Original subtitles

Anything for me? Turner-Rumbold.

Oh, yes, sir.

No, sir. I'm afraid not today, sir.

Expecting something, were you, sir?

No, sir.

I'll take Mrs. Trotter's. Thank you.

Oh, Merriman, good morning.

A glass of whiskey, if you'd be so kind.

Whiskey?

Very good, sir.

Oh, blimey.

The phantom poet's struck again.

Here, listen to this:

"I thought my days of passion were over,

"But love and wine and idleness

"And Glycera's beauty are too much for me.

"Again I feel the full power of Venus,

"Again must leave all other subjects to write love poems,

"Again think only of propitiating Venus

and moderating the pains of me passion."

Well, it's obviously somebody who admires you.

Sounds a bit old, that's the trouble.

Yeah. I wish he'd get me bleedin' name right.

He's called me Chloe, Lesbia, Phyllis,

and now Glycera,

all in the space of a fortnight.

Perhaps he's shy.

Shy? No, he ain't. Signed this one. Look.

"Horace."

We had any Horaces here lately?

A Lord Horace, do you mean, or a Mr. Horace something?

I don't know. Let's have a look at the book.

Get Starr in here.

He might shed a bit of light.

Thank you.

Term beginning soon, is it, sir?

Next week.

Mr. Starr, will you come in here a moment, please?

Yes, I remember terms beginning.

Oh, yes.

Bags arriving, bicycles...

Balliol, isn't it, sir?

Yes, that's right.

Benson wouldn't still be there, would he?

Benson...is he a don?

Pardon?

Your friend Benson. Is he a don?

Oh, Lord, no, sir.

A porter at the lodge, sir.

Porter's a disagreeable man called Duffy, I think.

Oh.

Do you want me to spell it for you?

Someone's been writing me poems...

love poems.

Well, that's not unusual,

but I've been bombarded with them.

Any idea who it is?

It certainly isn't me, madam.

I know it isn't you, you dump.

They come in the post, don't they?

Oh, I see. Might I...? Thank you.

They keep getting Mrs. Trotter's name wrong,

which is funny.

"Full power of Venus." quite flattering, madam.

Well, it would be if I knew who it was.

It's Horace.

Do you know any?

What are you sniffing it for?

I thought it might be a clue, madam...the aroma.

Eh?

Smells like old cobwebs to me.

Oh, there was that jesuit priest a few weeks ago.

You know, made rather a nuisance of himself.

Father Simms.

I remember him. The Simms of the fathers.

Eh?

Sorry, madam. A little jest.

Was he called Horace?

No, it weren't him, Mary.

He was only after me tarnished soul.

There was the arms dealer,

that Lithuanian gentleman who paid court to you, madam.

A Lithuanian called Horace?

No. Quite.

Wasting our time, I think.

Thank you, Starr. Right, Mary.

We'll get on with some more work now.

Just one thing, madam. The postmark...Oxford.

And harking back to the smell of cobwebs

and the obvious literary merit in the poem...

Might be a scholar, do you think?

A scholar after me? Hardly likely, is it?

Not exactly the seat of learning is the Bentinck.

Thank you, Starr.

All right, Mary, what's this one?

Gas company.

Starr, old chap!

How jolly nice to see a friendly face.

Good morning, Mr. Shepherd.

Got a room, have you? Not chock-a-block, what?

We are quite full at the moment,

but there's always room for you, sir.

Thank heavens!

Is Mrs. Shepherd with you?

Good Lord! Is she?

No, she isn't.

No, the old girl's having the house done up at present.

Turning the first floor into a hairdressing parlor.

- Little business scheme of hers. - Oh, really, sir?

Yes. Women, hair, builders everywhere.

My hair's dropping out under the strain.

- I wouldn't say that, sir. - I thought I'd...

take a little break,

come here for a few days, what?

Very wise, sir.

Oh, and, Starr...

If she comes looking for me,

mum's the word.

- There's a good sport. - I quite understand, sir.

You can put him in number 14, Mary.

If they start complaining,

you can tell 'em that's how

the Kaiser likes it when he stays here.

That's the way to treat Germans.

Yes, ma'am.

Ooh! There's one here from Lord Haslemere.

Yes, it's his crest.

Lord Haslemere?

What's he want after all this time?

I don't know. Shall I open it?

No, you won't, Mary!

I suppose all the staff

open me personal letters, do they?

Sorry, ma'am.

Lady Haslemere... coming up to London

for a couple of days to look at property...

Can we put her up for two nights.

She's arriving Wednesday.

Oh, it'll be nice to see her again.

Yeah.

Horace is a latin poet.

But is he in love with Mrs. Trotter?

That's what we want to know.

That'd be a bit odd, Mary.

He's been dead about 2,000 years.

Oh, I see.

You mean, he's the author of the poem?

That's it, Mary.

Horace, lyrical poet of the Augustan age.

Didn't know we had a scholar in our midst,

did we, Fred?

I was at Balliol College, Oxford, Mr. Starr, for a short while.

Oh, yeah? Pull the other one.

Hey, you were never a student, were you?

Not exactly, Violet.

College servant... scouts, they called 'em...

on the staircases.

And I used to serve dinner on the top table to the dons.

Bit of learning's bound to drop off in that sort of company.

But you still can't tell us

who's sending her the poems, can he, Fred?

There's gentlemen make up to her.

You often see 'em,

but she's all standoffish about it usually.

I cannot understand it.

Suits her, Violet...

having several admirers all at once.

Sort of smokescreen, if you get my drift.

Nothing asked of her. Suits her that way.

I believe there's only one man she's ever really loved.

That was ages ago...

Lord Haslemere.

Can Fred have the last muffin?

His old rooms. All right?

Yes, I remember. Lovely.

Still his furniture.

Really?

What are you doing here, Tommy?

I didn't even know you was in residence.

Oh, Lord, yes. Yes, I am. I'm lying low for a bit.

My fault, madam. My mistake. I'd forgotten about him.

Look, I say....I'll go.

Oh, please, no, not on my account.

Lady Haslemere, Mr. Shepherd.

Oh! How do you do? You must be Charlie's wife.

Delightful! We've never met.

- How do you do? - Put him somewhere else, Starr,

and get Violet here to clear up quick.

How is the old chap? Is he with you?

- No. - Ta-ta, Tommy.

Starr will show you the way.

Rather.

Oh, excuse me.

Number 14, madam?

No, not there, you blockhead.

The Germans are going there.

Number 13? That'll do.

- Number 13, sir. - Number 13. righto. I'll...

Just get my, um...

Well, good-bye.

See you again, no doubt.

Good-bye.

Starr. Starr!

Sorry about that.

The poor man. I feel awful.

You don't want to worry about him.

So, you've come to look at property, have you?

Yes.

Charles has been very busy on the estate in the last year.

His father left it in an awful muddle,

but things are better now,

and Charles suddenly felt he needed London again.

Well, I agree with him.

Life is very pleasant in Yorkshire, but it is rather...

..limiting for someone like Charles.

If you need any help, I know a few estate agents.

Yes, thank you. I'm sure I will need help.

Right. I'll let you get settled in, then.

Thank you.

Oh, Mrs. Trotter,

Charles is coming to collect me on Friday afternoon.

I'm sure he'd like to see you again.

Perhaps you'll have tea with us before we catch our train?

Yes, that would be very nice. Thank you.

Mr. Merriman.

What is it? Here, what...

Thank you.

Shh!

By the afternoon post, madam...

Postmark, Oxford.

Silver platter?

Thought the occasion might warrant it, madam.

You're getting a bit big for your boots, Starr.

Yes, madam.

Oh, blimey. He's declared himself at last.

Who is it, madam?

Stubbs. Professor Stubbs.

College notepaper and all.

Here, listen to this:

"Your fervent admirer from the Groves of Academus. Ca..."

Here, he wants me to have dinner with him!

CLAUD: You're absolutely positive?

My dear Claud, I know my own handwriting.

- What did you put? - What we agreed.

"Your fervent admirer

"From the Groves of Academus.

Can contain myself no longer."

Yes, but what about the dinner?

Cafe Royal, this Friday.

She'll tear it up, of course.

Will she? It doesn't matter.

We will persist. We will not take no for an answer.

Oh, what mirth! Poor old Stubby.

MARY: I had to tell you, ma'am.

I think it's a shame, really.

It was so romantic up to now.

Yeah, well... I knew it was a joke.

Obvious all along.

But we'll keep it going a bit, I think.

What are you going to do?

Accept.

But you can't, can you?

I mean, the poor professor knows nothing about you.

So?

Well, he'll get a letter from a woman he's never heard of,

accepting an invitation to dinner he's never given.

That's right.

Well, his wife might see it... if he's married, I mean.

Oh, yeah. Never thought of that.

Still, we can reveal all in the end.

But then you'll get the young men into trouble,

and they only meant it as a bit of fun.

Mary, if idle young gentlemen

want to play jokes on Louisa Trotter,

they can bloomin' well face the consequences.

"Dear professor,

"With thanks for your kind invitation to dinner

"at the Cafe Royal on Friday.

"Delighted to accept. Yours truly, Glycera."

Oh, heavens.

Thank you, miss.

- You! - Me, madam?

Yes, you. Come on.

Well, I won't bite you, dear.

Your hair could be much prettier than that, you know.

Yes, madam?

Good morning, madam. All right, Violet.

Is my husband here, by any chance?

- Your husband, madam? - Mr. Shepherd.

Is he staying here?

Mr. Shepherd...

Would that be Mr. Tommy shepherd?

Is he here?

Here, madam?

STARR: Well, now you mention it,

I don't recall seeing him here for...

..some months now.

Oh, Lord!

Hello, dear. You having a nice holiday, are you?

Yes, dearest, I am.

Well, I've come to join you for a few days,

just while the builders are in.

What a jolly good idea.

Do come up.

Good heavens! What have you done with your hair?

Oh, it's topping. Absolutely topping. Yes.

We're in number 13.

The room's smallish, but the view's pleasant.

Narrow squeak there, Fred.

LOUISA: Sort of thing you're looking for?

Yes. Hill street?

It's quite near here. They're nice houses.

Easy to keep up. Wouldn't mind one meself.

Well, I shall certainly go and look at it. Thank you.

Would you like some tea?

No, thank you, not this time of day.

I'm afraid I haven't got any Champagne,

- but I could ask for some. - No, don't bother.

Must you go?

I'm sorry. If you're busy...

No, no, I'm not busy.

Well...

I've had rather an extraordinary day.

Apart from looking at houses...

Can you keep a secret?

Well, I'll do my best.

Oh, dear. What have I started?

Well...you may have been wondering

why Charles and I haven't yet had children.

There's plenty of time for all that.

No. No, he wants one desperately.

We're trying, but so far, I've failed him.

You've failed him?

No, please... I started to worry about it,

but that wasn't helping, obviously.

So I went to see a specialist today...

In Wimpole Street.

Oh, privately...Charles knows nothing about it.

I was petrified, really, but...

..I saw him this morning, and he was very kind.

He examined me thoroughly,

and I came through with flying colors.

Oh, that's wonderful!

Oh, I can't tell you how relieved I am.

Well, things will be so much better now, I'm sure.

Haven't they been so good, then?

No. No, don't misunderstand me.

Charles is a most considerate husband, and...

..we're very happy.

But now we'll be even happier.

And if he likes the house, as well,

then I will have done two things to please him, won't I?

Hope you enjoy your evening, my lady. My lord.

Thank you.

STARR: Can I help you, sir?

Ah, yes. I have a letter here from a lady.

I don't know who.

She signs herself...

- Glycera. - Glycera?

Yes.

And your name, sir?

My name?

Oh, yes. Stubbs. Professor Stubbs.

Oh, I think it's Mrs. Trotter you want to see, sir.

"Mrs.", you say?

In name only. It's something from the past.

There's no Mr. Trotter. There hasn't been for some years.

Ah, I see.

What...age is the lady?

I wouldn't like to divulge that, sir,

not without the lady's permission, you understand.

Oh, no. Quite so. Quite so.

Here she comes now.

Ah...

Glycera!

Eh?

STARR: Professor Stubbs, madam.

I received your letter.

Oh, blimey. Yeah.

Well, I can explain that, professor...

If you'll follow me.

LOUISA: Good evening.

The professor?

That's right. He's turned up.

Looks more like an old tramp.

Well, he's a gentleman by his voice,

but you should see his fingernails.

The only clue was the heading of the writing paper...

the Bentinck Hotel.

Do I know you? Have we met before?

I have an appalling memory for faces.

No. No, we haven't met before.

The fact is, it's a joke, really.

It is?

Yes. Two of your boys who stay here sometimes

been sending me poems

professing to come from you,

if you'll pardon the pun...love poems.

Naturally. That is my subject.

What are the names of these two young gallants?

Tich and Rummy-Tummy.

Who?

Willie Watling and Claud Turner-Rumbold.

Oh, those two. Yes. Well, that's not surprising.

They have a flair for the absurd.

Have you kept the poems? May I see them?

- Here you are. - Thank you.

Oh, yes.

Yes. Well, at least they've had the good taste

to use my translation.

Translation?

Written in latin, you see.

Catullus, Ovid, Horace. Roman poets.

These ladies...Chloe, Lesbia, and so forth...

the poets' various mistresses.

Oh, I wondered who they was.

Yes. I've translated all their works.

Catullus, in particular. Done a book on him.

Of course, you can't print all his stuff.

Some of it is rather... Fruity, you know.

Oh! I must read it sometime.

Uh...yes.

Good heavens!

Here's my supper invitation...

And my name, too. What a wonderful forgery.

Yeah, well, I'm sorry, professor.

I should never have answered it.

I thought you'd put it straight in the wastepaper basket.

But, my good woman, I couldn't do that.

Consider...

An aging professor...

A bachelor...

Devotes a lifetime to the study of these poets,

embraces their minds and their souls...

And then suddenly one day, the object of their passions,

the temptress Glycera, leaps from the page

and accepts my invitation to dine with her at the Cafe Royal.

Who could resist such an offer?

Are the... Scalawags here now?

Yes, I think they are.

Well, we're not going to disappoint them, are we?

Eh?

Dinner, tomorrow night...

At the Cafe Royal.

Oh, well, that's very nice of you,

but I'm rather busy tomorrow night.

Hmm. And tonight I'm lecturing...

Horace's use of the complementary infinitive.

But could we dine afterwards?

No, I don't think so.

The day after, I must return to Oxford.

What a pity.

Are we going to let the whole thing fizzle out?

Awful shame, don't you think?

Well, um...

I suppose I just might get free

tomorrow night.

Yes.

Oh...happy Catullus!

It's settled, then.

I shall arrive for you at 9:00.

Good-bye.

Oh...

Oh.

Uh, what is your first name?

Louisa.

I prefer Glycera. Oh...

What's yours?

Herbert.

Till tomorrow evening... Good-bye.

Herbert.

He's a proper one and all.

Strange thing, unrequited passion.

I suffered from it once.

Oh, yes?

Viennese, she was.

Lady's maid to a countess, and I was a young man

full of fancies, valet to Lord Petersham.

There we were, in this grand hotel

when Vienna was Vienna.

What's the time, Mary?

5 to 10:00. Go on, Mr. Merriman.

Used to catch glimpses of her passing through the foyer,

out on the terrace sometimes.

Spoke to her just the once.

She'd lost an 'air-bag belonging to her mistress.

All of a fluster, she was, pink in the cheek.

I helped her look for it.

Happiest 20 minutes of me life, that was.

Did you find it?

What? Oh, no! No, no, Mary.

No, the old porter found it behind an aspidistra.

Remember the smile she gave him, her eyes moist with tears...

Smile of sheer gratitude.

I thought...it could have been mine, that smile.

How I'd have treasured it.

Violet! What on earth have you been up to?

What have you done, you stupid girl?

Don't blame me. It was Mrs. Shepherd.

You look like a tart. Go and wash it out at once.

Why, fancy ladies wear it like this.

MARY: Come with me before Mrs. Trotter sees you.

Mrs. Shepherd told me Lillie Langtry's packed up now.

There's no blondes anymore. It's all red hair now.

Not here, it ain't, my girl. Go on.

Went to Paris the next day. Last I ever saw of her.

Dead now, I should think.

Oh, that smile of hers...

That'll live as long as I live, and no mistake.

The girl's all right, isn't she?

Under control, I think, sir.

Miss Phillips helped her wash it out.

But it won't come out, will it?

Dyed with henna leaves imported from Africa,

they tell me.

My wife likes people to practice on.

She's under instruction

from a Frenchman she picked up in...

Why, if it isn't Charlie Haslemere!

Tommy!

Long time, what?

Yes, indeed. Starr, good to see you.

Welcome back, my lord.

Thank you.

Ah, Fred!

How are you?

STARR: He's glad to see you, sir.

TOMMY: I must tell Daphne!

I say, did you know that I'd taken the plunge?

Good Lord! I don't believe it.

My dear chap, neither do I.

Well, who is she? Do I know her?

No. No, no, no, you wouldn't know her, no.

Met her in Monte.

Found myself wed within the week.

Good Lord! You old dog. Congratulations.

Thank you. Oh, I met your wife.

Delightful creature, what?

Well, you must take a glass with us.

Oh, yes, absolutely.

Starr, are we in my old rooms?

- Of course me lord. - Oh, splendid.

Oh, my lord!

How are you, Mary?

Merriman... Surviving?

Just about, me lord.

LOUISA: Hello, Charlie.

Louisa.

Same as ever.

Oh, thank you.

And so is the Bentinck, I'm happy to say.

Nothing's changed at all.

We must have Champagne to celebrate.

Yeah. Later, perhaps. Her ladyship's waiting

for us upstairs with a tea party.

Come on.

A specialist?

Why on earth didn't you tell me?

It's so stupid to hide it from me.

I had to do it on my own, Charles.

Yes, I can understand that.

And it's the result that matters, isn't it?

I'm all right. Aren't you pleased?

Well, of course you're all right.

The whole thing's a fuss about nothing.

Be fair, Charlie.

Now, Louisa, please... Keep out of this.

She was supposed to be up here looking for houses.

Well, she's found you one.

What? Where?

Hill street. It's quite near here.

I think it's just what we want.

Well...when can I look at it?

Well, we'll have to go now, quite soon, before our train.

No. Look, it's a pity to rush things.

Why don't we stay overnight and see it in the morning?

I mean, it's not often we get up to London,

and Louisa might even cook dinner for us.

No, not tonight, Charlie.

Been asked out meself tonight.

Oh? By whom?

A friend...and I'm going off now

to tart meself up, if you'll excuse me.

Thank you for the tea.

Oh, darling, I'm sorry to shout at you,

but you were rather silly, weren't you?

You must tell me your worries in future.

Yes. My fault.

That's one of Mr. Mather's best.

You're a very lucky...

You look splendid, madam, if I may say so.

Thank you, Starr. He arrived yet?

Not yet, madam.

You'd better book us a table.

I doubt whether he will have,

and that place is always full.

Book it in his name, not mine.

Very good, madam.

Violet!

Come here.

I had an accident, madam.

I can see you have, my girl.

What are you going to do about it?

You're better off bald. Or buy a wig.

You'll frighten the customers.

Yes, madam.

When you've finished what you're doing,

you can take some towels to Lord Haslemere's rooms.

He's staying. Yes, madam.

9:30.

Name of Stubbs.

That's right.

Voila, mes braves!

CHARLIE: Tommy!

Just a little welcome for the prodigal son, what?

Oh...my wife Daphne, Margaret Haslemere.

Hello.

Hello, dear. Now, we're not staying long.

And my old friend, Charlie Haslemere.

How do you do? Hello.

Oh, set it down there, Merriman, old chap.

CHARLIE: Oh, Tommy!

TOMMY: Shall we all sit down, then? DAPHNE: Oh, yes, let's!

Ah...same old room.

But of course.

He's supposed to be on the water wagon,

the silly man.

Nonsense. Nonsense! Don't you believe it.

It's true.

Champagne is a purgative to me system,

and my old friend Lord Haslemere, my dear,

has just returned from the regions of hell...

which is how I always regard Yorkshire...

and must be restored to the pink as fast as possible.

Now, isn't that right, Charlie?

Absolutely right, Tommy.

You and Champagne are just the tonics I need.

We do have Champagne in Yorkshire.

Ah, a brutish facsimile of same, no doubt.

Well, now, let's all drink a toast.

What shall it be? Um... "Welcome home, Charlie"?

Oh, yes. Welcome home!

Welcome home, Charlie! Bottoms up.

They're lovely roses, professor.

Oh, uh, there is just one thing...

What's that?

Well, I'm not really accustomed

to going out with gentlemen I hardly know,

so if you've any ideas in your head...

Now, you take a good look now,

'cause that's all you're going to see of me tonight.

Just so as we know where we stand.

But, my dear, good woman, I wouldn't dream of...

Oh, I know you wouldn't.

Oh. Oh. Oh. Well, I...

Eh?

Oh, uh... Oh, "The joy of girls."

Oh!

LOUISA: Starr, fetch us a cab.

There's one waiting, madam,

and the advance party have already left, madam.

Who?

Mr. Watling and Mr. Turner-Rumbold.

They've gone to the Cafe Royal.

Do you hear that, professor?

Good Lord. I had forgotten all about them.

So did I, come to think of it.

Shall we go?

People are always so stuffy about hair, in my opinion.

I mean, if you like pigtails,

now, why shouldn't you wear them?

But there's this doctor in Devon saying they're unhygienic,

and hair needs air.

It's rubbish, and monsieur Laffont agrees with me.

Who on earth is Monsieur Llaffont?

He's my business partner.

Yes. She married me and bought herself

a Frenchman in Monte, all in the same week.

It wasn't like that at all, dear, and you know it.

You're still my favorite old thing.

But Monsieur Laffont is a genius,

and I had all this money

that my second husband left me.

Biscuits, you know.

I just picked up the crumbs.

So I thought I'd do something useful.

So you've started a business?

Yes, that's right, dear,

in our own home in Bruton Street.

Monsieur Laffont is having all his equipment

put in at the moment.

Some fresh towels for his lordship, my lady.

MARGARET: Thank you, Violet.

Whatever has that poor girl done to her hair?

What?

She looks like a scarecrow.

Monsieur Laffont is very advanced

in permanent waving, you know.

He's teaching me all he knows.

Yes. No place like home, what? But I felt cuckooed,

my position being usurped by a froggie, so I moved here.

She knew where to find me, of course.

I say, this bottle's empty.

Oh, Violet!

Do you think you could

ask Merriman to bring up

another bottle of Champagne?

Yes, sir.

Oh, make it two, lovey.

Yes, sir.

I see what you mean.

I think you should take her in hand at once.

Yes. Well, as a matter of fact,

I did...last night.

She looked lovely last night.

Can't think what she's done to herself.

Oh, just the last little drop.

Don't worry... reinforcements coming.

Thank you.

I like your hair, dear. Who does it?

Oh, Lord, they're talking hair.

I say, what, you and I slip out

for a bit of gaming later on?

You know, private house, old friend...

DAPHNE: Tommy!

Oh, ladies invited, of course.

Just a little flutter.

Well, I must say it sounds rather tempting.

Oh, I think I'll decline.

Very wise, dear. So will I.

But you can go if you want to.

We'll stop and have a nice little chat together.

Can we really?

Off you go, darling. You go with Tommy.

Jolly sporting of you, old girl!

Thank you.

That was...

That was...

That was delicious.

Not bad.

No...no, thank you.

I do hope you like this wine.

I always drink it each summer

on the island of Elba, where I spend my holidays.

You're a connoisseur of wine, I can tell.

Of the rougher sort,

if I may make a modest claim.

No, I don't suppose I could teach you

anything about it, could I?

What an amazing place this is.

- Ain't you been here before? - Never, in my life.

Who are all these people?

Writers, painters, poets...

And intellectuals.

Really? Fascinating.

Not forgetting our two young friends in the mirror there.

Still there?

Hanging on every word.

Do you think we should ask them over?

What, spoil our evening? Nah.

Here, I've got a better idea.

Kiss me hand.

Really? Yeah, go on.

That's what they're wanting. Pretend it's Glycera.

I will.

Say, Claud, look!

By Jupiter! Cupid has struck!

Here, here, here, that's enough.

Was I overdoing it?

No, no. But I can tell

you don't spend all your time spouting poetry.

It's true. I am a hedonist...

But for wine, good food, and conversation...

Nowadays.

What's wrong with women?

Nothing. I adore them...

To gaze upon and converse with.

As to sharing one's life with a woman...

Accuse me of selfishness if you will, but...

They do draw one's strength, don't they?

Sap one's vitality

with inconsequence and triviality.

Gawd strewth! The ideas you men have of us.

What about the other way around, eh?

You ever thought of that? No, of course you haven't.

Mind you, I still have an eye for a pretty ankle.

My girl students...

Well, that's illegal, isn't it?

That's like doctors and patients.

Or lady hotel keepers and their guests.

Well, that's my business.

Oh, uh, do you mind?

Oh, no, no. Carry on.

Odd occupation for a woman, isn't it?

I mean, running a hotel.

Rather more a... A masculine pursuit.

That's another funny idea you got.

You're living back in Roman times,

I shouldn't wonder, professor.

But those writers of yours, Catullus and his lot,

they wrote about lively women with good minds...

give them something to think about.

They usually wrote about

fickle and faithless women, in point of fact.

Fickle and faithless, eh? I wouldn't know about that.

What about Cleopatra?

Now, she was a women with a bit of go in her.

Ah! You see yourself as Cleopatra?

Eh?

Now, there was a devious woman.

I can't argue with you, professor. You'll win.

But don't spend all your time with your head in books,

or you might miss out on what's really going on.

What enormous fun this is!

What are they talking about? Can you hear?

Cleopatra, I think.

Cleopatra? Women, anyway.

That's good. That's good!

LOUISA: Those nosy beggars still looking at us?

Let...let's play a trick on them.

Oh, God! What do we do now?

Bluff it out.

Oh! My dear fellows, I'm awfully sorry.

I've made the most frightful mistake.

I mistook you for two friends of mine,

Tich and Tummy-Rumble.

I do apologize.

But perhaps you'd join us for a brandy

by way of recompense.

Awfully kind of you, sir.

We're still eating, actually.

Ah, well, never mind.

My apologies again. Good-bye.

That was a bit heartless, wasn't it?

I have a reputation for it.

No!

Not true, of course, but what they expect

and no more than they deserve.

Here, you'll have us under the table, you will.

Now, what were we talking about?

Ah, yes.

Yes, you were giving me advice...

head in books.

My turn now.

Give up your Bentinck Hotel.

Come to Oxford.

Start a new place there. We need you.

If Oxford needs me it knows where to find me, in the holidays.

Now, why should I budge?

Because you're a thinking man's delight.

You have wit, quickness of mind. You...

..exist...in the mind.

Sopwith says so.

Sopwith? Who's he when he's at home?

A colleague of mine, a professor of English.

Stayed at the Bentinck...twice.

I spoke to him last night.

Oh. Checking up on me, was you?

You remind Sopwith of an ancient goddess.

Here, how ancient?

Timeless. The goddess Ceres...

goddess of corn and vegetation.

Earth mother.

Sopwith says...

He won't go to heaven unless you're there.

Cor blimey! A lot of rot you professors talk.

Have you got nothing better to do with your brains

than natter on about goddesses?

Hmm.

Educate us, then.

Take us in hand. Show us your way.

Time we got our bill, I think.

Uh...

Waiter?

I'm sorry.

Sopwith warned me of this.

He said you'd cast a spell.

The mind races on nights like this.

You...

You are spoken for, naturally.

Are you?

I don't wish to pry.

Well....I have me moments.

No, I'm a bit like you, I think,

with the hotel and that.

A bit set in me ways.

Really?

I see.

No, we're not paying that.

You take that to Toulouse-Lautrec and his friend over there.

They'll settle that.

Oh, and wasn't that a bit heartless?

Nah, they can afford it.

Their fathers are stinking rich,

and they've had enough free wine out of me in the past.

Come on.

There was one woman in my life.

Her name was Anthea.

I pursued her energetically.

But she married the Dean of St. Edmund Hall.

I still see her in the high from time to time.

We exchange cards at Christmastime.

I'm afraid you remind me of her.

The eyes.

Ahem. Since then, over 30 years,

a mild flirtation or two...

And more recently,

a vigorous exchange of views

on all manner of topics with my cleaning lady,

the respectable Mrs. Todd.

The sum total...until tonight.

You've...lit a fire in me, you see.

Are you sure that ain't just the Italian wine?

No, no, no. Is it?

No, no. I'm used to that.

Never arouses these feelings in me usually.

Where are we going?

I thought you were taking me home.

Whoopsey daisy!

Good evening, madam.

I hope you had a pleasant evening.

Oh, very nice, thank you, Starr.

STARR: All right, sir?

Oh...pins and needles.

Got a room for the professor, have we?

We are rather full, madam.

We must have a boot cupboard or something.

Well, there's number 17.

Oh, yeah. That'll have to do.

Do you fancy a nightcap, professor?

Yes. Oh, yes.

LOUISA: The way I see it, Herbert...

Oh! That's my name.

Yes.

Well, the way I see it,

love is necessary to most people,

but, thank God, it's never really been necessary to me.

I think it is necessary in some lives.

If once you have it, worse...

It's better to frame it, look back on it, then...

..fiddle about with it once you've had it.

Your mentality should control you.

It's easy to say.

Yes.

Louisa...

Listen.

At the end of the month, I'm going to America

to lecture in Seattle.

Now, you must come with me, as...

..my companion, fellow traveler, nothing else.

An adventure.

What, leave the Bentinck?

For a while. Why not?

You've done all you can here.

Sopwith agrees with me.

Oh, him again.

Who is he?

A friend.

Now, I want you to consider it most seriously.

America.

It'll refresh you.

Now...now I'm going to bed.

Now...

Starr! What?

Oh...

Where do I go?

Starr! Yes, madam?

The professor is going to bed now.

Uh...we'll discuss it further in the morning.

Good night.

Good night, Herbert.

America.

Shh! Shh!

TOMMY: Oh! Aah! What's that?

CHARLIE: Starr's chair. Are you all right?

Yes. I banged my foot. Is there a light in here?

Oh, yes. It's right here.

Oh! Oh...

Mustn't wake the ladies.

Disgrace. Always the same.

Mea culpa.

Tail between the legs.

Ooh...I owe you some money, don't I?

Oh, it doesn't matter.

No, no. I'll try and get it tomorrow

from Daphne, if I can.

- You coming up? - In a moment. Good night.

Louisa?

Hello, Charlie.

Pardon me for not rising.

Well, come on in if you're coming.

There's a bleedin' draft.

Mind the furniture.

You're drunk.

So are you.

Yeah, that's right.

Get yourself a glass and pour us another.

What you been up to all evening?

I've been out with Tommy Shepherd

and some friends of his.

Louisa...,

..have you been doing much of this...

..drinking alone?

Do you mean, have I become an habitual sozzler?

Only when I feel like it. Cheers.

Louisa, I don't like seeing you in this state.

You should look to yourself, my boy.

Louisa, who is this professor of latin?

What?

- Starr was telling me. - Yeah, well, he shouldn't have.

Staff gossiping. I'll have his guts.

It's not his fault. I asked him.

What's your interest?

It's natural I should want to know...

about me love affairs?

If you're happy, that's all.

I'm quite happy, thank you, Charlie.

Not with a professor of latin.

You can't be.

What a bloomin' cheek.

You come back here after 18 months,

and you start throwing your weight about?

I can't help it if I'm concerned. I'm your oldest friend.

Not anymore, you're not.

You're a guest in this hotel like any other,

and you got no rights over me, Charlie,

so don't you try anything.

I refuse to listen to such rubbish.

You can't sweep away the past,

all that's happened between us.

- Can't I? - No, of course you can't.

Like it or not, we're part of each other's lives...

..always will be.

We have a child to prove it.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to use that.

No, you'd better not.

All the same, she exists.

She's growing up. She's pretty.

- Don't you want to hear — - No, I don't!

You just look to your own life.

You get that sorted out, and don't use me or this place,

or anyone here as an answer to your problems.

What do you mean?

- You know very well what I mean. - Sorry, I've no idea.

Well, you're blind, then.

Your wife, that's what I mean.

That tense, strung-up little thing upstairs.

Margaret? She's perfectly happy.

Well, she don't look it to me.

Oh, nonsense!

On the strength of one tea party,

you write off my marriage?

I resent that, Louisa.

Right. Good. We got that sorted out.

You look after your life, I'll look after my life.

That's what we agreed on.

But not forever.

Yes, Charlie.

I might make it easy for you, as it happens.

I might be going away.

Going?

Haven't made me mind up yet.

Well, where?

I might go to America.

What on earth for?

Well, what does anyone go to America for?

Have a look at it, like Christopher Columbus.

Oh, push off, will you, Charlie?

I've done enough talking for one night.

Oh, come on.

Now? I say, must we?

Oh, yes, we'd better.

Come in.

Oh, it's you two. What do you want?

We crave your forgiveness, Mrs. Trotter.

Oh, yeah?

Yes. Our little joke... it rather misfired, I'm afraid.

We didn't mean any harm.

Well, it come to no harm,

as it happened... Luckily for you.

Oh, good.

In fact, I might have cause to be grateful.

Really?

Tell me some more about this professor of yours.

Well, there's not much to tell, really.

You see, the reason we did it...

- We thought he needed a woman. - Yes, that's right.

And the poor old fellow spends all his days

wallowing in some of the most erotic poetry in literature.

Passion literally dripping from his lips,

but dried up and empty inside.

Rather lonely, actually.

We thought he needed a treat.

We thought of you.

Oh, that was thoughtful.

Naturally, we didn't expect anything to happen.

Good Lord, no. It was the last thing.

Sorry, ma'am, but Lady Haslemere

would like to see you in her room,

if you're not too busy.

All right, Merriman. I'll be up in a minute.

Very good, madam.

It's awfully good of you to take it so well.

Yes, it is.

Ta-ta.

Here, just a moment.

Is there another don at your college called Sopwith?

Sopwith?

No.

Hmm...

Mrs. Trotter, Charles is being very stubborn.

There are a lot of things here...

There is no question of anything going anywhere Margaret.

I gave everything to Louisa a long time ago

in payment of a debt.

A debt?

I don't mean money.

It was more of a gift.

I have no intention of taking anything back now.

I don't remember no gift, Charlie.

What?

You just left 'em here to be collected sometime.

That's not true.

You take what you want. It's all replaceable.

- There, you see? - Louisa!

Good-bye, Charlie.

Hurry up and get dressed, darling.

We've got to see the house and catch our train.

STARR: Good morning, professor.

Oh, good morning. Is Mrs., uh...

- Trotter. - Yes. Is she about?

I expect she's in her parlor.

She usually is at this time of day.

- Do you want to see her? - No! Uh...

No, no, no.

As a matter of fact, I've just been out to buy your book,

"The life and works of Catullus."

- She requested it. - Good God!

Did she really?

It's very fruity, you know.

I expect that's why she wanted it.

You know Mrs. Trotter.

No, no, I don't. You see, that's the point. I...

We were the victims of a practical joke.

- Were you, sir? - Yes.

And one says things... in vino perditum...

And come the dawn, you don't remember.

You don't remember a thing.

Terrible.

Ma'am, it's not true that you're leaving, is it?

Eh?

Violet just said she heard Lord Haslemere

tell Lady Haslemere while they were packing

that you were going to America.

Oh, blimey. Don't I get no privacy here?

My home, it is.

You all treat it like a bloomin' hotel.

Excuse me, madam.

Yes, Starr, what is it?

The professor asked me to give you this.

Oh, yeah? Where is he?

He left.

"The Life and Works of Catullus."

"Miser Catul..."

Here, I can't read latin.

He asked me to draw your attention to the translation.

Poem 8, madam. Page 34, the first two lines.

Page...

34.

Stubbs, voice-over: "Poor Catullus,

"Leave off playing the fool

and give up as lost what you see is lost."

Fond memories, Herbert Sopwith Stubbs.

Oh, well.

There goes America.

Seems I'm stuck here for the rest of me born days.

Well, there's some of us that's quite pleased.

Oh, ma'am, and about Mr. Sopwith...

Yeah?

I've gone through the books, and I've asked Mr. Merriman,

who's usually got a very good memory for names,

but we can't seem to place him at all.

Do you think he exists?

Oh, yeah, he exists, Mary.

He's rather a retiring sort of gentleman.

What?

All right, Mary, don't worry.

Yes, ma'am.

Oh, my God.