Original subtitles

Uh...

Ahh!

Just that thing!

2.

There we have him.

Ooh!

What a pleasant little chamber!

I confess I've never in my life been up here.

I should much prefer to stay in my own room.

Your labour agonies would disturb Mr Edmund.

But I'm not due for some twelve weeks.

What is that?

Most likely Moth's mum preparing this up.

I do hope you will not take offence at every little sound, mum.

Or perhaps you would have me personally silenced every insect in the land.

Could perhaps do with a clean, shall we?

Throw out these rags?

Does a bonnet I needed for the newborn, sir?

A bonnet?

It would cover the face.

No one wants to look at a newborn, sir,

except perhaps the mother and her.

Often she would rather eat it.

My old rompy, for bummed to do his stretches.

And I have knitted baby a riding suit.

Will it be riding straight away?

All being well, sir.

Ooh.

Do you feel dumpling?

My son John went to bed with his trousers on.

One shoe off and one shoe off.

Little dill dumpling, my son John.

It is just like old times, sir.

Just yourself and myself.

And should, God forbid, Mr. Celan pass away during childbirth.

I would be willing to bring baby up as my own.

She's likely to perish.

Sometimes when a woman tears, it does not stop at the belling

and splits right up to the face until she breaks into like a ladybird.

Bob, you nicked up, sir.

Please.

You may recall, sir, your mother's will stated that Mr. Celan

birthed a child within the year, and that date is now.

She's but six months gone.

What of it?

Well, it would seem Mr. Celan might be best off birthing early, sir.

Well, let's pray for such a timely deliverance.

Or encourage it.

There are ways of persuading the womb to splacer.

Please.

Spent me the details of my wife's glossy pro-lapses.

God.

God.

Chief.

Dear brother Edmund, holy great in some of the tropics.

Please accept my gift, a small token of fidget and friendship here answers to...

Ned. Ned?

Perhaps he will fill the void left by Jeff's sudden execution.

Mr. Gudz, brother, Jeff.

Great enough.

Yes, I was just mopping the bureau. I spilled some juice.

You're mopping with my bokas or sniffing them.

Yes, sorry. I wondered whether they needed to wash.

Oh, God.

These are Mr. Celan's.

I mean, really? Goodness.

I may must have fallen into my case when, last I examined her.

How careless I shall return them at once.

That would not be possible.

No. Of course. But she has gone to Fiji.

No. No. By all accounts, Mr. Celan has let herself go of late and she is now too fat to travel.

Too fat to travel.

Or receive visitors.

Too fat to receive visitors.

Please.

Throw them on the fire.

You want me to toss the bokas?

Yes!

Fennell?

Have you the angel?

No.

Oh, I know.

Oh, you know.

Oh, I know.

Oh, I know.

Oh, I know.

Oh, I know.

Oh, I know.

Oh, oh, oh.

Have you the anus funnel?

Oh, yes.

Lovely.

I bought my own big one.

Oh.

Oh, that made her work.

And, uh, thread and needle for sewing up her torn and others.

My girls always seem to split from berry to back when I force them out dirty.

Probably best I've got in her first.

Oh, yes, yes.

Now the time has come for Bab.

To burst your sack, contour, fist cap.

Alum, babi, babi, boom, babi, he's broken, you're keg.

This binding will prevent you from punching baby in the face when he first appears.

Well, I would not.

Once taken, the straft will push Bab out in her day or some now.

Please, I beg you, it is not time.

Sometimes nature needs a helping hand mistress.

No, please, please.

Drink up now, drink up.

Good girl.

Nice.

Good girl.

Very good.

Very good.

Oh.

Excuse me.

Didn't know his most tired did tonight.

Thursday's partridge.

Crispy parties.

Do you like that?

Little thing?

Crispy?

They won't burn, Graham.

Why would they burn?

Her so wife.

Her so hey, who?

Oh, Hester.

Forgive me.

Forgive me.

I make unto you a new and heartfelt vow to be a most pure and devoted husband.

Oh, great.

I was a blind fool, stumbling through the darkness.

But like a finger of sun with your love poked my fog.

And now I do see a new.

Oh, Hester.

Let's speak in the game.

Oh, great.

I love you.

I love you, Graham.

Sorry, sir.

But, Mr. Celen, she's having your baby, sir.

Well, he never seen that happen before.

She's foaming, pity.

I can only think I overdone the wormwood.

Can it be untold?

Not really.

Is something you required?

Well, yes, my dinner.

At what time exactly will it be served?

And eight o'clock, sir.

Oh, to after my stomach is growling like a bassoon.

Is it partridge and parties?

Yes, it is partridge.

Do we have any cooginuts, please?

I think not, sir.

Is that my wife, darling?

Yes, we are just now engaged in delivering the child, sir.

Indeed.

Should the mother not be rather more awake?

She preferred to sleep through it, sir.

She appears to be bubbling.

It is just a birth info.

As the womb explodes, it ascends forth a juice that washes the entire length of a woman's

inside and then cleans her teeth.

What's that?

She just foxes, sir.

They do dance when they're angry.

What is it?

I think we don't fit the doctors, no need.

But we had best attend the birth, so I would urge you, please, to leave.

So, poor will be straight after.

It is partridge and parties and a big boozy trifle.

It is partridge and parties, sir.

If I'm not dead of famine, please give word when the child is out and, erm, isn't.

Yes.

I'll try your bloody potties.

Would you like some cheese to tie you over?

Hm?

Do you like that sort of thing?

Cheesy?

I would ask that you hand me that key.

You'll have to come and get it first, sir.

Oh, dear God.

How came you by this mark?

I happened from birth.

Wait.

Okay, God, what have you done to it?

You came for me.

I love the...

dirty beds.

I've seen this mark on another one he wants before.

On a baby boy I birthed some thirty years ago.

You, a mother.

You were raped.

Yes.

How did you know?

Well...

The assault left me with child to twin child.

A boy and a girl.

The boy was settled with a well-to-do couple and the girl abandoned to an orphanage.

And the plaggard who assaulted you?

Did he hang?

He did not.

This is the plaggard.

His mother brought me to him as a plaything to stoke his desires for she feared his preclivities.

This is Dorothy Millis.

I'm pleased to meet you acquaintance, sir.

Your dear, dead mother introduced some form of aphrodisiac to your drink.

Perhaps the dose was wrong, but you...

ravished me bedily asleep.

Too low born to carry this a footfinch name.

A son was paid to my family to placate them.

I entered Mistress Matilda employee's housekeeper and my children were given away.

Mother gave them a chance at happiness.

The Digby Chases were a fine family.

Did you just say Digby Chases?

Most respectable professionals, old doctors.

But that was my...

My mother was widowed and remarried a foggy.

But before that, her name was...

Robin, son.

Mother.

Wait. Wait.

You said the girl child she went to an orphanage?

Yes.

Tell me, it was not pryry manner.

It was.

Brother.

Sister.

Oh, daughter and wife.

But, Nene, it cannot be for the girl child at the vestige of a tale.

A tale you say?

Did it poke from her spine about yay long and waggle as would the dankry finger.

Sister.

Show them your tale.

But it's the very image.

The story of the child has been born and in the allotted time.

Something is not right here.

Is this my son or no?

Or is this my son or is this my son or is this my grandson?

I can find this mess.

I don't want a Dorothy that you've chosen this moment to let discussions live.

Oh, he's hungry, poor little mate.

Come here, come here.

Let Dorie feed him.

That's it, I shall feed him.

No, no, please.

There we are.

I'm happy. That's it. I've always used a snowy broth.

Happy to let the little fella suck.

Surely that is a condition.

Since birthing my twins, my breasts have never ceased pumping their dreamy brew.

You know how you've always enjoyed your bubbly milk.

Yay.

Gas!

What is that noise?

Most likely baboons caught in the chimney.

I think it not.

Oh my lord!

This mister's on a bell!

Why?

She was barren.

Unable to provide an air mother,

Matilda had me say she had passed and looked her way.

I have attended to her these past three years.

She's eaten nothing but eggs.

She's not quite as I imagined.

Great job!

His condition is grave.

Oh, fuck!

Elaine!

I thought Father and I might join you.

It's a name.