Being Human Page #5

in 50 or so years,

we'll all be rid

of our earthly lives,

and god can proceed with his reign

over his heavenly kingdom,

that same paradise that

god gave to man before,

but which man was

so unfit to inhabit

that within seven hours,

Eve was already tempting

her master and mate,

and within nine hours,

the lord had to expel

the both of them.

[urinating]

[shouting]

[horse whinnies]

[sword fight]

Help me!

A bit cold for a walk.

[speaking Italian]

I don't know what you're saying.

[speaking Italian]

A man, a woman,

neither speaks

the other's language.

They understand nothing.

"Well," said the story to itself,

"I suppose I must be a...

a love story."

Keep out of the way of temptation.

I saw the way you were

eyeing that widow.

If anyone's going to dally

with her, it will be me.

You couldn't handle her.

She'd bewitch you.

Why don't you get off

up the road tomorrow?

I'll catch up in a few days.

No.

Why do I talk so much?

You weren't even thinking of her

till I opened my mouth.

But I trust you, Hector.

You're not a sinner.

You wouldn't do anything

to anger your god or me.

Give me some bread.

No.

Why, you little squirrel?

What's wrong with you?

Nothing at all. I just said no.

I brought it because

I was near the table,

not because you ordered.

This woman's got to you.

It's not her.

I'm fed up being like your slave.

I want to go my own way.

In a month, we'll be at the channel,

then home.

The little ones that you talk about

when you're drunk, don't forget 'em.

I won't. I'm going home.

Give me some wine.

No.

May the lord forgive us

for our sins--

Those we have committed...

and those we as yet only dream of.

Ha ha.

And so it was,

as it ever was.

The country they traveled through

was troubled times.

The weather was wars,

as regular as rainstorms.

Love broke out like

epidemics of the plague.

[moaning]

You, priest, get to work on him.

He's not ready for heaven yet.

There's 100,000 on his head

if I get him to Paris alive.

Ha ha ha. Ha ha ha.

[speaking Italian]

Why do you speak so different

from everyone else?

[moaning]

You must be sore. Was it your dada?

If his head's small, he might be O.K.

Does your dada got a big head?

[moaning]

Are you a long way from home?

Home.

Home.

[speaking Italian]

No, I don't want your word for home.

I want you to say mine.

Casa.

Casa.

Casa.

Casa.

Ha ha ha.

Casa.

Pulce.

Un pulce.

A flea?

Pulce. Flea.

All right.

You itch?

[horse snorts]

My name is Peter--Peter.

Say it again.

Goodbye, Peter.

You're a busy man.

There's nothing wrong

with helping someone die in peace.

Nothing at all. You do it well.

You're leaving?

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