All language subtitles for The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby 2001 English DVD Part 1

We brought nothing into this world

and it is certain we can carry nothing out.

The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away.

For as much as it has pleased Almighty God

in His wise Providence to take out of this world

the soul of our deceased brother,

we therefore commit his body to the ground--

earth to earth,
ashes to ashes,

dust to dust.

Man that is born of a woman
hath but a short time to live--

it's full of misery--

he cometh up and is cut down like a flower.

Sir....

- What do you want?
- Urgent. Letter. Black wax.

I know this hand. I shouldn't be
surprised if my brother was dead.

- I don't think you would, sir.
- Why not.

You're never surprised for anything.

How long has my sister-in-law taken
these lodgings for, ma'am?

From week to week, sir. Mrs. Nickleby
paid the first week in advance.

Well, then you better get
them out by the end of it.

If Mrs. Nickleby took the apartments without the
means of paying, it was very unbecoming of the lady.

I am at present an unprotected female.

- I cannot afford to lose by my lodgings.
- I can see that, ma'am.

Then, perhaps you would do the favour, sir

of taking a look at some of my miniature specimens?

Miniature specimens?

Well, yes, I am a professional
portrait painter, by trade, sir--

Miniatures. My kindly terms--

I have no money to throw away
on miniatures, ma'am. Please.

I see.

Well, you've a strongly marked
countenance for the purpose, I'm sure.

Mr. Ralph Nickleby, ma'am

- What was that?
- Nothing.

- Nothing?
- Please, sir, I sneezed.

Then what do you say "nothing" for?
Liar!

- Hold your noise!
- Yes, sir.

Mr. Squeers, there's a gentleman to see you, sir.

- A Mr. Snawley.
- Show him in.

Go on, dry your eyes! Or I'll murder you
when this gentleman's gone.

There, there, there, dear child, dry your eyes now.

Mr. Squeers, I believe you advertised in the newspaper?

Morning Post, Chronicle, Herald, and Advertiser,

regarding the Academy called Dotheboys Hall,
near Greta Bridge, Yorkshire.

I come on business, sir.

I've been thinking, Mr. Squeers,

of placing my two boys at your school--

20 pounds per annum, I believe.

Guineas!

- They are not great eaters.
- Ah that doesn't matter,

for we don't consider boys'
appetites at our establishment.

Can I say a few words with you in private?

By all means.

I am not their father, Mr. Squeers.

- I understand.
- You see, I have married their mother

and she has little money.

It's expensive keeping boys.
I am anxious to send them

to some school where there are no holidays, and--

where they may rough it a little--you comprehend?

Ah, I do--

keep the payments regular, no questions asked.

That's it exactly.

What was that!

Well, ma'am, the debtors have taken
all your money, and you have nothing.

Must bear up against sorrow--
I always do.

Mine was no common loss.

No uncommon loss, ma'am.
Husbands die every day, and wives, too.

And brothers, also.

Yes, sir. And puppies, and, ah--
pug-dogs likewise.

You didn't mention in your letter, ma'am,

what my brother's complaint was.

My husband died of a broken heart.

Nonsense! No such thing.

A man can't pay his debts,

then he dies of a broken heart,

and his widow's a martyr.

It was father's dying wish that we should come

to London in the hope you might help us, uncle.

Hmm, how old's his boy, ma'am?

I'm nearly nineteen.

Nineteen, hey. And what do you
mean to do for a living, boy?

Not to live upon my mother, sir.

You'd have little to live upon if you did.

So, this is the way my brother brings up his children.

My... yes.

What a thoughtless, inconsiderate man.

Oh, if he turned his son out into the world
to work as my father had turned out me,

then this boy might be in a
position to help you now, ma'am,

instead of being a weight around your neck.

Are you willing to work, boy?

Yes, of course, uncle.

Good. And see here.

I think I could make a very good teacher, uncle,
but I'm not a Master of Arts.

That, I think, can be got over.

You've advertised for an able assistant,
Mr. Squeers, and here he is.

I'm afraid this boy won't suit me.

Oh yes, he will.

I fear sir, you object to my youth
and my not having a Master of Arts.

Aye, I do.

Leave this to me, nephew, and wait outside.

Now, look here, Squeers. I've favored
you with much business over the years.

Now I ask a favor of you in return.

The boy's father is dead,

he's wholly ignorant of the world,

and I recommend him to this splendid establishment

of yours in Yorkshire as an opening

that may lead to fortune.

Oh, aye. And how did you hope to manage that, then?

Your uncle's recommendation has done it, Nickleby.

Be here tomorrow morning.
We leave at 8:00.

- Thank you, sir.
- I shall never forget this kindness, uncle.

See that you don't.

Stay together, boys! Keep up! Keep up!

- I'll miss you.
- Oh, my poor boy.

Don't be upset mother, be happy.

Your son has work and we should be richer for it.

The salary's so small, Nicholas,

- and the school such a long way.
- (Get up there, lads!)

Never mind that.

Quickly, boy! Quickly!

Supposing there is some rich gentleman
at the school and he takes a liking to me,

well, who knows, maybe he'll get his
father to appoint me as his traveling tutor.

Yes, Nicholas--

Nickleby! I think you better get up on the roof.

I'm afraid one of them boys might fall off,

and it'll be 20 pounds a year gone.

Who's that man, Nicholas?

That's my employer, Kate, the schoolmaster.

Nickleby!

Bless you both.

Take it. Read it. Nobody knows.

- Goodbye.
- Goodbye, mother. Goodbye, Kate.

Come, he's gone.

Is it much farther to Dotheboys Hall, sir?

Smike!

Smike!

Smike!

We call it a hall in London, it sounds better.

Smike!

Smike!

Where the devil have you been?

Unload the cart!

Hurry it up!

- Aaah!
- Oh. How's my Squeezy!

Oh, all right, my love!

- How's the cows?
- Quite well, my love.

- The boys?
- As well as they were when you went away,

except for that young pilcher--
he's had a fever.

Damn that boy.

This is the new teacher, my love--

- Nicholas Nickleby.
- Oh.

He'll take a small meal with us tonight
and sleep down here.

Thank you, sir.

You don't care where you sleep, I s'pose?

No, indeed, I'm not particular.

Lucky.

Your...bed.

- What will your man take?
- Whatever he likes, at present.

What you say, Knuckleboy?

- Nickelby.
- I'll take a little pie, please.

I'm not very hungry.

Well, if you're not very hungry,
it's a pity to cut the pie.

- Have some bread, instead.
- Very well.

- Uncommonly juicy steak, that, my dear. Lovely.
- That's prime meat.

- I got a good, large piece on purpose.
- Not for the boys?

No. For you, my love. What
you take me for, a noddy?

Here, you. Hurry up and eat.

Thank you.

What are you bothering about there, Smike!

- Sniffing the food, I expect.
- Come on in.

What do you want?

Please, sir.

What?

Did, did a-anybody i-i-in, in London...

was, was anything sent a-a-a-a, about me, a...letter...

Don't talk soft!

Not a word, and never will be.

You want to be grateful, my lad,

being here all these years

and no money sent after the first six months!

We've not a clue who he belongs to, Mr. Knuckleboy.

Nickelby.
Charity begins at home, my dear.

Certainly does in this house.

Tell you what, Squeeze,

think that little chap's going sour?

Hope not....

Right, are you ready?

For what, Squeezy?

Bed!

I've been ready for days!

Good night, Nickleby!
Seven o'clock in the morning, now.

Good night, sir.... Mrs. Squeers.

And put that fire out!

- Come on, hurry up.
- Don't worry, I'm coming...

My dear young man, I know the world.

Your father did not, or he would not have done

me a kindness when there was no hope of any return.

If ever you want shelter in London,

they know where I live

at the Sign of the Crown in Silver Street--
Say you know me.

I was a gentleman. But never mind that.

It's all over now. Excuse errors,

your uncle's clerk, Newman Noggs.

You needn't be afraid.... Come in.

Are-, are you cold?

No.

Are you sure?

No, I-I'm not cold.... I'm used to it.

Hush.

Get up! Get up!

Seven o'clock in the morning, Nickleby!

For what you are about to receive

may the Lord make you truly thankful.

It's brimstone morning, Nickleby.
We give them brimstone to stop them ailing.

It spoils the appetites and comes much
cheaper than breakfast or dinner.

- There, now, lad.
- Right!

Now, let me see. A letter for Cobbey.
Stand up, Cobbey.

Oh, dear,

Cobbey's grandmother is dead and his uncle

has took to drink.

- That's disgusting.
- But his sister sends him

one shilling and sixpence.

Which will just pay for that broken window.

- Graymarsh.
- Yes, sir.

Stand up, Graymarsh!
You have some family communication.

Step forward, boy, step forward.

Graymarsh's maternal aunt is glad to hear

he is so well, and would have sent him

two pairs of stockings, but is short of money.

Oh, what a pity.

The maternal aunt hopes Graymarsh
will put his trust in Providence.

- What a wise woman she is.
- Yes, a delightful letter--

very affecting, but affecting indeed.

Jennings , where's Jennings?
Jennings, stand up!

This will be the sweetest

little portrait I've ever done.

It'll be your genius that makes it so.

No. I won't allow that, my dear.
It's a nice subject,

a very nice subject, indeed.

Though, of course, something depends upon
the mode of treatment.

Yes, I'm sure.

Why, you were right there.

Ah, the difficulties of art, my dear, are great,

what with bringing out the eyes,
and keeping down the noses

and patting the hair, taking away the teeth--

you have no idea the troubles of
one little miniature manifold.

All those faces, Mrs. Creevy.

There are only two styles of portrait, my dear,

the smile and the smirk.

Head up.

And when do you expect to see your uncle again?

- Soon.
- I suppose he has money, hasn't he?

- He's very rich.
- Ah you may depend upon it, or he wouldn't be so surly.

My father said he was disappointed
in early life, I believe.

- Is that so?
- Yes.

But, being my father's brother, I'm sure

my uncle is a very right and proper gentleman.

Good. Then he will make you and

your mama some nice little allowance,

don't you think? No? Yes? At least I hope so.

If not, I am prepared to work ma'am.

Sit!

Our first lesson, Nickleby,
is in English spelling and philosophy.

Where is the first boy?

Please, sir. He's cleaning
the back parlor windows.

So, he is. C-L-E-A-N.
Clean. Verb active. To scour.

To make bright.
When the boy knows this,

he goes and he does it.

Where's the next boy? Jennings!

Please, sir. He's weeding the garden.

So, he is.
B-O-T-T-I-N-E-Y.

A study of plants. That's our school system,

Nickleby-- the practical.

- What do you think of it?
- A very useful one, sir.

Aye, it is. And very cheap.

Learning as it should be.

Noggs!

Noggs.

- What time is it?
- Time? Why?

My watch has stopped.

One o'clock. One sharp.

Very well, you may go.

Oh, you won't forget Mrs. Nickleby's
appointment with you, will you?

What's that to you?

Just reminding you.

As if I needed reminding of my brother's legacy.

They're your family, sir.

Aren't I fortunate.

Yes, sir, you are.

Well, my dear, what do you think of him--

- our new teacher?
- Oh, him. I hate him.

What do you hate him for?

What's that to you? If I hate him,
I hate him, that's enough, ain't it?

I only asked out of curiosity.

He's a proud, haughty, consequential,
turned-up nose peacock.

But a cheap one.
The young man comes very cheap.

Peacock is not cheap.

Five pounds a year.

That's dear if we don't need him.

But we do need him until such time as

little master Wachford Squeers junior,
here, takes charge of the school.

Oh, my eye I-- won't I give it to them boys!
Oh, father, won't I make'em squeak!

- You will, my son, you will.
- He will, indeed.

What's his name, father?

- Who?
- The new teacher.

Knuckle-boy.

Nickleby.

No. I see him with clear eyes,
and that's quite enough for me.

I watched him this morning,
his face as black as thunder.

I saw him, though he thought I didn't.

Who is he, father?

The son of a gentleman.

So your father says.

Son of a gentleman!

Now, then.

I want you all to look very closely
and tell me what you see.

Don't be frightened.

Who's going to be first? Johnson?

I'm sorry, um. Jennings.

- Paper, sir.
- Not paper....

Think again, with imagination,

and this paper becomes a... boat.

Now pass it around, and tell me what you can see.

Very good. A hat.

H-A-T. Now, who's next?

Smike?

- I don't know.
- Yes, you do...Think.

A...a...bird.

A bird.

B-I-

Oh, I do beg your pardon,

I thought my father was--oh, dear,
how very awkward.

Mr. Squeers is out.

- Do you know how long he'll be, sir?
- Yes, about an hour.

Thank you. I'm very sorry I intruded, I'm sure.

Well, can I help?

Oh...It's broken.

- Should it be a hard or soft nib?
- Soft!

I have found a situation for your daughter, ma'am.

Didn't I tell you, Kate, depend upon his assistance.
Now that your uncle has provided for Nicholas,

he will not the rest until he has done
at least the same for you.

Kate, my dear, why don't you thank your uncle?

Let me proceed, ma'am, I pray.

Kate, my love, let your uncle proceed, I pray.

I am most anxious that he should, mama.

- I would be obliged.
- Likewise.

The situation that I've made interest to procure
is with a milliner--

- A milliner!
- and a dressmaker.

A dress maker?

Dressmakers in London, ma'am, are
acquainted with titled people,

and they become persons of great wealth and fortune.

How very true.

Madame Mantalini lives near Cavendish Square.

I know her well, and if your daughter is disposed to

try after the situation,
I could take her there directly.

- Have you nothing to say to your uncle, my love?
- I'm very much obliged to you, uncle.

I knew I could depend upon you to help me.

- Did you?
- Yes.

So now we've got our two long trenches
here...plant our beans...we need to do it...

I never saw such legs
in the whole course of me life.

And the most beautiful smile.

Isn't it a most extraordinary thing, Tilda?

Most extraordinary.

Well, what'd he say to you?

Oh, don't ask me what he said, my dear.

If you'd only seen his looks and smiles--

but never was I so overcome in all me life.

- Did he look like this?
- Very like that, only more genteel.

Oh, that means something,
depend on it, my dear.

Uncle, may I ask you a question?

- Mmm-hmm.
- Am I to live at home?

- Home? Where is that?
- I mean with my mother.

You will live at Mantalini's
to all intents and purposes,

for there you'll take all your meals and

work from morning till evening.

But at night, my mother, I will not leave her.

- Will not?
- I mean I cannot.

We must have some place that we can call a home.

- Must you?
- Yes.

There is an empty house belonging to me.

- You can both live there until you there until it is let.
- Thank you, uncle.

Will you hear me?

This horse would be a crime to lose.

It's going for nothing, my senses' joy.

For nothing?

A hundred guineas down.

And I will ride him in the park,

and the demd old dowagers will fall at my feet.

"Who is he married to?" they will say.

And who will pay for him, my love?

Well, I will get some discount out of old Nickleby.

But you borrowed money from him last month.

Did I?

Yes, you did.... And I know why.

Oh, I am miserable, Mantalini.

Well, then, you are an ungrateful,
unworthy, demd unthankful little fairy!

No, I am not. You were flirting
with her the whole night.

No, no, my sparkling jewel.

Yes, you were.

I had my eyes on you the whole time
and I will not bear it, Mantalini.

I will take poison!

My life!

He found me.

I did not know Mr. Nickleby was here, my dear.

And what a doubly demd informal
rascal that footman must be.

That is entirely your fault, my love.

My fault, my heart's joy?

Certainly, my heart's delight. What can we
expect us to do until you correct him?

Yes, quite. He shall be horse-whipped.

Good afternoon, Madame. Mr. Mantalini.

Good afternoon.

May I present my niece, Kate Nickleby.

What's the matter with you? Go on.

Bye.

Have a great day.

I does so palpitate!

Ah, I know what that is.

What?

- Love!
- Love!

I've not been used to it, you know, Tilda.

Oh, you'll soon get the better of it, dear.

We women must.

Where is John!

He's gone home to clean himself,
be back before tea's served.

- Shall I serve tea now, Miss--
- Not yet! You don't serve it cold!

Enter.

Come on in.

Good afternoon.

I, ah...I understand from Mr. Sqeers--

Oh yes, that is right.

I'm afraid father don't tea with us today.

He's gone into town with mama on business,

but you won't mind that, I daresay.

Please, be seated.
We're only waiting for one other gentleman.

Charmed, I'm sure.

Oh, don't mind me Fanny.

You may go on just as you would if you were alone.

Tilda! I'm ashamed of you!

Charming, simply charming.

Can you speak French, child?

- Yes, ma'am.
- Like a demd native?

We keep 80 young women constantly
employed in this establishment.

Yes, and some are demd handsome, too.

Mantalini, do you wish to break my heart?

Not for twenty thousand hemispheres,

populated by a thousand little ballet dancers.

You will pay nothing to my husband's
machinations, Miss Nickleby?

I do not, ma'am.

What hours of work have you
become accustomed to?

I have never yet been accustomed
to work at all, ma'am.

Hmm, well, for which reason she'll work all the better.

- Well, John?
- Well what?

Your mouth!

- It's chomping, sir.
- Manners!

What is this tea coming to?

Well, I don't suppose he's bothered.

- I am, sir.
- Oh, were you?

Well, tuck in, lad. Glory, you don't
get bread and butter here every day.

Aye, you're naught but skin and bones
if you stop here long enough.

Your remarks are facetious, sir.

Oh, don't I know.

Hey, the other the teacher, he were
a lean 'un and all, weren't he, Tilda?

If you say another word, John,
I'll never forgive you or speak to you again.

What's the matter, Fanny?

Oh, shall John and I go outside
and come back presently?

- Please, there's no need.
- No need?

Why, look at Miss Fanny, her
dressed so beautifully and--

looking so well--
She's almost handsome.

I'm ashamed of you Mr. Nickleby.

What have I to do with Miss
Squeers dressing beautifully?

Everything!

- John!
- What?

- Manners!
- I'm bored.

- Let's start a game of cards or something.
- Yes, let's. I think that's a good idea.

Oh, we ought to go in partners,
two against two.

Miss Price?

Why, certainly Mr. Nickleby.

We intend to win everything,
don't we Mr. Nickleby?

Oh, I think you've already won something
you didn't expect. Haven't you, dear?

Good afternoon, Madame Mantalini.

Miss Knag, this is the young
person I spoke to you about.

She will start work today.

I think at present it'll be better for her if we took
her upstairs into the showroom--her appearance will--

Suit very well with mine.

Miss Nickleby and I will be
quite a pair, don't you think?

Although, I think my feet
may be a little smaller than hers.

My family have always been celebrated for small feet.

You'll take care Miss Nickleby understands
her hours, and, ah, so forth?

Rest assured, Madame, count upon me--
as always.

Charming creature, isn't she, Miss Nickleby?

Well, I hardly know her yet.

- Have you seen Mr. Mantalini?
- Yes.

- Handsome gentleman, no?
- Is he?

My goodness gracious!

He is a fine, tall, full-whiskered--

You do astonish me.

- I daresay I'm foolish.
- Yes.

How dull you are this afternoon, Tilda.

Oh no, indeed. I'm in excellent spirits.

I was thinking your face is rather morbid, Fanny.

Me? Oh, no.

Oh, that's well,
'cuz your hair's coming out of curl, dear.

Never mind me.
You had better attend to your partner.

And so I shall.

I've never had such luck,
and it's all because of you, Mr. Nickleby.

I should like to have you for a partner always.

I wish you would.

- John, why don't you say something?
- Say something?

- Aye.
- Ah, then what I says is this!

- Mercy on us, what's up?
- Oh you don't know, miss, 'course you don't!

You are monstrous polite, ma'am!

Well, I shall be coming to you
to take lessens in the art, ma'am!

Well, you needn't make yourself
any plainer than you are, ma'am!

- Ladies--
- I hate you, Tilda Price!

You'll cry your eyes out when I've gone,
Fanny Squeers, you know you will.

I scorn your words, Minx!

You pay me a great compliment when you say so.

I wish you good night, ma'am!

Pleasant dreams, pretend to sleep!

Good night.

- Ma'am, shall I clear away?
- Get out!

Smike! Smike!

Where are you hiding?

Smike!

Don't just stand there gold-bricking.
Give my missus a hand.

Quick, pull, get up there. Pull. Pull. Oh, Pull!

My precious bottle! It's broken!

Smike.

They're more hard on me than ever.

Oh, is the outside world as bad as this place, sir?

No, Smike. The world is full of hope.

- Not for me, sir. Never.
- Yes, Smike.

No. Nowhere's there hope in the world.

I'm sure...it's the best...he could do for you...

at short notice.

Well, isn't this considerate of your uncle?

Why, we should not have had anything
but the bed we bought yesterday

if it hadn't been for his thoughtfulness.

Yes, it's very thoughtful indeed, ma'am.

Mr. Nickleby.
Mr. Nickleby.

Mr. Nickleby...yoo-hoo!

Mr. Nickleby.

Your Fanny's here!

Mr. Nickleby.
Where is he?

Mr. Nickleby.

Fanny. Fanny. You see,
I've come to see you.

We had some bad words last night.

I've come to tell you something
that I think'll please you.

Oh, what's that?

Well, after we left you last night,
John and I had a dreadful quarrel.

That doesn't please me, Tilda.

I wouldn’t think so bad of you
as to suppose it did, Fanny.

No. Took a great deal of wrangling,
saying we'd never see each other again.

But this morning,

John and me, we made up.

And he went to write our names down.

We're to be married in three weeks!

And so I give you notice to get your frock made.

Oh Tilda, that's wonderful.
How nice.

I knew you'd like it.

Come now, Fanny, I want to know
all about you and Mr. Nickleby.

He is nothing to me. I hate him,
and I wish him dead.

- Oh, you don't mean that, I'm sure.
- Oh, yes, I do.

Oh! Oh, my God...I think I'll choke!

- Mr. Nickleby. Come back Mr. Nickleby! Nickleby!
- Oh, Fanny, don't! Slow down.

Oh, no, Tilda, it's my duty
to go through with it. And I will.

Mr. Nickleby! Oh-oh!
Oh, Mr. Nickleby!

Please, please, come and help, Mr. Nickleby!
Oh, help, oh, oh, Mr. Nickleby, sir, please help!

He's coming.

- What happened?
- She feinted.

Help me, Mr. Nickleby.

- How do you feel now, Fanny dear?
- Better. Oh, this foolish faintness!

Oh, don't call yourself foolish, Fanny dear.

It's those who are too proud who ought to be ashamed.

You are resolved to fix last night upon me,
me although I tell you it was not my fault.

Perhaps you were too jealous
or too hasty with him, my dear.

I'm sorry, truly, for having been the cause
of any difference between you.

But that's not all you have to say, surely?

I fear there's nothing else to say, except--

Yes!

It's most awkward. Mere mention of it,
makes me look like a puppy,

I love puppies.

Does the young lady suppose--

in short--

does she think I am in love with her?

Does she think? Of course she does.

If Mr.Nickleby has doubted that, Tilda,

he may set his mind at rest.
His sentiments are recipro--

Stop. This is the grossest and most wild illusion.

I haven't one thought, or hope,
or wish connected with her,

unless it be the one object dear to my heart
of turning my back upon this accursed place,

to never set foot in it again, or even think
of it, unless it be with loathing and disgust.

What have you got to say about that, Fanny dear?

Your nuptial bonnet, ma'am.

- Madame Mantalini?
- Ma'am.

Pray, have sent down that pretty,
young creature we saw yesterday?

Oh yes. Do!

Of all the things in the world,
my Lord and I--

we hate being waited upon
by frights and elderly persons.

Miss Knag, take off at once
and send down Miss Nickleby.

You needn't return.

I beg pardon. What did you say last?

You needn't return.

Yes, Madame.

Miss Knag, what's the matter?

Matter? You nasty creature. You upstart!

I have been the credit and
ornament of that room downstairs.

Have I lived to this day to be called a fright?

- I'm sorry. I never meant to--
- Don't Speak to me!

I hate you. I detest you.

Never let her speak to me again.

Never let anybody in this room who is a friend of mine

speak to her again.

She's a slut.

A hussy.

Smike!

Smike!

Smike!

- Nickleby,
- Sir.

Can't you hear me calling? Smike!

- Do you know where he's gone?
- No sir, and I'm glad I don't.

But if I did it would be my duty to tell you.

Which no doubt you would be sorry to do.

Indeed, sir, that's correct.

Get out of the way!

Smike! Smike! Smike!

- Afraid he got away, father.
- Squeers.

Cow shed and barn are locked, he must
have gone York way, and by public road.

Damn that boy!

Get inside.

No news of the wretch.

I'll have consolation for this
out of somebody, Knuckleboy.

I give you warning.

Your feelings do not concern me.

Oh, don't they, Mr. Peacock? Well, we shall see.

We shall.

Squeezy!

The horse has run over its legs! Now, who's
going to pay for that, I'd like to know?

- Squeezy.
- I have him, mother.

- Ring the bell. Wake them boys up!
- Right.

We must make an example!

Get up! Get up! Get up!

Get up! Go on, now, get up! All of ya! Get up!

Ah, you get out of my way!

Is every boy here?

Nickleby, stand to the side.

What have you got to say for yourself?

- Nothing, I suppose!
- Please, sir, spare me.

Ah, stop that...

I-I-I couldn't, I couldn't help it.

Couldn't help it, hey? So the fault's mine, I suppose?

Buffet him, Squeezy.

Stand aside, my dear....

Stop!

- Who said stop?
- I did. This must not go on.

Oh? Must not go on?

No. I will prevent it.

- Stand aside, there!
- I will not!

I'll rip the life out of yer, proper!

Is he dead?

He'll live.

- Smike?
- He's gone, sir.

Smike?

Sir. Can I come with you? Please?

Take - take me with you.

I can't.

I have no prospects...no future.

I can hardly even keep myself and my family.

I - I don't need much.

I'm sorry.

Please. Please. Let me come.

Very well.

The world will deal with you as it does me.

Come.

- Good morning, Mr. Browdie.
- Morning.

We parted on very bad terms
the last time we met, didn't we?

Aye, we did.

- I was very sorry for it afterwards, sir.
- So was I, Mr. Browdie.

That's well.

What's the matter with your face?

Squeers. I've beaten him badly.

Good lord. What did he do?

- He beat Smike.
- Oh, I see.

Well, what are you both gonna do now, sir?
Where aree you going?

- We're leaving Yorkshire, today.
- For London.

- Well, good luck to you.
- Thank you.

Mr. Nickleby, how much money have you got?

- Not much.
- Here.

- I couldn't.
- Don't be so proud, man--here.

You can pay me back one day.

Thank you.

Sir, my pa is one mask of bruises,
both blue and green, likewise,

when the monster, your nephew,
had done this to my pa,

and jumped upon his body with his feet.

And oh, the language, which I do not feel
my pen was describing!

He ran away, after inciting a rebellion,
with a boy of desperate character.

And stole a garnet ring.

Yours faithfully, Fanny Sqeers.

Well, you look quite juvenile and jolly, demmit.

There's quite a - a bloom upon your countenance.

What do you want?

What do I want.

- Yes! How much?
- A mere trifling, 75 pounds.

- How long for?
- Two months.

Times are bad.

I don't want to do business just now,
once scarcely knows who to trust.

But, as you are a friend, I'll do it.

- 25% interest.
- Damn it, Nickleby, that's hard.

Take it or leave it.

I'll take it.

Postmarked Yorkshire, sir.

- Dotheboys Hall.
- Thank you, Mr. Noggs.

- I've come about a boy.
- Which boy? Our place is full of boys.

- Smike. He's called Smike.
- Mother!

He's here?
No! He ran away.

Where did he go?
Mama!

Anyone who knows me could never
believe this story of a stolen ring.

I must go to my uncle at once,
Mr. Noggs, and explain everything.

- No, sir, I wouldn't.
- Well, I'm sure he'll understand.

You came back here after a few weeks

with no money and no position.

Those are things your uncle understands.

Do my mother and sister know about this letter?

- No, not yet.
- Then I'll go and tell them.

Please, be advised, sir.

Do not seem to be tampering with anyone.
You don't know your uncle as I do.

- I've done nothing wrong!
- I-i-i-it's true, sir.

I know.

Why do you stay working for my uncle, Mr. Noggs?

Who else will have me?

Now, I once borrowed money
without the means to pay it back.

He offered me work--not to me--
the wages of a small boy.

Drink.

Thank you.

- Here's to both of you.
- Newfound friends.

I won't believe it, uncle.

I have a letter from Miss Squeers.
She writes and tells me everything.

There must be some mistake, brother-in-law.

The mistake was mine, ma'am.

I recommended your son to this establishment
against all my previous convictions.

And what is the result?

Behavior for which he might hold
his head up at the Old Bailey.

It's not possible. And a thief, too!

Mama, how can you sit there and say such things?

Let me say if he comes my way it would be
my duty to deliver him up to the justices.

My bounden duty as a man of the world in business.

And yet I would not.

And spare the feelings of his sister.

And mother, of course.

Please answer the door, Kate.

Well, I don't know, I'm sure.

It's no invention, ma'am, read it for yourself.

- Assault. Riot--
- Theft.

Indeed, and what do you call these things ma'am?

- A lie!
- Nick! Dear brother, be calm. Consider--

I've considered everything, Kate,
and I'm here to speak the truth.

Your behavior is a disgrace, sir.

Dotheboys Hall, uncle. It was a place--

It was a place of employment, sir.

To which I should never have been sent!

How dare you! That's gratitude for you, ma'am.

I attacked the schoolmaster to save a boy
from the vilest cruelty, nothing more.

Be patient, Nicholas.

You hear this? Everything is proved,
and by his his own confession.

- Oh, the shame!
- No, not everything.

- There is a ring missing.
- I know nothing of this ring, Kate.

- I know, Nicholas.
- But you do know of a stolen boy.

Yes. He's here with me in London.

And you choose to retore this boy
back to where he belongs?

- No, I do not.
- Indeed!

Now, sir, you will hear a word or two from me.

- I'll not listen to any threats, uncle.
- Nicholas!

Very well, I will not speak to you but to your mother.

Perhaps she will find it worth her while.

If your son does not leave London tonight,

and take this boy with him,

he will not receive one penny of my money

nor one grasp of my hand.

I will not help him, nor will I help
those who choose to help him.

I regret to leave you, ma'am,

but since I cannot ask you to renounce your son,

I will see you no more.

Uncle, please. I know you have been very good to us.

But I cannot, even if he'd done what you say,
I cannot renounce my own son.

But mama, you know he has done nothing wrong.

- I don't know what to think!
- Mother...

Nikolas is so headstrong, and your uncle
has so much honest composure--

Mama!

Oh, nevermind, we can all go to the Workhouse,

or the Magdalen Hospital,
and the sooner we go, the better!

Stay, uncle. You need not leave, I will go.

- Speak to him, mama.
- I leave my family in your care.

But one day I will return,

and God help you if they are wronged.

Nicholas, wait.

Nicholas.

It's for the best, Kate.

You'll be helped when I'm away.

If I stay I'll bring you nothing
but suffering and sorrow.

- We're going to forget each other.
- No, never.

Try to think about lives before father died.

Remember the happiness of home.

I will. I do, always.

- Goodbye, Kate.
- When will I see you again?

I don't know.

Wh-Where does this road go?

Portsmouth.

Wh-What's Port-smith?

It's a seaport town.

We may find some employment on a ship.

Oh, I can, ah, milk cows and groom horses.

Stand up straight, Miss Nickleby,
what's the matter with you?

- I'm sorry.
- Are you ill?

I have a headache.

I wish I could say the same.

Bodily illness is so much more easy to bear than mental.

- Is my life and soul within?
- No!

Ah! How can she say so,
when she's blooming in this room

like a little rose in a flower pot?

Go away!

- Miss Knag.
- Miss Nickleby.

There, there, why will it vex itself

and twist its little face

into bewitching nut crackers?

- Because I can't bear you.
- Can't bear me?

My enchanting, bewitching, engrossing,
captivating little Venus.

Why, there's not a woman alive
who could tell me such a thing.

See what a situation you have placed me in?

No harm will come from this.

Trust me.

There are two gentlemen to see you, sir.

- What do you want?
- Mr. Mantalini.

- If you say so.
- This is an unpleasant business. Here.

- Well, what is it?
- Nothing.

It's a writ.

- Oh, Alfred!
- It's a mere trifle, my pussy fluff.

Fifteen hundred and twenty-seven pound,

four and ninepence ha'penny.

The ha'penny be demd.

If not convenient to settle,

we'll go over the house and make an inventory.

You've got three nights to sleep at home
before we take possession.

Good day, ma'am. Ladies.

Bye!

Oh, we're ruined!

My cup of happiness' sweetener.

Get out of here!

Leave this house forever!

I see.... I see.

- Mantalini!
- Miss Knag, stop him!

Oh, my unkind words!

Ruined!

I have ruined...

...the best and purest creature that ever lived!

Compose yourself, my angel.
It was nobody's fault but my own.

My Darling.

- My beloved.
- Forgive me.

I do. I do.

Landlord, can you give us any dinner?

I'm sorry sir you're too late.

Well, the gentleman in the parlor's
ordered steak, pudding and potatoes.

There's more than he can manage.
I'll ask if you can sup with him.

- Are you sure?
- It's only Mr. Crummles. He isn't particular.

Strike, parry and riposte!

Very good. That'll be a double
encore if you take care, boys.

- You better get your wind now and change your clothes.
- Thank you, Mr. Crummles.

Well, what do you think of that, sirs?

It's very good indeed.

Aye, thank you. We open
at Portsmouth on Monday.

- Do you know the town at all?
- No, sir.

- Never been?
- Never.

Oh, fancy. Here, give me a hand.
Help me down--that's a good lad.

Ah. Much obliged.

Excuse me saying, but what a capital
countenance your friend has got.

Why, as he looks now he makes such an actor
in the starvation businesses was ever seen.

Yes, the emaciated apothecary
in Romeo and Juliet--don't you think?

I wouldn't know, sir.

You view him with the professional eye, I suppose.

Oh, well I may. I've been in
the profession a lifetime.

Started with the heavy child
parts at 18 months old.

'Tis true. A child prodigy.

May I ask, why Portsmouth?

We are both looking for work
and there are ships leaving port every day.

True, but not for gentlemen like you, no, no.

Men are not born Able Seamen--they must be reared.

Can then-- Can anybody act upon the stage, sir?

Oh, no,no, no.

It requires a great talent--
'tis a God-given gift.

Yes, of course, I see.

But, if the mind is willing
and the heart courageous, then--

- Yes?
- 'Tis possible with time and dedication

to train a humble servant into a noble knight.

Perhaps you would be willing to
take us both into your company, sir.

- Theater?
- Yes.

Oh, for a Muse of fire that would ascend
the brightest heaven of invention.

A kingdom. A stage.

Thank you, Miss Knag, for everything.

I'm only pleased my modest savings
could be of some assistance.

- Goodbye, ladies. Goodbye.
- Farewell, adieu.

Goodbye!

Girls, back to work.

Not you, Miss Nickleby.

From today, your services are terminated.

Well, what do you say?

- Is this a theater?
- It is, Smike.

I thought it were a blaze of light.

And, so it is, my boys, so it is.

Nickleby, here, look here.

Allow me to introduce Mrs. Vincent Crummles.

- How do you do?
- I am very glad to meet you, sir.

And still more glad to hail you

as a member of our company.

He'll do, I think, my dear, but who's that?

That is our...emaciated apothecary.

Oh, admirable, admirable--
a skeletal sensation I'm sure.

Ah, the little ballet interlude.

They're going through the Indian savage and
maiden dance--a little this way, step over here.

Music! Play on!

Bravo!

Well, what do you say, sir?

- She's very beautiful.
- And you, sir?

She's quite a genius. Who is she?

This, sir, is Miss Ninetta
Crummles, our daughter.

The Infant Phenomenon!

She is the idol of every place we go.
We have complimentary letters, sir,

from the nobility and gentry
of almost every town in England.

- I'm not surprised.
- I tell you what, sir,

the talent of the child is not to be imagined.

I can believe it.

She must be seen, sir, seen.

She is too good for the country boards--
she ought to be in London.

- Aye, the Drury Lane.
- Ah!

May I ask how old she is?

You may.

Well?

She is 10 years of age.

- No more?
- Not a day.

Oh Kate, my dear, your uncle has a surpise for you.

I should like you to dine with me tomorrow evening.

He's giving a little dinner party.

I not much choose to party,
but this is a matter of business,

and your mother has promised
that you would keep house for me,

and if you wouldn't mind obliging--

- Mind? Why, my dear Kate, she--
- I spoke to my niece, ma'am.

I'll be very glad, of course, uncle,

but I'm afraid you'll find me
awkward and embarrassed, I, I--

Now, what shall you wear? Let me think,
your black silk frock woould be appropr--

Come at half past six in a hackney.

- I'll pay.
- Thank you, uncle.

I look forward to it.

Pray, silence, for Mr. Crummles!

Come, come, children, gather around.

- Mr. Crummles has decided.
- The play is cast.

Lord Montague, Friar Lawrence: myself.

Lady Montague, the nurse: Mrs. Crummles.

Spirit of the eternal love flame: the Infant Phenomenon.

Juliet: Miss Ledrock.

- Romeo: Mr. Nickleby.
- What, what, what?

Mr. Lenville: a clown, and a very good bit
of trap door business in Act 2, if I may say.

- A clown.
- Mmm-hmm.

Mr. Crummles, may have a word?

You may, sir.

I have no idea how I shall do it, sir.

Aah, play it--Romeo.

Oh, you have it already, Mr. Nickleby--

Ample qualities abound.

There's nothing to it. You learn the lines, sir.

Stand in romantic attitude, like so,

and then it's all down to the swagger
of velveted clothes.

Try it once more, Smike.

Who calls so loud?

- Who
- Who

- calls
- calls

- so
- so

loud?

Who calls so

I don't know what's to be done, Smike.

Keep saying it to me. I will remember.

But, soft! What light through
yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

- Like a duck to--
- (Arise, fair sun, and--)

- duck to water--
- (kill the envious moon)

- Aye, just sensational with the ladies, too.
- (who is already sick and pale with grief)

that thou, her maid, art far more fair than she!

Oh, Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?

Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this...

- Welcome, my dear.
- Uncle.

Is something wrong?

Are there no other ladies present, uncle?

No, I don't know any....now, go in.

...hardly ever had the opportunity--what?

What...the...devil.

Lord Verisopht.

Miss Nickleby.

Charmed.

As I remember, this should be the house,

but being a holiday,
the beggar's shop is shut.

What, ho! Apothecary!

Who...calls...so.........

loud?

Come hither, man.

I see that thou art poor.

I believe Miss Nickleby is wondering why
the deuce somebody don't make love to her.

- No, indeed--
- Sir Mallory I'll hold any man 50 pounds

that Miss Nickelby can't look into my eyes

and tell me she wasn't thinking so.

Pray, do not make me the subject of any bet.

- Please, uncle, I cannot--
- It's nothing, my dear.

I don't care if I lose,

for one tolerable look in Miss Nickleby's eyes

is worth double the money.

To which makes more effort for me, Miss Nickleby.

- Get your money ready, gentlemen--
- Uncle...

- Quite cruel.
- Horrid cruel. Aren't we?

Bet. Bet. Bet...

What a delightful studiousness.

Is it real, or only to display the eyelashes?

Upon my soul, they're perfect.

Do me the favor to be silent, sir.

I wish you to understand that your
behavior offends and disgusts me.

Why keep up this appearance--

little, sweet creature?

Be more natural...be more natur--

Let me go, sir. Do you hear me, sir?

Please...

What is this?

Let me pass, uncle.
Let me leave this house.

What have I done that you
could subject me to this?

Wanted the Lord for her, did you?

As a matter of business,

I thought she might make an
impression on the silly youth.

Who calls so loud? ...Who calls so loud?