All language subtitles for Harry Wild S03E04 The Man Who Murdered Himself

-Tricky?

I'm home.

Tricky?

Tricky?

Patrick?

Are you in there?

Bren...

I love you.

-Tricky?

Oh, God, no!
- Take him out of here.

- Tricky! No! No!
- Come on.

- Come on, please.
- Mr. Hayes.

-Let me go!

Where's the gun?

There's no gun.

Death comes to us all.

I'm not scared to die but when
I go, I plan to go my way.

I've lived my life
writing mystery stories,

so why should my death
be any different?

Some people might consider
that to be in poor taste.

I'm dying.

Why should I give a shit
about that?

Brendan, let me ask you,
as I understand it,

you've agreed to risk a lot.

Isn't this all rather macabre?

It is the world that Patrick
and I live in

and have done
for almost three decades.

Yes.

It feels fitting.

And a game is meaningless
if there's nothing at stake.

-Hmm.

-Tricky... Patrick was never
much for convention.

It's why I loved him.

One of the reasons.

-What did he mean by
going his way?

-I don't need you to find
a murderer.

I know who murdered Tricky.

Tricky did.

I need you to find out
how he did it.

How is it possible for a man
to shoot himself

in a locked room
and the gun vanishes?

-Well, the simple answer
is it's not possible.

Someone else was involved.

-I was outside that room
from the moment

I heard the gunshot till
the Guards opened the door.

No one came out.

-Another door? Hidden?

-I did think of that.

Maybe Tricky had modified the
room since we had it installed.

I got the company that installed
it to come back and check.

They said nothing has been
changed or tampered with.

-May we see the room?

-I've taken the room apart,
trying to figure it out.

I thought he might have found
a way

to hide the gun
after pulling the trigger.

A wire or something.
I don't know.

It sounds ridiculous.

-But what did he mean
in the video when he said

the game's meaningless
if there's nothing at stake?

-When Tricky found out
he had cancer, we made a wager.

One last mystery to solve.

I know it sounds odd.

You heard the interviewer
but Tricky and I

wrote 26 books together.

26 mysteries.

I have to solve his suicide
or else I forfeit

Amhrán, the house.

-Amhrán... it means "song."

-Amhrán belongs to Tricky.

It's been in his family
for generations.

But it's been my home
for 28 years

and I don't want to lose it.

-Then why did you agree to
the wager?

-Hubris.

I could always solve
Tricky's mysteries

and he could always solve mine.

We always said
we shared a brain.

We complemented each other
like that.

His characters were grounded,
mine were fantastic.

Together
we found a middle ground,

the best of both worlds.

But this one has me stumped.

-Who gets the house
if you don't solve it?

-No one.

Patrick didn't have any family.

He had a sister, Wynnie,
but I never met her.

She died in '95, the year
before Tricky and I met.

This house is worth
millions now.

It'll go to the government.

-Why did you build a panic room?

-About six months ago,
Patrick was targeted.

-Targeted by who?

-Whom.

-There were death threats,
weird phone calls,

dog shit through the letterbox.

And then, one night
when I was away

someone shot at him
through the window.

Never found out
who was behind it.

Went to the Guards
but they did nothing.

Said there was nothing to go on.

We even hired
a private detective

but he couldn't find
anything either.

That's when we had
this installed.

-Why didn't you go back to the
other private detective?

- Mm.
- I did actually,

but he said he was too busy
to take on a new case.

He recommended you.

He was a Harry too actually.

Harry...
- Benedict?

-Ah, you do know him.

-He lives here?

-Maybe we've got
the wrong address.

If it isn't the dynamic duo.

Door's open.
Let yourselves in.

I'll be right down.

-Hmm.

-Well, to what do I owe
the pleasure?

Can I get you a glass of wine?

I mean, it's almost
wine o'clock.

Ah, well, somewhere.

-It's just a flying visit.

We're not stopping.

Why did you send Brendan Hayes
our way?

-Ah, see, that's what I like
about you, Harry.

You are very direct.

No beating around the bush.

-Thanks for recommending us?

-My pleasure.
He's a good fella.

Do try and help him, won't you?

Poor Patrick, eh?
Suicide.

-I don't think so.

I mean, how does somebody
shoot themselves without a gun?

Well, they don't,
is the simple answer.

Which is why we're here.

Brendan said you had
a couple of leads for people

who might be harassing Patrick.

-Sure, but both had solid alibis
for the evening

Patrick was shot at.

-Alibis can be faked.

-I don't disagree but I couldn't
find any fault in them.

You, uh...

Who were the suspects?

-Barbara Quinlan
and Seamus Keane.

She's a blogger/self-published
author.

Fucking awful.

And she interviewed Patrick
about a year and a half ago

and then accused him
of plagiarism.

- Any truth to it?
- Nah.

Nah, when she interviewed him,
she pitched him an idea.

And he told her it was similar
to his and Brendan's new book,

which at the time,
was with their publisher.

It was ballpark similar at best
but when the book was released

and became an instant
bestseller,

she wrote a series
of scurrilous blogs

accusing him
of stealing her idea.

Total bollocks.

-And Seamus Keane?

-Yeah, Patrick's co-writer
before Brendan.

So you're going back 30 years.

They weren't a couple.

Seamus isn't gay
but their split was acrimonious.

Patrick wouldn't tell me why,
and as far as I can tell,

Brendan doesn't know either.

-What were their alibis?

-Barbara Quinlan was helping
a woman

whose Range Rover
had broken down.

Her name's Gráinne Fox.

I checked.
There's no connection.

Gráinne Fox is a company
director's wife from Dalkey.

Different parts of the city,
different walks of life,

there's no crossover.

So why would a complete stranger
falsify an alibi for someone?

And Seamus Keane?

Well, he's not part of
the book world anymore.

He hasn't written anything
since he and Patrick split.

He's just an old man now,
who divides his time

between the allotment
and the pub.

The night someone shot
at Patrick,

Seamus was part of a darts team

playing a round robin
in a pub in Finglas.

There's plenty of witnesses.

-So, you found out nothing
at all?

-Well, I couldn't find
anyone else

who had a grudge against Patrick

and no one had a bad word
to say against Brendan.

They're just not the sort
that attract that sort of anger.

-Well, clearly you
missed someone.

-Yeah, maybe I did.

Maybe we should get some dinner
and put our heads together.

-Yeah. Yeah, I could eat.

Or not.

-Come on, Fergus.

-If you're, uh,
wondering who that is...

-Oh, no, I'm not.

No skin off my nose if you
want to display your conquests.

-Ugh, that's my daughter.

-Uh...

Well, I mean,
she's very beautiful.

Clearly, she takes
after her mother.

-This is Donnie.

-Donnie Crotty, at your service.

Safe As Safe Can Be Security.

-It's good of you to meet us,
Mr. Crotty.

-Donnie, please, and of course.

Whatever I can do.

It's awful.

Just awful.

-I'll, uh, go and make us
some coffee.

-Poor Mr. Hayes.

I don't know what help I can be.

I checked every inch
of the room.

Nothing's been changed,
nothing's been added.

It's exactly as we installed it.

I took the lock apart first.

Nothing there.

I mean, if you want to get
an independent opinion,

please go right ahead,

but I don't know
what they could say different.

-How did Patrick and Brendan
come to call on your company?

-Well, that I can't tell you.

They would've spoken to someone
in sales first,

but that would be
somebody in Mumbai.

- Mumbai?
- We used to have a team in store

but the owners decided
it would be cheaper

to outsource it
to a call center in India.

-When did you install it?

-About six weeks ago.

-And no one at your company
knows the code to open the door?

-Nope. That would have been set
up by Mr. Doherty

and Mr. Hayes
after installation.

-And what would happen
if they forgot it?

-You'd have to install
a whole new door.

There's no workaround that.

I mean, that's the whole point
of a panic room.

Wouldn't be very secure
if there was a back door now.

-Mm.

-Now, you're probably thinking,
"But, Barbara,

surely any big publisher
would be ecstatic

to have you in their stable."

The honest truth is I wouldn't
want to be

published the traditional way.

Simon & Schuster or the likes
could come beating down my door,

saying, "Barbara, Barbara,

we want to make
the Lady Amelia Swallow

books the biggest thing
since Robert Galbraith,"

and I would say "No,
thank you very much."

Why would I want to be
a small fish

in a huge ocean of mediocrity

when I am the number-one author
that I publish?

Think about it.

Thank you for coming.

Oh, I have some postcards
of my book covers,

which I designed myself.

And I'd be very happy to sign
them for you for a small fee.

Just come see me after.

-That was very interesting.

-Oh, thank you.

Yes, it was, wasn't it?

Peter, it's time to leave, Pet.

Fellow Spub?

- Spub?
- Self-publisher.

Clearly not.

-Oh, no, no, I'm...
I'm just working on a book.

-Ah, a book.
How quaint.

Yeah, that just won't
cut it at all, I'm afraid.

It's a numbers game.

You should've been here
last week for my talk.

I release six books a year.

-You write six books a year?

Oh.

No, I write about 20 a year

but it doesn't do
to oversaturate.

They're all K.D.P. available
or P.O.D. if you prefer.

-Mm.

Well, I don't think I have
20 books in me,

although I have been lecturing
for two and half decades,

lots of stories, and, you know,
my son's a Guard.

-An actual Guard?

Oh, I'd love to meet him.

-Would you?

- Yes, I have tons of questions.
- Oh.

-Accuracy is so important
in the Spub world.

For example, like, none of
the characters in my book

say goodbye at the end
of a phone call.

You always see that
on the police shows on TV.

-Uh, I think
Charlie says goodbye.

"Goodbye, Mother."

Yes, he does.

Anyway, um, I would love
some advice from an expert.

I-I just don't want anyone
stealing any of my ideas.

And I don't know,
who do I talk to?

Who don't I talk to?

You know, that sort of thing.

-Very wise.

I've been a victim myself.

The old dinosaur press
are an unscrupulous lot.

-A published author stole
one of your ideas?

Would it be anyone that I know?

-Well, I can't discuss it
for legal reasons,

you understand, but um...

Yes, you would know him.

Or her.

But he... or she...

got their just desserts,
so don't worry about it.

-That's fascinating.

Uh, can I buy you a drink?

-Usually I'd be very happy.

I feel it's my duty to pass
on what I know,

but I've an appointment.

So, maybe another time.

-I have an idea.

-Mr. Keane?

My name's Fergus Reid.

-You know you're getting old

when the coppers
look like teenagers.

-No, I am a teenager.

-Oh.

Good for you, lad.

What can I do for you?

-I'd like to talk to you
about Patrick Doherty.

-I've got nothing to say
on the subject.

-You know he's dead?

-I thought we were going
for a drink.

There're no pubs around here.

-I need to make a quick stop.

Do me a favor,
and buy me some time, yes?

- What?
- Yes?

-Come in, come in!

-Oh.

Charlie, this is Barbara.

Barbara, this is Charlie.

My son.

-Harry tells me
you're a Chief Superintendent.

That is very impressive.

Sit, sit!

I always think the man should
open the bottle

and the lady should drink.

-Actually, I don't think
we're stopping.

-I would love a glass.

Ooh, could I use your loo?

-Top of the stairs.

How many people do you
have under you,

if you don't mind my asking?

Is there room for one more?

-Where's my mother gone?

I hope she's not lost.

-Tell me what happens
when you arrest someone.

I bet you can be quite, um...

physical.
- Um...

I'm mostly paperwork now.

Really quite boring.

-Oh, I doubt there's anything
boring about you, Charlie.

I hope your wife
appreciates you.

-Oh, God, yes, she does!

Um, actually I should
probably be getting home.

She'll wonder where I am.
- Oh, you...

You'll have another drink
though.

Tell me a time you've had
to get a bit, um...

handsy with a suspect.

-Mother!

-You know, it really is
fascinating work that you do

and I was always considering...

We probably should get going,
Charlie.

It's getting late.
- You're right.

We should go.

Early start in the morning.

Nice to have met you, Barbara.

Educational.

-Mm.

-I'm going to have nightmares
for weeks.

How could you do that to me?

I can't believe you'd use me
like that.

That's low, even for you.
- Oh, don't overreact.

-What was that poem
you read me as a kid?

"The Spider and the Fly."

I totally get that from
the fly's point of view now.

What was that about?

You're clearly up to something.

-What are you talking about?

-Harry!

Very well.

Brendan Hayes has hired us
to investigate

how Patrick shot himself
without a gun.

-I suggest you drop that one,
Ma.

-Why?
What do you know?

-Mr. Hayes, we need you
to come with us.

-This is a nightmare.

How can they think
I'd hurt Tricky?

-They're just following
the evidence.

They only have your word
for the sequence of events.

And you are the only person
that inherits

from Patrick's death,
which gives you the motive.

There was no modification
in the panic room

and only you and Patrick
knew the door code.

-I told you,
the code wouldn't work.

-They checked it and it worked,
Brendan.

-I don't understand.
I have no motive.

If I don't work out how Patrick
died, then I forfeit the house.

-There's no clause
in the will that said

you would lose the house.
- What?

-It never existed.

They talked to Patrick's
solicitors, they saw the will.

The 3-million-euro house
belongs to you.

That's motive.

-I swear, I didn't lie to you,
Harry.

I honestly thought Tricky'd
added that clause to his will.

-Well, I guess the idea
was stakes enough

as far as he was concerned.

-I think you're a good judge
of character.

Look into my eyes and tell me
I'm lying.

-You're a writer.

You lie for a living.

-Don't think I've ever heard it
described like that before.

-I don't believe that Patrick
shot himself.

But you are the only person
with the motive for killing him.

-I swear, I didn't do it.

-Oh, I do believe you.

But we're missing something.

- "Scrooge, T triangle M, L, B."
- "Bojo, HV76DSU."

They could mean anything.

-But they clearly mean
something.

You don't write that
in a calendar and in a notebook

if it doesn't mean something.

-No, I completely agree
but where do we even begin?

-This one.

It's different from the others.

It's the only one that's got
that triangle symbol.

-Right, so...?

-So that's where we start.

What could a triangle mean?

-It could mean a triangle.

- A pyramid.
- A musical instrument.

-The Bermuda Triangle?

-There is The Triangle Motel.

It's next to the SuperValu
near me.

-Wait.

Wait, I think you've got
something there.

What was the name of that hotel
in Dun Laoghaire

where we caught Tina O'Connell?

-Who?

-The one who chopped off
your one's head.

The Majestic.

The Majestic Hotel.

The Triangle Motel...
T-triangle-M.

-Right.

-And then what does HV mean?

There are two of those.

-29VPG and 76DSU.

-Sorry about that.

Had to change a barrel.

-Took two of you, then, did it?

Want a top up, Harry?

-Uh, no, I'm good, Glenn.

Oh.

Trying to make a bit
of extra cash, are we?

-What... What are you
talking about?

Would you mind telling me
why you're laughing?

-Baby Fetish.

Naughty Nurse.

-Naughty School Boy.

Light bondage.

-Barbara Quinlan is
a prostitute?

-What's HV?

- Home visit.
- Home visit.

-So 29VPG and 76DSU...
they're addresses.

-I think we should pay Barbara
a little HV.

-Harry?

Oh, hello.

Who's this?

-I haven't been entirely honest
with you, Barbara.

But this is my partner, Fergus,
and we're private investigators,

we've been hired
by Brendan Hayes

to investigate Patrick's death.

-Was Charlie even your son?

-Yes.

Who's Gráinne Fox and why
did she give you an alibi

for the night that someone tried
to kill Patrick Doherty?

Look, you can tell us
or you can tell Charlie.

-Don't judge me.

-Oh, I never judge anyone.

-Being an author is not as
lucrative as some people assume.

So, I have to supplement
my income.

-But where does Gráinne Fox
come into all this?

I mean, she's just
a Range Rover-driving

company director's wife
from Dalkey.

-Her husband is a director
for a company

that sells meat-scented candles.

You think she can afford
the Range Rover

or the house in Dalkey
on his salary?

-So, she's a pimp?

-We don't call them that.

She's a facilitator.

I didn't have anything to do

with what happened
to Patrick Doherty.

I didn't kill him
and I didn't shoot at him.

That night, I was working.

That's why Gráinne
gave me the alibi

because otherwise
I'd have to tell the Guards

that I was with a 200-pound,

47-year-old politician
who liked to have his nappy

changed, burped,
and put in his cot.

I'm not lying.
- No, we believe you.

But now we're back
to square one.

-You spelled "Wynnie" wrong.

- Hm?
- What?

-Patrick's sister was Wynnie.

Her real name was Eowyn.

- From "Lord of the Rings"?
- Mm.

Patrick told me in that
interview that I did with him.

Their parents were big fans.

-We need to talk to
Seamus Keane.

-How did you know?

-Windfola's Haven.

Windfola's Eowyn's horse.

-When did you read
"Lord of the Rings"?

-When you made me read it,
three months ago.

And once more since.

-You liked it?

-There's a lot to like.

- Yeah.
- What are you doing there?

You.

I've still got nothing
to say about...

-Did you and Patrick split up

because you were sleeping
with his sister?

-I wasn't.

I loved her.

-Clearly.

You've built a shrine to her.

-When Patrick found out about
us, he went ballistic.

Wynnie loved him
and he killed her.

-What?

-She was pregnant.

She was pregnant with my baby.

I would have married her
but Patrick forbade it.

He was a man of contradictions,
that one.

Openly gay but fiercely
old-fashioned

when it came to premarital sex.

-What did you mean,
"he killed her"?

-He packed her off to England.

Liverpool.

The Partridge Institute.

For an abortion.

She... died during the procedure.

I would have married her.

I wanted to marry her.

-The date's wrong.

Brendan said she died in 1995,
not 1994.

-No. He sent her away in '94.

Leave me alone.

Don't come back here.

-The Partridge Institute.

I've heard that name before,
I just can't remember.

-Recently?

-No, I don't think so.
It's...

Oh, somewhere on the tip
of my brain.

-Why the difference in years?

I mean, something's not right.

I wonder...

You know, there's no evidence
that the sister ever died.

-Mm.
Well, if she is still alive,

she'd be Patrick's
next of kin and...

Oh, my God!

I've just remembered
where I heard

The Partridge Institute before.

Oh, this is not gonna be fun.

-I can't believe Ray told you
about the most private,

painful moment of my life.

If he wasn't dead, I'd kill him.

-Well...
Well, if it means anything,

he was sticking up for you
at the time.

-Justifying why I'm such
a bitch?

-Something like that.

Look, I'm sorry about
raking this all up for you,

but a man is dead,

and I think an innocent man
is going to be blamed for it.

-I was 18.

Long before I met Ray,
I was in love with a man

who couldn't get away
from me fast enough

when he found out
I was pregnant.

My parents weren't
very supportive,

so I did what a lot
of Irish girls did.

Called on friends of friends,

found out where to go
and took the ferry to Liverpool.

-Was the Partridge Institute the
only place to go at that time?

-No, there were plenty of places
one could go,

but we didn't have
the Internet back then.

We relied on word of mouth.

So most women ended up
in the same place.

-Do you know anyone
who might still be there?

-Well, the same woman has run it
for almost 50 years.

Claire Brogan.

I mean, she may not
talk to you...

but she'll talk to me.

Claire, yeah,
it's Vivian Mitchell.

Claire was able to look up
what happened to Eowyn Doherty.

-Oh. And?

-She didn't have a termination.

-She had the baby?

-Yes, but there were
complications.

Eowyn died in childbirth.

So that's why Seamus Keane
thought she died a year

earlier than she did.

What happened to the baby?

-Adopted.

-Did she give new you details
of the adoptive parents?

-The mother died a little
while ago

but the father is still alive.

- In England?
- No, here.

They moved back
after the adoption.

There was a stigma attached
to being an adopted child

from an unwed mother.

People would go over, adopt,
wait a year and then come home.

No one would ever know.

-And he's willing
to meet with us?

-Yes.

Lives in Wexford.

-Thank you, Vivian.

I know that must have been
very difficult.

-It quickly became apparent
there

was something not right
about him.

You know, he was
an unhappy little boy.

- A boy?
- Yeah. Davy, we called him.

Davy Nolan.

We never told him
that he was adopted,

and then a little under
a year ago his mother passed

and he found out by accident.

He found some papers
we'd forgotten all about.

Well, this really upset him.

He found out the name
of his birth mother, he left,

and I've not seen
or heard from him since.

-Did you try to find him?

-Of course.

But it's not the first time
he's gone off like this.

You know, other things have
triggered him in the past

and he usually just comes back
after a few weeks.

-But not this time?

-Not this time, no.

Not so far.

-Did he have a job?

-He was a great worker.

He was smart.

He could turn his hands
to most things,

just couldn't stick
at anything though.

He worked as a builder
and a laborer, a carpenter.

He worked on computers.

He was a real jack of all trades
and master of none.

-Do you have a photo of him?

-Yeah.

This is Davy and his mam.

-There are none so blind,
Fergus.

"Murder in the Crooked House."

Why didn't I see it?
- The what now?

-Soji Shimada.
He was a Japanese writer.

He wrote about a murder
in a locked room,

where there was no way
that a killer could get in,

but they were basing
that assumption on information

that the killer gave them.

Just like us.
- But I don't get it.

I mean, why kill Patrick,
his uncle?

Revenge 'cause of what happened
to his real mother?

-Maybe, maybe not.

Maybe it was just old-fashioned
greed.

You know, but that interview
that Brendan and Patrick did.

Well, if Brendan couldn't solve
Patrick's "suicide,"

his inheritance was forfeited.

And there's no other family, so
there's no one else to inherit.

But then, out of the woodwork,
comes this long

lost adopted nephew
and he gets everything.

-Exactly.

-Hold up.

That's not what Patrick
actually did.

He just said that on TV
for effect.

Brendan willinherit.

-Shit. You're right.

Well, if that's the reason, then
Donnie can't let Brendan live.

Brendan?

Harry, I...

Brendan?

-What?

What's wrong?

-Oh, alright then.

I will go out for dinner
with you.

So I know this perfect
little place...

-Stop talking!

I think Brendan's in danger.

- What?
- It's Donnie Crotty.

The guy who installed
the panic room.

He's Patrick's nephew.

I think he might be going
after Brendan.

I'm gonna ring Charlie,
but can you get over there now?

-Yeah, yeah.
I'm on my way.

What...

What's happening?

-Is this not self-explanatory?

-Donnie?

-Should I call you
Uncle Brendan?

I don't really know
what the etiquette is here.

-What are you talking about?

-I'm Wynnie's son.

The one Uncle Patrick
sent her off to murder.

-You...
You killed Tricky?

-It was so sweet.

I had this gun to his head
when you pressed the intercom.

I said to him he could say
whatever he wanted to you,

but if he warned you,
I'd have to shoot you too.

And he chose to tell you
that he loved you.

That was a beautiful moment.

And then I blew his brains out.

-But I was outside the room
all the time.

How did you get out?
- I know.

I was watching you
on the monitor.

I hadn't expected you
to just stand there.

I was getting kind of nervous,
I don't mind telling you.

But I knew you had to leave
to let the Guards in.

-I was only gone 30 seconds.

-Long enough.

-You were the one
tormenting Tricky?

Ah!

Now all the pieces are falling
into place, aren't they?

-You installed some
sort of override?

-Crime writer's mind
right there.

I feel like I could write
a book.

It's in the genes.

All those mysteries you and
Uncle Patrick came up with...

- Don't call him that!
- But he is my uncle.

We're family.

Even though he rejected me
and told my mother to murder me,

I forgive him.

I do.

Uncle Patrick had a lot
of medication around the house.

Guess that's one of
the upsides of cancer.

-Another suicide?

You think the Guards
are that stupid?

-You're distraught.

The loss of the man you love
has pushed you over the edge.

Or they'll think you're guilty
and it's remorse.

Either way works.

- Brendan...
- And you are?

-Agh!

Agh!

-Okay then, that
complicates things.

New plan.

You killed Patrick and now
you're here to kill Brendan

but yous two kill each other.

That could be even better
than I planned originally.

The Guards get a killer.

-And what's my motive?

-I don't know.

They'll work it out
or they won't,

but the evidence is going
to be compelling.

Now, you'll shoot Brendan with
this gun but before he dies,

he'll beat you to death
with this walking stick.

And then he'll slump
over your dead body,

and it'll be a work of art.

-And how do you explain me?

-And me?

-No, no, you're spoiling
everything!

-It's over, Davy.

- Don't call me that!
- It is your name, isn't it?

-No, it's not. It's a lie.

I'm not who they said I am.

-The Guards are on their way.

You've only got a few minutes
to come up with a solution.

-No, you don't!

-You know, you have to admit,
we make a pretty good team.

-Oh, I admit no such thing.

You were just someone else
that had to be saved.

Fergus and I are a team.

-You, uh, not gonna
invite me in?

-"I do desire we may be
better strangers."

-"'Tis strange but true,
for truth is always strange,

stranger than fiction."

"The simplicity of
your character

makes you exquisitely
incomprehensible to me."

-Oh. "There is no greatness
where there is not simplicity,

goodness and truth."

-"A prig is a fellow
who always makes you

a present of his opinions."

Well, "literature is strewn
with the wreckage of those

who have minded beyond reason
the opinion of others."

"If I was as ignorant as you,

I wouldn't let on."

-Oh, well...

"Where ignorance is bliss,
it is folly to be wise."

-"The sweetest nut
hath sourest rind."

-"I may observe
that private balls

are much pleasanter
than public ones."

-"I wolde I hadde thy coillons
in myn hond...

-Oh.

-"Lat cutte hem of."

Ouch.