All language subtitles for The.Sudbury.Devil.2023.2160p.4K.WEB.x265.10bit.AAC5.1-[YTS.MX].mkv

I am as glad of thy coming
as any Christian man may be.

Thomas Russell.

Josiah Cutting.

John Fletcher.

Fletcher?

Thou art Fletcher of
Moseley's company, yes?

The very same.

Well met, sir.

Sudbury is fortunate indeed
to have an estimable soldier

such as yourself
come to her defense.

Prithee, good morrow to
you, both, let's go within.

'Tis been weather
most foul of late.

I cannot imagine it was
an easy ride from Boston.

Ah, it is no matter.

Dist thou receive my letter

to Magistrate Bradstreet?

Aye, we did.

Nary a word it were false.

Mr. Cutting, Mr. Fletcher,
this is Isaac Goodenow.

Oh, God give you
good morrow, sirs.

Welcome to me home, welcome.

This is your man
from the letter?

I know not where to begin.

I have much to tell
you, magistrates.

None of it good.

- Shall we pray?
- Aye.

Aye. We shall. Um, Mr. Cutting,

you are learned and wise.

It would do me a great honor

to hear you read a brief
devotional at me table.

Lord, may I feel

that I am a stranger
and a pilgrim on earth,

declaring plainly
that I seek a country,

me title to it becoming
daily more clear,

me meetness for it more perfect,

me foretastes of
it more abundant,

and whatsoever I do may be
done in the Savior's name.

- Amen.
- Amen.

Amen.

Oh, forgive me sirs.

I have of late suffered
a weakness of faith.

I believe, I believe that

that is why the
Deceiver chose me.

Chose thee?

For what purpose?

I know not.

Tell the magistrates what
thou hast seen, Isaac.

Well.

'Twas three weeks past.

I was caught in the
woods at nightfall.

Sudbury town is
small, unlike Boston,

with its tavern
rakes about all hours,

street lamps on e'ery corner,
moonlight on the arbor, no.

Night falls hard here, sirs.

And with it comes
the most dreadful dark,

and a most heavy silence.

It was in that darkness
and that silence

that I saw it.

Saw what?

A spirit.

It came in the form of
light, purer than fire.

Whiter.

It moved with such grace,

such smoothness.

It blinded me. I stood
there rooted to the spot.

'Twas there and then,

'twas gone.

This spirit, hath it
appeared to thee since?

No sir.

Nor any other queer thing?

No.

The font of corruption
eludes us yet, sirs.

Mr. Fletcher and
meself will discover it,

I promise thee that.

For thy part, Reverend Russell,

implore thy congregation
to double their prayers.

The war against the Devil is
waged within men's hearts.

Aye. The folk of
Sudbury town would profit

to remember it.

I would fain hear
another prayer.

Lord, watch over thy
servant Isaac Goodenow.

Let not the Devil sink
his claws into him.

Let thy grace come
down upon him,

and give him courage
and strength, O Lord,

for the journey
that lies afore him.

Journey?

How camst thou by this wound?

Damned heathens during the war.

Ah! Where?

Here, in the Sudbury Fight.

Savages beset the town.

The militia was naught
to be found all morning.

We was forced to take
up arms for the defense.

Bloody Brook,
athwart the Nipmuc.

A savage took me
eye, but I took his life.

Well, King Philip and his
confederates are in hell.

I thank God every day for that.

Fletcher!

This is the place.

Where did the spirit appear?

It was there.

Good morrow, Mr. Goodenow.

Good morrow.

Good morrow, Mr. Fletcher.

A quiet night, praise the Lord.

Praise the Lord.

What is the matter, John?

Nothing. All is well.

No fairies or spirits
seen in the night.

Whose country
was this ere the war?

The Nipmuc, sir. A fearsome
lot of heathens they were,

and bore me no love as
one of Mosley's company.

I tell thee at the very first
salvo of Turner's Falls,

I saw fifty of the
savages turn round.

False. It belonged
not to the Indians.

They dwelt here
only by the grace

of he who is their
landlord and their father.

The savages are
gone. The Devil remains.

Thin, foul,
black, black, black, black!

Goodenow!

Peace, man!

- Black!
- Peace man, peace.

Wake up man, wake up.

Black!

Devilry?

I am certain of it.

Take Goodenow
back to Sudbury Town.

I will remain here,
to wait and watch.

No, we must not separate.

We only have enough
food to last another day.

We shall brave this
wilderness for forty if we must.

Goodenow! Come out of the rain.

Oh, Mr. Fletcher.

- I can explain.
- Then explain.

The spirit I'the
stone hath come upon me.

It hath come upon me in me
dreams, it come upon me.

It bad me know it, sir.

- By Jesu, I am damned already.
- Josiah!

Bewitched by the
fairies of this wood.

Josiah!

Aye, aye. Shackle
me, shackle me. I am bewitched!

- The Deceiver, he, he...
- We are not alone.

He hath reached into me soul.

The author if these
misfortunes is near at hand.

- Misdoubt me, sirs.
- Shackle me, shackle me!

Name thyself, Negro-woman.

No more lob-lob.

Speak sense.

No more lob-lob, no.

She is mad.

Goodenow, is this
pagan known to thee?

That is no pagan, but
a baptized Christian.

That is Flora, bonds woman
to the Widow Gavett.

A Christian once
perchance, no longer.

Flora, yet how changed.

She was a buoyant girl
when I saw her last.

Loyal, industrious,
happy in her work.

How now, Flora?

No more lob-lob. No, no!

By the rood, she's a wild beast.

So it is with those
of the African race.

Prodigious of
body, slow of mind.

They must have intelligence
after a fashion.

They possess a brutish
cunning, of a sort.

Enough to concert
a pact with the Devil?

Certainly.

I once knew
a Negro-man from Virginia,

who played on a theorbo,

and I hath heard tell
of Portuguese Negroes

who play at rapier and
dagger very skillfully.

I do not believe it.

There is a mark
set upon that people.

No rule is so general,
but hath its exception.

We hath both
known clever Indians.

True. They are clever
in their falseness,

in their mischief.

Heathens of any shade are
incapable of creation.

They carve faces from wood,

whilst we straddle the oceans,

spreading the
knowledge of Christ,

pursuing the devil to his
hold fast at the end of the world.

O master, fortify his seed.

Get thee behind me, whore.

Sir, I too must ease meself.

Sir, dost thou hear me?

Soil thy skirts, Negro-woman.

No more lob-lob.

Of this especial evil,
I hath seen enough.

We have a witch in our power,

and incontrovertible
evidence that Mr. Goodenow

is aggrieved by her magic.

We shall give testimony
of it in open court.

As shall Goodenow,
if his mind be sound.

And what of me part in this?

Thou wilt be charged with
the crime of fornication.

I will not speak
against thee unduly,

but neither will I lie.

Thou art like to lose thy
station as a magistrate.

Perchance the gaols
hath some work for thee.

Get thee behind me Satan.

Thou art an offense unto me.

Devilry! Devilry! Devilry!

I am the Widow Gavett.
Patience is me Christian name,

and amongst us friends,
'twill serve for salutation.

Me husband owned this land
ere the brave fool fell

against the Indians
in the Sudbury Fight.

Now, all that was
once his, is mine.

I hath given me name. 'Tis
unmannerly not to give me thine.

That be Mr. Josiah
Cutting, mistress,

and that be Mr. John Fletcher.

Magistrates, both,
come from Boston.

Is that so?

What shall we do
with them, Flora?

Let us kill this one, Patience.

He is cruel, horrible,
and like all the so-called

learned white
men, he is an idiot.

But do not harm the
one called Fletcher.

I love him,

I truly love him,

and I will make him me husband.

Thy heart is tender, Flora.

I wish for thee, all the
happiness in the world.

Yet I fear there are larger
forces at work in this wood.

The bones. Aye, the
bones shall decide.

The bones! The bones! 'Tis
time to throw the bones!

'Tis time to throw
the bones, the bones!

What doth the spirits say?

What?

O, master!

- What?
- Wonderful tidings.

O, most wonderful. 'Tis
time! The Day-Star cometh!

And he hath chosen us to aid
his passage into this world!

Truly?

Truly.

♪ Behold how pleasant
'tis! How good ♪

♪ But O, how rare,
and hard to find ♪

♪ Brethren, of the
same house and blood ♪

♪ become of the
same way and mind ♪

♪ Like Samson's honey,
strong and sweet ♪

♪ 'Tis thus to see
men's hearts and hands ♪

♪ As Jonathan's
and David's meet ♪

♪ Twisting together
in love's bands ♪

♪ Come come my royal ramping
boys let's never be cast down ♪

♪ We'll never mind
the female toys ♪

♪ But loyal be to the crown ♪

♪ We'll never break
our hearts with care ♪

- ♪ Or be cast down with fear ♪
- Goodenow.

♪ Our bellies then
let us prepare ♪

♪ To drink some Christmas beer ♪

Goodenow!

Happy Christmas. To both of you.

Prithee, fetch us our clothes.

'Tis within my power.

But what will you
give me in exchange?

Me gratitude.

Tut, tut! 'Twill not do!

Bring me a stick of stubble,

a quart of rage, and
twelve summer nights,

soaked in moonshine.

And then I might consider it.

Thou art bewitched,
and mad besides.

No, sir, no!

I am free! Free! Free! Free!

Goodenow!

Aye, mistress?

Bring him to us. The
one called Fletcher.

So please you, good lady.

To your feet, sir.

Mr. Cutting. In his mercy,

me master hath seen
fit to spare thy life.

Thou art a player in the
entertainment to come.

Mr. Cutting?

Mr. Cutting, I address
thee presently.

Plow deep in me, great Lord,

heavenly husbandman, that me
being may be a tilled field.

Art thou praying?

He is praying.

Your beauty, golden
like summer harvest,

your fruitfulness
as autumn plenty.

- I have no master but you.
- Peace.

No law but thy will,

- no delight but yourself.
- Prithee.

- No wealth but that you give.
- Peace.

I am nothing but
that you make me.

I have nothing but that

- I receive from you.
- Peace.

I can be nothing but that

- grace adorns.
- Peace, peace now.

Quarry me deep, Lord, and
then fill me to overflowing.

Be silent! Be silent!

Thou Pratt-swive! Thou
molly! Thou milk-pigeon!

Thy God is not here! He
never was! Now be silent!

Art thou bewitched, or
simply a fool, Fletcher?

What hast happened to thee,
that thou shouldst continue

to consort with that whore?

Thou art unmanned.

Weak and womanly.

What has happened to thee?
Answer, I charge thee!

Useless. Mark me, Fletcher.

When I return to Sudbury town,

I will be bearing those
witches' heads in a sack.

You intend to 'scape the wood?

Ah, by Jesu, he
speaks! Aye, villain.

Look thee now. Thy
cutlass is unguarded.

I have some
strength left in me yet.

I will take it up and
run her through.

Go do it then.

I shan't bear twins,
shall I, Patience?

On the island, when
a woman bore twins,

'twas a sign of adultery,
and she would hang herself

rather than be slain
by her own husband.

There is nothing to
fear, is there, Fletcher?

No, no.

Thou shalt deliver a
beautiful, healthful babe.

Will she not, Fletcher?

Aye, she will.

Aye, mistress,
I'm trying, mistress!

'Tis not right. 'Tis not right!

He is with us, he is with us.

Flora?

Flora!

Something,
some savage bloody name,

he danced a jig
for a cask of it!

Surely you jest.

Patience, be thy ears
plugged with bayonets?

I asked for ale,
woman, not cider!

She cannot follow
a simple command.

Should've married
a squaw eh, Tom?

Like a damned Canadian.
Savage women work like men.

Get thee to
Salem or to Charlestown,

and purchase for thyself
a sturdy Negro-woman.

Hardier than Indians by
far, and longer lived.

Is that so?

Aye.

Dost thou remember
thy prayers, Fletcher?

Oh, mother! Mother!

Oh, oh mother.

Mother.

Mistress? Have I
displeased thee?

Unfold thyself.

Now!

Now, the mistress says!

Thy breeches, too. E'ery stitch.

What wilt thou do with him?

Set him free.

Do not harm him.

He is me friend.

Is he? This man who plotted to
arrest thee for fornication,

to make an outlaw of
thee, he is thy friend?

I beg thee.

Oh God's blood, Fletcher,
thou good Christian Englishmen.

I see thy dreams, soldier.

I see their little red faces.

All New England may
raise a cup for thee,

but thy conscience knows better.

Moseley's company.

A band of heroes indeed! How
dare thee ask for clemency,

for thyself or for him?
How dare thee?

Dost thou take me for
a fool, Widow Gavett?

I know me sins well.

I was damned long ere
I came into this wood.

Pathetic.

By me troth, the Christian God
was the worst calamity that

e'er befell this country.

Fear not, good people.

I shall make thee another.

Goodenow, I must
ask something of thee.

Anything, mistress.

Take thy own life.

March.

March, damn thee. If thou
art a soldier, march.

Aye, Josiah, I
remember me prayers.

And where have they gotten me?

Bloody Sudbury, and
this damned wood.

It is you. You brought
thyself to this end. Not me.

O, God forgive me.

Forgive me.

Mr. Fletcher?

Mr. Fletcher?

Mr. Fletcher?

Mr. Fletcher, be
calm, man, be calm.

'Tis I, Reverend
Russell of Sudbury Town.

God's blood man,
art thou unwell?

- And where is Mr.
- Cutting? And Mr. Goodenow?

Tell me truly, sir.

Does the Devil
walk in these woods?

I knew it.

When thou didst not
return, I feared the worst,

and I resolved to come into
these woods to rescue thee.

I would've come alone, but
this good man volunteered

to come with me.
This is Mr. Gavett.

All these lands afore
us belong to him.

Mr. Fletcher, be not afeard.

Thou art safe now.

Mr. Gavett?

Is Patience Gavett thy wife?

Aye, she was. But she is dead.

Two years dead, God save her.

No, no, she is in this wood.

I hath seen her.

I spake with her.

When was this?

Just days ago.

Good lord.

She called herself
the Widow Gavett.

Said she, her husband
died in the war.

Dost thou remember, Tom?

Dost thou remember the day
the Indians fell upon Sudbury?

Aye, I remember.

When the alarum was sounded,

I brought Patience
and our servant, Flora,

to the garrison house
and sallied forth to face

the Indians in the field.

When I returned,
the house was burnt,

and the women gone.

What occurred there, and what
become of Patience I know not,

but me first notion was that
they made her a captive,

dost thou remember?

I remember.

For months, I held to hope.

None saw her die. Her
body, ne'er recovered.

Is't possible, Tom?

Is't possible me Patience
yet here, on this earth?

Would it 'twere so.

I fear 'tis not Patience
that Mr. Fletcher hath seen,

'tis sorcery. A demon, walking
in the guise of a human.

Mr. Fletcher.
Me wife, describe her.

Comely. Youthful.

Dark as a Spaniard.

With a deep scar,
here, on her face.

O God!

What hath the barbarous
savages done to her?

Mr. Cutting and Goodenow,
did they see her too?

Aye, sir, aye. In a
clearing, deep I'the wood.

Then we must go. We must
go to this clearing,

and find them all.

Aye, and so we shall.

But first, we must
return to Sudbury town.

Mr. Fletcher is clearly
suffering from a distemper.

There is no time! There
is no time, reverend.

Mr. Fletcher, prithee.

Lead us there.

Be warned, sirs. Be warned.

If we go... if we
go into the wood,

we shall ne'er return.

We shall ne'er return.

Take faith, sir.

I am resolved to die, for
the Lord our God leadeth us

in the paths of righteousness,
as it says in the psalm.

How can we possibly fail,
with such a powerful ally

marching by our side?

Aye, 'tis so.

Come what may, be there devils
dancing or dead a-walking,

the Lord shall
preserve us always.

Come, Fletcher. Take faith.

Take faith!

How camst thou by this wound?

Damned heathens during the war.

Ah!

Where?

Gavett!

O lover of thy people, thou
hast placed me whole being

in the command of Jesu, me
redeemer, commander, and friend.

Well well, Mr. Fletcher.

I presume this
to be thy clearing.

Where didst thou
last see Patience?

Mr. Gavett. We must return
to Sudbury town at once.

In fact, I insist upon it.

Gentlemen?

Mr. Gavett, wilt thou say grace?

Oh, certainly.
I would be honored.

Bless, O Father,
your gifts to our service

and us to your use. In
Christ's name, amen.

Amen.

Your gifts to our use
and us to your service.

Thou hast jumbled the grace.

Have I? O, begging
thy pardon, reverend.

'Tis no matter.

Our march was long,
and I am sick at heart.

As I said, 'tis no matter.

Strongwater?

♪ The bowl that
is so foul within ♪

♪ Doth show man's life
is stained with sin ♪

♪ A purging fire,
it doth require ♪

♪ Think of this when
you smoke tobacco ♪

So, gentlemen, let
us tell war stories.

Reverend Russell, didst thou
know that Mr. Fletcher here

served in Moseley's
company, in the war?

Aye.

A band of corsairs and
privateers who left their ships

to fight in the colony's defense.

And a great injury they did
make upon the Indian enemy,

too! Is that not
so, Mr. Fletcher?

'Tis not so. We were dock rats,

and cut purses,

dragged from the
sick-soaked floors of

Boston harbor public houses,

and pressed into service,

under a mad rogue for whom
murder was a pleasure.

O, this cannot be!

I hath heard thou didst
great service in the war.

Most of me service was done
in Praying Indian towns.

Assailing those that
Moseley suspected

of giving succor to the enemy.

O, this is Quaker talk.

And what of the great
battles? Bloody Brook?

Turner's Falls?
The fight I'the snow,

athwart the Narragansett?

'Twas no fight.

It was a massacre.

I set one longhouse
afire that had at least,

four families within it.

There were gaps in the wall,

just large enough for a
small child to wriggle out.

And we shot them.

We shot them as they ran away.

We shot them through the body,

and we took care
ne'er to spoil the head.

For there are Canadians who
will pay three English pounds

for an Indian head,

and children's
heads are lighter.

What vim, what martial valor!

Base slander, of a
most unmannerly kind.

'Tis the Indian savages that
commit such barbarous acts,

not Englishmen. Not
good Christian soldiers.

- Tell me then, Russell.
- What dost thou know,

of good Christian soldiery?

Aye, Russell. Tell us.

I would have fain joined
the militia meself,

but it pleased God that I
should remain in Sudbury,

ministering to me congregation.

Give thee both good night.

Get thee to bed, reverend.

'Til tomorrow.

What art thou?

A fairy?

A goblin damned?

O, Fletcher. I am offended.

Dost thou not know me?

Patience.

Aye. Welcome home, Fletcher.

What of thy husband?

O, he is long dead.

And I would happily sup
on the cock of the savage

that struck the blow.

All is not lost, Fletcher. I
would attempt the ritual again.

Without Flora...

We need her not.

Faith, I am persuaded that
she harmed our purpose

more than aided in it. The
cause of our failure is evident

to me now. So evident!
Why did I not think of it?

'Tis not love that will bring
the Day-Star into the world,

'Tis hate. Vengeance. For
all the Nazarene's preening,

violence is his most
elemental creed.

Did not his own father put him
to death most cruelly? Aye!

And to go to combat with him,

we must needs be twice as cruel.

What didst thou
do with Cuttin', woman?

Josiah.

Do not pity him.
He deserves worse.

No one deserves this.

Ah. Sentimentality! The
last bastion of a weakling.

He took some of me,
I took some of him.

'Twas an equitable exchange.

Meet me in the clearing,
in half an hour.

Ah. Good morrow, Mr Gavett.

I must beg thy indulgence,

I seem to have drunk one too
many draughts last night.

Here's a cure for
all thy troubles.

Kill me.

♪ Tobacco is an Indian weed ♪

♪ Grows green at
morn, cut down at eve ♪

♪ It shows our decay ♪

♪ We are but clay ♪

♪ Think of this when
you smoke tobacco ♪

Ah. Strange weather
we be having.

Here we are.

Come now, Fletcher.

Come now.

Fletcher?

O, Fletcher.

I am coming for thee.

Witch!

Unfold thyself!

O master, fortify his seed.

Hail, Satan!

Do me this kindness, child.

All thy long life, make
the folk of Sudbury suffer.

Make their crops wither.
Disembowel their livestock.

Set the thatch of
their roofs afire.

Tap thy long fingers
on the windows

of small children in the night.

Slay the wicked in the
midst of their wickedness,

so their souls fly
straight to the master.

Torment the people
of New England,

now, and to the end of time.

Be the devil,

that we so richly deserve.