help.

Not in time.

We can go straight to Uffington.

- I need a horse, quickly.
- Becky, horse.

- And one for me.
- No.

- I'm coming, Nell.
- No!

- Where's Rasselas?
- No idea. Which way do I go?

Nell!

- What are you doing? Go back.
- Nell, I'm helping!

What? No. Go back, Roxy.

Slow down.

Wait, Nell.

I can't go back.
The inn's not safe anymore.

This isn't safe.

- And where is Rasselas?
- He ran off.

He did not.

Roxy, it was...

There was this riot,
and then this huge wall came between us.

I passed out.

I looked for him,
but London is massive, Roxy.

But it's when we're separated,
that's when everything falls apart.

Let's go get George back.

- We're better together. All right?
- All right.

Godolphin.

Poynton. You are recovered.

Her Majesty has been feeling
your absence greatly.

She needs loyal men about her.

The Jacobites will seek to take advantage
of what happened at Newgate.

All this chaos.

It has always struck me
how much you despise them.

The Jacobites are greedy hypocrites.

They're attempting to put a puppet
on the throne so they could rule.

A child, a stranger to England.

And they are among us, Poynton.
Even in the Privy Council.

You must tell me if you hear anything.

Of course.

I did hear a talk of a traitor.

- One sending letters to France.
- Who?

Oh, I think you know.

Lords Godolphin, Poynton.

What is the meaning of this?

Is it true?

- Locked in his desk.
- You don't mean mine?

There's been some mistake.

- Poynton, tell them.
- I had hoped I was wrong.

Poynton?

- What?
- Come on.

- Get your hands off me!
- Move.

The Courant should do more interviews.
Better ones!

"Quite polite?" Interview me.

She could have killed me.
I saw her face firsthand.

Valerian, now, support his head.

Tosh, tosh.

Merciless creature.

- I could put that in The Medley.
- Yes.

Uh, Valerian.

I said support his head.

The Weekly Journal may concede
she had a certain grubby panache.

Chop, chop.

Now there is a risk that Nell Jackson
will go to ground after the riot,

and that won't do.

The country is in chaos.

People don't want tepid, they want torrid.

And she's all they want to read about.

So we need something
that will have her stomping about again.

Ideas?

"Nell Jackson eats babies."

It's been done.

"Known spreader of warts"?

No, Valerian. Vulgar.

One must balance bold
and exceptional fashion choices

with subtlety.

Otherwise, what is one but...

rather gauche.

Hmm.

Oh, no. Nelly Jackson won't care
about any of that.

I know her type.

Yes.

This. This will light a fire under her.

So, um, as to my betrothed...

The Courant will report

that the fact that he's the only prisoner
not to have escaped Newgate

is a bold statement of his innocence.

While The Medley will wonder
if he's too stupid to find his way out.

- Hmm?
- Eularia?

Yeah?

No, I don't want a syllabub.

I think you'll want to hear this.

I said go away!

Why did you put me here?
This isn't my room.

Well, you are Lord Blancheford now.

You should have left me in London
with my friends.

You were alone
when my men found you.

Would you like me to describe
what state you were in?

- It is all right.
- It is not all right.

It will never be all right again
because of you.

No, Thomas.
Not because of me.

Do you think any man
would have done what you did?

- You urged me.
- And you went through with it!

The realization
that we can have anything we want

if we are prepared to do anything for it.

Well, some men see it
as limitless opportunity.

Whereas some see only...

Horror.

No, no, no.

Don't, don't. Don't, don't.

I understand.

I do.

And...

I-I fear I must apologize, Thomas.

You cannot bear it, can you?

- No.
- All right.

What if I told you...

I could make it stop...

in an instant?

Guilt. Shame.

Do you know where they stem from?

Responsibility.

You can let it go.

You will find,

dearest rodent...

that Isambard Tulley
ain't someone it's wise to ignore.

And that we all have our price.

So will you stop interrupting me?

Only if you...

Lady Eularia--

Who are you talking to?

Angel of angels.

I was, uh, just attempting to train
a charming little mouse.

I haven't had a visitor.

Oh, new clothes for the trial?

Which Valerian's little friend tells us
has been moved to tomorrow,

since you've somehow contrived to be
the last fool prisoner left in Newgate.

Oh, it's splendid news.
I'll be set free early.

You have everything in hand.

You have greased every palm there is
that needs to be greased.

This time, tomorrow,
we'll be planning the wedding.

Or you'll be dead.

Mm?

Your little friend has unleashed chaos.

So the powers that be
have been throwing their weight around.

And if the verdict is guilty,
they'll hang you immediately.

But money still talks.

Don't tell me
the courts are actually lawful now.

I must be off.

The Medley is doing a special feature
on your crimes,

and selling faster than we can print it.

Eularia.

Bye, Charles.

The Earl of Godolphin
has been arrested as a Jacobite.

- Godolphin?
- Mm-hmm.

Some letters discovered
amongst his effects.

Godolphin is the captain
of the Queen's bodyguard.

Precisely.

And now he is a guest of the Tower.

Her Majesty has requested
I visit her in London tomorrow.

I suspect she will hand the guard to me.

You plan to use them?

They will allow me
to take the Queen in hand,

so James's troops can advance
without opposition.

What are the news sheets saying?

The Medley claims the country
is on the brink of revolt.

That the prison was overrun
by a people's army led by Nell Jackson.

Whether they know it was you or not,
you have shaken London.

You have recovered, then?

I feel excellent.

It is a marvelous thing, isn't it?

Intoxicating.

Yes.

I nearly had Jackson.

And you will again.

You had her on the run.

The spell evolved.
The prison took over.

It burned up the hair
we used to track her.

We will find her.

I wonder if you understand
how talented you are.

How important.

Such power isn't for the likes
of Nell Jackson.

There are ways to deal with her.

All right, I'm here.

Welcome,
ladies and gentlemen, one and all.

Oy. Where's my sister?

We have a very special treat today.

The hideous, the vicious,
the bloodthirsty, the diabolical,

Nelly Jackson!

What in the...

You are here to witness history.

Nelly Jackson's capture and downfall
by the one...

the only...

The handsome, the heroic, the magnificent,
the masterful, the prodigy,

the genius, the virtuoso...

Japhia.

To bring you
today's very special performance,

a scheme has been concocted.

An exchange.

Nell Jackson for her little sister.

Yeah. Where is she then?

"Must you with hot irons
burn out both mine eyes?"

Oh, whatever.

"I must. Must."

Shakespeare.

- I've read a lot about you, Nelly Jackson.
- Yeah?

Impossible to defeat in a fight, they say.

Impossible to harm.

But she ain't.

George.

Stay still.

He never said we was going to hurt her.

Put that down
and I'll do whatever you want.

You lucky people are about to witness
not just the capture,

but also the rightful execution
of one of the monsters of our age.

I didn't do none of the things
you are accusing me of.

- I'm not--
- What you are is beside the point.

It's what they perceive you to be.

I kill you and I'm a hero.

Jackson's cup contains poison.

We'll toast to her demise.

It doesn't matter how strong or fast
the demon inside you is, Nelly Jackson.

I doubt it can save you
from hemlock you drink yourself.

It's the other one.

Hey.

We're all good, right? If I drink that?

Um...

Let's not test it out. I--

- What?
- Well, I don't know, Nelly.

I'm only human.

Do something then.

How?

Distract him.

Poison? That old chestnut.

Boo.

It's a classic.

Well, these folk will tell people
what you've done,

- and you'll get the noose.
- It all depends on the spin, don't it?

- And them papers, they don't like you.
- I ain't done nothing wrong.

I am sick of seeing your face
in every paper.

Every page,
your face where mine should be.

You'll be dead, and I'll be known.

Turn out that light!

Oh, dear.

The Great Japhia
looks a little sweaty to me.

Don't you think?

Put out one of the mite's eyes.

Put both of them out.

Oh.

- They don't work that well anyway.
- All right.

All right.

To fate.

Yeah. Cheers.

Goodbye, Nelly Jackson.

Nelly!

No, no, no. Nelly, no.

No, I can't.

I messed up. Did I?

I swallowed a fly.

You all right?

Just fine.

George, it's all right.

Kill them!

My last words--

We didn't need to hear them.

Well done.

That were the best thing
I've seen in years.

Yeah.

Uh...

Good luck with that.

Let's go. Come on. Let's go, Roxy.

Oh.

One of the Army wives
had her baby come during a march.

She just popped down the side of the road
and squeezed it out behind a bush.

I'm just saying.

- That's considerate of her.
- Yeah, it was.

And it was snowing.

She caught up with us by lunchtime
with her baby.

It's very respectable. No carrying on.

Lean back now. Breathe.

There it goes.

The miracle of birth is not for me.

What are your thoughts
on "Rebel Nelly" as a title?

Uh, well, I'm not helping you
write a show about me.

There's enough guff out there already.

Well, I just want you to know,

I don't care
that your father was a poacher.

- He was not.
- Uh, oh!

Right. Of course.

- What else does it say? What else?
- Nothing.

No. What? Tell me.

Obviously, slander. Obviously.

But they just say, you know,

the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

That the whole family's gone bad,
that they're thieves too, and...

you know, generally,
no better than they ought to be.

- Right.
- Well, you know the way they write

about women sometimes.

It doesn't matter.

People won't believe it.

No, that's exactly the tripe folk
will believe.

Right.

We are gonna smash the presses up.

They'll just build more.

Well, maybe no one's ever stood up
to them before.

All those rags do is feed
off misery and make more of it, Roxy.

They make monsters like that Japhia slug,
and tell lies.

We need to show them
that they can't get away with it.

People need to know
that the truth matters.

Because it does.

We can stop them.

I think that's what we're meant to do.

Yeah. All right.

All right.

Let's go.

Can we look for Mr. Rasselas too, Nelly?

Youse up to giving us a lift?

Sofia.

Rasselas?

I've been trying to get to you.
I need to speak to you.

Is she here?

Nell? No.

I was at Newgate yesterday.

You were?

What was it like?

I read about it in the news sheets.

- You were hurt?
- I thought...

What?

I thought I heard your voice.

What did I say?

- What did I sound like?
- I came here to find out why, Sofia.

And this bloke's here.

The Earl of Poynton.

He's on the Privy Council.

They're folk that move in circles
like that.

they're different.

Perhaps to you.

What's he doing there?

He's a friend.

Has he got something over you, Sofia?
You can tell me.

He has only ever helped me.

And I am always in control.

I had enough control in Newgate.

You chose to do that?

- What happened there was monstrous.
- No.

It was monstrous to abandon me
when I needed you most.

The night my father died,

you threw away all our history.

- What history?
- What?

- What history did we have?
- You are my friend.

Sofia, your father bought me!

When you were too old for me,
I was sent to the stables like an old toy.

I never treated you like that!

You were kind to me and,
and you stood between me and Thomas.

And I am grateful for that.
But it was never...

I was never here by choice.

Sofia, you could end all of this.

Just by telling the truth.

Don't you know what they'd do to Thomas...

if they found out?

He's my family.

What about Nell? What about her family?

Do you remember when Thomas

used to catch tadpoles
and beetles and spiders?

And you and I...

we'd set them free.

And if he ever tried to take it out on me,
you'd stop him.

Because you're fair, Sofia.

Go back to her.

Go back.

Wait.

You will get wound rot.

Good luck.