Tom Jones

- -

Our hero grew apace,

a country lad far happier in the woods than in the study.

A bad hero as may be, with many a weakness.

But then, ifAdam hadn't had such a weakness for apples,

there would be nobody to tell Tom's story at all,

and a part of that story

tells of the sport Tom found in the woods.

Oh, Tom.

You wicked dog.

Molly. What are you doing here?

I heard Father tell Mother you was coming.

It's a good night to be abroad and looking for game.

Oh, Tom.

- Oh, Tom. -

- -

It shall be our custom to leave such scenes

where taste, decorum, and the censor dictate.

In this way we shall try to make up for our incorrigible hero.

As soon as he had left the disreputable Molly,

what did he do butjoin her equally disreputable father,

Black George,

gamekeeper to Squire Allworthy.

- - Come on.

I hear 'em.

Psst!

Come on, lads. We'll smoke 'em out.

Fetch it! Fetch it, boy!

- Come on. - Wait!

That's fallen on Squire Western's ground.

Well, let's after it.

No. I've been warned for trespassing.

It's our bird. Don't worry, Blackie.

- Come back, Tom! - Here, boy.

Here, boy. Here, boy. Good.

All right, you devils! I'll get you!

I'll have your blood!

- I'll have you out! - Run, Blackie!

Let's give the old man a run for his money.

Oh, no!

- Whee! Whee! -

Yah-hah! Yah!

Yahoo!

Yea! Yea, yea, yea!

Good sir...

Home, lads.

I'll get 'em another night.

- I thought I'd lost you in the woods. - Shortcut.

- We'll be caught one of these days. - Don't worry.

It's all right for you. You haven't got a family to keep.

I'll look after you.

- - Here.

- Huh? - Take this guinea.

Good night, Blackie.

Our hero, alas, was always being exploited

by villains like Black George.

For a generous man is merely a fool in the eyes of a thief.

- A sheep? - Aye, sir, an entire sheep.

A fat animal, enough to feed a village for a week.

Hanging up in his cottage as proud as a battle trophy.

- This is a grave matter. - A hanging matter.

Sir, if I may speak on his behalf, I'd like...

Be silent.

Are you guilty?

I am... guilty.

- Sir, forgive him. - Be quiet, sir.

I have to do justice here.

You have committed a capital crime.

The laws have provided the most terrible penalty...

to hang by your neck.

But you have children.

For their sake, I shall only dismiss you my service.

- And may God have mercy on you. -

You're too lenient, Mr. Allworthy.

Compassion is one thing, sir, but justice is another.

Mr. Thwackum and Mr. Square were Tom's tutors.

Over the years they tried, with little success,

to thrash into Tom a sense of virtue and religion.

They had, however, a more aptpupil.

Soon after Tom had been found,

the squire's sister, Bridget, married a Captain Blifil

and they had a son.

This young man was quite different from Tom.

He was sober, discreet, and pious beyond his age,

and the whole neighborhood resounded in his praise.

You have only taught Tom to laugh at whatever is decent and virtuous and right.

- I've taught him religion. - Mr. Thwackum.

The word "religion" is as vague and uncertain

as any in the English language.

When I mention religion, I mean the Christian religion.

Not only the Christian religion, but the Protestant religion.

And not only the Protestant religion, but the Church of England.

I fear that Tom is the embodiment of the old truth

that foundlings should be left to the parish.

My dear tutors, I'm afraid neither of you can touch his bastard's heart.

Neither, indeed.

But there was another who could.

- Tom. - Mmm?

- I want you to help me. - How?

I want you to get me a post, Tom.

Uh-huh.

Miss Western's come back from France and'll be wanting a maid.

I'll speak to her.

Tom, you are kind to me.

Miss Western's maid.

Sophie Western! Miss Western!

Why, Tom Jones!

I've brought you a thrush.

It's beautiful, Tom. How kind of you.

Two years is a long time.

Did they teach you London ways and make a great lady of you?

Most of the time I was in France. My aunt took me there.

Ooh-la! Did you like France, Miss Western?

Mais oui, monsieur. Je me suis très bien amusée, merci.

- Bon, bon. - You haven't changed, Tom.

You've grown, Sophie. Grown more beautiful than ever.

Doesn't he sing beautifully? I shall teach him some new songs.

I doubt if an English bird can learn French songs, Miss Western.

You'll see.

Your father asked us all to supper.

I came early to ask if you could help Molly, Black George's daughter.

Oh, yes. Father told me the story. He stole a sheep, didn't he?

Black George is a poor man with big, hungry daughters to feed.

Most hungry. I can vouch for it.

Well, I have a maid already, Tom, but I'll see if I can do anything.

Good, good, good.

- Ah, welcome, neighbors! - Ah, Squire!

- Welcome, welcome. - How nice to see you.

Welcome, madam.

- Where's the squire? - Good day, Western, good day!

Look! Tom's bought me a thrush!

Oh, what a sweet little bird.

His song is sweeter than any tune of Mr. Handel's.

Ah! Handel.

Tom, thank you.

- She'll dote on it well. - Welcome home, Sophie.

- How lovely you're looking, child. -

- Aye, it's good to have her home. - Good day, Miss Western.

Let's all go in to dinner.

- -

- Oh, dear. - Oh, my little bird.

Don't worry, Sophie. I'll get it back for you.

- Tom. - Ah, good lad, Tom.

- Do be careful. - Be careful, Tom. Tom, take care.

- I'll wager he gets it! - Take care.

I am sorry to cause you this distress, Miss Western.

I did not think the bird would fly away.

But still, I cannot help observing that the idea of caged birds

is against the laws of nature.

Don't you agree, Mr. Square?

He's got him!

- - Aah!

Oh!

He'll drown!

- Quick, get him out! - He's got the bird!

- Help him, someone! - I've got him!

Come on, lad! Give me your hand!

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 Mollygrew apace too.

Why, you lazy slut, you.

Look at her with her great belly, aye.

That I should ever have lived to see this day.

You'd better have minded what the parson says

and not harkened after menfolks.

She's the first one of this family ever was to be a whore.

Oh, Mother, you yourself was brought to bed with Sister there

a week after you was married.

Oh, but I were made an honest women of. But you...

You have to be doing with gentlemen, don't you, you nasty slut, you?

You know what you will have, don't you? You will have a bastard.

And I defy anybody to say that of me!

- My gentleman'll look after me. - Your gentleman.

Far from "gentleman," your gentleman.

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

Let these be constantly applied.

- - And then, though we cannot...

- What? - absolutely promise success,

yet 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."

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 angrypassions 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.

Won't have the likes of her in this village.

Won't have her mixing with us good folk.

Take that, ya hussy!