Gothic

And there, ladies and gentlemen,

on the other side of the lake,

we have the famous Villa Diodati,

where Lord Byron, greatest living English poet,

resides in exile,

Romantic, scholar, duelist

and best-selling author of "Childe Harold."

He was forced to leave his native land

after many scandals,

including incest and adultery with Lady Caroline Lamb.

"Mad, bad and dangerous to know," she called him.

Bedroom. Top right.

Oh, look, Polly. What a pleasant surprise.

Unexpected visitors.

Come on! Put some back into it!

Aye-aye, Captain!

Woman watcher: He's so close, I can taste him.

Shelley! Shelley!

- Don't let him get away! - Shelley!

- Shelley! - Come here! Shelley!

Come on, Mary. Don't be a stick in the mud. Ahh!

I always said he'd run off with another woman.

- -

Shelley: Get off me, for God's sake! Leave me alone!

Sanctuary!

Quick! Quick! My hand!

- - They're coming!

Hurry!

What are you trying to do, wake the dead?

Wake the servants.

- Much more difficult. -

Mary, come on!

Mary!

- Come on, Mary. Let's-- - Ohh!

They must have followed us all the way from Geneva.

What a spectacle!

What's he going to think of us arriving like this?

Poor Rabbit. Poor Pexi.

Those girls are insane.

They love me. How can they be insane?

She hates them, because they say, "What does he see in her?"

What do you see in her?

I don't know. What do I see?

Bless my soul, Mr. Shelley. Good to see you again.

- Terrible day. - Nonsense.

Oh, Murray, hello.

Lord Byron read of your arrival in Geneva.

Did he? Oh, damn. I wanted it to be a surprise.

Oh, Miss, it will be.

Did you see the lightning outside?

One could hardly avoid it, sir.

It was like the end of the world.

Then let us live and love so that people will say,

"The Devil as well as God is an Englishman."

Voilà!

Ah. Voilà, indeed, Miss Clairmont.

That you should follow me a thousand miles

says something about you.

Or something about me.

Shiloh.

We meet again.

I've dreamt of this since Piccadilly Terrace,

- when we argued metaphysics. - Yes.

And you read your poetry.

The more I read your poems, Shiloh, the more beauty I find.

You're most welcome.

You are all welcome.

Ah. So civilized.

Well, I should hope I am, if nothing else.

Oh, I'm sure you are, if nothing else.

I should have introduced you.

I never dream of traveling anywhere without my menagerie.

- What's wrong? - Nothing.

Nothing.

I diagnose all the symptoms of a broken heart.

I should demand a second opinion if I was you, my dear.

Ah!

This is Dr. John Polidori,

a man with no biography of his own,

commissioned to write mine.

A pleasure to meet the greatest English poet of his generation.

Uh, I was to be in Geneva tonight,

but the wild weather--

Even his cronies there have grown bored.

I was going to say that I hope you do not object, sir.

Object? Not at all, sir.

Ah, tolerance is a virtue, my dear Shiloh.

Alas, I have no virtues.

I trust there are some left in this house.

- Miss Godwin, I-- - Mrs. Shelley.

Well, by nature, if not by name.

A robust little opium.

Opiates. Laudanum in liquid form.

My lord, dinner awaits your pleasure.

She also awaits my pleasure.

Murray: Mm.

Claire: What's for first course?

Byron: Your lips!

- Second course? - Your body!

- Dessert? - Your soul!

Of course, I eat merely to live.

Imagination is my sustenance...

for such time as life offers more pleasure than death.

Well, I say, at least we've converted you to vegetarianism.

Yes. Meat gives too bloody a complexion.

Vinegar, on the other hand, gives an aesthetic paleness.

And I thought you drank it in mockery of the crucifixion.

Oh, you damned atheist.

Thank God, and I will be damned.

He does everything to cultivate a cadaverish image

short of sleeping in a coffin.

It has been known.

The grave has certain qualities.

Sometimes when I have looked at a face that I loved,

I can see only the changes that death would one day make.

The worm feasting on lips now smiling.

The hues and features of health

changed to the livered tints of putrefaction.

You'd do well to embrace death, my dear.

Immortality is for poets.

Beware of the view bank.

They hire glasses at DeJong's Hotel

to spy at the wicked English across the lake.

Then I shall do my best not to be wicked.

On the contrary. Let us blind them with our wickedness

if that is what they want.

What do you expect? Your reputation precedes you.

In Geneva, they lock up their daughters after dark,

for fear of the Englishman prowling the countryside.

Which is a measure of the Genevese.

Remember I'm Swiss, you beast.

Ah, but of course.

Switzerland is a selfish, cursed, swinish country of brutes.

It just happens to be placed

in the most romantic region in the world.

Only the English are more unbearable,

Which is why I am here, the imprisoned poet.

- The exiled lord. - The fugitive.

Fugitive? From what crime?

From fact and fantasy.

Tell the truth, Albe.

He's the Devil.

Show them your cloven hoof.

Never do that again, you stupid bitch!

- You don't frighten me. - Don't I?

- No. - Don't I?

No.

- Don't I? - No!

- - Don't I?

No.

If you want to scare us,

first you have to catch us!

- Come on! Hide-and-seek! - Shelley: Yes!

Party games?

Is fear a game?

You will play.

As long as you are a guest in my house...

you will play my games.

Then I shall go to my room.

- -

- -

- -

Shiloh?

For God's sake, come back in! You'll kill yourself!

Lightning is the fundamental force of the universe,

the ether, the spirit!

You're mad!

Science was a fascination I shared with Mary's father.

At Eton, I'd study the work of Cornelius Agrippa.

Smells and fumes filled my rooms,