Name Of The Rose Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Name Of The Rose script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Sean Connery and Christian Slater movie.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Name Of The Rose. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

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Name Of The Rose Script



Having reached the end

of my poor sinner's life...



my hair now white...



I prepare to leave

on this parchment my testimony...



as to the wondrous

and terrible events...



I witnessed in my youth...



towards the end of the year

of Our Lord     .



May God grant me

the wisdom and grace...



to be the faithful chronicler

of the happenings that took place...



in a remote abbey

in the dark north of Italy.



An abbey whose name

it seems even now,



pious and prudent to omit.



May my hand not tremble

now that I start...



to relive the past and

revive the feelings of uneasiness...



that oppressed my heart

as we entered the battlements.



Should we tell him?



No. He will look

in the wrong places.






what if he learns it

of his own account?



You overestimate his talents

my Lord Abbot.



There's only one authority

capable of investigating such matters.



The holy Inquisition.



What is your opinion,

venerable Jorge?



Dear brethern,



I leave such worldly

matters to younger men.






- Yes, master.

- To command nature...



one must first learn

to obey it. Hmm?



So, return to the court,

turn the building on your left...



enter the court on you right.

You'll find the place you're in need of...



behind the third arch.



But you told me you'd never

been to this abbey before.



When we arrived, I saw a brother

making for this spot in some haste.



I noticed that he emerged more slowly,

with an air of contentment.



Thank you, master.



On behalf of the Benedictin Order..



I am honored to welcome you

and your Franciscan brothers...



to our abbey.



The other delegates

have arrived?



Ubertino de Casale has been

here for some weeks...



the others are due tomorrow.



You must be very tired

after your long journey.



No. Not particularly.



You're not in need

of anything?



No, thank you.



Well... then I...



I bid you peace.



I'm sorry to see that

one of your brethern...



has recently been gathered

unto God.



Yes, a terrible loss.



Brother Adelmo was one

of our finest illuminates.



- Not, Adelmo of Otranto?

- You knew him?



No, but I knew and

admired his work.



His humor and comic

images were almost infamous.



But he was said to be very young.



Ah, yes! Very young indeed.



An accident, no doubt.



Yes, as you say, an accident.



Well... that is I...



Brother William...



may I speak to you candidly?



You seem anxious to do so.



When I heard you were coming

to our abbey...



I thought it was an answer

to my prayers.



I said: "Here's a man who has the

knowledge both of the human spirit...



and of the wiles of the evil one."



Brother Adelmo's death

has caused much...



spiritual unease

upon my flock.



This is my novice, Adso.



The youngest son of the

Baron de Melk.



Please, do continue.



We found the body

after a hail storm...



horribly mutilated...



bashed against a rock at the

foot of the tower...



under a window which was...

How should I say this?



- which was...

- which was found closed.



- Somebody told you?

- Had it been found open...



you would not have spoken of spiritual unease,

you would have concluded that he'd fallen.



Brother William...



the window cannot be opened...



nor was the glass shattered.



Nor is there any access

to the roof above.



I see. Because you cannot

find a natural explanation...



your monks suspect the presence

of a supernatural force.



That's why I need the counsel of

an acute man such as you.



Acute in uncovering and

prudent, if necessary...



in covering up before

the papal delegates arrive.



Surely you know I no longer deal

in such matters.



I'm reluctant to burden

you with my dilemma, but...



unless I can put the mind of

my flock at rest...



I will have no alternative but

to summon the Inquisition.



That is Ubertino de Casale...



one of the great spiritual

leaders of our Order.






Many revere him

as a living saint...



but others would have him

burnt as a heretic.



His book on the poverty

of the clergy...



is not favorite reading

in the papal palaces.



So, now he lives in hiding,

like an outlaw.



Fellow Franciscans...



you must leave

this place at once.



The devil is roaming this abbey!



Ubertino, it's William.



William of Baskerville.



William is dead.



William... my son...



forgive me.



We lost trace of you

for so long!



I tried hard to be forgotten.



When we heard of your




I prayed to our Virgin

for a miracle.



Your prayers met with a

favorable response.



This is my young novice,

Adso of Melk.



His father has entrusted

me his education and welfare.



Get him out of here at once!

Have you not heard the devil...



is hurling beautiful

boys out of windows?



There was something feminine...



something diabolical...

about the young one who died.



He had the eyes of a girl...



seeking intercourse

with the devil.



Beware of this place.



The beast is still

among us.



I can sense him...

now... here...



within these very walls.

I'm afraid, William.



For you, for me.

For the outcome of this debate...



Oh, my son.

The times we live in.



But, let us not frighten

our young friend.



She's beautiful, isn't she?



When a female,

by nature so pervert...



becomes sublimed by holiness...



then she can be the

noblest vehicle of grace.



- I don't like this place.

- Really?



I find it most stimulating.




We must not allow ourselves

to be influenced...



by irrational rumors

of the antichrist.



Let's instead exercise

our brains...



and try to solve this

tantalising conundrum.



My master trusted

Aristotle, the Greek philosophers...



and the faculties of his own

remarkable, logical intelligence.



Unhappily, my fears

were not...



mere phantoms

of my youthful imagination.



A rather dark end for such

a brilliant illuminator.



Another generous donation

by the Church to the poor.



What if it wasn't that tower

that he fell from...



but somewhere over there and

the body rolled all the way down here?



No devil needed anymore.



Yes, more blood here.



That's where he fell from.



He jumped.



- Are you paying attention?

- Yes, he jumped.



Jumped? You mean that

he committed suicide?



Why else would someone go up there

at night in the middle of a hailstorm?



Certainly not to admire

the landscape.



Perhaps someone murdered him.



And then toiled all the way

up there with the body?



Much easier to get rid of it

through that sluice gate.



No. My dear Adso,

it's... elementary.






Do you think this is a place

abandoned by God?



Have you ever known a place where

God would have felt at home?



We praise Almighty God,

that there are no grounds...



for suspecting the presence

of an evil spirit among us...



either of this world or another.



We praise our Lord

that the debate...



that we are so greatly

honored to host...



may now proceed

without a shadow of fear.



We also praise the Almighty for sending

us brother William of Baskerville...



whose experience and

previous duties...



although onerous to him,

has been of such service to us here.



May serenity and

spiritual peace...



reign once more

in our hearts.



Master, if I may ask what...



onerous duties was

the abbot talking about?



Were you not always a monk?



Even monks have pasts, Adso.



Now, do try to sleep.



I just...



Yes, master.



A calamity!



It was a calamity!



Father! A tragedy in the pigpen!



Come! Come quickly!



This one, I grant you,

did not commit suicide.






Venantius, the Greek translator!



I'm to blame. Had I not been so eager

to believe your convenient explanation...



this second tragedy

might've been prevented.



I'm convinced brother Adelmo

took his own life.



Whether this death is connected

with it, I intend to find.



"After the hail storm,

with the second trumpet..."



"the sea became blood."



- And behold... here is blood!

- The prophecy of the Apocalypse.



"With the third trumpet,

a burning star..."



"will fall in fountains of water'



The devil is here!



Grated stem of adderwort

for treating diarrhea.



As for onions, administered

in small quantities...



warm and moist, they help to

prolong the male erection.



In those who haven't taken

our vows, naturally.



Do you find many circumstances in which

you apply... arsenic, brother Severinus?



Yes, indeed.



It is a most effective remedy for

nervous disorders.



If taken as a compound,

in small doses.



And what of not so small doses?






What was this monk's function here?



He was our finest translator

of Greek.



Entirely devoted to the works

of Aristotle.



Was he on friendly terms with

the handsome young Adelmo?



Yes. They worked together in

the scriptorium.



But in a brotherly way, you

understand? Not like...



I mean, flesh can be tempted

according to nature...



or against nature.



And they were not of the latter disposition.

If you ascertain my meaning.






Watch out for Satan,

who comes to know your soul.



Death is supreme.



You contemplate the apocalypse?



There, we have the devil.



Ugly like Salvatore.



My little brother,







I didn't say that.



You said "penitenziagite".

I heard you.



Noble brother, "magnifico"!



I don't have a good rhetoric.

But men must do "penitence".



I'm a monk. Saint Benedict!

Saint Benedict!



Salvatore, come here.



Master, what language was

he speaking?



All languages and none.



And what was the word you

both kept mentioning?






- What does it mean?

- That the hunchback, undoubtedly...



was once a heretic.



"Penitenziagite" was the rallying

cry of Dolcinites.



Dolcinites? Who were they?



Those who believed

in the poverty of Christ.



So do we, Franciscans.



But they also declared that

everyone must be poor.



So they slaughtered the rich.



You see, Adso...



the step between ecstatic vision

and sinful frenzy...



is all too brief.



So, could he not have killed

the translator?



No. Fat bishops and wealthy priests...



were more to the taste

of the Dolcinites...



not a specialist of Aristotle.



But yes, you're right.

We must keep an open mind.



We're very fortunate to have such

snowy ground here.



It is often the parchment on which

the criminal, unwillingly...



writes his autograph.



Now, what do you read from these

footprints here?



They're twice as deep as the

others, Master.



Good! And thus we may conclude...



That the man was very heavy.



Precisely! And why was

he very heavy?



Because... he was very fat?



Or because he was carrying

another man.



Let us commit the autograph

of this sole to our memory.



But the footprints lead away

from the jar, in this direction.



Adso, you're discounting

the possibility...



that the man was walking

backwards, dragging the body thus...



hence the furrows

created by the heels.



Now, where did the erudite

Greek translator...



meet the anonymous

author of his death?



Brother librarian...



perhaps you'll permit us to examine

the work of the two unfortunates...



that were so distressingly

guided off to God.



- Your request is most unusual.

- As are the circumstances of their deaths.



- Brother Adelmo sat there.

- Thank you.



A donkey teaching the

Scriptures to the bishops.



The pope as a fox.

And the abbot as a monkey.



He really had a daring talent

for comic images.



I trust my words didn't

offend you brother William...



but I heard the persons laughing

at laughable things.



You, Franciscans, however,

belong to an Order...



where merriment is viewed

with indulgence.



Yes, it's true. Saint Francis

was much disposed to laughter.



Laughter is a devillish wind which

deforms the lineaments of the face...



and makes men look

like monkeys.



Monkeys do not laugh.

Laughter is particular to man.



As a sin.

Christ never laughed.



Can we be so sure?



There is nothing in the

Scriptures to say that He did.



And there's nothing there

to say that He did not.



Even the saints have been known

to employ comedy...



to ridicule the enemies

of the faith.



For example, when the

pagans plunged Saint Maurus...



into the boiling water,

he complained...



that his bath was cold.

The Sultan put his hand in...



- and scalded himself.

- A saint...



immersed in boiling water

does not play childish tricks.



He restrains his cries

and suffers for the truth.



And yet, Aristotle devoted his second

book of poetics to comedy...



as an instrument of truth.



You have read this work?



No, of course not.

It's been lost for many centuries.



No, it is not!

It was never written!



Because Providence doesn't

want futile things glorified.



- Oh, that I must contest...

- Enough!



This abbey is overshadowed by grief.

Yet you would...



intrude on our sorrow

with idle banter!



Forgive me, Venerable Jorge.

My remarks were truly out of place.



Which was the Greek

translator's desk?



This one.



Come, Adso.



- What did you deduce from that visit?

- That we're not meant to laugh in there.



But you noticed how few books

there were on the scryptorium shelves?



All those scriveners, copyists,

translators, researchers...



thinkers... Where are the books

needed for their work?



And for which this abbey

is famed.



Where are the books?



- Are you testing me, master?

- What do you mean?



With all due respect...



it seems that whenever you ask me a

question, you already have the answer.



Do you know where the books are?



No, but I'll wager my faith that that

tower contains something other than air.



Did you notice that little door

the librarian closed as we came in?



Would that lead to the library?



Master! Quick! I have him!



- Stop! Enough.

- He tried to kill us.






Please, don't talk to the abbot

about his past.



He's innocent of the deaths

in this abbey. I swear it.



Brother Remigio, my price is

some information.



I could not comprehend

why my master so quickly dismissed...



my suspicions of the

heretical hunchback...



and why it was so urgent

that we visit the tower.



I assumed he could not

resist the temptation...



to penetrate the library

and look at the books.



No lock. Just as I thought,

it must be bolted from inside.



How do we get in?



Obviously, there must be

another entrance.



Let's see what the moon-faced

assistant librarian...



was trying to conceal this morning.



Tiny Greek letters.



Perhaps written by an ant

with inky feet.



Written with lemon juice.



Sagittarius... Sun... Mercury...






It's a zodiacal code

giving directions.



But to where?



Who's there?

Who's there?



- My magnifying glasses!

- They were on that book.



You go that way.



Come on out, you little bitch!



I know you're here.

I can smell you.



What is the matter with you?

Are you afraid of me?



I'll find you.



Who was she?



Who was this creature

that rose like the dawn...



was bewitching as the moon,

radiant as the sun,



terrible as an army

poised for battle?



Good evening, Salvatore.



This is where you catch them?



Here they're "piu grassi",




Do you eat them?



- Do you like?

- Thank you, no.



"Ich bin" good catholic.



As you're a good Christian,

you must tell me.



So Adelmo gave the

parchment to Berengar?



No. To the translo...

the transla...



- Translator! Venantius, the black monk.

- Yes, yes.



- And what happened then?

- Then...



Master! Here, quick!

I found another one.



Where are your wits, boy?



Have you ever met anyone with a

rib cage large enough to accommodate...



a heart of those dimensions?



'Tis the heart of an ox.



One of the monks probably

gave it to that peasant girl...



in exchange for her favors.



A girl? What?



The one I saw scuttling out of here.



- He must have been a very ugly monk.

- Why ugly?



If he'd been young and beautiful,

she'd have blessed him...



with her carnal favors for nothing.



Whatever happened in this

dreadful kitchen...



has no bearing on

our investigations.



The hunchback has convinced

me that brother Berengar...



the assistant librarian,

is the key to the whole enigma.



- What did you say?

- Nothing, master.









There's something I must tell you.



I know.



Then, will you hear my confession?



I'd rather you told me

first as a friend.






Have you ever been...



in love?



In love?



- Many times.

- You were?



Of course. Aristotle, Ovid,




- No. I meant with a...

- Oh. Ah.



Are you not confusing love

with lust?



Am I?



I don't know.



I want her own good.



I want her to be happy.

I want to save her from her poverty.



Oh, dear!



- Why "oh, dear"?

- You are in love.



Is that bad?



For a monk it does present

certain problems.



But doesn't St Thomas Aquinas

praise love above all other virtues?



Yes, the love of God, Adso.

The love of God!



And the love of... woman?



Of woman, Thomas Aquinas

knew precious little.



But the Scriptures are very clear.

Proverbs warns us:



Woman takes possession of a

man's precious soul.



While Ecclesiastics tells us:



"More bitter than death is woman."



Yes, but what do you think, master?



Of course, I don't have the benefit

of your experience...



but I find it difficult

to convince myself that...



God would have introduced such

a foul being into creation...



without endowing her

with some virtues. Hm?



How peaceful life would be

without love, Adso.



How safe... how tranquil...



and how dull.



How beautiful!  God, You have guided

our steps to this refuge...



of spiritual peace because

you wish for reconciliation...



as much as we, Franciscans.



Let us go, brothers!



- Thy will be done, oh Lord.

- Amen. Amen.



Brother Berengar?



He's probably hiding




with the book and

my magnifying glasses.



Brother Berengar?



Master, look! The door!



Brother Malachia!



I was just looking for your assistant,

brother Berengar. Is he here?






I see. Do you know where

we might find him?






Or is he perhaps upstairs,

in the library?






I'm curious to see the library

for myself. May I do so?






Why not?



It is strict rule of the abbot.



That no one is permitted

to enter the abbey library...



other than myself and my assistant.



I see. Thank you again.



Maybe something's happened to him.



Maybe we'll find him in water.



- What?

- The third trumpet...



as Ubertino said.

The book of Revelation.



That is not the book we're after.



You count this a chicken for you?

It looks more like a sparrow.






Welcome to our abbey,

brother Michele.



And your fellow Franciscan




Get in the line like the others!



Salvatore, let him go!



This is Cuthbert of Winchester...



one of our most esteemed

Franciscan guests.



Come, your grace. We have a

very urgent matter to discuss.



But the abbot and his colleagues

seem convinced...



that the devil is at work

within these walls.



He is!



The only evidence I see

of the devil...



is everyone's desire to see

him at work.



What if Ubertino is right and

you are wrong?



Don't forget, William, this debate

is crucial to us all.



We suspect the Pope

wants to crush our Order.



- And declare us heretics.

- Yes, and declare us heretics.



I only have one brother to

question and the matter is resolved.



William, we place our trust

in you.



Pray God that you do not

abuse it.



Brother William.



- Did you find a book in Greek?

- Huh?



I was right.



So was the book of




- We must talk at once.

- Indeed, we must.



And I have much to tell.



Just as soon as he and I have

examined this corpse.



Lime leaves in the bath

are used to alleviate pain.



He was left-handed?



Yes. Brother Berengar was

inverted in many ways.



Are there other left-handed

brothers at the abbey?



None that I know of.



Ink stains.



He did not write with his

tongue, I presume.



- A few lines of Greek.

- Yes, written by Venantius.



Notes from the book he

was reading...



just before he died.

You see how the calligraphy changes?



From this point on, he was dying.

And what can we conclude from that?



A spot of blue paint.



Yes, but a unique smudge

of blue...



blended by your finest

illuminator, brother Adelmo...



who possessed this parchment

before Venantius.



How do we know that?

Because those notes overrun...



Adelmo's blue smudge,

and not vice-versa.



Brother William...



this abbey is enshrouded

in a terrifying mystery.



Yet, I detect nothing,

in your obscure dissertation...



that sheds any light upon it.



Adso, the light.



Someone was at great pains

to conceal a secret...



of the first magnitude.



The calligraphy is, without

question, left-handed.



The only left-handed member of

your community is... or rather was...



brother Berengar,

the assistant librarian.



Now what kind of secret knowledge

would he have been privy to?



- I feel you're about to tell me.

- Books. Restricted books.



Spiritually dangerous books.



Everyone here knew of

the assistant's passion...



for handsome boys.

When the beautiful Adelmo...



wanted to read such a

forbidden book...



Berengar offered him the

key to its whereabouts...



enciphered on that parchment...



in exchange for unnatural caresses.



Enough, brother William!



Adelmo submitted to

Berengar's lustful advances.



But afterwards, wracked by remorse,

he wandered desperate...



in the graveyard, where

he met the Greek translator.



- How could you know this?

- There was a witness.



The hunchback.



Who saw Adelmo giving

this parchment to Venantius...



and running towards

the small tower...



and hurling himself

out of the window.



The night of my arrival, while

Berengar punished his sinful flesh...



Venantius, following

the instructions on the parchment...



entered the forbidden library

and found the book.



He took it back to his desk

and began to read it.



After scribbling down

those mysterious quotations...



he died with a black stain

on his finger.



The assistant discovered the body...



and dragged it down to the pigpen

to avert suspicion falling on him.



But he left his autograph behind.



The book remained

on the translator's desk.



Berengar returned there

last night and read it.



Soon after, overcome

by some agonizing pain...



he tried to take a soothing bath

with lime leaves...



and drowned.



He too had a blackened finger.



All three died because

of a book which kills...



or for which men will kill.



I therefore urge you to grant

me access to the library.



Brother William, your pride

blinds you.



By idolizing reason...



you failed to see what is obvious

to everyone in this abbey.



The papal delegation's arrived.

Bernardo Gui.



Thank you, brother William.



We are mindful

of your efforts...



but I should now ask you...



to refrain from further




Happily, there will be someone

arriving with the papal delegation...



who is well-versed

in the wiles of the evil one.



A man I believe you know,

only too well.



Bernardo Gui...



of the Inquisition.



Master, who is Bernardo Gui?



I've been searching the

entire abbey for you!



Michele wishes to speak

with you at once.






- Do you know who is coming?

- I know. Bernardo Gui.



Ubertino must be moved to

a place of safety.



The arrangements have been made.

It is you that concerns us.



You must now put aside these

totally irrelevant investigations.



And erroneous conclusions.



It is the truth. I'm right.



William is right,

he's always right!



No matter what the




to himself or anyone else,

William of Baskerville...



must always prove

himself right.



Was it not your vanity, your

stubborn intellectual pride...



that brought you into conflict

with Bernardo before?



Do not tempt fate twice, William.



Not even the Emperor will be able to

save you if you tangle with Bernardo.



My flesh had forgotten the sinful

pleasure that our union...



had given me. But my soul

could not forget her.



And now,



now that I saw her in the

midst of her poverty and squatter...



I praised God in my heart

that I was a Franciscan.



I wanted her to know

that I didn not belong to...



this rapacious abbey but to an

order dedicated to lifting...



her people out of their

physical destitution,



and spiritual depravation.



Farewell William.

You're mad and arrogant.



But I love you and I'll

never cease to pray for you.



Goodbye, dear child.



Try not to learn too many bad

examples from your master.



He thinks too much.

Relying always on the...



deductions of his head.



Instead of trusting in the

prophetic capacities...



of his heart.

Learn to mortify your...



intelligence. Weep over

the wounds of our Lord.



Oh, and do throw away

those books!



There is a side of Ubertino

that I truly envy.



Remember, fear the last trumpet,

my friends.



The next will fall from the sky.

And then will come a thousand...



- scorpions.

- Yes, we won't forget.



Which one frightens you most?



They all do.



Look closely.



- That one.

- My choice exactly.



After you.



Those are the foundations

of the tower.



But how to reach the library?



The rats love parchment

even more than scholars do.



Let's follow him.



    bolted victorian door,    ...






I knew it.



Adso! I knew it!



Adso, do you realize...



we're in one of the greatest

libraries in the whole of Christendom?



- How are we going to find the book?

- In time.



"The Beatus of Liebana".

That, Adso, is a masterpiece.



And this is the version annotated

by Umberto de Bologna!



How many more rooms?

How many more books?



No one should be forbidden

to consult these books.



Perhaps they're thought to be

too precious, too fragile.



No, it's not that, Adso.



It's because they often contain a

wisdom that's different from ours...



and ideas that could

encourage us to doubt...



the infallibility of the word of God.






And doubt, Adso,

is the enemy of faith.










Wait for me!



But I am waiting for you.



But I can hear you walking.



I'm not walking.

I'm down here.



Is that you up there?



Where are you?



I'm lost!



Well, Adso, it would appear that

we're in a labyrinth.



Are you still there?




How do we get out?



With some difficulty.

If at all.



You see, Adso, that is the charm

of a labyrinth.



Adso, stay calm.

Open a book...



and read it aloud.

Leave the room you're in...



and keep turning left.



"Love does not originate as an

illness but is transformed into it..."



when it becomes obsessive thoughts."



"It was the theologian Ibn Hazim who

stated the love sick person..."



"does not want to be healed

and his amorous day dreams..."



"cause irregular breathing

and quicken the pulse."



"He identifies amorous

melancholy with lycanthropy..."



"the disease that induces

wolf-like behavior in humans."



"The lover's outer appearance..."



"begins to change."



"Soon his eyesight fails,

his lips drivel..."



"and his face becomes covered

with pustules."



"Marks resembling the bites of

a dog appear on his face..."



"and he ends his days

by prowling graveyards..."



"at night, like a wolf."






I can see a lantern.



Don't move.

Stay where you are.



I see a man.



He's stopped.



What is he doing?



He's raising his lantern.



How many times?



Three times.



It's I.

Raise your lantern.






You foolish boy!



It's just a mirror.






- Save the books.

- I'm trying to save you!



A trap door, a mirror...

We're almost there.



If I've deciphered the instructions

of the translator correctly...



You didn't think me

so foolish as to surrender...



the parchment to the abbot

without making a copy, right?



"With the hand above the idol..."



"press the  st and the  th

of four'



Very good.



What idol?



That's what we're here

to find out.



The  st and the  th of four what?



If I knew the answer of everything

I'd teach Theology in Paris.



And... again.



You hear that?



It's my teeth, master.



- What?

- My teeth.



Don't be afraid.



I'm not afraid,

I'm cold.



- Well... we should return.

- Don't leave on my account.



I must confess, it eludes me

for the moment.



Well... let me see...



to find your way out of a labyrinth...



you come to a fork

you mark it with an arrow...



- Master.

- Please, dear boy, I'm thinking.



If there are arrows

at the forks, then...



Well done, boy!



Your classical education

serves us well!



Give it to me.



Give me!



Bernardo, sprinkle me

with the sperm.



Then, you have the love.



Spit, please.



Spit over there.



Thank you.



Lucifer, be at my service,

for a woman's love.



Let go of me!



Salvatore loves you!



It's burning!



Bernardo, look what we found.



Search the creature.



My Lord Abbot, you invited me to




the presence of the Evil One

in your abbey...



and I have already found it.



How many times have I seen

these objects of devil worship?



The black cockerel and the black cat!



But... She did it for the food,

not the devil. Tell him!



William of Baskerville must surely

recall the trial he presided over...



in which a woman confessed

to have had intercourse...



with a demon in the form

of a black cat.



I'm sure that you don't have draw on

my past experiences...



to formulate your conclusions,

Lord Bernardo.



No indeed. Not in the face of

irrefutable evidence.



A witch! A seduced monk!

Satanic rites!



Tomorrow we shall endeavor to

learn if these events...



are connected with the mystery

that afflicts your abbey.



Lock them up! That we may all

sleep safely tonight.



You said nothing!



I said nothing because there was

nothing to be said.



You're ready enough to speak

the truth...



when it comes to books

and ideas.



She's already burned flesh, Adso.



Bernardo Gui has spoken.

She is a witch.



That's not true and you know it!



I know.



I also know that anyone

who disputes the verdict...



of an inquisitor

is guilty of heresy.



You seem to know a lot about it.



Oh, yes.



Won't you tell me...



as a friend?



There's not much to tell.



I too was an inquisitor, but

in the early days.



When the Inquisition strove

to guide, no to punish.



Once, I had to preside at

he trial of a man...



whose only crime was to

have translated a Greek book...



that conflicted with

the Holy Scriptures.



Bernardo Gui wanted to

condemn him as heretic.



I acquitted the man.



Then Gui accused me of heresy

for having defended him.



I appealed to the Pope.



I was put in prison...






and I recanted.



What happened then?



The man was burned at the stake...



and I'm still alive.



Brother Salvatore...



these torments will cause me

as much pain as you.



You can end it before

we even begin.



Open the gates of your heart,

search the depths of your soul.



- Search!

- I'm searching, sir.



Then tell me...



who, among your brethren, is the

heretic responsible for these murders?



I don't know.



I don't know!

I don't know anything!



Stupid. I don't know anything.



Did I lie awake that night,

suffering for the girl...



or for myself?

I did not know.



With the dawn, came

the envoys of the Pope...



our adversaries in the forthcoming debate.



But it meant so little

to me now.



Your Eminence,

venerable brothers...



at last we meet

for this long awaited debate.



We have all traveled

great distances...



to put an end to the dispute...



that has so gravely impaired the

unity of our Holy Mother Church.



Good people throughout Christendom...



are directing their gazes

at these venerable walls...



anxiously awaiting our answer

to the vexed question:



"Did Christ or did He not own



the clothes that He wore?"



Beloved brethren of

the Franciscan Order...



our Holy Father, the Pope,

has authorized me...



and these, his faithful servants,

to speak on his behalf.



The question's not whether

Christ was poor...



but whether the Church

should be poor!



You, Franciscans, wish to see...



the clergy renounce

its possessions...



and surrender its richness.



The abbeys dissipate

their sacred treasures...



and hand over their fertile

acres to the serfs.



I found the book.



I found the book at the dispensary.

A book in Greek.



It was behind one of my jars.



Don't touch it.



Return, lock yourself inside.

I'll be there as soon as I can.



Thereby depriving the Church of the

resources needed to combat unbelievers...



and wage war on the infidel.



You forget that even the

greatest monument to Our Lord...



is but a pale reflection of His

infinite Majesty and glory...



Brother, quick! Salvatore

confessed to his heretical past...



and yours. You have but little time

to escape the flames.



Thank you, brother.



- Where do you think you're going?

- I wasn't trying to escape!



How dare you call the Pope's brothel

God's palace on Earth?



- Answer that, your Eminence!

- These murders are a sign.



- I don't believe it!

- Why not?



The Gospel states categorically...



that Christ possessed a purse!



It's a lie, and you know it!



Why did Our Lord command

his disciples on seven occasions...



to carry neither gold

nor silver?



Brethern, if you please!



A matter has occurred of

utmost gravity.



Let me go! I swear

I didn't kill him!



I was in the granary

taking the inventory.



I never killed anyone,

I swear it!



Then explain to us the purpose

of your escape.



I was...



I've already ordered your arrest

on other charges.



I see now that I was correct.



Had someone else not chosen to look

in the wrong direction...



several men of God might

still be with us.



"Hand above the idol,

  and   of four..."



"Use vulgar persons.

Take pleasure from their defects."



Please, dear boy,

I'm trying to think.



So am I, master.



Then use your head

instead of your heart.



And we can make some progress.



Are books more important

than people to you?



Did I say they were?



You never seem to care

about anyone!



Can't you at least show a little pity?



Perhaps that is the style

of my pity.



But pity won't save her from

the fire.



I remind all present that they are

bound by their vow of obedience



and, on pain of excommunication,



to aid the Inquisitor in his

painful struggle against heresy.



To sit with me

on this tribunal...



and to share the burden

of the verdict...



I will require the counsel...



of two fellow judges.



My lord Abbot...






Brother William of Baskerville.









Would you repeat your confession

of last night...



that you and your accomplice,

Remigio de Varagine...



were members of the heretical







Remigio de Varagine, do you deny

the confession of your accomplice?




I don't deny it.



I'm proud of it!



For the twelve years I lived here...

I stuffed my belly...



shagged my wick...



and squeezed the hungry peasants

for dimes.



But now you've given me

the strength...



to remember what I once believed

in with all my heart.



And for that I thank you.



To remember that you wantonly looted

and burned the property of the Church?



Yes! To give it back to

the people you stole it from!



And did you not also slaughter many

bishops and priests?



Yes! And I'd butcher you people...



if I had had the chance!



Holy Mary, Mother of God,

hear my humble prayer.



I know that my sin was

very great...



but I beg you to not let her

suffer for my wrongdoing.



Blessed Mother...



many years ago you granted

a miracle by saving my master.



Will you not do the same

for this girl?



My master says that the

simple folk always pay for all.



But, please, Holy Mother,

do not let it be so.



Guilty is that witch...



who has seduced a monk...



and practiced her diabolical

rituals in this hallowed place.



Guilty is Salvatore...



who has confessed to his

heretical past...



and was caught in flagrante

delito with a witch!



Guilty is Remigio de Varagine...



who, in addition to not repenting to

his former heresies, was caught...



attempting to escape after

murdering the herbalist Severinus.



That's a lie! I never killed

the herbalist...



or anyone else in this abbey!



I therefore, request you...



to confirm my

sentence, My Lord Abbot.



My heart is

filled with sorrow...



but I can find no

reason to contest...



the just sentence of

the Holy Inquisition.



And you, William of Baskerville?



Yes, he is guilty.



Guilty of having, in his youth...



misinterpreted the message

of the Gospels...



and he is guilty of having




the love of poverty with

the blind destruction...



of wealth and property.



But, my Lord Abbot...



he is innocent of the crimes

that have bathed your abbey in blood.



For brother Remigio

cannot read Greek...



and this entire mystery

hinges on...



the theft and possession of a

book written in Greek...



and hidden in some secret

part of the library.



Since the verdict of the Inquisition

has been disputed by Brother William...



we are obliged to extract the

prisoner's confession to murder.



Take him to the forge

and show him the instruments.



I'll confess anything you

want, but don't torture me.



I can't go through a night

like Salvatore!



Very well.

Why did you kill them?



Why? I don't know why.



- Because you were inspired by the devil?

- Yes... that's it.



I was inspired by the devil.

I am inspired by the devil!



Adralmech, Lucifer,

I summon you...



Lords of Hell.



The shepherd has done

his duty...



and the infected sheep must

now be consigned to the purifying flames!



You may burn brother Remigio...



but you willl not put a stop to the

crimes being committed in this abbey!



Other monks will meet their

deaths here...



and they also will have

black fingers and black tongues!



Your Eminence, I beg of you.



We, Franciscans, are as appaled

as you by brother William's outbursts.



Once more we've seen that

your theories protect heretics...



and lead to murder.

The debate is concluded.



It seems Brother William

has relapsed...



into the errors of which

he was formerly purged.



Having sought yet again

to shield a heretic...



from just punishment by

the Inquisition...



he will accompany me

to Avignon for confirmation...



of my sentence by His Holiness

Pope John.



I'm right.



If only I could find the book

and prove that Gui was wrong!



But the Antichrist

was victorious once more...



and nothing seemed to be

able to hinder him further.



Come, brothers.



When the pyres are lighted




Let the flames purify...



each of us

in his own heart.



Let us return to what was,

and ever should be...



the office of this abbey:



The preservation of




Preservation, I say.

Not search for...



because there is no progress

in the history of knowledge...



merely a continuous

and sublime recapitulation.



Let us now praise the Almighty...



that the bloody-eyed antichrist...



has been purged from our

sacred precincts...



and our monastery

has returned to peace.



The fifth trumpet! It had

the power of a thousand scorpions...



- He told me.

- Who told you?



His tongue is black.

His fingers are black...



just as brother William foretold!



It's brother Malachia, father.



- Malachia?

- Yes, father.



Dear God! Not Malachia!



Will it never end?



Lord Bernardo, William of Baskerville

was right. He said...



Yes! He knew!



Just as I too would have known,

had I been the murderer!



Find William

of Baskerville!



But we still don't know how to

open the mirror!



Perhaps by pressing the  st and

 th letters of the word "four".



But "four" only has   letters.



In Latin, "quatuor". Remember

the inscription above the mirror?



But we have to press

above an idol.



Not "idolum" as in Latin,

but "eidolon" as in Greek.



Meaning "image, or

"reflection". Our own reflection!



- This way, master!

- No, this way, Adso.



Here... Q and R.



Pray God we're

not mistaken.






Good evening, Venerable Jorge.



I've been expecting you

these several days past, William.



You must've flown

to this chamber to reach it ahead of us.



You've discovered many things...



since your arrival at

this abbey...



but the shortcut through

the labyrinth isn't among them.



So now, what is it that you want?



I want to see the book

in Greek you said was never written.



A book entirely devoted to comedy,

which you hate...



as much as you hate laughter.



I want to see what is probably

the only surviving copy...



of the  nd book of the

poetics of Aristotle.



William, what a magnificent

librarian you'd have been!



Here is your well-earned




Read it. Leaf through its secrets.



You have won.



Loos, schnell.



"We shall now discuss the way comedy

stimulates all the like and ridiculous..."



"by using vulgar persons..."



"and taking pleasure from

their defects."



- Carry on, William. Read it!

- Master, we must hurry.



If the light is too dim

for you, give it to the boy...



I'm sure he can read it.



I would not want my faithful pupil

to turn your poisoned pages...



not without the protection

of a glove, such as I am wearing.



The door!

Quick, before it shuts us in!



Venerable brother, there are many

books that speak of comedy.



Why does this one

fill you with such fear?



Because it's by Aristotle.



This way.



Do you, Salvatore, renounce

the devil and embrace Jesus Christ...



as your Lord and Savior?



Do you, Remigio de Varagine,

renounce the devil...



- and embrace Jesus...

- What for?



It's better die fast

than to spend...



the rest of life in prison.



The devil I renounce

is you, Bernardo Gui.



Do you renounce the devil

and embrace Jesus as your Savior?



But what is so alarming

about laughter?



Laughter kills fear...



and without fear

there can't be any faith.



Because without fear of the devil...



there is no more need of God.



But you will not eliminate laughter

by eliminating that book.



No, to be sure.



Laughter will remain

the common man's recreation...



but what would happen if,

because of this book...



learned men work

to pronounce it permissible...



to laugh at everything?

Can we laugh at God?



The world would relapse into chaos.



Therefore, I seal that

which was not to be said...



in the tomb I become.



He's there, behind the arch!



Save me!






Courage, brother!

Remember Dolcino!



Go on! I insist!



I insist!.



God, save him.



Stay back.



Burn the witch!



Do you dare to raise your

hands to the Church?



You won't leave!



It's all your wrong doing!

My master found out the murderer!



Help me!






I never regretted

my decision...



for I learned from my master

much that was wise...



and good and true.



When at last we parted company,

he presented me with his eyeglasses.



I was too young, he said...



but one day they would

serve me well.



And in fact, I am wearing them now

on my nose as I write these lines.



Then he embraced fondly, like a father,

and sent me on my way.



I never saw him again,

and know not what became of him...



but I pray always that God

received his soul...



and forgave the many little

vanities to which was driven...



by his intellectual pride.



And yet, now that I'm

an old, old man...



I must confess that of all the

faces that appear to me out of the past...



the one I see most clearly

is that of the girl...



of whom I have never ceased

to dream...



these many long years.



She was the only earthly

love of my life...



yet I never knew

nor ever learned...



her name.



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