All language subtitles for Poldark.S03E07.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+5.1.H.264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

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Salute yer new grave digger!

Would that not be grave robber?

Speak no ill of the livin',

'specially a'fore
their own flesh 'n blood!

Yes, sir, daughter of him.

But I hopefully
take not after him.

Chance'd be
a fine thing!

Do 'ee not dance?

The Lord do consider it sinful.

Oh, well, the Lord do sound
a proper spoilsport.

What's the occasion?

It's the first harvest of the
land gifted by Cap'n Ross.

Givin' away yer own
acreage, is ye mad?

If so, 'tis a madness
sent by the Lord,

in whom we trust.

Trust Ross, you'll get
a better return.

True.

We must stiffen security
at all our grain stores.

These types would have
no compunction about

feeding their faces
at my expense.

Sir Francis!

I assume you've
heard the news,

my elevation
to the rank of Burgess?

I assume you've not
heard the news.

Sir Piers Arthur is dead.

Most distressing.

And the best news
I've had all year.

Enough, wife.

You must know the book of prayer
by heart now.

Is it not my duty to set an
example to your daughters?

You have a duty
to your husband,

which at present
is more pressing.

Go and join your sister.

I wish Drake and Sam
would find contentment.

Have you found it?

In this moment I have.

I wish it may last.

A hundred years old next week!

You call this
Flemish lace?

I look like a desiccated bat.

Mind that pin.

I don't wish to be bled
like a stuck pig.

Sorry, ma'am.

Add these names to the list.

George Venables,
Laurence Trevemper,

Randolph Pentire.

They're dead, aunt.

Remember?

Let me see.

Who's coming then?

Trevaunance?

Bodrugan?

Poldark, that's better!

People I actually like.

I will not have
that man in my house.

In fairness, it's
Agatha's house too.

Surely, on her 100th birthday,
we can grant her this

one small request.

By hosting a frivolous event,
which delivers to us

no personal benefit?

What benefit
should we seek?

At least the Penvenen wedding
will provide opportunity.

For what?

For me to further my
acquaintance with Lord Falmouth.

Sir Piers Arthur is dead.

Truro lacks an MP.

And the man who
instructs the burgesses

to vote for his
candidate of choice?

Lord Falmouth.

I fear Drake
still hankers for Morwenna.

I rue the day
she ever crossed his path.

For giving George the chance
to injure you through them?

And to think I attempted
to negotiate with him.

Well, those days are over.

No more playing the game,
no more seeking terms.

As for Drake,

I've been making enquiries.

And?

The old smith died last month.

It has a cottage, a stable,

and some land besides.

And you have
some skill in smithying.

You're a quick learner.

And not a farthin' to my name.

It's yours.

Already purchased.

No, brother, 'tis too much.

I like indebtedness
no more than you.

You saved my life in France.

The obligation
is now discharged.

It's so quiet here
without Geoffrey Charles.

Happily, Valentine makes up
for his absence.

Not happily, so it seems.

I'm not at all convinced by
Dr. Choake's treatment.

Darkened rooms,
legs in splints,

odious tinctures
which make him vomit.

I confess, his recovery is
taking longer than was promised.

You should dispense
with Choake altogether.

And do what?

Elizabeth Warleggan requests me
to attend on her son.

Will you?

Since I cannot yet
return to sea,

I can at least make
myself useful on land.

I know what I'd advise.

Get rid of the splints
and the swaddling,

put him out in the fresh air.

Dr. Enys does not subscribe
to old wives' tales.

In this case he does.

Splints and swaddling
have no efficacy,

and rickets is exacerbated
by lack of light.

Give him plenty of fresh fruit,

vegetables, mother's milk,

and sunlight.

You will see an
improvement within days.

So no tinctures,
powders?

Dr. Choake prescribed...

Dr. Choake's prescriptions
often serve his purse

rather than his patients.

So my son will not be deformed?

Follow my instructions and you
have every reason to be hopeful.

So your dire predictions
were unfounded.

He was born under a black moon.

He may avoid rickets,

but he cannot escape
his parentage.

I should know--
I've been on this earth

for nigh on a century.

So, husband dear, shall we
depart for our wedding?

You've been petitioning
the Admiralty again?

No, why would I?

I'm considered unfit
to resume my duties as yet.

For your sake, I'm sorry.

Don't be.

I daresay I can bear to
convalesce here awhile longer.

May I escort you to church,
Miss Penvenen?

Finally we may end
our pretense of courtship.

Pray do, Dr. Enys.

I think, wife,
before the reception,

I shall avail myself.

No, I beg you, I'm not
recovered from last night.

Don't make me strike you!

So help me I will!

In the words of St Paul,

"Wives, submit yourselves

unto your husbands
as unto the Lord."

And Lieutenant Rosewall.

Captain Poldark

and Mistress Poldark.

Dwight Enys, I never
thought I'd see the day.

Mr. and Mrs. Charles Tragoine.

She do bless you daily
for bringin' him home.

The Reverend Osbourne Whitworth and Mrs. Whitworth.

Morwenna looks pale.

Doubtless the brat

is making her nauseous.

Or possibly her husband.

Lord Falmouth and Mrs. Gower.

Congratulations, my dear.

Thank you.

To wield such power.

And my conduit
to Parliament.

Come, my dear,
let us not pretend

we would not enjoy like status.

Mr. and Mrs. Lilycoat.

My Lord Falmouth.

My lords, ladies and gentlemen,
forgive me.

I promise to be
brief in my words,

but profuse in my thanks.

To Caroline, for making me
the happiest of men.

To all of you,
for joining our festivities.

But, above all, to one man,
to whom it is entirely due

that Caroline and I stand here
today as man and wife.

May I ask you
to raise your glasses

to the noblest, bravest man

I've ever known,

Captain Ross Poldark.

Captain Ross Poldark!

If you'll permit me,

just a few words.

Saving your blushes,
Captain Poldark,

I too must express gratitude

to the Hero of Quimper

or saving my nephew,

Lieutenant Hugh Armitage.

I second that.

The Hero of Quimper!

The Hero of Quimper!

My Lord, may I
present my wife, Demelza?

Your husband is
a reluctant hero, ma'am.

Yet he cannot avoid the fame
attaching to his exploit.

I hope it will not go to his head

and induce him
to embark on another.

It is a novelty
to find a wife

so eager to keep
her husband at home.

But England may yet
have need of him.

Then, sir, I believe
neither of us will be lackin'.

You must come
and visit us sometime.

Thank you.

You see what I'm up against?

The man is a braggart,
his wife is a trull.

This whole event
is a waste of time.

You're no admirer
of Lord Falmouth?

What man of principle could be?

Not content with
running half of Cornwall,

he must also be
Lord of Truro.

How can it be that
the corporation

is treated as
a rich man's chattel?

Does it not make you
all a laughingstock?

It does.

Hence the growing discontent
among the burgesses.

And yet my experience
in France has taught me

that discontent alone
is no solution,

Unless a worthy
alternative is offered.

A worthy politician?

Is there such a thing?

Change will not be easy.

Particularly while
Falmouth holds sway,

nor its advocates popular.

But you believe
the right candidate exists?

I've made it my mission
to find him.

You not dancing, sir?

Or do your prefer observing?

I used to.

But since I was in France,
my eyesight has declined.

But it will mend?

So Dr. Enys assures me.

But where is Captain Poldark?

Oh, he's hidin',
so he may avoid dancin'.

With you as a partner?

Is he mad?

I've often thought so.

Do I hear you've been gifting
land to out-of-work miners?

I recommend it, sir.

Much good can be done
with even the smallest effort.

My own exertions have been
directed towards a higher goal--

overturning our old
corrupt political system.

To what end?

So that justice and equity

may filter down
to those in most need.

I applaud your intentions, sir.

Without holding out
much hope of their success.

He's not sure
which one.

He's too good...

Morwenna, how are you?

When do you expect?

I do not know.

Mama never spoke of such things.

I did not know
what to expect--

what the obligations
of marriage would be.

Is he unkind to you?

He is a monster.

Ah, you've escaped.

Excellent.

Can we go home?

You noticed how
Falmouth avoided me?

Did he?

Nothing I do
seems to gratify him.

I've tried invitations,
compliments, small gifts.

Yes.

I do wonder if it's wise
to be seen trying so hard.

How else would he
even notice me?

Am I so beneath him?

Yet the Bassets pass muster,
and their wealth comes

from mining and banking.

And is longer standing,

so society has
grown used to them.

Well, that may now
be the better route.

Basset.

The Truro seat is vacant.

Lord Falmouth has always
dictated appointments

by exerting pressure on the
burgesses to vote his way.

Sir Francis believes
such corruption

must be stopped.

He intends to spearhead
a campaign of reform

and put up his own candidate
to challenge Falmouth's.

And that candidate would be?

We'll see.

We really will be
off to hell in a hand-cart

if George Warleggan
goes to parliament.

If a hand-cart is your
preferred mode of transport,

it can swiftly be arranged.

I was disappointed
in Killewarren.

No chintz, no gilding.

But the scale
of the establishment

puts our humble household
to shame.

I think you should
have a companion

to share the chores and assist
you with the children.

I shall write
to your sister.

Your mother will be glad to have
another daughter off her hands.

And doubtless
that sister

will come to love me as you do.

Goodnight.

I don't love you.

I love Drake Carne.

I love Drake Carne,
I love Drake Carne.

I love Drake Carne,
I love Drake Carne.

Shall we pretend this
is our wedding night?

No pretense needed.

Every night is our
wedding night to me.

Lieutenant Armitage
was most attentive today.

To whom?

Your wife.

Perhaps overly attentive.

Did you not notice?

I confess I did not.

Perhaps I imagined it.

Quite possibly.

Not every man in Cornwall
is besotted with you.

See, brother?

'Ee need fret no longer,
for I've goodly work

to keep me fed and clothed.

'Tidn't the body I fret for,
but the soul.

For I think 'ee still pine

for the girl who be lost
to 'ee.

Yet the time may come
when 'ee seek elsewhere

for a wife of the
Methodist connection,

sweet and pure.

Wheelwright Carne,

a job for 'ee.

Missin' a crook
on the end.

Can 'ee fettle it?

It looks simple enough.

Will 'ee come back tomorrow?

If I've naught
better to do.

Sister, how's your soul?

Are 'ee a stranger
to divine things?

No, lug.

I get my fill of 'em daily!

Will 'ee not join our meetings,

where we read the gospel

and open our hearts
to to each other?

Cock's life!

Tell yer fables to them

who be simple as babies.

Be that the kind of maid
'ee had in mind?

G'day, sister.

What brings 'ee here?

News of Morwenna.

Good news?

She's with child.

I can only pray

the child be a comfort to her.

In my heart I know I must now
let her go.

Yes, brother, you must.

Search the attics, cellars, all store-rooms and cupboards.

The item was packed away when I
first took up residence here.

It belongs to
old mistress Agatha.

Find it.

Yes, sir.

I think he's already
showing an improvement.

No doubt your aunt
will claim the credit.

But it matters not,
long as he is improved.

Did Dwight mention
he'd been called to Trenwith?

No, why would he?

The child has rickets.

Valentine.

'Tis said he may
end up lame.

Surely that's
no concern of ours.

No, Ross.

I'm away to see Pascoe.

I'll be back before supper.

Yes, Ross.

As requested, I've had prepared
the deed of gift for your land.

You should be aware
of some news

which has just reached me.

The Warleggans and the Bassets
have formed an accommodation.

A merger?

Not exactly,
but an arrangement

with each other's banks whereby
they will work together.

I suspect this scheme
has less to do

with business ambition
than political.

Mr. Pascoe.

Sir Francis.

Captain Poldark, you vanished from the wedding

before I had chance to invite
you and your charming wife

to dinner.

We seldom stir abroad, sir.

Then I hope you will
make this the exception.

Shall we say Saturday?

Your wife will be gratified.

I believe she enjoys high
society these days.

She has no spurious fame
to contend with.

Whereas I am only too aware
it's the sole reason

for my sudden popularity.

Take her.

What harm could it do?

I've missed you, sister!

Rowella!

You're not well.

Yes, quite well.

I've no complaint.

I should think not!

Your sister is most blessed
amongst women.

Yes, Osbourne.

In private you may call me
Mr. Whitworth.

I'm public you will address me
as Vicar.

Yes, Vicar.

The blessed Virgin
and the Holy Child.

Oh, brother,

it do gladden the heart
to see 'ee turn to God again.

Yes, brother.

I believe this be
the item in question.

Yes.

You seem excited.

Is there good news?

There is.

And soon, I hope,
there will be better.

Am I permitted to know?

Let us say that if my visit
to Tehidy goes well...

Tehidy?

Did Sir Francis invite?

He did not.

But I know him
to be at home today.

and we are now
on such terms

as to render formal
invitations unnecessary.

The key is to strike
while the iron's hot.

The door is ajar.

Sir Francis is open
to persuasion.

All he requires
is a little push.

Take a week, Georgie.

I shan't be upset
if you miss my party.

Thanks for the reminder, ma'am.

We will discuss that very
subject when I return.

I can think of a hundred more
useful things I could be doing.

For shame, Ross-- you're
becoming a misanthrope!

I sympathize.

I'm no lover
of company these days.

With the exception of my wife's.

Sometimes Ross do
make no exception.

Well, if I have my way...

Which you frequently do.

This will be our last excursion
for the foreseeable future.

Why, sister, would you
agree to marry that man?

To save the life
of the man I loved.

And still love?

Till my dying breath.

Tell me of him.

Tell me everything.

Now, we have an unexpected addition to our party.

He got wind of your invitation
and insisted on joining us.

Who can guess at his motives?

His uncle and I
cannot abide each other.

Our ways of doing business
are wholly at odds.

But I have a certain fondness
for the nephew.

So I trust you'll forgive me
for inflicting him upon you.

Armitage!

Are we never
to be rid of you?

You'll be sorry
you ever saved me.

I regret the venture daily.

I'm sure Dwight does.

Now he's my prisoner
instead of the Republic's.

And from that
there can be no release.

If you knew the pains I took
to get myself invited today.

Why did you so?

Can you not guess?

The young general who crushed the counterrevolution

in Paris--
I believe we'll be hearing

a good deal of him in future.

You mean Bonaparte?

He's now in charge
of the French army in Italy.

Cleared the streets of Paris
with cannon.

Fired on his own countrymen.

Such a man is
to be reckoned with.

And their Directory of Five
who deposed

the other blood-stained tyrants?

They're criminals
in every sense of the word.

My Uncle Falmouth would be
relieved to hear you say so.

He speculated that in dining

with so prominent a Whig,
I'd hear talk of peace

and views favorable
to the revolution.

Then your uncle should know better.

The true Whig is as patriotic
as any Tory in the land.

What form might Lord Falmouth's
plans for Truro take?

Who'll be the next MP?

You, perhaps?

I'm not
sufficiently biddable.

Too much of a rebel.

I would have thought that made you the ideal candidate,

if revolution is your aim.

Which it is not.

I know my limitations.

At sea I'm a passable navigator,

on land an average poet

and an indifferent artist.

You've been sketching.

May we see?

By no means.

I've failed miserably to
do justice to my subject.

Advise him I am engaged
and I may be some time.

I have taken the liberty
of providing

some small entertainments.

Shall we adjourn?

I shall await his pleasure here.

Your turn I think.

So navigation,
I think you said, at sea?

At sea, yes.

Which is where
I presently find myself.

Wholly disorientated.

Shipwrecked.

Lost.

It must seem strange
to return to the comfort

and safety of home

after the horrors of prison.

I know Dwight also struggled.

My struggles are
of a different kind.

So different that
I dare not even name them.

And you will not ask me to.

'Tis hardly my business.

I wish that were true.

Blooms from the
Garden of Eden.

But where lurks Eve?

And where the snake?

I've taken note
of your suggestion--

Gifting land to
the deserving poor.

And the undeserving poor?

Let us begin by helping
those who help themselves.

When do we begin?

Do you believe
in equality?

I believe in opportunity.

I believe that industry
should be rewarded

and misuse of power punished.

We appear to be of one mind.

Shall you return to the navy?

Once my eyes have mended.

The fault is entirely my own,
for scribbling away

in semi-darkness.

Letters home?

Sketches, attempts at verse--

it was all that kept me sane.

You were sketching today.

May I show you?

I'm no Leonardo,
but you are surely Mona Lisa.

I do not know these people.

Forgive me.

My attempt at a compliment.

Perhaps I should stick to verse.

Especially with
such inspiration before me.

No one's ever written me
poetry before.

Not even your husband?

Ross has been
called many things,

but poetic is not one of them.

May I see you again?

And Ross too, of course.

I will ask him
when would be convenient.

Let us suppose

that the burgesses are sick
of being forced

to cast their votes

at Falmouth's command.

Should we also suppose they're sick of the favors they enjoy,

business that comes way
in exchange for those votes?

In the coming Truro by-election,
many have indicated

their willingness
to defy Falmouth.

And instead of voting for
his candidate, vote for yours?

We both agree
change is long overdue

with the right man in place.

The right man.

I believe that you are the man

to lead this revolution.

If elected, you will serve
our borough in parliament.

And I'd be expected
to vote as you directed.

Since you and I
think along similar lines,

it can surely be no hardship
to vote likewise?

Truly, I believe that
if you and I walked into a room,

all the men would look at me,
but within five minutes

they'd all be
clustered around you.

I'm not sure that's
a compliment.

It is.

Not one I think
Ross would appreciate.

If he even noticed.

Back already, Georgie?

I told you we could
manage without ye.

Remind me, what is
your age, ma'am?

You know fine well I shall be
100 years old on Monday.

When I was last at Sawle church,
I had occasion to glance

at the parish register.

I could find no record
of your baptism in 1695.

Of course I was not content
to leave it there,

for baptisms do not always
instantly follow births.

So yesterday I had
the servants comb the house

until they found
the old Poldark family bible.

And what of it?

Let me read you an entry.

The ink is faded,
but I suppose it to be

your father's handwriting.

"Born to us this autumn morn,
our first child,

a daughter,

Agatha Mary."

September 14, 1697.

So you see, old crone,

on Monday you will be but 98.

'Tis a lie.

A scabby lie!

My dear?

How went the visit
to Tehidy?

We will discuss it another time.

Well?

I regret I must decline.

Your reason?

I cannot be
another man's puppet.

Not even one I admire,

or whose views are
so similar to my own.

You cannot ignore
the way the world works.

If you dislike the system,
change it from within.

There is sense
in what you say.

But?

But the noble impulse

which impels a man
to enter politics

often falls by the wayside.

Power is pursued
for its own sake,

rather than the good it can do.

Who am I to claim exemption
from these failings?

Will you not even try?

I cannot believe I would emerge
from this process

with my soul intact.

Your soul?

Your stubbornness.

It will be your undoing,
Poldark.

This shoe does pinch my toes.

See how easy it is
to be rid of him?

Shh!

Do not jest about it.

He is my husband,
till death do us part.

Amen, sister.

I think it was a mistake
to refuse Sir Francis.

I never knew you had ambitions
to be a political wife.

Nor do I.

But you,
your influence is great.

There's much good you could do.

And is not Sir Francis
a goodly man?

Yes.

But he too uses his power
for his own ends,

and he would use me
if I would let him.

But I will not.

Come in, Lucy Pipe, idle girl!

Where's my supper?

There will be no supper,
old woman.

There will be no party.

I'll have letters sent to all
your guests, informing them

that you made a mistake,
that you are 97, not 99,

and a new invitation will
be issued in two years' time,

If you're still
above ground then.

But 'tis all prepared.

Food ordered.

My old topaz ring
altered to fit.

Pity.

My birthday's on Monday.

98's a good age.

I've been looking forward
to this party for so long.

No one need know I'm not 100.

I'll not live two year more.

Ye know that.

Who'd guess if ye'd said naught?

I'll not cross ye again, George.

Let me have my party.

There will be no party.

Wait.

You do this to me,

may you rot in hell.

You and your nasty uncle

and your little twisted son,
born under a black moon,

and warped already.

Little Valentine, the
so-called Warleggan heir.

Or is he?

That was no
eight-month baby, George.

Early babes be weak and
wrinkled-- no hair, no nails.

But that babe was lusty

and smooth and strong
as a full-term child!

So maybe ye didn't
wait for the wedding.

Or maybe somebody
got there before ye!

George?

Are you unwell?

That old woman...

...will have no party.

What do you mean?

Has she given orders
to defer it?

Sir Francis Basset's
here, sir.

What the devil
can he want?

You called to see me today.

I did, sir.

But you were otherwise engaged.

And now I fear
the moment has passed.

Not necessarily.

Was there something
you wanted to discuss?

Change.

Yes?

That is what you seek.

But it's not easy to achieve,
nor its advocates popular.

Go on.

The right man would not
need to be popular.

He would only
need to be capable.

Of achieving the task in hand.

By whatever
means necessary.

My party, my birthday,
my birthday.

Aunt?
My party...

What has happened?

My party,

my party.

George won't allow my party.

Be calm, dearest aunt.

Tormented me, he did.

Took my hope,

took my home.

Do not exert yourself.

Yet I should not have said
what I did.

Elizabeth will never forgive me.

Forgive you?

I should not have told him.

Told him what?

Aunt?

Told him what?

Aunt?

Told him what?

Well, ma'am,

I hope we can count on your
support in our newest venture.

A candidate to challenge

Lord Falmouth in the coming
by-election has been found.

Is this true?

It is a fine thing
for young Valentine

to have an MP as a father.

Indeed.

Forgive me.

My great aunt is dead.

My sincere condolences.

I will detain you no longer.

I trust, when you have
grieved for the departed,

that there will be
time for celebration.

'Ee be like unto
the Lost Sheep, brother.

Thy thoughts all pure again.

My thoughts are not pure,
brother.

Mine neither.

God forgive me.

* Every button cost a crown *

* Harvey Darvey turn around

* Heel to heel and toe to toe,
turn around and off we go. *

Sir Francis is right--
you are stubborn.

Pragmatic.

Pigheaded.

Would you prefer naive?

Or sentimental?

Sometimes, Ross,
yes I would!

This just come
from Trenwith.

What is it?

Aunt Agatha's dead.

Ross!

I should have been there.

Poor ol' cooter.

Think of her on her deathbed
with no Poldark kin

to ease her departin'.

Shh... Prudie...

She'd be last
of the Trenwith Poldarks.

There's still
Geoffrey Charles.

Doubtless George'll find
a way to part him

from his inheritance.

Judas.

There was more
to George's note

than the news of her death.

Funeral arrangements?

Not a word.

What, then?

"I hope you and Demelza
will rejoice in the news

that I have been selected
by Sir Francis Basset

to be the candidate
to oppose Lord Falmouth's

in the Truro by-election."

Well, there it is.

Yes, and you
could've prevented it.

No, I couldn't.
Will you never learn?

How long do you think
you can do as you please,

plough your own furrow,

regardless of anyone else,
or I?

Demelza...

Not once have you asked my
advice or harkened

to my opinion, not once.

What do you want, Demelza?

A man who'll lie down,
roll over,

sit up and beg for you?

Well, if so,
you've married the wrong man.

'Twould appear so.

Perhaps you should look
elsewhere for a pet.

Perhaps I should.

Perhaps I won't have to look too far.

*

Is that it?

No family?

No ceremony?

'Twas ordered a quick,
secret buryin'.

'Tis all I could do
to get word to thee.

She was a Poldark,

and my most beloved aunt.

George will pay for this.

Nay, 'tis my task.

She was a great lady
and a rare spirit.

It's the least I can do
to honor her.

*