All language subtitles for Nicholas Nickleby E6

Look a little brisker, man,
and not so hangdoglike.

One would think it's a funeral
you were going to, not a wedding.

- Very funny.
- She'll be yours in half an hour.

Then... Then it only remains
for you to keep her safe.

Yeah, keep her safe
and that's not much, is it?

Much? Everybody knows what easy things
to understand and control women are.

But come. It's very nearly time
for you to be made happy.

Well, my friend,
is the bride not waiting?

She was ill last night.
I thought she would have broken her heart.

But she is dressed now and in her own room.

- She is ready, is she?
- Quite ready.

Not likely to delay us with young-lady
weaknesses, fainting and so forth?

She may be safely trusted.
I have been talking to her.

But...a word with you.

Does it not seem cruel?

- In what way?
- Look at him.

I say now it is a cruel thing
by all that's bad and treacherous.

Cruel? You see what a shrivelled old chip it is.

If he were younger it might be cruel,

but as it is, he'll die soon
and leave her a rich young widow.

Miss Madeline consults your tastes this time,
her own the next.

But it is wrong. She is my daughter.

And a devoted one.

You had no such qualms
last time we spoke, you and I.

Then I thought only of myself.

I... I am not well, Mr Nickleby, but now...

Now it is too late to go back
on promises freely given.

We will wait outside.
Pray do not keep us there long.

As you see, the bridegroom is eager.

Come, sir.

- Eh?
- We wait outside.

Madeline.

Is it time, then?

Yes.

My child, if you feel I have wronged you...

Papa, I have told you.

- I will do as you wish.
- Out of duty to me.

If you want to turn back even now...

Aagh!

Pa!

No, it is nothing.

No, no. A gentleman does not break his word.

Assist me, Madeline. I must make ready.

Mark my words, Gride. You won't have to pay
that man's annuity for very long.

You have the devil's luck in bargains always.

If he is not booked to make the long journey
before many months pass,

I'll wear an orange for a head.

You? You here, boy?
What brings you here?

- Your villainy.
- You cross my path at every turn.

- You have no business in this house.
- No more than in mine.

- Let me pass.
- Why?

To offer Miss Bray a home and refuge.
Perhaps Kate may persuade her.

- Whafd he say?
- Go and call Bray.

You'll not set foot in there, sir.

(Madeline screams)

Mr Nickleby, Mr Gride!
I beg you, come quickly! Please, help me!

Papa!

No! No!

He's not dead. He's not dead.

I'm sorry.

I think neither of you
have business here any longer.

This man claims his wife
and he shall have her.

He claims what is not his and he shan't
have her, not even if he had fifty men.

- Who will prevent this?
- I will.

- By what right?
- This right.

That knowing what I do,
you will not tempt me further.

Nicholas, Nicholas.

The world of lies and schemes
you have built through your ill-spent life

is crumbling into dust,
and you, sir, shall crumble with it.

My curse!
My bitter, deadly curse on that boy!

Will you take Miss Bray upstairs, Kate?
She must rest.

You'll be safe here.
Please try not to worry.

All will be taken care of.

Come.

Nicholas, who is that young person?

Her name, Mother, is Miss Bray.

She is to stay here
until the Cheeryble brothers return.

They'll want to take her under their care.

- She's to stay here, you say'?
- Her father died an hour ago.

I'm sure you know best
and I dare say I am very stupid.

Indeed I have no doubt of it.
My own children almost tell me so every day.

But if every orphan in London
is to be taken in by us,

I'm sure I don't know where it will end.

It's not for me to venture an opinion,
but if you will permit me to say so,

I can't think what is to become of us.

- First Mr Smike becoming ill.
- What?

I have been quite alone
with no means of sending for a doctor.

Poor Mr Smike with such a fever
that his cheeks seem afire.

I'll try and find a doctor.
Explain to Kate and ask her to go to him.

- But this young lady...
- Allow her to rest. I'll return soon.

I must say, I never heard
anything like it in my whole life.

Kate. Kate, my dear.

Kate.

GRIDE: Peg! Peg Sliderskew!

It is no fault of mine.
I did all in my power.

- It is no fault of mine!
- Who said it was, man?

Well, you looked as if
you thought I was to blame.

No. I blame him for not living an hour longer.

I blame no-one else.

Except that young fellow
who carried off Miss Bray.

And I've an old score to clear with him.

My house seems so empty.

You will stay and have a glass with me?

Water.

She was going to come here as my bride.

Such a pretty chick.

You've seen the last of her.

Peg. Peg, your master's home!

- Peg Sliderskew!
- What now?

Oh, my servant, why doesn't she answer?
Where is she?

- Peg!
- Be still, man.

The hag is out on some preparation
for your wedding festivities, that's all.

- (Gride whimpers)
- What ails you?

- Robbed! Robbed!
- Of what? Money?

- Worse!
- How, worse?

Worse than money.
She had better left me a beggar than this!

Than what, you devil's dotard?
What's missing?

Deeds. Papers.

- I'm ruined.
- What papers?

She saw me reading it. She saw me putting it
into the box that fitted into this.

- The box has gone!
- You mean a will?

But she don't know what it is.
She can't read.

But she'll take it to them as can.

- They'll get money for it.
- She can't have gone far.

- I'll call the police.
- No, no! No, no, no.

- The police must not be told.
- Not told of a robbery?

No, not a word.

Whichever way I turn, I'm betrayed.

I shall be given up.

I shall die in Newgate!

Well, Smike,
here's someone to make you better.

Good morning.

Don't... Don't leave me.

Only for a moment.

- I'll go to Miss Bray.
- How is she?

- A little better, I think. She slept.
- Good.

What has the doctor to say
about poor Mr Smike?

We shall know presently, Mother.

I'm sure he has no more than a chill,
his being unused to the London air, perhaps.

I myself find whenever I attempt to walk,
I become quite breathless.

Nicholas, I've been thinking
about Mr Frank Cheeryble.

- Have you, Mother?
- An amiable person, wouldn't you say?

- Yes.
- And good-looking, too?

I should say so.

What may you call his nose, now, my dear?

- His nose?
- What style of nose?

What order of architecture, if I may say so?

Do you call it a Roman or a Grecian?

As far as I can remember,
I should call it a composite or mixed nose.

I shall observe it more closely next time.

- I wish you would, my dear.
- I will, then.

Why are you so interested
in the shape of Mr Cheeryble's nose?

How unobservant you are.
You must learn to pay attention.

Mr Cheeryble visits us every evening

and you have not yet learned
to cough in the passage

or whistle carelessly or hum a tune.

- It's too negligent of you.
- Why should I do these things?

- To let them know that you're coming.
- Them?

It is very confusing to interrupt young people
when they are on the sofa,

as you yourself will come to find out,
if you should ever fall in love,

which I trust you will,
provided she is respectable and well-conducted.

What are you saying?

I am saying that Mr Cheeryble
has fallen desperately in love with Kate.

- With who?
- Kate.

- Our Kate?
- Whose Kate should it be if not ours?

With Kate? Good heavens.

(Door opens)

Doctor, how is he? Not very ill, I trust?

You trust in vain, sir.
Your young friend is in danger of his life.

- Oh, Nicholas.
- How can that be?

I fear that every token of rapid consumption
has appeared.

The last chance and hope of his life

depend on his being removed from London
without delay.

Consumption?

Otherwise I can offer you
not even a shred of hope.

He must be taken into the country,
where there is more warmth and sunshine

than is to be found here.

I'm obliged to you, sir.
It will be done at once.

But I must warn you,
whoever is to accompany him

must be prepared for the worst.

The young man may not return alive.

Well, Smike, I've some good news for you.

You're to have a holiday.

- Are you sending me away?
- No, no, I shall be going too.

We shall travel down to Devonshire,
where Kate and I grew up.

You'll like it there, Smike,
the fresh air and the sunshine.

But... But I don't want to leave here.

It will only be for a few weeks, no more.

And as soon as you are better,
we shall both come home again.

Just a few weeks in the country, that's all.

Will you wait in my room, Mr Squeers?
I want a word with my clerk.

Noggs.

When you left this office last evening,
you spoke to a man in the street.

- His name, sir?
- "His name, sir?"

Don't repeat after me
like a croaking parrot.

- I wish I was a parrot.
- I'd have wrung your neck long ago.

- His name?
- I don't know.

- You'd better refresh your memory.
- I don't know. Don't you know?

He came to see you one day last week,
didn't he?

- What did he want with you?
- He wants to see you again.

I'm to arrange it. And when you do see him,
he wants you hear him out.

- What say you to that?
- It's no business of mine.

Good. Now, listen to me, Noggs.

His name is Brooker. He's an idle ruffian,
a Vagabond from beyond the sea,

where he travelled for his crimes.

The next time he tampers with you,
hand him over to the police

for attempting to extort money
by lies and threats,

then leave the rest to me.

- Do you mind what I say?
- I hear you.

Do it, then, and I'll reward you.

Ha!

- Now you may go to your dinner.
- It isn't time.

- My time is yours and I say it is.
- You alter it every day! It isn't fair!

You don't keep many cooks
and can apologise to them for the trouble.

Be gone, sir.

Where is the risk? Come, tell me.

- You know what I mean.
- I do not.

We went to that house.
We told them that Smike was Snawley's son.

- Well?
- Well, he ain't.

- We showed 'em a birth certificate.
- Which was genuine.

But it weren't Smike's.
It were of Snawley's boy that died.

Who is now food for worms, so who is to know?

None but Snawley
can say that Smike is not his son.

It is in his interest to stick well
to the story that he's told.

So where does your risk come in?

Maybe so, but I am a sensitive man.

It don't take much to make me nervous.

Yes.

Now, attend to me.
You know, I think, who your enemy is.

That nephew of yours? To be sure I know.

Just so. What would you say if you could
win money and revenge at the same time?

How? Tell me how.
Just you say the word, sir, and I am your man.

My nephew has given his protection
to a young woman named Madeline Bray.

- I believe he may be in love with her.
- May she come to hate the sight of him.

There is a will or deed or document of some kind

by which she is entitled
to certain property when she marries.

Were my nephew to become her husband,

it would make him a rich and prosperous man,
and a formidable enemy.

But you've got this deed here. Good, good!

- The document was stolen.
- Stolen?

Not from me.
From a man whose name need not concern you.

The thief is an old servant woman
called Peg Sliderskew.

- Peg Sliderskew?
- She's old and stupid.

She cannot understand the value
of what she's taken.

Mr Squeers, I want that document found
and brought to me.

I will pay you fifty pounds in gold.

Chad.!

- Do you agree?
- Fifty pounds.

Well, it's a nice round sum.

- How do I find this Peg...?
- Sliderskew.

I have hunted people in this city before now.

I know quarters in which
a guinea or two carefully spent

will solve darker riddles than this.

You will find her, Squeers,
and bring that deed to me,

and I may prosper in my design.

Better my nephew should marry a beggar
than an heiress.

Yes! And if I find it,
what do you reckon you'll do with it?

Burn it! Burn it to ashes.

"Upon arriving, I obtained lodgings
for Smike and myself in a small farmhouse.

I wish with all my heart I could write to you
of an improvement in his health,

but with every day that passes
it seems to me that his life is dwindling away."

Oh!

"He is now too ill to move about.

He speaks of you all, but especially of you, Kate.

I pray that when I next write,
my news will be more cheerful."

(Knocking)

- Allow me.
- "..my news will be more cheerful.

To you, Kate, and to Mother, I send my love.

I beg that you will express to Miss Bray
my most respectful compliments."

- Why, Mr Noggs.
- Ladies, I beg your pardon.

Might I ask if you expect
that your brother will return soon?

I fear not for some time. We've just now heard
that poor Smike is much worse.

It would be impossible for Nicholas to leave him.

- Has something happened?
- It concerns Miss Bray.

- Concerns me?
- Then speak, man.

The man Squeers
must be watched and followed.

- If he is once lost from sight...
- Squeers? But I know no such person.

It's enough to know
he is in league with my employer.

Perhaps you have heard the name
of Ralph Nickleby?

That man? Yes, he is known to me.

- You say Squeers must be watched?
- And followed, night and day.

- But if your brother is not here...
- Then you must make the best of me.

If you know where he is to be found,

let him run like a fox,
he shall not leave our sight.

Then, come!

Miss Nickleby, ladies.

STREET TRADER: How many do you want?

Right.

- Penny a bag. Here we are.
WOMAN: Thank you.

How many do you want?

Right.

- Penny a bag. Here we are.
WOMAN: Thank you.

MAN: Thank you very much.

Here, what do you want? Get out!

- I don't know you. Who are you?
- A friend, Peg. It is Peg, ain't it?

I've got something for you, Peg.

Listen. (Clinks coins)

That's money. And this.

Oh, give it to me.

Oh, but you're a handsome-looking woman,
now I can see you, Peg.

What do you want of me?

Me? Nothing, my Slider.

Well, hardly nothing.

Just a few bits of paper, that's all.

Paper? I ain't got no paper.
I don't know what you're talking about.

SQUEERS". Papers ain't no good, Peg.
Worse than no good.

It don't matter to me,
but you're a bold woman, Slider.

PEG". How do you mean, bold?

Well, I wouldn't keep papers littering about
when they might be turned into money.

- Especially papers that might hang me.
- Eh?

They're stolen, ain't they? You took 'em.

I don't think I want to get mixed up
in this business.

No papers is worth being hanged for.
No, you keep 'em.

- Wait a minute. Look, I got 'em...
- No, no.

You show them to somebody else.
Ask their advice. I don't want to see 'em.

- I'll show 'em to you.
- Don't talk as though it was a treat.

Oh, it's this kind heart of mine
that'll be the undoing of me.

Here.

Right, now let's see what we've got here.

I'll tell you what they are
and whether they're of worth or not.

- While you're listening, burn the box.
- Burn it?

Never keep anything that might lead
to discovery. Always mind that.

- What's the writing about?
- Eh?

Oh, it's nothing particular.

Oh, it's just an old lease.
We don't want that.

- We'll burn all we don't want.
- Burn it.

Here's some unpaid bills
for some six or eight young gentlemen, but...

Oh, they're all MPs,
so that's no use to anyone.

- Into the fire with them.
- Into the fire.

Bonds. Right, well, we'll keep those.

Now, lease and re-lease. Don't want that.

- Don't want that.
- Two cognovits.

Take care of those.

Now...

"Madeline Bray.

Coming of age or marry the said Madeline."

- Ha-ha!
- Ha-ha!

(Peg screams)

- The will!
- Murder!

Murder!

No... No...

Don't let me go.

He's there.

I see him. I see him.

Smike.

- Be calm, Smike.
- No.

- You're dreaming.
- No, I see him.

There.

There, behind the tree.

There was a man
that first took me to the school.

There's no one there, Smike.
There's nothing but your fancy.

I always see that man.

He looked in my sleep
when I was quite a little child

as he's looked in my sleep ever since.

I saw him a moment ago,
as plainly as I see him now.

He knewl saw him.

He was frightened.

He shrank away.

You've been dreaming, Smike.

No.

I mean, it's true, I have been dreaming,

but it was pleasant.

I dreamt of...

Yes?

Such pleasant, happy dreams.

I'm not afraid to die.

I'm quite...contented.

You must not talk.

You've often told me
we shall meet again.

I must not have a secret from you.

In London,
you asked me why I was so changed

and sat so much alone.

- You will not blame me, will you?
- No, Smike.

Forgive me.

I would have died to make her happy.

It broke my heart to see her with...

I know he loves her dearly, but so do I.

Are you talking about Kate?

I saw. I knew.

No-one could know as soon as I.

You'll never tell her, will you'?

I promise.

Never.

If only you'd told me sooner.

Oh, Smike.

Smike.

I'm here to see Mr Squeers.

Yes, sir.

- What's the matter with your head?
- Matter with it?

Why, those same fellows that have laid
charges against me with the police

have gone and broke it,
that is what is the matter with it.

- Oh, you've come at last, have you?
- How could I have come sooner?

I was not to know that you'd been arrested.

Here's a shock for my family.

The coat of arms of the Squeerses is tore.

Their sun is gone down into the ocean wave.

You're drunk. Don't whine, sir.
Tell me what you're charged with.

- Illegal possession.
- Illegal possession of what?

Of that document that you was to pay me
fifty pounds in gold to lay my hands on.

- That is what...
- Be quiet.

A will, in favour of Madeline...what's-her-name.

I told 'im. I told him with the powdered head,
you know, the magistrate.

"I was not aware that anything was wrong, sir.

I was merely employed by a friend.

My friend Mr Ralph Nickleby of Golden Square.

He is the man, sir. Send for him, not me."

You said that?

No matter. You shall retract.

We shall devise a story for you
that should carry you through

twenty such trivial scrapes as this.

You will have an action of
false imprisonment and profit by this.

- No.
- Believe me...

I ain't going to have any stories made for me.

- Squeers...
- if I find matters going against me,

I shall expect you to take your share
and I shall take care that you do.

Snawley is safe, but you ain't going to be.

- Snawley?
- He has turned evidence.

He gets a promise
that he shall be kept harmless.

He tells about Smike.
He tells about the birth certificate.

- He named me. He named you.
- He named me?

Aye, you, who told me
there'd be no danger, no risk.

I let you lead me on,
one thing to another.

My moral influence with them lads
is a-tottering to its bases.

The images of Mrs Squeers
and my daughter, my son Wackford,

all without vittles, is perpetually before me
under this here most fatal go.

At the delightful village of Dotheboys

near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire,

youth are boarded, clothed, washed,
furnished with pocket money,

instructed in all languages living and dead,

mathematics, orthography, geometry,
astronomy, trigonometry.

This is an altered state oftrigonomics, this is.

A-L-L, all, everything, a cobbler's weapon.

U-F', up, a adjective, not down.

S-QU-E-E-R-S, Squeers. A noun.

A noun substantive, a educator of youth.

Total, all up with Squeers.

- Go! Go away!
- I must speak to you.

No! Go away! I beg you, leave me alone!
I beg you, go!

- So you've heard?
- The police have been here.

- They asked me about you.
- About me?

Gride, you and I together
could easily weather this affair.

No! No! No! I don't want to do anything!

You shall, though!

Yesterday you licked the dust
from my feet, all of you.

You, Snawley, Squeers.

Today I'm shunned like the plague,
and for no reason.

Even my clerk Noggs cannot be found.
The earth has swallowed him.

Gride, attend to me.

This storm is easily weathered,
but I need your assistance, a sworn statement.

- I don't want to do anything more.
- You will listen!

Gride! What ails you?

GRIDE: Go away! No, go away!
- Gride!

Hear me! Hear me!

GRIDE: Go away and don'! come back!

Go! I don't want to do anything more!

Go away!

Ah, Mr Nickleby.

How do you do?

Say you're quite well and never better.
Do now.

Quite well.

You look tired, though,
now I come to look at you.

Oh, that poor boy.

Dick the blackbird hasn't been himself
since you've gone.

The Cheerybles, you and me
are the only people he notices.

I... I'm a bad one at putting off
anything I'm interested in.

- Tell about that poor boy.
- He mentioned you a score of times.

No, did he, though?
I wish we could have had him buried in town.

There isn't such a burying ground in all London
as the one on the other side of the square.

I didn't expect he would have thought of me,
though, poor boy.

Ah, my dear sir. How good it is to see you,
and at such an opportune time.

Come, we have a visitor
and are shortly expecting another one.

Tim, you will show our man in directly he arrives.

- I will, Mr Charles.
- Come.

Brother Ned, we have Mr Nickleby back
with us again, after his sad journey.

- Mr Noggs, what brings you here?
- Welcome, my dear sir.

And we must not be cast down,

even if the death of that poor boy
is more terrible than we believed it to be.

More terrible?

Mr Noggs has conveyed to us intelligence
which has caused our sending for your uncle.

- My uncle, here?
- He has appointed this evening.

Before that, however, you must meet
an acquaintance of Noggs'.

It is necessary that you be prepared.

What has to be said will be a shock -
to you no less than to your uncle.

Mr Noggs, you have been Mr Nickleby's mentor,
guide and friend.

Will you tell him?

- My name is Nickleby.
- I know it.

Which of your firm called on me'?

- Mr Charles.
- Tell Mr Charles I want to see him.

You shall see more than Mr Charles, sir.

You? Here?

Is this a good beginning?

I'm sure the Cheeryble brothers
must be honest, fair-dealing men

to consort with a fellow like this,

who would sell his soul, if he had one,
for drink and whose every word is a lie.

- A fellow like this...
- Caution.

No, I will speak.
Who made me a fellow like this?

If I would sell my soul for drink,
why wasn't I a thief, a swindler,

a robber of pence out of trays
of blind men's dogs rather than your drudge?

Lies? When did I ever cringe or fawn to you?

I did more work
and took more hard words from you

than I could have got at the workhouse.

I served you because I was proud.

I was a lonely man with you.

- No one saw my degradation.
- Gently. You said you wouldn't.

I'm here now because
I wanted help to track you down,

to carry through what I'd begun.

- You? What you had begun?
- Go in there and learn how it ends.

I listened while you tampered
with Yorkshire schoolmasters

and with Arthur Gride when you urged
a selfish father to sell his daughter in marriage.

But go you in there now and learn the worst.

And remember, it was a fellow like this
who began what is now at its finish.

Go.

I received a message
from Mr Charles Cheeryble.

Here, sir.

The message said
that you had some news for me.

- Some dreadful news, I think it was.
- That was the word, sir.

- Who's that yonder?
- Let him be, sir, for the present.

More riddles, eh?

Well, talk then, gentlemen.
In God's name, I'll humour you.

And since no-one bids me to a seat, I'll take one.

I am fatigued with walking.

- What is your dreadful news?
- It concerns a death.

A death? My niece? My sister-in-law?

No, sir. They are both well.

Don't tell me my nephew's dead?
No, that would be expecting too much.

What if we were to tell you
that an unfortunate boy

on whom you have vented your malice
and hatred of your nephew...

Smike? Smike is dead?

- Is that what you say?
- It is, sir.

Then you did well to send for me.

I would have travelled a hundred miles
afoot through mud, mire and darkness

to hear this news just at this time.

And my nephew brought you
the intelligence, did he? Well...

Tell him that I shall be a sharp thorn
in his side for many a long day,

and you two will rue the day
that you took compassion on him.

I doubt that, Mr Nickleby. Mr Brooker.

What... What does this fellow here?

He's a convict, a felon and a common thief.

- You must know what he has to tell you.
- Must I?

Hear what he has to say, be he what he may.

- Very well.
- Mr Brooker.

I make no excuses for myself,
even though I was badly used by this man.

Twenty years ago he married a gentlewoman,
an heiress.

There was a condition in her father's will
that upon her marriage

the property was to pass away
to another branch of the family.

For this reason the marriage was kept a secret.

- But a child was born, a boy.
- What rigmarole...?

Mrs Nickleby urged her husband
to acknowledge the marriage,

but he refused -
he didn't want to lose the property.

So the child was put out to nurse along way off.

Finally, after they'd been married seven years,

- the wife left him for another man.
- I will not hear this!

I will not see my life paraded
for your amusement.

There is another reason, sir.

Go on.

They went abroad
and Mr Nickleby planned to follow them,

but before he went
he put the child in my charge.

The boy was sickly.

The doctor said he would die
if he wasn't removed at once for change of air.

So I sent him...to a school in Yorkshire,

to a man named Squeers.

I told him the boy's name was Smike.

Yes, Smike was your only son, so help me.

When Mr Nickleby returned,
I told him the child was dead and buried.

- Why?
- Why did you say that?

I thought I'd use the secret one day,

use it to get money from him
for knowledge of the child's whereabouts.

So for six years
I paid twenty pounds to Squeers.

Then I was arrested and sent out of the country.

I was away eight years.

When I returned, not long ago,
I tried to tell Mr Nickleby,

but he wouldn't listen.

So I traced the boy from Yorkshire
and then I found that he was ill.

So I followed him and Mr Nicholas
down to Devonshire.

I thought they at least would listen to me.

But! was too late. The boy was dying.

I know I've done wrong.
I can make no reparation.

But how could I tell that this man would
persecute and run down his own child

to the point... ?

A light, brother Charles. Mr Brooker,
there are candles on the mantelpiece.

- Ah, here is Tim Linkinwater.
- Well, Tim, where is Mr Nickleby?

- He's gone. Shall I follow him?
- No, no. He's better let alone.

Tomorrow, Tim. We'll call tomorrow.

(Man coughs)

(Man coughs)

NICKLEBY: Who's there?
- We want Mr Nickleby.

- What do you want with him?
- We're from the police.

Open, if you please.

Sir, we have business with you.
We come by warrant. Open, sir.

SMIKE: Irememberl slept in a room,

a lonesome room at the top of a house.

There was a trap door in the ceiling

and there was a clock, too, in one comer.

I've never forgotten that room,

for when I have terrible dreams

it comes back to me, just as it was.

It never changes.

(Policeman knocks on front door)
Open, if you please.

(Knocking)

(Church bell rings)

Lie on with your iron tongue.

Ring merrily for births
that make expectants writhe,

and for marriages that are made in hell,

and toll ruefully for the dead.

No bell for me.

Throw me on a dunghill

and there let me rot to infect the air.

(Banging continues)

There's a light on up in the attic.

(Footsteps)

Nicholas, I cannot help wondering,
what does this mean?

What does what mean?
Kate, are you ready?

This invitation to supper.
What is the intention and the object?

I conclude we are to eat and drink
with the Cheerybles.

Its object is to confer pleasure on us.

I'll tell you one thing, you may depend upon it,
this means something besides supper.

Hm, a visit to the circus, perhaps?

I wouldn't be absurd if I were you.
It's not becoming and doesn't suit you.

- Come, Mother. We shall be late.
- Remember what I say now.

And when I say "I said so", don't say I didn't.

And it's a very extraordinary thing
that they should have invited Miss La Creevy.

Of course, she's very pleasant
and I have no doubt she'll conduct herself well,

but I do wish some friend would mention to her
how badly she trims her hats.

However, if she likes to make a fright of herself,
no doubt she has a perfect right to do so.

MAN: "perpetually turning like a...

Why, I know that voice. It's Mr Mantalini.

My life is one demd horrid grind.

WOMAN: Oh, you...you false traitor!

False? Oh, dem!

Now, my soul, my gentle, captivating, bewitching

and most demnebly enslaving
chick-a-biddy, be calm.

- Calm? I'll tear your eyes out!
- What a demd savage lamb.

Isn't it enough that I paid two pound fourteen
for you out of that prison

and you must break my heart?

I would never break its heart.

I will be a good boy.
I will beg its little pardon.

It is all up with its handsome friend.

He's gone to the demnition bow-wows.

- It will have pity.
- (Giggling)

Demmit! It's little Nickleby!

Shut the door. Put out the candle.

Turn me up in the bedstead!

Dem! Dem! Dem! Dem!

(Mantalini shrieks)

Dem! Dem! Dem!

I knew you would be pleased with this scene.

Nothing could have delighted me
half as much.

It's a pleasant thing to people like us,
who spend our lives in the world alone,

to see young folks
we're fond of brought together

with years of happiness before them.

That it is, Mr Linkinwater.

Although it makes one feel quite solitary
and cast away, now, don't it?

Does it? Well, I... I'm sure I don't know.

It's almost enough
to make us get married, isn't it?

Mr Linkinwater!
Oh, but it would make people laugh so.

Let 'em laugh. We have good tempers, I know.
We can laugh too.

So we have.

Let's be a comfortable couple.

We can live in the old house
where I've been for four and forty years.

We can have all my old friends about us,
the archway, the pump, the flower pots.

Let's be a comfortable couple
and take care of each other.

Oh, Tim.

Such a charming house, Mr Cheeryble.

So like the house we lived in
when my dear husband was alive.

Only I think the candelabra
were not so near the window.

The window was on the other side of the room.

- No, Mother...
- Indeed, ma'am. Ah, here's Frank.

My Uncle Charles has sent me away.

Says he intends to keep Miss Nickleby
all to himself.

And have you never seen Madeline, my dear,
since she left your house?

- No, sir, not once.
- And not heard from her, eh?

- Not heard from her?
- I have received one letter.

I'd have thought
she'd not forgotten me quite so soon.

Sad, very sad.

Well, go into that room, my dear,
and see if there's not a letter for you.

I think there's one upon the table.

- Oh, Miss Nickleby...
- Frank, will you look here, sir?

Mr Nickleby, and you.

Forgive us.
We have business to speak about.

Of course, Mr Cheeryble.

This, gentleman, is a copy of the will
of Madeline's maternal grandfather,

bequeathing her the sum
of twelve thousand pounds,

payable either upon her coming of age
or marrying.

- That was the will stolen by Gride?
- It is.

- I see.
- Well, Frank, you recovered the will.

Perhaps you'd like to be a suitor to Madeline
for her hand.

- No, sir!
- No, you scoundrel?

There is someone who has a better claim to her
than I could ever have.

And so there is. Did he think
we would have him marry for money,

when youth, beauty and every amiable virtue
were to be had for love?

How dared you, Frank,
go and make love to Mr Nickleby's sister

without telling us first
and letting us speak for you?

Well, l...I'd hardly dared to hope.

He had hardly dared to hope.

Then so much the greater reason
for having our assistance.

Mr Nickleby, sir,
Frank judges for once correctly.

Madeline's heart is occupied.

Oh?

She chooses you! And if you doubt my word,
you are at liberty to ask her.

Well, my bird, did you find Madeline
had not quite forgotten you?

- Oh, indeed!
- Miss Bray.

- Mr Nickleby.
- Come, come, or Frank will be jealous.

- If I might have a few words with you.
- Most certainly.

- Congratulations, brother Charles.
- Perhaps we could...

- The garden?
- What an excellent idea.

I'm glad you think so, Mr Nickleby.

It's such a long time since I've seen you.

(Noggs clears his throat)

One moment. Mr Noggs. Mr Noggs.

- My dear Nick.
- How on earth]?

Oh, yes. It's me all right.

I've been working for them, helping them.

I can't speak.

You don't know how I feel.

It makes a child of me!

Oh, dear boy!

I shall see you later,
but first I must speak to Miss Bray.

This time it's the right one.

No doubt of it. No doubt at all.

Ah, Mr Noggs, come and join us.

(Convivial chatter continues)