Original subtitles

My husband should be a true administrator.

No...

What's that for?

Dee, maud,Cry, Maud,Core, pic,

there we are.

Ooh.

What a pleasant little chamber.

I confess I've never in my life been up here.

I should much prefer to stay in my own room.

Your labour agonies would disturb Mr Edmund.

Mm.

But I'm not due for some 12 weeks.

What is that?

Most likely Moth's mum preparing this up.

I do hope you will not take offence at every little sound, Mum.

Or perhaps you would have me personally silenced

every insect in the land.

Could perhaps do with a clean, shall we?

Throw out these rags.

Does a bonnet I needed for the newborn, sir?

A bonnet?

It would cover the face.

No one wants to look at a newborn, sir,

except perhaps the mother and her.

Often she would rather eat it.

My old rompy for bummed to do his stretches.

And I have knitted baby a riding suit.

Will it be riding straight away?

All being well, sir.

Ooh.

Do you do a dumpling?

My son John went to bed with his trousers on.

Once you opened, once you owned.

Little dumpling, my son John.

It is just like old times, sir.

Just yourself and myself.

And should, God forbid, Mr. Celen pass away during childbirth.

I would be willing to bring baby up as my own.

She's likely to perish.

Sometimes when a woman tears, it does not stop at the belling

and splits right up to the face until she breaks into like a ladybird.

Bob, your knilt top up, sir.

Please.

You may recall, sir, your mother's will stated that Mr. Celen

birthed a child within the year.

And that date is now. She's put six months gone.

What of it?

Well, it would seem Mr. Celen might be best off birthing early, sir.

Well, let's pray for such a timely deliverance.

Or, encourage it.

They're a ways of persuading the womb to splacer.

Please.

Spent me the details of my wife's glossy pro-lapses.

God.

God.

Chief.

Oh.

Dear brother Edmund, holy greetings from the tropics.

Please accept my gift, a small token of fidget and friendship here answers to...

Ned.

Perhaps he will fill the void left by Jeff's sudden execution.

Oh, Mr. God's brother, Jaz.

I'm sorry.

Graham.

Yes. I was just mopping the bureau.

I spilled some juice.

You're mopping with my bokka so sniffing them.

Yes, sorry. I wondered whether they needed to wash.

These are Mr. Celen's.

I mean, really? Goodness.

They must have fallen into my case, wind. Last I...

Examined her. How careless I shall return them at once.

That would not be possible.

No.

Of course.

But she has gone to Fijie.

No.

No.

By all accounts, Mr. Celen has let herself go of late and she is now too fat to travel.

Too fat to travel.

Or receive visitors.

Too fat to receive visitors.

Graham.

Please.

Throw them on the fire.

You want me to...

toss the bokkas?

Yes.

A fennel?

There we are. Have you the anus for no?

No, yes.

Lovely. I bought my own big one.

Oh.

Oh, I need a wipe.

And thread and needle for sewing up a torn another's.

My girls always seem to split from berry to back when I force them out dirty.

Probably best I've got in their first.

Oh, yes, yes.

Now the time has come for Bab.

To burst your sack and off his cap.

A long bobby, bobby, boom, bobby, he's broken.

You're keg.

A long bobby, bobby, boom, bobby, his face twin your legs.

This binding will prevent you from punching baby in the face when he first appears.

Well, I would not.

Once taken, the straft will push Bab out in her day or some now.

Please. I beg you, it is not time.

Sometimes nature needs a helping hand mistress.

No, please.

Drink up mistress.

Please. Please.

Drink up now, drink up.

Let's go.

Let's go.

Let's go.

Let's go.

Let's go.

Go.

Go.

Go.

Go.

Go.

Go.

Go.

Go.

Go.

Go.

Go.

Go.

Go.

Go.

Go.

Go.

Good.

Very good.

Very good.

Oh.

Excuse me.

Didn't use M protects tonight.

That is this partridge, Crispy parties.

Thursday's Partridge.

Crispy parties.

Like that?

Little thing?

Crispy?

They won't burn, Graham.

Why won't they burn?

Her so wife!

Her say hey, ho!

His home.

Oh, Hester?

Forgive me. Forgive me. I make unto you a new and heartfelt vow to be a most pure and devoted husband.

Oh, great.

I was a blind fool, stumbling through the darkness, but like a finger of sand with your love poked by fog.

And now I do see a new...

Oh, Esther.

Let us begin again.

Oh, great.

I love thee.

And I...

I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Celen, she's having your baby, sir.

Well, you've never seen that happen before. She's foaming, pity.

I can only think I overdone the wormwood. Can it be untold?

Not really.

Bloody!

Ah, you are here.

Yes, sir.

Is something you required?

Well, yes, my dinner. At what time exactly will it be served?

And eight o'clock, sir.

Oh, to after my stomach is growling like a bassoon. Is it partridge and parties?

Yes, yes.

Do we have any coogernuts, please?

I think not, sir.

Except my wife, darling.

Yes, we are just now engaged in delivering the child, sir.

Indeed.

Should the mother not be rather more awake?

She preferred to sleep through it, sir.

She appears to be bubbling.

It is just a birthing foam.

As the womb explodes, it ascends forth a juice that washes the entire length of a woman's inside and then cleans her teeth.

What's that?

She just foxes, sir.

They do dance when they're angry.

What is it?

Don't fetch the doctors, no need.

But we had best attend the birth, so I would urge you, please, to leave.

So, poor will be straight after.

It's partridge and parties in a big, boozy trifle.

It is partridge and parties, sir.

If I'm not dead a famine, please give word when the child is out and, erm, innocent.

Erm, I'll try your bloody parties.

Not this.

Look.

Would you like some cheese to tie you over?

Mm?

Do you like that sort of thing?

Cheesy?

I would ask that you hand me that key.

You'll have to come and get it first, sir.

Oh, dear God.

How came you by this mark?

I happened from birth.

Wait.

Dear God, what have you done to it?

Oh, Graham, you came for me.

I'll show you my love.

I'll show you who.

I love thee.

Dirty beds.

I have seen this mark on another.

Only once before.

On a baby boy at birth, some thirty years ago.

You.

A mother.

You were raped.

Yes.

How did she know?

Well.

The assault left me with child twin child.

A boy and a girl.

The boy was settled with a well-to-do couple and the girl abandoned to an orphanage.

And the plaggard who assaulted you.

Did he hang?

He did not.

This is the plaggard.

His mother brought me to him as a plaything to stoke his desires for she feared his preclivities.

This is Dorothy Millis.

I'm pleased to meet you acquaintance, sir.

Your dear, dead mother, introduced some form of aphrodisiac to your drink.

Perhaps the dose was wrong, but you.

Ravished me pettlessly.

Too low born to carry this a folkfinch name.

A son was painting my family to placate them.

I entered Mistress Milt's employer's housekeeper.

And my children were given away.

Mother gave them a chance at happiness.

The Digby Chases were a fine family.

Did you just say Digby Chases?

Most respectable professionals, old doctors.

But that was my...

My mother was widowed.

And remarried a foggyty.

But before that, her name was...

Robin.

Son.

Mother.

Wait.

Wait.

You sent the girl child, she went to an orphanage.

Yes.

Tell me, it was not pryry, manna.

It was.

Brother.

Sister.

Our daughter and wife.

What?

But nanny, it cannot be for the girl child at the vestige of a tail.

A tail you say?

Did it poke from her spine?

About yay long.

And waggle.

As would the dankly.

And waggle.

As would the dankly finger.

Sister.

Show them your tail.

But he's the very image.

We must send word to the notary immediately that a child has been born and in the allotted time.

Something is not right here.

Is this my son or no?

Or is this my son?

Or is this my son or that's my grandson?

I can found this mess!

I don't want a Dorothy that you've chosen this moment to let discretion slip.

Oh, he's hungry, prolittle, mate.

Come here, come here.

Let Dorey feed him.

Perhaps it I've shall feed him.

No, no, please.

There we are.

I've always used a snowy broth.

Happy to let the little fella suck.

Surely that is a condition.

Since birthing my twins, my breasts have never ceased pumping their creamy brew.

You know how you've always enjoyed your bubbly milk.

Yay.

Gax!

What is that noise?

Most likely baboons caught in the chimney.

I think it not, but...

Oh, my God!

Oh, my God!

Oh, my God!

Oh, my God!

Oh, my God!

Oh, my God!

Oh, my Lord!

Is Mr. Zana Bell?

Why?

She was barren.

Unable to provide an air mother,

Matilda had misachied past and looked her away.

I have attended to her these past three years.

She's eaten nothing but eggs.

She's not quite as I imagined.

Great job!

His condition is grave.

Oh, my God!

Oh, my God!

Hey, help me!

Hey!

Hey!

I thought Father and I might join you.

If we may.

Thank you.