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Том Джонс

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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!
- (Tom laughs)
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!
(guffaws loudly)
What are you laughin' at, Tom?
I'm thinking of Square in your bedroom!
To those who find our hero's behaviour
startling, the answer is simple.:
Tom had always thought
that any woman was better than none,
while Molly never felt that one man
was quite as good as two.
(Molly's laughter)
- He has a wench!
- A wench?
- Let's go and find the wicked girl.
- Yes!
(shouting)
Who's that?
(Tom laughs)
- How dare you?!
- Thwacky! Ha-ha!
Mr Jones, control yourself!
How disgraceful!
Go away, sir! Go away, sir!
Take that, you wicked fool!
You there! Damnation to you!
Stop it! Stop! What's the matter with you?
Damnation to you! Get over there!
Whoa, there! Three falling onto one?
Whoa! The whip!
Come, lass, see to Tom.
He's in a devilish pickle, I promise you.
Tom... Shh. Poor Tom. Shh.
(Tom groans)
- Sophie, dear...
- Shh. I'll fetch some water.
- What are you brawling about, Tom?
- If you search the bushes you'll find out.
You lickerish dog, you!
Where is she? Where's Tom's pussy?
Puss, puss, puss, puss...
Where's Tom's pussy? Puss, puss, puss...
Sophie, I...
Come. After him.
- Sophie!
- Tom. Tom! Come and sup with me.
Gentlemen, let us make our peace
over a bottle.
Sir, it is no slight matter for a man
of my character to be buffeted by a boy
just for trying to bring
a wanton harlot to justice!
The fault lies with Mr Allworthy
and yourself, sir.
If you would put
the right laws into execution,
you would soon rid the country
of these... vermin.
Ha! I'd sooner rid the country of foxes!
Come, you sup with me. Damn me
if there's nothing I wouldn't give you -
except my hounds
and my favourite mare, Miss Slouch.
Up...
Away, Miss Slouch!
(Western laughs and whoops)
Let us tell Mr Allworthy
how the monster has behaved!
No, sirs, I beg of you, let us wait.
A better time will come.
Odds zodikins, it's me sister's coach.
What brings her from London?
I hope the old bitch has gone to bed.
(Western guffaws)
Come, Sophie, sing us
one of your jolly songs, my girl.
Father, I do not feel well.
I think I shall go to bed.
Not before you attend to your guest.
Tom here has a great thirst, I warrant you.
Western? What are these nocturnal riots?
- Now lookie here, Sister...
- Sophie?
- Yes, Aunt?
- To bed.
- Bed?
- Bed!
I'd be glad to, madam.
Now lookie here, Sister!
Brother, as I am here to stay a while,
I shall sign a peace treaty with you.
Sister, I've often warned you
not to talk that court gibberish to me.
I pity your country ignorance
from my heart.
And I despise your citified claptrap!
I'd rather be anything than a courtier,
or a... or a Presbyterian,
or a
Том Джонс Том Джонс

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