The Corn Is Green Page #5

Tis Latin.

Do the words have a meaning?

They do.

I love, you love, he loves.

Words you have learned at the school?

- They are.

- What use are they, Morgan?

Will they help you swing a pick any

faster when you go back to the mine?

I love, you love, heee loves.

The words are not meant to be funny.

I love, you love, he loves, she...

Sorry, lad.

The boys are only having fun.

And there is others that's been

having their fun too, Glen.

- Are you going into the Gwesmor Arms?

- I'd go anywhere to save sinners.

Miss Moffat!

Miss Moffat. It's the Squire.

Let him in, Ron.

Very well.

Coming.

- Squire.

- Good evening.

So this is the seat of learning.

- Your hat.

- No, thank you. I'm not staying.

You can tell her for me that I have not

come here to be insulted again.

Oh, I'm sure you haven't.

I mean...

She called me

an addle-headed nincompoop.

Miss Ronberry, dear.

My roses are dying.

Would you pour out a little water for them?

I've such a headache. I...

- Squire.

- You wrote me.

- Perhaps you've forgotten.

- Oh, How could I forget?

I only thought that after the

overwrought fashion of my behavior

at our last meeting, you must

ignore my very nervous invitation.

Miss Ronberry, a chair,

dear, for the Squire.

I haven't a great deal

of time to spare, I fear.

Of course you haven't.

I was just saying to Miss Ronberry

the Squire is so busy

he'll never be able to fit us in.

Miss Ronberry, dear, would you

put water in these, please.

Tell me, Squire...

how did your prize-giving

fare this afternoon?

Rather a bore, I'm afraid.

I have always wanted to see

you judge. I love flowers.

It wasn't flowers.

It was cows.

Oh. Well it was your speech

I wanted to hear, of course.

I heard you made such

an amusing one at the croquet club.

Did they tell you about that?

Rather a good pun, eh?

- May I sit down?

- Do.

I thought the Griffith the butcher

was going to laugh his napper off.

Indeed. You know, Squire,

that makes me very proud.

Proud? Why?

Because he wouldn't have

understood a word you said

if his two little girls hadn't

learned English at my school.

I never thought of it like that.

May I offer you some tea?

No, thank you very much.

I can't abide the stuff.

I've trained my tummy to better

things than tea, thank you very much.

I'm sorry to be unable

to offer you anything stronger,

but in this house

we are only women, you know.

I quite understand. A feminine tummy,

I've always said,

is very much like the feminine mind.

Both a bit on the weak side.

How right you are, Squire.

We're not exactly

rugged creatures, are we?

What's the matter? Headache?

Squire,

you see before you a tired woman.

We live and learn,

and I have learnt how right

you were that day.

I have worked my fingers to the bone,

battering my head against a stone wall.

But I heard tou were a spiffing success.

Oh, no.

It's very fair of you to admit it,

I must say.

You see, in one's womanly enthusiasm

one forgets that the qualities vital

to success in a venture of this sort

are lacking in one: intelligence,

courage and authority.

In short, the qualities of a man.

Oh, come, come. You mustn't be

too hard on yourself.

After all, you meant well.

It's kind of you to say, Squire.

But I need more than words.

- I need help. Your help.

- What kind of help?

Well, you see,

I'm faced with a problem.

The question of what to do

with the future of Morgan Evans.

Morgan Evans?

He used to be one

of my miners, I believe.

What's his trouble? Punching?

Oh, no.

Got humself tangled up

with a bit of muzzling?

Something of that sort?

- Oh, no, Squire.

- What about the little Cockney filly?

Bessie? No, I assure you, she's only

a schoolgirl. It's nothing of that sort.

But he is a problem just the same.

And, like a true woman,

I have to scream for help to a man.

To you.

Scream away, dear lady.

Scream away.

Well...

- Morgan Evans is clever. He can write.

- Can he now?

Oh, he's more than clever.

This boy is quite out of the ordinary.

Are you sure?

I'm as sure as one

of your miners would be

cutting through coal

and striking a diamond without a flaw.

This boy was born

with exceptional gifts.

They should be given every chance.

You mean he may

turn into a literary bloke?

- He might, yes.

- How do you know?

- By his work. It's very good.

- How do you know it's good?

How does anyone know

Shakespeare's good?

Skakespeare?

What's he got to do with it?

- He was a literary bloke.

- He was, wasn't he?

If Morgan Evans had a protector...

What?

A protector. We had them before

in England, you know?

Listen.

To the Right and Honorable

Earl of Southhampton...

your Honor's in all duty,

William Shakespeare.

I often think of the pride

that surged in the Earl's bosom

when his encouragement gave birth

to the masterpiece

of a poor and humble writer.

This little tenant of yours, Squire,

has it in him to bring

great credit to you.

By Jove, he is a tenant

of mine, isn't he?

Well, if this boy really is clever,

it seems a pity for me not to do

something about it, doesn't it?

It is a great pity. And I can tell you

exactly what you can do about it.

There's a scholarship going at Oxford.

Oxford?

They have agreed to take

this boy on one condition.

That you vouch for him.

My dear lady, you take the cake...

Can't he be just as clever at home?

Oh, no. He must have polish.

He has everything else.

The background of a university

would be invaluable to him.

- My dear lady...

- Will you do it?

- I must say it's asking...

- Think of Shakespeare.

Squire, William Shakespeare...

If the Earl of Southampton

could produce a Shakespeare,

I.. I...

Think of your inscription, Squire.

It will be handed down to posterity.

Posterity?

Posterity!

Oh, serene dear lady. Oh, serene.

I'll drop a line to some

of the bigwigs next week.

By Jove, it's rather a laugh, eh?

- Like having an entry in the Derby.

- Exactly like the Derby, Squire.

Well, I must be off.

Oh, Squire. I would be most obliged

if the letter could be posted tomorrow.

Would you like me to draft out

a recommendation

and send it over to the Hall?

- You must be so busy with the estate.

- Yes, I am rather.

Polka supper tomorrow night.

Do, do that.

- Well, good bye, dear lady.

- Thank you so very much, Squire.

Happier conditions, and all that.

- I'm glad you've come to your senses.

- Thank you again, Squire.

- From the bottom of a greatful heart.

- Not at all.

I'm all for giving a writer-fellow

a helping hand.

Well, good bye again, dear lady.

- Good bye again, Squire.

- Go ahead, Evan.

That man is so stupid.

It sits on him like a halo.

Thank you for your shawl, Ron.

Better watch out.

I'll beat you to the altar yet.

- What happened?

- We have met the Squire and he's ours.

In 10 minutes I have given

the Squire the impression

he spends his whole time

fostering genius in the illiterate.

- How?

- By soft soap and courtseying.

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