Tom Jones Page #2

Damn me if I won't love the boy for this

as long as I have to live!

Serves him right.

And you, sir.

The weeks passed...

and Molly grew apace too.

Ah, you lazy slut, you!

Look at her, with that great belly on her!

That I should have lived to see this day!

You'd better have minded what the parson

said and not harkened after menfolks.

She's the first of this family to be a whore!

Mother, you yourself was brought to bed

with sister there a week after you married.

Ah, but I were made an honest woman of.

But you, you have to be doing with

gentlemen, don't you, you nasty slut, you!

You will have a bastard!

And I defy anybody to say that of me.

- My gentlemen'll look after me.

- Your gentlemen! Far from gentlemen!

You lay off me, or I'll tell my gentlemen...

...if these be constantly applied,

And then, though we cannot

absolutely promise success,

yet we may properly say with the apostle

"What knowest thou, O wife,

whether thou shalt save thy husband?"

And now, my dear brethren,

let us sing together the hymn

"O God, Our Help in Ages Past. "

O God, our help in ages past

Our hope for years to come...

"Let dogs delight to bark and bite,

For God hath made them so. "

"Let bears and lions growl and fight,

For 'tis their nature too. "

"But, ladies, you should never let

Such angry passions rise. "

"Your little hands were never made

To tear each other's eyes. "

There she is! Let's get at her!

Let's thrash her!

Don't want the likes of her in this village!

Won't have her mixing with us good folk!

Take that, you hussy!

I'll get you, Goody Brown,

you dirty old harridan!

Oh, Tom... Please, Tom...

Don't... Don't leave me, Tom.

Slowly. Slowly.

That filthy slut.

Ah, good boy, good boy!

He's a game lad, your Tom.

So, the wench is having a bastard?

Yes. It seems the girl has refused

to name the father to Mr Allworthy.

He may have to send her to Bridewell.

- Father, I have a headache.

- I smoke it.

I smoke it!

Tom is the father of that bastard!

Aye! As sure as tuppence,

Tom is the bastard's father!

Father...

Odds zodikins!

What a little whoremaster that boy is!

The girl is ruined, surely.

Aye! Ruined. Ruined for sure!

Once broken, never mended, eh?

Lt'll do no harm. Ask Sophie.

She knows about Tom.

You have no worse opinion of a young

fellow for getting a bastard, have you?

Will you stop bobbing up and down, girl!

No, no. The women will like him

the better for it, won't they?

- Sophie, sing us one of your jolly songs.

- Not tonight, Father. I have a headache.

Let's have "St George, He Was

for England" or "Bobbing Joan".

That's a good song for tonight, eh?

None of your old Handel now,

my little darling.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes