Tom Jones

Our hero grew apace.

A country lad, far happier

in the woods than in the study.

A bad hero, it may be,

with many a weakness.

But then, if Adam 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.

Ah, Tom.

You wicked dog.

Molly. What are you doing here?

I 'eard Father tell Mother

you was coming.

It's a good night to be abroad

and looking for game.

Ah, 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 but join 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! Come...

- Here, boy. Here, boy. Here, boy.

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

- I'll have your blood! I'll...

- Run, Blackie!

Let's give the old man

a run for his money.

Home, lads. I'll get 'em another night.

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

- Short cut.

- 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... 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...

- 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

To hang by your neck.

But you have children.

For their sake, I shall only

dismiss you from 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 apt pupil.

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 neighbourhood

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.

By "religion" I mean the Christian religion.

Not only that, but the Protestant religion.

And not only that,

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...

- I want you to help me.

- How?

I want you to get me a post, Tom.

Mm-hm...

Miss Western's come back from France

and'll be wantin' 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.

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

Two years is a long time. Did they teach

you London ways, make a lady of you?

Most of the time I was in France.

My aunt took me there.

- Did you like France, Meez Western?

- Mais oui. Je me suis trs bien amuse.

- Ah, 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.

You'll see.

Avignon

Sur le pont d'Avignon...

We're asked to supper. I came early to ask

if you'd help Black George's daughter.

Oh, yes. 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.

I have a maid already.

But I'll see what I can do.

Good, good.

Ah! Welcome, neighbours! Welcome!

- How nice to see you.

- Welcome, madam. Welcome, Squire.

Good day, Western, good day.

- Look! Tom brought me a thrush!

- What a sweet little bird!

His song is sweeter

than any tune of Mr Handel's.

Ugh, Handel!

Tom, thank you.

Welcome home, Sophie.

How lovely you're looking, child.

Aye, it's good to have her home.

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...

- Good lad, Tom.

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 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!

Argh!

He'll drown! Quick, pick him up!

Help him, someone!

- Oh, Tom, you're soaked!

- 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 Molly grew apace too.

Ah, you lazy slut, you!

Look at her, with that great belly on her!

That I should have lived to see this day!

You'd better have minded what the parson

said and not harkened after menfolks.

She's the first of this family to be a whore!

Mother, you yourself was brought to bed

with sister there a week after you married.

Ah, but I were made an honest woman of.

But you, you have to be doing with

gentlemen, don't you, you nasty slut, you!

You will have a bastard!

And I defy anybody to say that of me.

- My gentlemen'll look after me.

- Your gentlemen! Far from gentlemen!

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

...if these be constantly applied,

And then, though we cannot

absolutely promise success,

yet we 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. "

O God, our help in ages past

Our hope for years to come...

"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 angry passions 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!

Don't want the likes of her in this village!

Won't have her mixing with us good folk!

Take that, you hussy!

I'll get you, Goody Brown,

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