Tom Jones Page #5

You are most kind, sir.

Do not grieve, my dear nephew.

Do not grieve.

Sir, you cannot die.

Death comes to us all, Tom.

I have asked you here

to tell you of my will.

Nephew Blifil, I leave you heir to my

whole estate, with these exceptions.

To you, my dear Tom,

I have given an estate of Pounds. 800 a year,

together with Pounds. 1,000 in ready money.

I am convinced, my boy,

that you have much goodness,

generosity and honour in your nature.

If you will add prudence and religion

to these, you must be happy.

Pounds. 1,000 I leave to you, Mr Thwackum,

and a like sum to you, Mr Square -

which I am convinced exceeds

your desires as well as your wants.

As for my servants,

for Marjorie and Jane, Pounds. 100 each.

"... my soul shall praise the Lord

even to death,

and my life was drawing

near to hell beneath... "

Mr Allworthy's recovered!

It's over! The fever's gone!

He's sitting up! He's well again!

The squire's recovered!

It's over!

It is not true that drink

changes a man's character.

It can reveal it more clearly.

The Squire's recovery brought joy to Tom,

to his tutors sheer disappointment.

Sing, thick Thwackum,

your bounty's flown...

You have good reason for your

drunkenness, you beggarly bastard!

- He's provided well enough for you!

- Do you think that could weigh with me?

- Damn you, Thwackum!

- How dare you, sir?!

And damn me

if I don't open another bottle.

I shall sing you a ballad, entitled "Sing,

thick Thwackum, thy bounty has flown".

Sing, thick Thwackum,

thy bounty's flown

You've lost all the money

you thought that you'd own...

Mr Jones!

This house is in mourning on account

of the death of my dear mother.

Oh, sir, forgive me.

The joy of Mr Allworthy's recovery...

I had the misfortune

to know who my parents were.

Consequently, I'm grieved by their loss.

You rascal. Do you dare to insult me?

Gentlemen, gentlemen!

This behaviour is most unseemly.

Oh, Master Blifil!

Oh, that vulgar animal! Out with him!

All right, we'll go outside!

Let's have some wine!

Get him out! Get him out!

How dare you throw me out?

Shall we take the evening air?

It is widely held that too much wine

will dull a man's desire.

Indeed it will - in a dull man.

Sophia...

Sophie...

I'll carve her name on this tree!

Tree, do you mind

if I carve the name of my Sophia?

Big S for Sophia... Sophie...

Sophie, Sophia...

So... Molly...

Molly, Molly, Molly, Molly, Molly, Molly...

M for Molly...

Are you aimin' to slit my throat, Squire?

Would you like... a sip of my wine?

Mm.

I never had a sip

of a gentleman's wine before.

Oh, it's very potent!

What are you laughin' at, Tom?

I'm thinking of Square in your bedroom!

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