Tom Jones Page #3

Ah, you play like an angel.

Molly's reputation was destroyed,

and Tom's heart was heavy with remorse.

Perhaps Mr Square had been right,

that the wicked are snared

in the work of their own hands.

Oh. Mr Jones.

- Where's Molly?

- Oh, she... she ain't home.

She's upstairs. In bed.

- Who is it?

- It's me. Tom.

Why haven't you been

to see me before this, Tom?

- Molly, I...

- Agh!

- You said you'd be my gentleman!

- I hope to explain why...

You'll not admit you've had

your wicked will of me?!

- Molly...

- No.

I shall never love

another man but you, Tom.

Not if the greatest squire in the country

came a-courtin',

I couldn't give myself to him!

No, Tom, not for all the riches in the

world, now that you've gained my heart.

You are a lecherous rascal after all, Tom!

I shall always hate and despise

the whole sex on account of you, Tom!

Mr Square.

Molly's favours, after all,

had not been bestowed on Tom alone.

Our hero, unlike many other men,

was fortunate enough to discover

the father of his child in time.

And after everyone's kindness, too.

She has laid the child

at young Mr Jones's door.

All the parish say Mr Allworthy is so angry

with Mr Jones that he won't see him.

To be sure, one can't help

pitying the poor young man.

He's so pretty a gentleman. I should

be sorry to see him turned out-of-doors.

Why do you tell me all this? What concern

have I in what Mr Jones does?

Why, ma'am, I never thought it was any

harm to say a young man was handsome.

But I shall never think of him any more

now. For handsome is as handsome does.

Tittle-tattle, tittle-tattle.

I shall be late for the hunt.

Sorry, I'm sure, madam.

Everyone in my household!

Where's the cider?

Greetings! Greetings!

- Greetings, Thwackum.

- Morning, Squire. Morning, Miss Western.

Welcome, everyone.

Morning, Western.

Oh, you brute!

- Morning.

- And you, sir.

Ah, you're getting no younger.

I mean the horse, madam.

A stirrup cup, everyone!

Come, help yourselves, everyone!

Plenty to eat and drink!

Here. The Church is always first

with the bread and wine.

Health to everyone!

French miss isn't speaking today?

Drink up, everyone.

- Huntsmen, loose the hounds.

- Another tankard, please.

Come on, boys and girls!

Come on, come on!

Have a drop of cider inside you, boy.

Then you'll be ready for the kill.

Come on, drink up. Drink up, everyone.

Come on, drink up!

Some Western brew for you, my girl!

Squire, it's too early! You'll tire yourself!

Quiet, everyone.

Good health and good hunting!

Come on, Sophie! Hurry, hurry!

Come on, sweetheart! After him!

Tally-ho!

Ahhh! Here he is!

- I trust you're not harmed.

- No, no. How can I ever thank you?

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