All language subtitles for Nicholas Nickleby E3

- You've read it, have you?
- What?

The letter from Dotheboys Hall. It's all lies.

You've read it?

- Yes.
- It's private and confidential.

I'm your private and confidential clerk.
What are you going to do about it?

It's not what I'm going to do about it,
though I intend to do something.

It's what the law will do. Theft, riot, assault.

These are serious crimes,
as my nephew, Master Nicholas,

is shortly going to find out.

Well, Smike, Professor Nickleby
is ready to meet his new pupils.

- I'll go down and face them now.
- I hope it all goes well.

Thank you. Don't be doing
anything foolish in my absence,

like trying to run away again.

I gave you my word I wouldn't.
I'll not break it.

I know you won't.
And don't get feeling too lonely.

Mr Noggs'll soon be home from his work.

(Knocking at door)

Sit, sit, sit, sit.

Pray, come in, Mr Johnson.

- Mrs Kenwigs?
- That is correct.

And you are Mr Johnson that has been
so highly recommended to us by Mr Noggs.

- As a tutor?
- Most certainly, as a tutor.

At your service, ma'am.

Uncle, may I present Mr Johnson?

Mr Johnson, my dear uncle, Mr Lillyvick.

- How do you do, sir?
- How do you do?

Uncle is a collector of water-rates, Mr Johnson.

Indeed?

Miss Petowker, may I present Mr Johnson?

Miss Petowker is
with the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane.

- Shh, shh.
- Your servant, ma'am.

Most accomplished, Mr Johnson.

Not earlier than last evening -
was it not, Uncle? -

Miss Petowker held us entranced

with her recital
of the Blood-Drinkefis Burial.

Too kind. It was an exception.

I rarely do anything professional
in private parties.

- I understand.
(Lillyvick clears throat)

Mr Johnson, it will be very pleasant
for the children to have a private master.

I hope it will not make them proud,
but that they will bless their good fortune

that has born them superior
to common children.

- Do you hear, Morleena?
- Yes, Ma.

And when you go out on the streets
or elsewhere,

t desire that you don't boast of it
to the other children,

and if you must say anything about it,
you don't say no more than

"We've got a private master
comes to teach us at home,

but we ain't proud,
because Ma says it's sinful."

- Now, do you hear, Morleena?
- Yes, Ma.

Shall Mr Johnson begin, Uncle?

I am ready to hear if Mr Johnson
is ready to commence, my dear.

What son of language
do you consider French to be, sir?

- How do you mean, sir?
- Do you consider it a good language?

A pretty language, a sensible language?

Pretty, certainly,
and as it has a name for everything

and admits of elegant conversation,
I presume it's a sensible one.

It's very much changed since my time, then.

What's "the water" in French, sir?

Water, sir? "L'eau."

Lo, eh? I don't think
anything of that for a language. Lo.

Uncle, don't say you disapprove of it?

I am a man, Mr Johnson, who has it in
his power to make Morleena an heiress

and the very baby a legatee.

Oh, Uncle!

But even were I to go
without another word,

my displeasure would make no difference
respecting that pound or two

which I shall leave
amongst your children...when I die.

Morleena Kenwigs.

Your uncle is more an angel than a man,
and I've always said so.

Go down on your knees to your dear uncle
and beg him to love you all his life through.

Yes, Ma.

There, there.

She dances so well.

Mr Johnson, if I were blessed
with a child of such genius as that,

I should have her
out at the opera instantly.

Oh, no, Miss Petowker.
Think of the young dukes and marquises.

Very right.

I only know that I have never known

any inconvenience
or unpleasantness of that son.

Well, I'm sure
that settles the matter at once.

May the children begin their lesson, Uncle?

They may begin.
I have no wish to prevent them.

Lo!

Hm!

- Girls.
GIRLS: Mr Johnson.

Children, it is necessary to know at the outset

that French nouns,
that is to say the names of things,

are either all masculine or...fem...feminine.

(Lillyvick clears throat)

I'm sure Morleena will have it all
off by heart in next to no time.

Thus we say "le crayon", the pencil

and "la plume", the pen,

"crayon" being masculine while "plume"...

- Mr Noggs!
- Forgive the interruption, ma'am.

It is important I have a few words
with Mr Johnson.

- Now?
NOGGS: Now.

GIRLS: No.
NOGGS: Matter of business.

Pray, excuse me.

An abominable language, ma'am. Lo!

Mr Noggs, why did you tell them
my name was Johnson?

Because it's safer. Now, hear me.
I have come directly from your uncle's office.

- The letter from Dotheboys?
- He has read it.

Well?

He's on his way to acquaint your mother
and sister with its contents.

- Mr Noggs, what should I do?
- Do? Go there now. Confront him.

I fear he means to do you a mischief.

It would be my duty, if he came
in my way, to deliver him up to justice,

my bounden duty, and yet I would not.

I would spare the feelings of his sister...
and his mother, of course.

I will never believe what is in that letter.

- It is some conspiracy.
- You say that Nicholas is a thief.

This letter says that he stole a garnet ring.

Mama, how can you sit there
and hear such statements?

I would never have believed it! Never!

What of this? Theft, riot, assault?
What do you call these?

- I call them lies.
- Nicholas!

Oh, no, no, Nicholas.
You must not. Be calm.

Calm? To stand calmly before that man,
I need to be made of iron.

- Or of bronze, sir.
- Oh, dear.

That things should have come to such a pass.
The disgrace!

You hear, sir? Your mother
is in no doubt where the truth lies.

My mother's ears have been poisoned by you,

who have heaved
every wrong and insult upon my head

and now pretend to deserve
the thanks she pours upon you.

Nicholas, be patient. Give him no advantage.

Tell us what you really did
and prove that what he says are lies.

I interfered to save a miserable creature
from the vilest cruelty.

If the same scene were renewed before me
now, I'd strike harder and heavier.

You hear, ma'am? Penitence, this?

Oh, dear! I don't know what to think.
I really don't.

In the letter, they say you stole a garnet ring.

They lie.

There is mention of a boy
in whose company you left.

Yes, his name is Smike, a poor creature

made silly and helpless
from brutality and ill-usage.

- He's with me still.
- You hear?

Everything proved,
even upon his own confession.

- Do you choose to restore that boy?
- No, I do not, sir.

- You do not?
- Not to Squeers.

Very well. Ma'am, of what I meant to do
or what I have done

for you and my niece I will say nothing,
I hold out no threat.

But I will not give this boy one penny
of my money or one crust of my bread

to save him from the loftiest gallows
in all Europe!

I will not help him or those who help him.
Do you understand what I say'?

I know that you have been very good to us,
brother-in-law,

and meant to do a great deal for my daughter,

but I can't renounce my own son,
even if he has done all you say he has.

If? Mama, you know these things are lies.

How do I know? Nicholas is so violent
and your uncle has so much composure

that I can only hear what he says
and not what Nicholas does.

- But, Mother...
- Never mind. Don't let's talk any more about it.

We can go to the workhouse,
or the refuge for the destitute, I dare say,

and the sooner the better.

That will not be necessary. I'll not stay and give
my uncle the excuse to withdraw his charity.

- Nicholas, no.
- Kate, I'm no help to you.

I shall bring you nothing but want and suffering,
so don't keep me here.

Whatever steps you take, sir,
I shall keep an account of.

I leave them to you at your desire,

but there will be a day of reckoning
sooner or later

and it will be a heavy one for you, sir,
if they are wronged.

Nicholas, no, come back!
Oh, Mama, call him back!

I'm sure I don't know what to think.

You told me once, Smike, that you were
taken to Dotheboys Hall as a child.

I think I can just remember.
It's hard to be certain.

I was always so confused and giddy
at...at that place you took me from.

Some...sometimes I couldn't understand
what they said to me.

But you didn't find your way to the school alone?

No. Oh, no.

Who was with you?

- A man.
- What man?

A dark, withered man.

They said so at the school,
and I remembered that before.

I was glad to be away from him.
I was afraid of him.

Do you remember no woman,

no kind woman who called you her child?

No.

- Only the room.
- Room? What room, Smike?

I slept in this room,

this large, lonesome room,

at the top of a house.

It had a trap door in the ceiling.

I used to cover my head with the clothes
so as not to see it.

It frightened me.

I...l used to wonder
what was on the other side of it.

And there was a clock,

an old clock in the corner.

I always remember that room,

for when I have terrible dreams,
it comes back to me,

just as it was.

It never changes.

Mr Smike, I've found a coat for your journey.

- Which way do you travel?
- I scarcely know.

And if I did,
I'd have neither plan nor prospect.

Whatever I resolve on, depend on it,
I shall write to you soon.

I should be grateful.

I have not so many friends that I shall
grow confused among the number

and forget my best one.

Goodbye, Mr Noggs.

Smike, are you ready?

Hey, there!

No, no, no, Miss Nickleby.
Blue does not suit that dress.

I think the green
will look much more agreeable.

Yes, ma'am.

- Is my life and soul there?
- No.

How can it say so
when it's blooming in front of me

like a little rose in a demnition flowerpot?

May its poppet come in and talk?

Certainly not. I'm busy. Go along.

Why will it vex itself

and twist its little face
into bewitching nutcrackers?

- Ooh, I can't bear you!
- Not bear me?

Fibs! Fibs! It couldn't be.

There isn't a woman alive that could tell me
such a thing to my face - my own face.

Such destructive extravagance.
What a position you have placed me in.

My love, there will be nothing the matter.

If money doesn't come in fast enough,
old Nickleby shall stump up again.

- Or he'll have his jugular separated if he dares...
- Mrs Mantalini?

- And who are you?
- I've got a writ of execution.

If it's not conwenient to settle,
we'll go over the house and take the inwentory.

A writ? Oh, I'm done for.

Finished! Ruined! Bankrupt!

Madame Mantalini!

What's the demd total?

Fifteen hundred and twenty-seven pounds,
four and ninepence ha'penny.

- The ha'penny be damned.
- If you wish it. And the ninepence.

Don't matter to us if the fifteen hundred and
twenty-seven pounds went along with it,

- as far as I know on.
- Not a button. Mr Tom Tix Esquire,

you must inform your angel wife
and lovely family

that you won't sleep at home
for three nights to come,

along of being in possession here.

What's the good of the lady
a-fretting herself?

A good half of what's here
isn't paid for, I dare say,

and what a consolation
oughtn't that to be to her feelings!

My cup of happiness's sweetener,
will you listen to me for two minutes?

Don't speak to me.
You've ruined me and that's enough!

- Ruined?
- Ruined!

Miss Nickleby, make haste, for heaven's sake.
He will destroy himself.

I spoke unkindly to him
and he cannot bear it from me.

Alfred, my darling Alfred!

Interrupted!

I didn't mean to say it!
I didn't mean to say it!

Ruined! Have I brought ruin
on the best and purest creature

that ever blessed a demd Vagabond?

Demmit, let me go.

I'll beat my demd brains out.

- No, Alfred!
- No, I'll take poison.

- Bring me poison!
- No, Alfred!

- Will some lady or gentleman shoot me?
- Never!

Compose yourself, my own angel.

(Both sob)

It was nobody's fault.

It was just as much my fault as yours.

We will do very well yet.

Come, my darling. Come.

Oh, come, come, Alfred.

- Come.
- Madame Mantalini.

- What does it all mean?
- Mean, child?

It means that we are bankrupt.

- My employment?
- Finished, gone.

All is over.

(Alfred wails)

Ah! Ha-ha!

You swine!

That's it, my boys.

Sparks! Strike fire with your swords!

That's what brings the house down.

Good! Do that again.

Your pardon, sir.
Are we far short of Portsmouth?

Twelve miles short.

- Is it a good road?
- Very bad.

Don't let me influence you, sir,
but I wouldn't go on if it were me,

not when I knew I was well off.

- What could you give us for supper?
- I'll tell 'ee.

There's a gentleman who's ordered
a hot beef-steak pudding and potatoes at nine.

It's more than he can manage and
if I ask leave, you can sup with him.

I've been travelling on foot
and I cut a somewhat dusty figure.

Oh, Lord love you, sir. It's only Mr Crummles.

- He aren't particular.
- Is he not?

Not him, sir. He'll like
your way of speaking, I know.

Just wait here, sir.

Is it like London, this town, Port...

Portsmouth? No, Smike. It's smaller.

It's a seaport. If all else fails, we
might get employment aboard some ship.

I'm sure we could both be useful in many ways.

When I was at school, I could milk a cow
or groom a horse with anybody.

I'm afraid they don't keep animals
of that kind on board ship, Smike...

Mr Vincent Crummles, this is the gentleman, sir.

- You're most kind.
- There's a picture. Ah!

The little 'un has him. lfthe big 'un
doesn't knock under, he's a dead man.

- Your end is nigh.
- You think so, sir'?

Aha!

Foiled.

Capital!

It'll be a double encore, boys, if you take care.

Well, you'd better get your wind
back now and change your clothes.

What do you think of that, sir?

Very good indeed. Capital!

- If they were better matched...
- Matched?

- Well, I mean, more of a size.
- Size?

Why, it's the essence of the combat

that there should be a foot or two between them.

How are you going to get
the sympathy of your audience

unless there is a small man
contending with a large one?

I see. That didn't occur to me.

You're going to Portsmouth?

- Yes, I am.
- Good.

I open there the day after tomorrow.

You must look into the theatre.

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

Yes, poor fellow. I wish he were
a little more plump and less haggard.

Plump? You'd spoil it for ever.

Why, as he is now, he'd make
such an actor for the starved business

as was never seen in this country.

Only let him be tolerably well up
in the apothecary in Romeo And Juliet,

with the slightest possible dab of red
on the tip of his nose,

and he'd be certain of three rounds

the moment he put his head
out of the practicable door

in the front grooves OF'.

You see him with a professional eye.

And well I may.

Tell me, sir, what mission
brings you to Portsmouth?

- My friend and I seek employment.
- Ah.

We might try for a berth aboard some ship.
There's meat and drink there.

Yes. Salt meat and new rum,
pease-pudding and chaff-biscuits.

- A man could do worse than that, sir.
- Aye.

Or better.

Does no other profession occur to you

which a young man of your face and figure
might take up easily

and see the world to advantage in?

- No.
- Why, then, I'll tell you one.

- The stage.
- The stage?

The theatrical profession.
I am in the theatrical profession myself.

My wife is in the theatrical profession.

My children are in the theatrical profession.

I had a dog that lived and died in it
from a puppy.

And my chaise pony goes on
in Timour The Tartar.

I'll bring you out, and your friend too.
Say the word.

I want a novelty.

- I've never acted a pan in my life.
- Tosh!

There's genteel comedy
in your walk and manner.

Juvenile tragedy in your eyes,

and touch-and-go farce in your laughter.

You could be useful to us in a hundred ways.

Think what capital bills

a man of your education
could write for the shop windows.

- Yes, I can manage that department.
- To be sure.

And you could write us a piece
whenever we wanted one.

- Oh, no.
- In your first play for us,

you must manage to introduce
a real pump and two washing tubs.

I bought some cheap the other day at a sale.

Look very well on the bills.

Real pump, excellent washing tubs.

Great attraction.

What could a man get for all this?
Could he live by it?

Like a prince.

With your own salary, and your friend's,
and your writings, you'd make... Oh!

- You'd make...a pound a week!
- You don't say?

To be sure. And double that
if we have a good run of houses.

- Is it a bargain?
- A bargain.

Ah!

(Gulls cry)

Well?

It all looks very exciting.

As you see, our repertoire
covers the entire gamut...

of human experience.

(Donkey brays)

He too is one of us.

- The donkey?
- He's not in the company.

- But his mother was on the stage.
- Oh. She was?

She ate apple pie for upwards of 14 years,

fired pistols and went to bed in a nightcap,

and, in short, took the low comedy entirely.

His father was a dancer.

- Was he distinguished?
- Not very.

Rather a low son of pony.

He was good at melodrama,
but too broad, too broad.

When the mother died,
he took to the port-wine business.

- The port-wine business?
- Drinking port-wine with the clowns.

But he was greedy.

One night he bit off the bowl of the glass

and choked himself.

So his vulgarity was the death of him at last.

Come.

(Actors rehearse lines)

ACTRESS: Harry, I consented.
I became a wolf, but I still love you.

I wept in secret,
though duty made me silent...

Is this the theatre?
I thought it was a place of light and finery.

Why, so it is, but not by day, Smike.
Not by day.

CRUMMLES: Mr Johnson!

Permit me to introduce
Mrs Vincent Crummles.

I am very pleased to see you, sir.

And still more happy to hail you
as a promising member of our corps.

Thank you, ma'am. I...

And this is the other?

You too are welcome, sir.

He'll do, I think, my dear?

He is admirable. An acquisition indeed.

They are going through
The Indian Savage And The Maiden.

Oh!

MR CRUMMLES: Bravo! Bravo!
- Bravo!

(Actors rehearse lines)

This, sir, is the infant phenomenon.

Miss Ninetta Crummles.

- Your daughter, sir?
- My daughter.

The idol of every place we go into, sir.

I'm not surprised, sir. May I ask how old she is?

She is ten years of age, sir.

- Not more?
- Not a day.

Dear me. It's extraordinary.

- Perhaps you'll introduce me here.
- Mr Folair, Mr Johnson.

Meet Mr Smike, my dear.

Delighted to meet you, sir.

- A recruit, sir, I understand?
- An unworthy one.

Did you ever see such a set-out as this?

As what?
Oh, you mean the infant phenomenon?

Infant humbug, sir.
They keep her up late every night

and feed her on gin and water
to stop her from growing.

There isn't a female child in a charity school
that couldn't do better than she does.

- You seem to take it to heart.
- Yes, by Jove, and well I may.

Why, I know of 15 and sixpence that came
one night last month to Southampton

to see me dance the Highland Fling.

What's the consequence?

I've never been put up in it since

while this infant phenomenon has been
grinning through artificial flowers

at five people and a baby in the pit.

It's enough to make a man crusty.

Well, Tommy, do the honours.

Mr Johnson, Mr Lenville,
who does our first tragedy.

Except when the old bricks and mortar
takes it into his head to do it himself.

- You know who that is?
- No, indeed.

We call Crummles that because his acting
is rather heavy and ponderous.

But enough of jokes. I've got a pan of
12 lengths I must be up in by tomorrow.

I am a confounded quick study,
that's one comfort.

I beg your pardon,
but did you ever play in Canterbury?

- No, I never did.
- I recollect meeting a gentleman.

Only for a few moments. So like you,
I felt almost certain it was the same.

I see you now for the first time.

I would never have forgotten you.

Very flattering of you to say so.

Now I look at you again,

the gentleman in Canterbury
hadn't the same eyes as you.

You must think me very foolish
fortaking notice.

Oh, not at all. How could I feel otherwise
than flattered?

You men are such vain creatures.

Led, my dear. It's not the same at all.

Miss Snevellicci.

She does everything.

From a medley dance to Lady Macbeth.

Indeed?

Ladies and gentlemen.

We'll call the Mortal Struggle tomorrow at ten,
everybody for the procession.

Intrigue And Ways And Means,
you're all up in,

so we shall only want one rehearsal.

- One rehearsal.
- Everybody at ten, if you please.

Everybody at ten.

On Monday morning, we shall read a new piece.

The name is not yet known.
Mr Johnson is writing it.

But there'll be good pans for everybody.

- Hello. I...
- Monday morning. That'll do.

Mr Crummles, I don't think
I can be ready by Monday.

- Rubbish.
- To write a full piece in a matter of days?

- My invention isn't accustomed to it.
- Invention?

What the devil has invention to do with it?

- Everything, my dear sir.
- Nothing, my dear sir.

Do you understand French?

- Yes.
- Very good.

Turn that into English,
and put your name on the title page.

And don't forget to throw in the pump
and the two tubs I told you of.

And what are you doing about your lodgings?

- I hadn't thought about that, sir.
- Then you must dine with us.

My two boys shall go on ahead and find
the most likely place. Come, my dear.

We have but a shoulder of mutton
with onion sauce.

But such as our dinner is,
we beg you to partake of it.

You're very good.
Smike and I will do it ample justice.

Are the people of Portsmouth very theatrical?

No. Far from it.
To the infant's benefit last year,

on which occasion
she appeared in the Fairy Porcupine,

as originally performed by her,

the house was no more than four pound twelve.

And two pound of that was trust, Pa.

And two pound of that was trust, Pa.

Mrs Crummles has played before
mere handfuls.

But they are always a taking audience, Vincent.

Yes.

- Do you give lessons, ma'am?
- I do.

I once imparted tuition to the daughter
of a dealer in ships' provisions,

but it afterwards appeared that she was
insane when she first came to me.

It was very strange that she should
have come under such circumstance.

Indeed.

Vincent, what is the hour?

Five minutes past dinner time.

Then let the mutton and onion sauce appear.

- Your end is nigh, sir!
- Take that!

And that, you cur!

What, ho, you there!

- Gentlemen, please.
- Ha!

- Gentlemen, I'm trying to write.
- Ha ha!

Foiled, sir! There is no escape.

Take that, you swine!

Gentlemen, I implore you.
Kindly put up your walking sticks.

Delighted, I'm sure.

An uncommon snug little box, this.

Pernicious snug.

For a man at all particular,
it might seem a trifle too snug.

It isn't a bit too confined for a single man.

That reminds me why we're here.

My wife, Mr Johnson, I hope she'll have
some good pan in this piece of yours?

Well, I think she'll be well-pleased.

And what do you mean to do for me, old fellow?

Anything in the gruff and grumble way?

Well, you turn your wife and child
out of doors

and, in a fit of rage and jealousy,
you stab your eldest son in the library.

Do I, though? That's very good business.

After which, you are full of remorse
and decide to do away with yourself.

But just as you raise the pistol to your head,
you hear the clock strike ten.

- I see. Very good.
- You pause.

You heard the clock strike ten in your infancy.
You are overcome.

You burst into tears and become a virtuous
and exemplary character for ever afterwards.

Capital! That's a sure card.

Is there er...anything good for me?

Well, you play
the faithful and attached servant.

You are thrown out of doors
with the wife and child.

Am I to be for ever coupled
with that infernal infant phenomenon?

Well, I must have a dance of some kind.

- A dance?
- There's nothing easier.

- I just don't see how it can be done.
- Oh, gadzooks.

Who can help seeing the way to do it?

You get the distressed lady
and the little child

and the servant into poor lodgings.

The lady says to the servant, "Oh, Pierre"?

- Yes.
- French.

"Oh, Pierre, would that I could
shake off these painful thoughts."

Try, madame. Rouse yourself. Be amused.

I will try.
Do you remember that dance, honest friend,

which, in happier days, you practised
with this sweet angel?

Oh, let me see it again before I die.

Cue for the band before I die.

- And...
- Off we go.

♪ Oh, the grand old Duke of York,
he had 10,000 men

♪ He marched them up to the top of the hill
and he marched them down again

(Both laugh)

(Shouting and fighting resumes)

Thank you, my lord. I'll let you have the loan
by this evening at the latest.

If you would just give me
the favour of your signature.

You know, Nickleby,
what a pretty creature your niece is.

My niece?

Perhaps she is.
I don't trouble my head with such matters.

You know she's a devilish fine girl.
Come, don't deny it.

I believe she is considered so

and I know that you are an authority
on such points.

Yourtaste, my lord, is undeniable.

I want to know where she lives,
that I may have another peep at her.

- Really, my lord?
- Don't talk so loud.

I don't want Hawk to hear.

- You know that he is your rival?
- He always is, damn him.

And I want to steal a march on him.

Where does she live, Nickleby? That's all.

I must think, my lord, before I tell you.

Think? What's there to think about?

My niece has been virtuously
and well-brought up.

She is poor, unprotected.

I only want to see her. A man may look
at a pretty woman without harm.

You know, you're making
a fortune out of me, Nickleby.

Upon my soul, I'll borrow money from nobody
but you ever again if only you tell me this.

I'm sure, my lord,
I am most anxious to oblige you.

Then tell me. Come. Favour for favour.

Well, in that case,
since I'm sure there's no harm in it...

- Excuse me, Mr Noggs...
- Mrs Nickleby.

I've received this letter addressed
to my brother-in-law, marked urgent.

- I thought I'd better bring it.
- Thank you.

It's been sent to your address in mistake.

- Mrs Nickleby?
- Sir?

NICKLEBY: Noggs!

The mother of that delightful creature
I met the last time I dined here?

No, it can't be. There's the same cast
of features and the same indescribable air of...

- But no. This lady's too young.
- Oh...

- Noggs.
- She has a letter.

Brother-in-law,
I think you can tell this gentleman,

if it concerns him to know,
that Kate Nickleby is my daughter.

- Her daughter, my lord.
- Lord? Oh, well, I never!

So this is the lady to whose obliging
marriage we owe so much happiness.

Nickleby, introduce us.

Mrs Nickleby, may I present
Lord Frederick Verisopht?

- How de do?
- And Sir Mulberry Hawk.

- Your devoted servant, ma'am.
- Oh!

How is Miss Nickleby? Well, I hope.

She is quite well, I'm obliged to you, my lord.

She wasn't well for some days
after she dined here.

I can't help thinking that she caught
cold in the hackney coach coming home.

It's almost better to walk.

I once had a swelled face for six weeks
from riding in a hackney coach.

Or was it a chariot?
At all events, it had a very long number,

beginning with a nought
and ending with a nine.

- No, beginning with a nine and...
- Is that letter for me, ma'am?

What? Oh, yes. And I walked all the way
up here on purpose to bring it to you.

All the way up here?
What a confounded distance.

How far do you call it
from here to your dwelling?

- Oh. At least a mile.
- Surely not.

Oh, it must be.
All down New Gate Street, Cheapside,

all up Lombard Street, Gracechurch Street,

along Thames Street
and then as far as Spigwiffin's Wharf.

- Oh, it's a mile.
- Spigwiffin's Wharf.

Yes, I should say it is.
You surely don't intend to walk all the way back?

Oh, no. No, I shall go back in an omnibus.

I didn't travel about in omnibuses when
my dear husband was alive, but...

I am sure Lord Frederick
will escort you home in his carriage.

Eh? Oh, of course. What a capital idea.

- In a carriage? Oh, I...l couldn't.
- But you must. I insist. Don't I?

And I shall lend Mrs Nickleby
my additional protection.

- Oh, but...
- Permit me, ma'am.

Oh, well, I hardly know what to say. So kind.

- Good day, Nickleby.
- Look here...

Damn it all, Hawk, it is my carriage.

I say! Hawk!

Look, come along...

if I hadn't put them on the right track,
that foolish woman would have done so.

Selling a girl.

Match-making mothers
do the same thing every day.

She must take her chance.

But how strange of Kate,
never to breathe a word to her own mother

that she had made the acquaintance
of two such kind gentlemen.

Then there was that
unfortunate matter of Madame Mantalini

appearing in the list of bankrupts.

But, there, I'm sure that dear Kate
will fare much better with Mrs Wititterly.

Mrs Wititterly?

My daughter has at present
a position as that lady's companion.

- Do you know her?
- I have that honour. A most charming person.

I'm glad to hear you say so.

And it is a much more genteel occupation
than millinery, don't you agree?

Infinitely more genteel.

My lord, I think we trespass
upon this lady's good nature.

- But Miss Nickleby will be here soon.
MRS NICKLEBY: At any moment.

Alas, Lord Frederick and I
have business elsewhere.

- Ma'am.
- Good gracious.

Kate will be most upset, I know.
You must come again.

- My lord.
- Mrs Nickleby.

- And as often as you care to.
- Thank you so much.

Oh, dear me. What a day.

Devil take you, Hawk. Look here.

But for you, we might have remained
long enough to get a sight of the gal.

Patience. We know where she's employed.

More important, we're known there.

We have an invitation to visit this house
whenever we please, to come and go as we like,

and to stop for as long as it may suit us.

Is that not enough for one day's work?

- Oh, I suppose so.
- I know so.

All the same, Hawk. I...

- Don't hurry, don't hurry.
- Let me go.

How dare you accost me in this way!
Let me pass.

Why do you keep up this show of displeasure?

Sir, I warn you, I have a brother.

One day you will answer to him for this.

You look even prettier in a passion,
Miss Nickleby.

- I'm sure his lordship agrees with me.
- Hawk, you go too far.

- This is unseemly.
- Is it? Do you think so?

Very well, then. There's no hurry.

Hawk, I must protest.
You've insulted Miss Nickleby.

- Yes, for your sake.
- For mine?

How else can a man find favour with a girl
but to leap to her defence,

- which is what you've done.
- Is it?

- By Jove, so it is.
- Leave these matters in my hands.

After all, do I care for the girl
but as your friend?

Would I do this for every man?

- You're a devilish good fellow, Hawk.
- And I've done right, have I?

- Yes. Yes, like a friend.
- Good. Then I'm satisfied.

Come. Let us now go and have revenge
on the German baron

and the Frenchman who cleaned you out
so handsomely last night.

Well, my dear. What's the matter?

The matter, sir, is one
that should make you burn with shame.

I have been wronged,
my feelings insulted,

wounded past all healing
by your friends.

Friends? I have no friends, girl.

By the men I saw here, then.

If they were not friends of yours
and you knew what they were,

oh, the more shame on you, Uncle,
for bringing me among them.

It was cruel and dastardly of you.

There is some of that boy's blood in you, I see.

I hope there is. I'm proud to know it.
I will not bear these insults any longer.

What insults?

They have found out where I live
and renewed their persecution of me.

I can bear no more of it, and I will not.

- You must help me, Uncle.
- How can I help you?

You have influence. A word from you
and they would leave me alone.

No, no.

- No, I can't.
- Can't?

We are connected in business.
I cannot afford to offend them.

Even if I did speak to them,
it might not have the desired effect.

We all have our trials, my dear.

This must be one of yours, if trial it be.

Some girls would be proud
to have such gallants at their feet.

Gallants?

If this young lord does dog your footsteps

and whisper drivelling inanities into your ears,
what of it?

It won't last long. Some other novelty
will spring up and you will be released.

- In the meantime...
- In the meantime,

I am to be the scorn of my own sex
and the toy of the other.

Forgive me, Uncle. I should have known better
than to turn to you for help.

The old man there will explain.

I forgive you, but I don't want to curse him.

- God bless you.
- Oh, pity!

I do, I do, and do you pity me?

Look who we have here.

- My husband!
- Oh, Papa!

- Bless you, Mary.
- Don't speak. You are bleeding.

Harry, here is your mother's will.

Why, she leaves the sticks of the cottage,
the wherry, and all to me, to marry Mary.

Read, Harry. Read.

It is her voice from the grave.

- Poor old mother.
- Poor old mother.

Do you forgive her, Harry? Forgive Mary?

- Yes, yes.
- Then I am happy.

_ I am dying
~ 0h! '

Harry, Mary...

“Ah!
'Oh!

(Exaggerated gasping)

(5ob5)

- He is dead.
- Ah!

Mary!

Excellent, excellent! A decided hit!

- Do you think so, sir?
- No doubt. No question about it.

My dear Johnson, my dear Johnson,
you are a credit to my good taste.

Your acting is coming on in leaps and bounds.

Thank you, sir.

We have reached great heights tonight,
Johnson,

and we shall reach even greater.

- I have another novelty.
- A boy phenomenon?

There is only one phenomenon, sir,
and that's a girl.

Very true. I beg your pardon, sir.
Then I don't know what it is, to be sure.

What would you say
to a young lady from London?

What would you say, in fact,
to such an unrivalled attraction

as Miss Petowker
of the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane?

I would say that I know the lady.

Oh. Then you are acquainted, sir,
with as much talent

as was ever compressed
into a young person's body.

Her recitation of the Blood Drinker
will die with that girl.

And she's the only sylph I ever saw
who could stand on one leg

and play the tambourine
on the other knee like a sylph.

- When does she come down?
- She's here now.

She was at the performance.

Mrs Crummles taught her all she knows.

Mrs Crummles, in fact,
was the original Blood Drinker.

- But she was obliged to give it up.
- Did it disagree with her?

Not so much with her as with the audiences.
They couldn't stand it.

It was too tremendous.

Ah! Here is Miss Petowker now.

- Miss Petowker, dear lady.
- Mr Crummles.

Come, my dear, Miss Petowker.

My dear child. How lovely to see you.

- Good heavens. Mr Lillyvick?
- Is it? It is Mr Johnson!

How come you here?

I came this morning, sir, with Miss Petowker.

- Is she not delicious?
- Delicious?

I say, delicious,

absorbing, fairy-like, tumultuous!

- Can I have a word with you in private?
- Yes, of course.

A bachelor, sir, is a miserable wretch.

- Is he?
- He is.

I've lived in this world for nigh on sixty years.
I ought to know what it is.

The main reason
for not marrying is the expense.

That's what's kept me off
or, Lord, I could have had fifty women.

- But fine women, sir.
- Fine women, sir.

But none so fine
as the talented Henrietta Petowker.

She's an uncommon specimen.

Now, suppose, sir,

that a man can get a fortune
in a wife instead of with her, eh?

- Then he's a lucky fellow.
- That's what I say.

Henrietta Petowker is a fortune in herself.
I, sir, am going to...

- To make her Mrs Lillyvick.
- Oh, no, sir.

Actresses always keep their maiden names,
that's the regular thing,

but I'm going to marry her
the day after tomorrow.

- Congratulations.
- I shall collect her salary, of course.

And I hope after all it's nearly as cheap
to keep two as it is to keep one.

But if you're to be married, how come you here?

Well, the fact is...

...we thought it best
to keep it all a secret from the family.

- The family?
- The Kenwigs's.

They want to come into my little fortune.

If they thought I wanted to marry,
they'd take out a commission of lunacy.

- Lilly, my darling!
- My angel.

Well, I'll see you anon, Mr Johnson.

Anon. Now, my angel, let us go...

It was handed in at the stage door.

It's from London.

It's from Mr Noggs.

It's not bad news, I hope?

It says that my mother and Kate are both well,

but it may be that Kate
will soon need my protection.

She's in danger?

Yes, she must be.

Kate, in danger?