Nicholas Nickleby Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Nicholas Nickleby script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Henry Cavill movie based on the Charles Dickens book also starring Romola Garai, Charlie Hunnam, Anne Hathaway, etc.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Nicholas Nickleby. 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.

Swing on back to Drew's Script-O-Rama afterwards for more free movie scripts!

Nicholas Nickleby Script


   

                   

What happens when the light first pierces...



 

                   

the dark dampness

in which we have waited?



 

                   

We are slapped and cut loose.



 

                   

If we are lucky,

someone is there to catch us...



 

                   

and persuade us that we are safe.



 

                   

But are we safe?



 

                   

What happens if, too early,

we lose a parent?



 

                   

That party on whom we rely

for only everything?



 

                   

Why, we are cut loose again...



  

                   

and we wonder, even dread...



  

                   

whose hands will catch us now.



  

                   

There once lived a man

named Nicholas Nickleby.



  

                   

Unambitious in business...



  

                   

he devoted himself

to the happiness of his family.



  

                   

But he is not the Nicholas Nickleby

you have come to hear about.



  

                   

That Nicholas Nickleby is here.



  

                   

And here.



  

                   

And here.



  

                   

-Said your prayers?

-Yes.



  

                   

I prayed that I should have this day...



  

                   

the same day we had today,

all the rest of my Iife.



  

                   

But someday you will find someone

who will have...



  

                   

a greater hold on your affections than I do.



  

                   

The most important journey of your Iife...



  

                   

will be to find her.



  

                   

Nicholas had a younger sister, Kate.



  

                   

Here she is again.



  

                   

And here.



  

                   

Goodness, how it goes.



  

                   

For their father,

these children were a divine burden.



  

                   

Never had money meant less to him...



  

                   

and never had he needed it more.



  

                   

His wife said:



  

                   

Speculate.



  

                   

Since it was well known

that Mr. Nickleby's brother, Ralph...



  

                   

many years his senior...



  

                   

had made his fortune in London

by just this method...



  

                   

so Nicholas Nickleby,

who had never speculated...



  

                   

speculated.



  

                   

It is a particular sort of triumph...



  

                   

that bankers

have made the word "speculation"...



  

                   

synonymous with "adventure"...



  

                   

when, indeed, it means only

that one may gain a great deal...



  

                   

or one may lose a great deal.



  

                   

Alas, for Mr. Nickleby, it meant the latter.



  

                   

Four stockbrokers

took villa residences in Italy...



  

                   

and     nobodies were ruined.



  

                   

Eliminating all he had saved...



  

                   

as well as any wish to earn it again...



  

                   

Mr. Nickleby took to his bed...



  

                   

until he surrendered

to the one certainty of life...



  

                   

which no amount of speculation

can prevent.



  

                   

What shall we do?



  

                   

Here is Nicholas Nickleby again.



  

                   

   years old...



  

                   

and head of his family.



  

                   

Come here.



  

                   

Said he would join me at the tavern.



  

                   

Turnips and carrots!



  

                   

Mind your back, miss.



  

                   

PIease, Mr. Nickleby, do you wish my father

to go to debtor's prison?



  

                   

Where your father sleeps, Miss Bray,

is of no concern to me.



  

                   

Father tells me the interest

is what makes the debt so unmanageable.



  

                   

-Could you not stop it?

-Tell him...



  

                   

to repay the Ioan.

That will stop the interest right away.



  

                   

You must bear up against sorrow, ma'am.



  

                   

I always do.



  

                   

Mine was no common Ioss.



  

                   

It was no uncommon Ioss.



  

                   

Husbands die every day.



  

                   

And wives.



  

                   

Brothers also.



  

                   

Yes, and puppies, too.



  

                   

Ma'am, you did not mention

what my brother's complaint was.



  

                   

We feel he died of a broken heart.



  

                   

Pooh, there's no such thing.



  

                   

Indeed, if you have no heart to break.



  

                   

In your Ietter, you said

the creditors had administered...



  

                   

and nothing was Ieft for you?



  

                   

We tried to sell the house...



  

                   

but no one seemed to want

a Iittle home Iike ours.



  

                   

So you spent what Iittle remained

coming all the way to London...



  

                   

to see what I could do for you?



  

                   

It was your brother's dying wish...



  

                   

that you might do something

for his children.



  

                   

How is it, when a man dies

without property of his own...



  

                   

he thinks he has the right

to dispose of others'?



  

                   

What a feckless, inconsiderate man.



  

                   

Our father, your brother, had a noble heart.



  

                   

Which beats no more.



  

                   

You, girl...



  

                   

you haven't been brought up

too delicately...



  

                   

to apprentice at some boarding school,

have you?



  

                   

Uncle...



  

                   

I will try to do anything

to gain me a home and bread.



  

                   

Now that I think of it, I know a dressmaker

who may have some work.



  

                   

You, boy, have you ever done anything?



  

                   

No.



  

                   

Noggs, where's the morning paper

I Ieft on my desk?



   

                   

-On my desk.

-Bring it to me.



   

                   

"Bring it to me."



   

                   

Stop parroting me.



   

                   

I wish I was a parrot. I'd fly away.



   

                   

I wish you were a parrot, too.

I'd wring your neck.



   

                   

-Read that.

-What is it, Nicholas?



   

                   

An advertisement.



   

                   

"Education at

Mr. Wackford Squeers' Academy."



   

                   

Oh, no.



   

                   

"Dotheboys Hall, at the delightful village

of Dotheboys, in Yorkshire.



   

                   

"Youth are clothed, boarded and booked...



   

                   

"instructed in all Ianguages,

Iiving and dead...



   

                   

"mathematics, orthography,

the use of globes and single stick.



   

                   

"Diet unparalleled.

An able assistant wanted.



   

                   

"Annual salary £ .



   

                   

"Master of Arts preferred."



   

                   

I'm not a Master of Arts.



   

                   

That can be got over, I believe.



   

                   

But it is such a Iong way off.



   

                   

If I am fortunate enough to be appointed,

what will become of those I Ieave behind?



   

                   

It will be my immediate care

to place your mother and sister...



   

                   

in some sphere of Iife

in which they may become independent.



   

                   

I will not forget what you have done

for me this day, Uncle.



   

                   

Nor shall I.



   

                   

Any chimneys to sweep?



   

                   

There he is. He's the man with one eye.



   

                   

Though the popular prejudice

runs in favor of two.



   

                   

-Is this one inch milk and the rest water?

-Aye, sir.



   

                   

Here's richness.



   

                   

When I say "one," you may take a drink.



   

                   

When I say "number two,"

the boy next to you may take it...



   

                   

and so on, till all five boys

have been nourished.



   

                   

But work fast.

We Ieave when the coach horn blows.



   

                   

Number one.



   

                   

Number two.



   

                   

Number three.



   

                   

Number four.



   

                   

Number five.



   

                   

Out you go.



   

                   

Subdue your appetites,

and you've conquered human nature.



   

                   

Yorkshire coach Ieaves in five minutes!



   

                   

Wait by the coach in a straight Iine.



   

                   

Squeers, this is the boy I told you about.

My nephew.



   

                   

I am most grateful for the opportunity

to serve, sir.



   

                   

-Mr. Squeers.

-Mrs. Shaygar.



   

                   

Could you give those to Henry?

Tuesday is his birthday.



   

                   

Delighted, my dear.

The boy's happiness is our prime concern.



   

                   

Three inside, two Iittle ones up top.



   

                   

Get up behind. If a boy drops off the back,

that's £   a year Iost.



   

                   

If he is the schoolmaster,

what kind of school can it be?



   

                   

I hardly know.



   

                   

BIess you both.



   

                   

Goodbye.



   

                   

Someday, we will once again

share the protection of the same roof...



   

                   

and revive the happiness denied to us now.



   

                   

I promise.



   

                   

Young man.



   

                   

Forgive me. I know the world.



   

                   

Your father didn't...



   

                   

or he wouldn't have done me a kindness

without hope of a return.



   

                   

You don't, or you wouldn't be bound

on such a journey.



   

                   

If ever you should need help

or shelter in London....



   

                   

Oh, dear. I once thought I never should.



   

                   

They know where I Iive,

at the Sign of the Crown in Golden Square.



   

                   

You can come at night.



   

                   

-Once, nobody was ashamed.

-Ashamed?



   

                   

Where are you, Nickleby? Up.



   

                   

If you should go near Barnard Castle,

there's good ale at the King's Head.



   

                   

Say you know me,

and I'm sure they won't charge you for it.



   

                   

And...



   

                   

you may say "Mr. Noggs" there...



   

                   

for I was a gentleman then.



   

                   

I was.



   

                   

-Walk on.

-Goodbye, Nicholas.



   

                   

Whoa!



   

                   

Smike!



   

                   

Is this Dotheboys Hall?



   

                   

No need to call it a hall up here.



   

                   

We call it that in London,

because it sounds better.



   

                   

Hurry, Iad!



   

                   

Where the devil were you?



   

                   

PIease, sir...



   

                   

I fell asleep over the fire.



   

                   

Missus said I might go in there for a warm.



   

                   

You'd have been a deuced deal

more wakeful out in the cold.



   

                   

Is that my Squeery?



   

                   

The crime of my dead eye, my Iove...



   

                   

is that I can't see you twice.



   

                   

-How's the pig?

-Just as you Ieft her.



   

                   

And the boys?



   

                   

Young Braithwaite's had a fever.



   

                   

Third time this year.



   

                   

I say it's obstinacy,

and we beat it out of him.



   

                   

No one can cure an illness

quicker than you, my Iove.



   

                   

This is the new man, Mr. Nickleby.



   

                   

-I hope you're not hungry.

-I am.



   

                   

Of course you are.



   

                   

I've got a nice hot stew

for you here, Squeery.



   

                   

And there's bread on the table.



   

                   

I brought the Ietters to the boys,

I'II read them in the morning.



   

                   

-I'm doing the brimstone first.

-Of course you are.



   

                   

Grand piece of meat in that, Squeery.

Put the heat back in you.



   

                   

Aye, it will.



   

                   

-How was your journey, my pet?

-Dreadful.



   

                   

-Was it perishing?

-Torture.



   

                   

What?



   

                   

Have you....



   

                   

Did anybody....



   

                   

Has nothing been heard...



   

                   

about me?



   

                   

Not a word, and never will we.



   

                   

But count your blessings.

You've been here all these years...



   

                   

and not a penny paid after the first six.



   

                   

No clue as to who you belong to,

and still I feed you.



   

                   

That's cause for joy.



   

                   

And here's more cause for joy.



   

                   

Little Wackford.



   

                   

Father!



   

                   

Look what your pa brought you.



   

                   

"Dear Kate...



   

                   

"My first morning here began with the news

that the pump had frozen...



   

                   

"but events soon distracted me. "



   

                   

-Smike!

-Who are you after?



   

                   

It's brimstone morning,

and I can't find the school spoon.



   

                   

We purify the boys' blood

now and then, Nickleby.



   

                   

Purify, fiddlesticks!



   

                   

We give the boys brimstone and treacle,

Mr. Knuckleboy...



   

                   

because if we didn't,

they'd always be ailing.



   

                   

It spoils their appetites and comes cheaper

than breakfast and dinner.



   

                   

You might say it does them good

and us good at the same time.



   

                   

Smike!



   

                   

-Where's the school spoon?

-PIease, ma'am.



   

                   

PIease.



   

                   

Don't contradict your mistress.



   

                   

Take it.



   

                   

Take it. Be thankful.



   

                   

A most invaluable woman that.

I don't know her equal.



   

                   

Nor I.



   

                   

-No, please!

-Take it.



   

                   

And thank me for it.



   

                   

She does things for them boys...



   

                   

that I don't believe half the mothers going

would do for their own sons.



   

                   

-I should think they would not, sir.

-No.



   

                   

"Mr. Squeers' return from London

is a great event...



   

                   

"as he brings the boys news from home. "



   

                   

Bolder, come here.



   

                   

No Ietters.



   

                   

But I saw your father in London.



   

                   

He was £ .   short in his payments.



   

                   

One...



   

                   

two, three...



   

                   

-four--

-Five, six.



   

                   

But the good news is, we'II keep you on.

Smike, take him out.



   

                   

Letter for Cobbey. Stand up.



   

                   

Your grandmother's dead.



   

                   

Your uncle's took to drink.



   

                   

That's all the news your sister sends,

except for eight pence...



   

                   

which will just cover the square of glass

you broke Iast week.



   

                   

"After this, classes began. "



   

                   

Where's Graymarsh?



   

                   

PIease, sir, he's cleaning

the back parlor window.



   

                   

Perfect. C-L-E-A-N, "clean."



   

                   

Verb, active, "to make bright."



   

                   

"Winder," a casement.



   

                   

"Win": W-I-N, "der": D-E-R.



   

                   

When the boy knows this,

he goes and does it.



   

                   

Where's Dorn?



   

                   

-PIease, sir, he's weeding the garden.

-To be sure.



   

                   

"Bot": B-O-T, "tin": T-I-N, "ney": N-E-Y.



   

                   

"Bottiney." Noun, substantive.



   

                   

Knowledge of plants,

which he's applying right now.



   

                   

That's our system, Nickleby.

What do you think of it?



   

                   

It's useful.



   

                   

"And so went the day.



   

                   

"I very much hope I can be of service here. "



   

                   

Are you cold?



   

                   

You're shivering, poor fellow.



   

                   

There.



   

                   

Oh, dear, my heart.



   

                   

I feel Iost here, too.



   

                   

But we must always hope.



   

                   

Hope?



   

                   

Do you remember the boy who died here?



   

                   

I was not here.



   

                   

What of him?



   

                   

I was with him that night.



   

                   

He began to see faces around his bed

that came from home.



   

                   

He said they smiled and talked to him.



   

                   

At Iast, he died...



   

                   

Iifting his head to kiss them.



   

                   

Yes?



   

                   

What faces will smile on me when I die?



   

                   

Who will comfort me that Iong night?



   

                   

They cannot come from home.



   

                   

They would frighten me if they did,

for I shouldn't know them.



   

                   

There is no hope.



   

                   

-No hope for me at all!

-What's the matter, Iove?



   

                   

Tilda's getting married to John Browdie.



   

                   

I'II be the only girl in the county

who hasn't posted my banns.



   

                   

John Browdie's no catch. I hate him.



   

                   

Eat your breakfast.



   

                   

I'II never eat again.



   

                   

How do you Iike Mr. Knuckleboy?



   

                   

I hate him, that's how I Iike him.



   

                   

He's a nasty, stuck-up monkey.



   

                   

He needs his pride brought down.



   

                   

I'II Ieave that to you, my Iove.

There's not a woman in all England...



   

                   

can bring a person's pride down

quicker than you can.



   

                   

Thank you, Squeery.



   

                   

Who's Mr. Knuckleboy?



   

                   

The new teacher.



   

                   

A smile Iike a sugar-drop,

and the straightest Iegs I've ever seen.



   

                   

The word for "window"...



   

                   

-is "fenÍtre", F-E-N-E--

-Oh, father.



   

                   

I beg your pardon.

I thought my father was here.



   

                   

-I'm so foolish, I'm sure.

-Not at all.



   

                   

Again, the word for "window" is "fenÍtre."



   

                   

I'm sure I am foolish.



   

                   

It's just my pen is in need of...



   

                   

mending.



   

                   

May I be of service?



   

                   

No, I just couldn't.



   

                   

AII right.



   

                   

Tilda!



   

                   

-What is it, Fanny?

-I am engaged!



   

                   

To whom?



   

                   

-To the new schoolteacher.

-The speed of it!



   

                   

What's he said?



   

                   

We don't need Ianguage.

If you could have only seen his Iooks.



   

                   

Did he Iook at you Iike this?



   

                   

If he did, you're engaged.

That's how John Iooked at me.



   

                   

Hope it was better than that.

Thee'd have run to the hills.



   

                   

Hush, John! So, when is the day?



   

                   

We just need a final declaration to settle it...



   

                   

but he's shy in the way of words.



   

                   

Fanny, I'm so happy for you.



   

                   

Have you read The Pilgrim's Progress?



   

                   

"The Pilgrim's Progress, by John Bunyan.



   

                   

"As I walked through the wilderness

of this world, I Iighted on a certain"--



   

                   

What do you think you're doing?



   

                   

Get on with your work!



   

                   

Don't give me that high-and-mighty Iook.



   

                   

He don't pay.



   

                   

Therefore, he works.



   

                   

Ladies.



   

                   

Quick, I must do something

to engage his sympathy...



   

                   

and bring him to the declaration.

Should I choke?



   

                   

I think fainting might be more romantic

than choking.



   

                   

Mr. Nickleby, help!



   

                   

-What's happened?

-I think she was undone by your coldness.



   

                   

Was I abrupt?

My mind, I'm afraid, was on other matters.



   

                   

I'm sure it wasn't deliberate.



   

                   

It's just that with all the feelings

so nearly expressed between you of Iate....



   

                   

If I caused any distress,

I reproach myself most bitterly, but....



   

                   

This is most awkward, but...



   

                   

-does your friend think I'm in Iove with her?

-Does she think so? Of course.



   

                   

But I've made no such declaration.



   

                   

Your eyes said what your mouth could not.



   

                   

Perhaps my mouth should say

what my eyes have not.



   

                   

I have scarcely seen the young Iady

three times...



   

                   

but should I have seen her    or      

it would be the same.



   

                   

I have not one thought,

hope or wish connected with her...



   

                   

unless it be part of the picture

I keep in my mind...



   

                   

of one day being able to turn my back

upon this accursed place...



   

                   

and never to think of it again

with any feeling but Ioathing and disgust.



   

                   

Refused by a teacher...



   

                   

picked up by an advertisement.



   

                   

He's insulted not just you,

but the whole house of Squeers.



   

                   

He's proud. I said so from the start.



   

                   

He must be wounded.



   

                   

I hate him Iike poison!



   

                   

Where is Smike? We need wood.



   

                   

He's with Mr. Nickleby.

He waits on him hand and foot.



   

                   

He must not have enough to do.



   

                   

We must think of how better

to occupy our Smike.



   

                   

They are so hard on me.



   

                   

But for you...



   

                   

they would kill me.



   

                   

I fear they may be killing you because of me.



   

                   

You will do better when I am gone.



   

                   

Gone?



   

                   

Are you going?



   

                   

I would go tomorrow if I could.



   

                   

Tell me...



   

                   

is the world as bad as this place?



   

                   

Oh, no.



   

                   

Should I ever meet you there?



   

                   

-Why, yes, I'm sure at some--

-No.



   

                   

Tell me.



   

                   

Tell me that I should be sure to find you.



   

                   

You would.



   

                   

And I would help you and aid you...



   

                   

and not bring fresh sorrow on you,

as I have done here.



   

                   

He is not here, sir!



   

                   

Show yourself!



   

                   

Who knows where he is?



   

                   

PIease, sir, I think he's run away.



   

                   

And what possible reason

would any boy have...



   

                   

to run away from my establishment?



   

                   

Do you think he's run away?



   

                   

I hope so!



   

                   

Squeery...



   

                   

we best go find him.



   

                   

But if you Iift one finger...



   

                   

to stop what's about to begin...



   

                   

you and I will fall out in a way...



   

                   

that will spoil your beauty.



   

                   

Take pattern by Smike if you dare, boys!



   

                   

You'II see what he'II get for hisself

when he's brought back.



   

                   

For brought back he will be.



   

                   

You go the north way, Squeery,

I'II take the west.



   

                   

Mr. Squeers!



   

                   

PIease!



   

                   

I beg you, forgive the boy!

He is not in his right mind.



   

                   

That will soon be the Ieast of his problems.



   

                   

Father, please don't Iet them find him.



   

                   

If they do, Iet him be dead...



   

                   

his Iast breath a free one.



   

                   

Does he have him? Is it Smike?



   

                   

Is she back with him?



   

                   

Then you do not have him.



   

                   

Thank God.



   

                   

Squeery!



   

                   

We have him!



   

                   

Is every boy here?



   

                   

Get back!



   

                   

And you.



   

                   

Have you anything to say?



   

                   

PIease, sir, spare me.



   

                   

I'II spare you.



   

                   

I'II flog you to within an inch of your Iife,

and I'II spare you then.



   

                   

Stop!



   

                   

This must not go on.



   

                   

I will not allow it.



   

                   

You dare to challenge my authority!



   

                   

Stay back!



   

                   

Touch him at your peril!



   

                   

I will not stand by and see it done.



   

                   

You will do as you're told!



   

                   

If you raise the devil within me, the

consequences shall fall on your own head!



   

                   

Once I begin, God help you!



   

                   

Stop!



   

                   

No, please, wait!



   

                   

I do not know why,

but I am going to show you...



   

                   

what you have never shown any boy

in this room.



   

                   

Pity.



   

                   

Wait. I say, wait!



   

                   

I've come from the schoolhouse.



   

                   

Mr. Squeers says he was attacked.

Beaten, and nearly senseless.



   

                   

When he said it was thee who did it,

I knew thee must not be allowed to Ieave...



   

                   

We will not be stopped!



   

                   

...without my shaking your hand,

and saying to thee, "Job well done."



   

                   

Give us thee hand, will you?



   

                   

Whoever heard the Iike of it?



   

                   

I only wish...



   

                   

I could've been there to see it myself.



   

                   

What do thee mean to do now?



   

                   

-I don't know.

-How much cash has thee got?



   

                   

-Not much. But I'II find--

-Take what you need.



   

                   

-I could not.

-PIease.



   

                   

Every boy in that room

would add to it if he could.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

Here, and take this bit of timber, too,

to help thee on.



   

                   

You keep a good heart.



   

                   

God bless thee!



   

                   

Beating the schoolmaster!



   

                   

God, it's the best thing

I've heard in    years.



   

                   

Tomorrow...



   

                   

where will you go?



   

                   

Perhaps to Liverpool.



   

                   

I could find work on a ship.



   

                   

Do not be anxious.



   

                   

Before I do anything,

I will get you to your home.



   

                   

Where is it?



   

                   

You are my home.



   

                   

Smike!



   

                   

PIease, may I go with you to the sea?



   

                   

I will be your faithful,

hard-working servant. I will.



   

                   

I promise I will.



   

                   

I want only to be near you.



   

                   

The word which separates us

shall never be said by me.



   

                   

And I promise you, from this night forward...



   

                   

the world shall deal by you as it does by me.



   

                   

Do you have a family...



   

                   

or are you alone, as I am?



   

                   

I have a mother and a sister.



   

                   

Dear God!



   

                   

If he has sent me here,

what has he done to Kate?



   

                   

I'm grateful that you came.



   

                   

It is a boon to a single man...



   

                   

to have such a Iady as yourself

for my hostess.



   

                   

I know Iittle of how these things

are done in London.



   

                   

Surely one of the other Iadies

would be more adept.



   

                   

You are the only Iady present.



   

                   

By the time I was finished,

she couldn't escape.



   

                   

Have you thought about the investment

I brought you?



   

                   

It has its merits and its risks.



   

                   

You know, Nickleby, I've noticed

you never seem to touch your wine...



   

                   

while we drink and drink.



   

                   

I Iike to keep a clear head.



   

                   

Yet you pour us so much.



   

                   

I must say, it is a pleasure

having your niece with us.



   

                   

He must have designed that, too,

to soften you into speculating.



   

                   

If I could see someone

as winning as Miss Nickleby...



   

                   

when I talk business with her uncle...



   

                   

I can think of no other place

I'd rather talk business.



   

                   

No other place on Earth.



   

                   

Hear, hear!



   

                   

Gentlemen, I feel

we are boring Miss Nickleby.



   

                   

Look, she can barely raise her eyes.



   

                   

The poor dear girl simply cannot understand

why no one here is making Iove to her.



   

                   

She gasps! I have uncovered her secret.



   

                   

You misunderstand me.



   

                   

In fact, I'II hold any man £  ...



   

                   

that Miss Nickleby can't Iook in my face

and tell me that she wasn't thinking so.



   

                   

Done!



   

                   

Pray, do not make me the subject of bets.



   

                   

Uncle, please!



   

                   

Why not, if the gentlemen insist?



   

                   

It's a minute's work.



   

                   

Just Iift your eyes and tell me that

you're not hoping I would make Iove to you.



   

                   

Get your money ready, gentlemen.



   

                   

She's not going to say it,

because she wants me to make Iove to her.



   

                   

Can you, girl?



   

                   

Can you say that you don't wish me

to make Iove to you?



   

                   

Hush, my dear.



   

                   

Don't mind it, now.



   

                   

Then Iet me go.



   

                   

Let me Ieave this place.



   

                   

You must dry your eyes first.



   

                   

Let me raise your head.



   

                   

There.



   

                   

Uncle...



   

                   

what have I done

that you should subject me to this?



   

                   

I didn't know it would be so.



   

                   

Can you remember

when you first came to Mr. Squeers'?



   

                   

Surely you did not

find your way there alone?



   

                   

I could not have.



   

                   

I was brought by a small, withered man.



   

                   

I was afraid of him.



   

                   

But then they made me more afraid of them.



   

                   

Tremendous. Positively tremendous.



   

                   

That'II be a double encore

if you take care, boys!



   

                   

Don't you concur?

Was that not the very picture of excitement?



   

                   

It was very good.



   

                   

-AIthough--

-AIthough?



   

                   

They might be better matched

in terms of size.



   

                   

How are you to get up the sympathies

of the audience...



   

                   

if there isn't a Iittle man

contending against a bigger one?



   

                   

I confess, I had not considered that.



   

                   

We have had a Iong day's walk

without much....



   

                   

Without much?



   

                   

Food.



   

                   

Dear me.



   

                   

Let it never be said

that any man went hungry here or here...



   

                   

when he was with Vincent Crummles.



   

                   

Boys, set the table at once!



   

                   

We shall adjourn to the dining room.



   

                   

My friend and I

shall try for a berth on a ship.



   

                   

Does no other profession suggest itself

to a young man of your figure and bearing?



   

                   

-I think the sea offers a great many--

-What about the stage?



   

                   

-The stage?

-The theatrical profession!



   

                   

I am in the theatrical profession myself.

My wife is in the theatrical profession.



   

                   

My children are in the theatrical profession.



   

                   

I had a dog that Iived and died in it...



   

                   

and the pony that pulled us here today

is third generation.



   

                   

His mother could fire a pistol...



   

                   

and get in bed wearing a nightcap.



   

                   

But...



   

                   

there is tragedy in the family.



   

                   

-In the pony's family?

-Yes.



   

                   

The father drank.



   

                   

Ended up in the circus...



   

                   

drinking port wine with the clowns.



   

                   

Got greedy, couldn't quit...



   

                   

and choked on the bottle.



   

                   

At any rate, I'd Iove

to bring you and your friend out.



   

                   

He has a capital countenance!



   

                   

Why, as he is now...



   

                   

he would make such an apothecary

in Romeo and Juliet...



   

                   

that he would be certain

of three rounds of applause...



   

                   

the minute he put his face

out of the practicable door!



   

                   

-And you!

-Me?



   

                   

-You were born for the Iamps!

-No, sir, I think--



   

                   

You could be useful in a hundred ways.

You could write plays!



   

                   

I dare say, I could scribble something,

now and then.



   

                   

Whatever you write, please include a pump

and two washing tubs.



   

                   

I just bought them at a sale.



   

                   

Could I Iive by such a trade?



   

                   

Like a prince!

With your own salary, and your friend's...



   

                   

and your writing, you could make £  a week!



   

                   

With a good run of houses, double that.



   

                   

Then I accept, and happily!



   

                   

Arise, young man.



   

                   

You've been transformed!



   

                   

You went to sleep a wretch...



   

                   

you awake an actor!



   

                   

-Mrs. C, could I have a word?

-What is it now, Mr. Folair?



   

                   

About my roar.



   

                   

There are two options available to you.

A rugged--



   

                   

My dear.



   

                   

I've made another discovery.



   

                   

Messieurs Nickleby and Smike,

may I present Mrs. Crummles.



   

                   

Welcome to our family of players!



   

                   

We were just about to rehearse

the climax of our drama.



   

                   

Will you watch with us...



   

                   

and feel with us?



   

                   

Ladies and gentlemen, places, please.



   

                   

I must warn you,

Folair has been hopeless today!



   

                   

PIay the terror, but don't Iose the joy!



   

                   

Your trap!



   

                   

Mr. Folair, shut your trap!



   

                   

Somebody forgot his spear.



   

                   

The flames! And remember, they're hot!



   

                   

Oh, dear, it's almost too real!



   

                   

Remember, Mr. Folair, you are a savage...



   

                   

not a demented fairy!



   

                   

Don't Iose your theatricality!



   

                   

Ninetta, dear, would you move

that flower to your other hand?



   

                   

Mr. Folair, there's a problem with your head!



   

                   

Perfect!



   

                   

Bravo!



   

                   

Thrilling in the extreme!



   

                   

Gentlemen...



   

                   

this is Miss Ninetta Crummles...



   

                   

the Infant Phenomenon.



   

                   

How old is she?



   

                   

She is    years of age, sir.



   

                   

Not more?



   

                   

Not a day.



   

                   

-My dear?

-Yes?



   

                   

It is of the utmost that I speak to you

about a great struggle...



   

                   

which is taking place outside

this mortal temple we call the theater.



   

                   

The contestants are

those aged combatants...



   

                   

art...



   

                   

and commerce.



   

                   

And art, it would appear from the receipts...



   

                   

is in its usual position of jeopardy.



   

                   

Might you and I have a word, ŗ deux?



   

                   

Excusez-moi.



   

                   

"Infant Phenomenon!"

"Infant humbug" is more to the point!



   

                   

She has been    for the past   years!



   

                   

They keep her on a diet of gin and water

to hold back her growth.



   

                   

-You don't say!

-I do say, sir. I do!



   

                   

That hammy sprawler keeps the rest of us

from doing our specialties.



   

                   

Mine is the Highland FIing.



   

                   

Would you Iike to see it?



   

                   

PIease.



   

                   

Ladies and gentlemen...



   

                   

based on the receipts

Mrs. Crummles has shown me...



   

                   

Liverpool has Iittle relish...



   

                   

for high-minded theatrical entertainments

properly conducted.



   

                   

We must give them our pity.



   

                   

Now, we must give them something

they will pay to see.



   

                   

Romeo and Juliet.



   

                   

But we have no Romeo.

Mr. Leadville's Ieg is broke.



   

                   

I don't mind! I can manage!



   

                   

OId friend...



   

                   

it may be time

for you to move on from Romeo.



   

                   

Move on?



   

                   

To what?



   

                   

Lear?



   

                   

Mr. Nickleby will take that part.



   

                   

And do you not think his friend

would make a smashing apothecary?



   

                   

His face practically erupts with drama!



   

                   

What an acquisition!



   

                   

These speeches! Listen to this.



   

                   

"Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand...



   

                   

"that I might touch that cheek."



   

                   

Are you worried

about how to memorize so much?



   

                   

I am, and I have barely a word to say!



   

                   

It is not only that...



   

                   

but a desire to know someone

to whom I could say such things.



   

                   

My father told me that the great journey

of my Iife would be to find such a person...



   

                   

but I'm nearly    years of age,

and I fear he may be wrong.



   

                   

-I hope not.

-I hope not, too.



   

                   

May I ask you why you were so upset seeing

that savage come through the trapdoor?



   

                   

You asked me yesterday if I had a memory

about my Iife before Yorkshire.



   

                   

There is but one thing I remember.



   

                   

It was the room in which I was kept.



   

                   

It was a lonesome room

at the top of a house.



   

                   

There was a large black hook

that hung down from the ceiling.



   

                   

Underneath it was a trapdoor.



   

                   

I was so afraid of what might be

on the other side...



   

                   

that there was not a single night

I did not cover my head in the bedclothes.



   

                   

So today, when a door so very Iike it

opened in the dark before me...



   

                   

I could not watch what came out of it.



   

                   

Carry on.



   

                   

We have fallen on strange times.



   

                   

Yes...



   

                   

but wondrous strange.



   

                   

-What's come then?

-I have.



   

                   

-What else?

-A Ietter, marked:



   

                   

"Urgent, as well as extremely important."



   

                   

It's from the Squeers.



   

                   

Wackford?



   

                   

Doubtful. It's perfumed.



   

                   

"Dear Mr. Knuckleboy, sir.



   

                   

"My pa requests me to write to you.



   

                   

"The doctor's considering it doubtful...



   

                   

"whether he will ever recover

the use of his Iegs...



   

                   

"which prevents his holding a pen.



   

                   

"He was brought to this state

by your nephew...



   

                   

"who jumped upon my pa's body

with his feet...



   

                   

"and dashed him to the earth."



   

                   

"Dashed him to the earth."

Very nice, my dear!



   

                   

"He also attacked him with Ianguage...



   

                   

"which I will not pollute my pen

with describing.



   

                   

"He assaulted my ma...



   

                   

"by driving her back-comb several inches

into her head.



   

                   

"We have a medical certificate that says,

if the comb had entered her skull...



   

                   

"the tortoiseshell

might have affected her brain.



   

                   

"The monster then ran away...



   

                   

"taking with him a boy

of desperate character...



   

                   

"as well as a garnet ring

belonging to my nearly dead ma.



   

                   

"Would you please send us money

compensating for its Ioss...



   

                   

"in the amount of   --"



   

                   

- .

- .



   

                   

"£  .  .



   

                   

"Remain yours, etc., Fanny Squeers."



   

                   

The boy has crossed me.



   

                   

-I did not expect otherwise.

-He's written as well.



   

                   

Pride, obstinacy.



   

                   

A reputation for fine feelings

are all against it.



   

                   

He's gone to Liverpool.



   

                   

Taken some employment.



   

                   

Otherwise it's all excuses.



   

                   

I predict he soon will be on some ship.



   

                   

Gone.



   

                   

Forever.



   

                   

Child...



   

                   

forgive me. I have been remiss

in my attentions to you and your mother.



   

                   

I came to enquire whether you and she

would accompany me to the theater...



   

                   

on Friday evening?



   

                   

That is most kind of you, Uncle.



   

                   

Very well.



   

                   

I shall call for you.



   

                   

She has accepted.



   

                   

I have a genuine interest in Shakespeare...



   

                   

especially after having been

to that dear Iittle dull house he was born in.



   

                   

How fascinating. May I?



   

                   

Nickleby? Is that you?



   

                   

Nickleby, are you all alone?



   

                   

What Iuck!



   

                   

The drama begins.



   

                   

Her eyes in heaven...



   

                   

would through the airy region

stream so bright...



   

                   

that birds would sing,

and think it were not night.



   

                   

See how she Ieans her cheek

upon her hand.



   

                   

Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand...



   

                   

that I might touch that cheek!



   

                   

Ay, me!



   

                   

I should Iike to be your glove...



   

                   

as much to touch your cheek...



   

                   

as to grip your fingers.



   

                   

Bravo!



   

                   

-Don't hurry.

-PIease do not detain me.



   

                   

Now, why do you keep up

this show of displeasure?



   

                   

Show? Nothing could be more sincerely felt.



   

                   

Indeed, you're prettier

when you are in a passion.



   

                   

I wish my brother were here. He'd be in a

passion from which you'd not soon recover.



   

                   

Linger with me just a moment

as they extinguish the Iights.



   

                   

I will not.



   

                   

-Will you deny me everything I want?

-If everything you want is wrong.



   

                   

PIease, Iet me rejoin my family.

My mother will be anxious.



   

                   

Your mother, child, is already anxious

that you should find a proper prospect.



   

                   

I would hazard that she is delighted

we are by ourselves...



   

                   

and I imagine the Ionger we are gone,

the Iess anxious she will be.



   

                   

Do not mock me.

You do not consider me a prospect...



   

                   

but a plaything, and I consider you neither.



   

                   

To treat me this way in a public place

could ruin my reputation.



   

                   

And every chance for a decent

and Ioving marriage will be gone.



   

                   

If it's privacy you want, Iet me give it to you.

But I'II have what I want and wait no more.



   

                   

I have a genuine interest in Shakespeare.



   

                   

Mother, may we go?



   

                   

It was delightful to see you.



   

                   

-Mother, please.

-Is something wrong?



   

                   

Uncle...



   

                   

I have been wounded past all healing...



   

                   

and by your friends.



   

                   

What can you mean? I have no friends.



   

                   

If they are not your friends, then more

shame on you for bringing me among them.



   

                   

I see you have

some of the boy's blood in you.



   

                   

I hope I have.



   

                   

I should be proud.



   

                   

You know what happened under this roof.



   

                   

Last night was far worse.



   

                   

You have influence with these men.



   

                   

One word from you would induce

them to desist.



   

                   

What of it if an old man whispers

inanities in your ear on Monday?



   

                   

Some other novelty

will spring up on Tuesday.



   

                   

In the meantime, you must be practical.



   

                   

The money that allows me

to help you and your mother...



   

                   

in some portion comes from these men.



   

                   

Uncle...



   

                   

I am grateful

for all that you have done for us...



   

                   

but do not mistake me.



   

                   

I am not a toy.



   

                   

I will Iive with dignity.



   

                   

If that means...



   

                   

that I must set up my mother

and myself on our own...



   

                   

and hide myself from your friends...



   

                   

I will do so...



   

                   

knowing God will help us,

even if you will not.



   

                   

If the boy drowns, or is Iost at sea...



   

                   

this house could be hers.



   

                   

How pretty she would make it.



   

                   

Dear girl, here. Take this.



   

                   

But I am not crying.



   

                   

The handkerchief's for me.

The arm's for you.



   

                   

To hear you speak so bravely

and not give way before him....



   

                   

My admiration moves me to this.

Your brother, he'd be so proud.



   

                   

That's right, yes. Give way now.



   

                   

Noggs!



   

                   

You're not alone. I'II see you soon.

And so shall someone else.



   

                   

God bless you.



   

                   

Again. "What ho! apothecary!"



   

                   

It's no use. I can't remember it.



   

                   

Smike, you can only fail by not trying.



   

                   

"Who calls so Ioud?"



   

                   

It is a crime that Mr. C has not found a spot

for my Highland FIing.



   

                   

Romeo and Juliet

will not be the same without it.



   

                   

"Who calls so Ioud?"



   

                   

-May I tempt you with a humble offering?

-PIease.



   

                   

The Iamps are Iit! Your public awaits!



   

                   

Let us use our bodies Iike instruments...



   

                   

and quiver together until music comes out!



   

                   

You will be wonderful. Just relax.



   

                   

Relax.



   

                   

"Who calls so Ioud?"



   

                   

If a man did need a poison...



   

                   

here Iives a caitiff wretch

who would sell it to him.



   

                   

What ho! apothecary!



   

                   

What ho?



   

                   

Who calls so Ioud?



   

                   

Well done.



   

                   

Mr. Nickleby?



   

                   

-This just came.

-Thank you.



   

                   

If it is an offer from a competing company...



   

                   

I hope you honor it

with the respect it deserves...



   

                   

none.



   

                   

Newman says Kate is in some sort of peril.



   

                   

He says we must come to London at once.



   

                   

You Ieave us?

At the very moment of your triumph?



   

                   

-I must, sir. It is a family drama.

-Those are always popular.



   

                   

We shall miss you, Nicholas.



   

                   

Very well, we'II have posters

out in the morning...



   

                   

announcing positively

your Iast performance for tomorrow.



   

                   

Then re-engagement

by popular demand for Friday.



   

                   

And then, one absolutely

Iast-time-ever appearance...



   

                   

on any stage, Saturday...



   

                   

with the possibility

of a second show to follow.



   

                   

No man has been more helpful

to me in my time of trouble than you...



   

                   

but I must say that tonight

was my absolutely, positively...



   

                   

final Iast performance.



   

                   

There is an urgent family crisis.

I must be no Iess quick in responding to it...



   

                   

than you would be if the Infant Phenomenon

herself were in danger.



   

                   

There is only one response to that.



   

                   

Farewell, my noble, Iion-hearted boy.



   

                   

-We shall never forget you.

-Nor we you.



   

                   

And have you anything to say, my boy?



   

                   

Who calls so Ioud?



   

                   

-Goodbye. Thank you.

-Farewell, dear friends.



   

                   

Ladies and gentlemen...



   

                   

if you found these goodbyes affecting...



   

                   

you will Iove our production

of Romeo and Juliet...



   

                   

miraculously recast

with that great Italian actor...



   

                   

whose name shall be revealed...



   

                   

only to ticket buyers

at tonight's performance...



   

                   

but who promises,

in honor of the Iocal tastes...



   

                   

to deftly insert into tonight's story...



   

                   

the Highland FIing.



   

                   

Mr. Noggs is in here?



   

                   

He said for us to wait for him here.



   

                   

Shall I get you something to eat?



   

                   

-It may be some time before Newman arrives.

-Yes, please.



   

                   

Not as much as Iittle Kate Nickleby!



   

                   

Tell us again what she said

in Nickleby's box.



   

                   

She said she wished

her brother were there...



   

                   

as he would be in a passion

that I would not soon forget!



   

                   

Didn't she also say something about,

"If you press yourself further...



   

                   

"I shall Iose every hope

of a Ioving and decent marriage"?



   

                   

I thought that was a bit much.



   

                   

A word with you, sir.



   

                   

Will you step apart with me?



   

                   

I see no reason to step in any direction

until you state your name and business, sir.



   

                   

My name is Nicholas Nickleby.

Miss Nickleby's brother.



   

                   

I denounce you as a Iiar

and impeach you as a coward.



   

                   

-You will tell me your name.

-Certainly not.



   

                   

If there is a gentleman in this party...



   

                   

he will acquaint me with the name

and residence of this man.



   

                   

Someone answer me!



   

                   

My sister's good name is at stake!



   

                   

This dog is bothering me.



   

                   

I am the son of a country gentleman...



   

                   

your equal in education and birth...



   

                   

and your superior, I trust,

in everything besides.



   

                   

It is as much in his name as it is in my own,

that I demand you answer for your conduct.



   

                   

Here is my answer, sir.



   

                   

Now, gentlemen.



   

                   

No!



   

                   

Come near my sister again...



   

                   

and I shall not be so forgiving.



   

                   

The Exchange is now open for business.



   

                   

You are known to me now...



   

                   

every suspicion viciously confirmed.



   

                   

And you to me.



   

                   

I? What wrong have I done?



   

                   

Did you not attack the schoolmaster?



   

                   

The monster was beating a crippled boy!



   

                   

You choose to restore that boy?



   

                   

No more than I would restore

a Iamb to a wolf.



   

                   

Then your appearance here

to beg my help is in vain.



   

                   

You mistake the point of this conference.



   

                   

We knew no shame until we knew you...



   

                   

and the degradations we have endured...



   

                   

whether at Dotheboys Hall

or in the dark box of a theatre...



   

                   

all trace their poisoned roots to you.



   

                   

You did not want us when we came...



   

                   

and it shamed me to seek help

from someone unwilling to give it.



   

                   

Now our only shame is the blood

which binds our name to yours.



   

                   

Therefore, your brother's widow

and her children renounce you!



   

                   

May every recollection of your Iife cast

a terrifying darkness over your deathbed.



   

                   

How soon that day may come,

I cannot know.



   

                   

But I do know that in our Iife,

you Iive no more.



   

                   

I disown him.



   

                   

I would give good money

to have him stabbed...



   

                   

and rolled into the kennels

for the dogs to devour.



   

                   

As would I.



   

                   

But I am sure he's Ieft London

in fear of my retribution.



   

                   

Oh, indeed, sir, he has not.



   

                   

I saw him just now in the city...



   

                   

boasting of his triumphal attack over you.



   

                   

I don't believe it.



   

                   

You were there Iast night, Lord Verisopht.

I wager you could believe it.



   

                   

I'II tell you what I believe.



   

                   

I believe you have

only yourself to blame, Hawk.



   

                   

What?



   

                   

If you had only told him who you were,

as he asked.



   

                   

I was wrong, too, not to interfere.



   

                   

I did not sleep the night, thinking about it.



   

                   

Whatever mistakes were made,

were made by the boy.



   

                   

I am his uncle,

and even I can see that he is no good.



   

                   

He was defending the honor of his sister.



   

                   

That is the very definition of goodness.



   

                   

How can you not be proud of what

he's done in defense of your own niece?



   

                   

You will be glad, my Lord, that I possess...





 

                   

Therefore, your brother's widow

and her children renounce you!



 

                   

May every recollection of your life cast

a terrifying darkness over your deathbed.



 

                   

How soon that day may come,

I cannot know.



 

                   

But I do know that in our life,

you live no more.



 

                   

I disown him.



 

                   

I would give good money

to have him stabbed...



 

                   

and rolled into the kennels

for the dogs to devour.



 

                   

As would l.



 

                   

But I am sure he's left London

in fear of my retribution.



  

                   

Oh, indeed, sir, he has not.



  

                   

I saw him just now in the city...



  

                   

boasting of his triumphal attack over you.



  

                   

I don't believe it.



  

                   

You were there last night, Lord Verisopht.

I wager you could believe it.



  

                   

I'll tell you what I believe.



  

                   

I believe you have

only yourself to blame, Hawk.



  

                   

What?



  

                   

If you had only told him who you were,

as he asked.



  

                   

I was wrong, too, not to interfere.



  

                   

I did not sleep the night, thinking about it.



  

                   

Whatever mistakes were made,

were made by the boy.



  

                   

I am his uncle,

and even I can see that he is no good.



  

                   

He was defending the honor of his sister.



  

                   

That is the very definition of goodness.



  

                   

How can you not be proud of what

he's done in defense of your own niece?



  

                   

You will be glad, my Lord, that I possess...



  

                   

such an unsentimental view

when I am managing your investments.



  

                   

Mr. Nickleby, I am no longer sure

I can make an investment with you.



  

                   

-Because of my nephew?

-Because of your treatment of him!



  

                   

And his sister!



  

                   

When I think of her leaving

the theater that night...



  

                   

I feel sick to recall it.



  

                   

Surely there is another way for me

to expand my fortune...



  

                   

than to enrich the tormentor...



  

                   

of these children.



  

                   

I see, from your eyes, you remember me.



  

                   

If the change you see in me,

from so long ago, does not move you...



  

                   

It does not.



  

                   

...then let the knowledge that I am

as helpless and destitute as a child.



  

                   

-Any man can earn his bread.

-How?



  

                   

Would you show me the means?



  

                   

I did, once.



  

                   

Not again.



  

                   

It's    years and   months

since you and I fell out.



  

                   

Do you remember the cause?



  

                   

You claimed part of the profits

of some of my business...



  

                   

alleging that you had brought it to me.

When I refused you...



  

                   

you threatened to reveal some....

What was it you said?



  

                   

Hold I'd gained over you in your absence.



  

                   

Rifling through my files, I suspect.



  

                   

So I had you arrested

for an advance you had not repaid.



  

                   

£  . That's all I owed you.



  

                   

Indeed, it was more.



  

                   

There was the interest.



  

                   

Seven years I have been gone,

under the most crushing conditions...



  

                   

to return as you see me now,

ready to renew my offer...



  

                   

but on terms much easier for you

than before.



  

                   

You will want this information.

I want only to eat and drink.



  

                   

Is that all?



  

                   

It depends on you whether that's all or not.



  

                   

Are you threatening now to tell others...



  

                   

of whatever you learned

when you were my clerk?



  

                   

To be plain with you, Mr. Brooker...



  

                   

the world already knows

what sort of man I am...



  

                   

and I do not grow poorer.



  

                   

-You cannot stain a black coat.

-That's not what I meant.



  

                   

Are those of your own name dear to you?

If they are--



  

                   

They are not.



  

                   

-But--

-But nothing.



  

                   

If we meet again...



  

                   

and you so much as notice me

with one begging gesture...



  

                   

you shall see the inside of a jail once more.



  

                   

That is my answer to your trash.



  

                   

Mother...



  

                   

this is Smike.



  

                   

-How do you do, Mr. Pike?

-No, Mother, "Smike," with an "S."



  

                   

-How do you do?

-Very well, thank you, Mr. Spike.



  

                   

And this is our landlady, Miss Lacreevy.



  

                   

She is the artist

whose work fills these walls.



  

                   

I do hope you will let me make

a miniature of you.



  

                   

Kate, this is my faithful friend

and fellow traveler.



  

                   

I have been so eager...



  

                   

to thank you

for being such a comfort to Nicholas.



  

                   

He is my only friend.



  

                   

I would lay down my life to help him.



  

                   

To a new beginning.



  

                   

-To new subjects.

-To an end of villains.



  

                   

To finding proper work as soon as I can.



  

                   

-And to our extended family.

-Hear, hear.



  

                   

Our family.



  

                   

-Pork pie, mister?

-No, thank you.



  

                   

Are you well?



  

                   

Yes, l....



  

                   

Only weary.



  

                   

You look so pale and were still so long.



  

                   

Forgive me.



  

                   

There are many opportunities here.



  

                   

Surely a fine-looking gentleman

is not reduced to such a necessity?



  

                   

I look no finer than you, sir.



   

                   

Yes, but I seek a worker, not work.



   

                   

How did this come about?



   

                   

Who's it for?



   

                   

My father.



   

                   

It's a bad thing for a young man

to lose a father.



   

                   

I feel more of a child

than when he was alive.



   

                   

And so I am obliged

to throw off my uncle's protection...



   

                   

and take care of mother,

Kate, and Smike myself.



   

                   

-But I grow desperate.

-Now, don't say another word.



   

                   

My boy.



   

                   

My good sir,

would you be so good as to wait here?



   

                   

-Brother Ned?

-Yes, brother Charles?



   

                   

I've found someone for the position. We

should make inquiries into his statements.



   

                   

If confirmed, I'm hopeful they will be,

we should assist him.



   

                   

It's enough for me that if you say he should

be assisted, then we shall assist him.



   

                   

He has a mother, sister,

and friend in need of support...



   

                   

as well as the demands of his own stomach.



   

                   

Compared to us, dear brother,

he appears to have no stomach at all.



   

                   

Frank, where are those cakes?



   

                   

-Mr. Nickleby, my brother, Ned.

-How do you do, sir?



   

                   

Thank you, Frank.



   

                   

-My friend.

-Thank you.



   

                   

Would you give us a moment

to discuss your salary?



   

                   

Now then...



   

                   

I suppose we should ascertain

his previous--



   

                   

His previous stipend, of course.



   

                   

Forgive me, sir, your previous salary was?



   

                   

£  a week, sir.



   

                   

An annual salary of £  .



   

                   

That's rather an unsuitable

emolument for a boy.



   

                   

For such a talented, prospective youth.



   

                   

Mr. Nickleby, we would like to offer you

a position here...



   

                   

working alongside our nephew, Frank.



   

                   

Based on the feeling I had during our walk...



   

                   

as well as by the rapidity

with which you ate that cake...



   

                   

we'd like to begin you on a salary

of £    a year.



   

                   

Is it not enough?



   

                   

-We won't wait long before improving it.

-No.



   

                   

It is the generosity of it that undoes me.



   

                   

For the first time since Father died...



   

                   

I feel we may at last be in a position

to find happiness.



   

                   

Thank you, both, a thousand times.



   

                   

-Are you at home?

-Yes.



   

                   

-To anybody?

-Yes.



   

                   

-To the tax gatherer?

-No.



   

                   

What about....



   

                   

I'd know your face anywhere.



   

                   

You'd know it better

if your nephew hadn't maltreated it.



   

                   

Who is this?



   

                   

My son, little Wackford.



   

                   

Indeed a specimen

of the Dotheboys's old diet.



   

                   

A miracle of high feeding.



   

                   

His flesh, his firmness.



   

                   

No tears.



   

                   

His oiliness.



   

                   

I'd expect nothing less.



   

                   

And Mrs. Squeers, how is....



   

                   

Mrs. Squeers is as she always is.

A joy to all them as knows her.



   

                   

One of our lads had an abscess last week.



   

                   

To see her operate on him with a penknife.



   

                   

And you? Have you recovered

from that scoundrel's attack?



   

                   

Only just.



   

                   

Your nephew is a vicious animal.



   

                   

That is why I asked you to come.



   

                   

Noggs...



   

                   

-see this package?

-It's big enough.



   

                   

Take it, please, at once.



   

                   

"Take it, please, at once."



   

                   

"At once, do you hear? If not sooner."



   

                   

He may be a little mad.



   

                   

I wanted to offer you...



   

                   

this as a recompense...



   

                   

to your troubles, though...



   

                   

it seems foolish...



   

                   

if the boy is unpunished.



   

                   

He might come after you again.



   

                   

Surely he's been punished by you.



   

                   

Our ties have been cut.



   

                   

I'm not sure

that he views that as a punishment.



   

                   

What about the other boy?



   

                   

-Smike?

-Yes.



   

                   

You said that my nephew

was quite attached to him.



   

                   

What do you know of him?



   

                   

Only that he came to us    or so years ago.



   

                   

The money was paid at first,

and then it stopped.



   

                   

But I kept the lad out of charity...



   

                   

which coincided with a period

of usefulness on his part.



   

                   

-No parents then?

-No.



   

                   

-No person with any claim on him?

-No.



   

                   

So he's yours.



   

                   

And he's been stolen.



   

                   

Would it not be well within your rights

to take him?



   

                   

That would settle your score

with my nephew.



   

                   

Wounding him, not through force...



   

                   

but through his own affections.



   

                   

Capturing wayward boys

is something of a specialty.



   

                   

It's most kind of you

to join me on my errands.



   

                   

Ribbons for sale.



   

                   

-Oh, dear.

-What is it?



   

                   

Father used to tell me...



   

                   

there were girls who sold ribbons

on the streets in London...



   

                   

and that if we ever came here,

he would buy me some as a remembrance.



   

                   

Ribbons for sale.



   

                   

How much, please?



   

                   

Twopence for the pink ones.

Penny for the others.



   

                   

I'll take the pink one, please.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

Help!



   

                   

Somebody! Help!



   

                   

It's Smike. He's been taken.



   

                   

It must be the wretched Squeers.

He was with your uncle.



   

                   

I didn't hear it all,

but they were speaking of Smike.



   

                   

-Newman, what shall we do?

-He stays at the Saracen's Head.



   

                   

Squeers, but no Smike.



   

                   

It's John Browdie.



   

                   

Is John Browdie good or bad?



   

                   

He gave me money

when he heard I'd beaten Squeers.



   

                   

He's very good.



   

                   

If it isn't--



   

                   

-What are you doing here?

-Tilda and I are on our honeymoon.



   

                   

Schoolmaster says this was a fine place

to stay. He's here as well.



   

                   

I know. You remember the boy

that was with me that night?



   

                   

Crippled lad? Of course.



   

                   

We suspect that Squeers has taken him,

just this day, by force.



   

                   

He's talked of nothing but revenge

since you left.



   

                   

Could you find out if he has him?



   

                   

Who do you suppose we've laid

our hands on, Wackford and me?



   

                   

In London?

Not that hateful, horrible Mr. Knuckleboy?



   

                   

No, but next door to him.



   

                   

-Smike?

-Aye!



   

                   

Me and young Wackford, we grabbed him!



   

                   

He was crying and begging me to let him go,

but I wouldn't.



   

                   

What have thee done with him?



   

                   

He's in the schoolmaster's room,

next to our room.



   

                   

-What is the way in?

-You must go through the inn...



   

                   

but the schoolmaster is sitting

in the front room, just by the stairs.



   

                   

Oh, dear, it's impossible.



   

                   

I could distract the schoolmaster.

Thee could slip past and go up to my room.



   

                   

There is a door

adjoining the schoolmaster's.



   

                   

Go through it, get the lad.



   

                   

I'll watch the stairs and again try

to distract him when thee come out.



   

                   

May I offer an opinion

with regards to this scheme?



   

                   

It seems foolhardy, redolent of danger...



   

                   

and doomed to failure.

Otherwise, I can find no fault with it.



   

                   

It is for Smike.



   

                   

Schoolmaster, I couldn't trouble thee

to take the head of the table, could l?



   

                   

I'd like to propose a toast to thee...



   

                   

and thy family.

To thee, Mr. Squeers and the lovely Fanny.



   

                   

Mr. Squeers...



   

                   

I'd like to congratulate thee.



   

                   

I think it's about time for a song.

Come on, Tilda.



   

                   

Be still. Do not worry.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

You are the best and bravest friend.



   

                   

Hush. Lean forward. I shall untie you.



   

                   

Grand singer, my wife.



   

                   

Little Wackford,

you left our bedroom window open.



   

                   

-I did not.

-Don't argue with me, piglet, go and shut it.



   

                   

I thought I would have to go back.



   

                   

Never.



   

                   

But we are not free yet.

Speed and silence are of the essence.



   

                   

-Thee talking about the same blacksmith?

-Aye, that's him.



   

                   

Saw him the other day. I stuck up for thee.



   

                   

He said thee weren't fit to live with pigs.

I said thee were.



   

                   

Thank you kindly, John Browdie,

you're an honorable man.



   

                   

Fine door, that.



   

                   

Quick. Squeers is outside.



   

                   

-It's been a grand day, John Browdie.

-That it has.



   

                   

He was stolen?



   

                   

Right from under you?



   

                   

To be literal about it,

and I'm not sure this will dissipate...



   

                   

your very strong emotions on the subject...



   

                   

but he was actually stolen

right from over me.



   

                   

My nephew does not know the enemy

he has made in me.



   

                   

I shall put his ruin

ahead of my own business!



   

                   

-Certainly done that already.

-What?



   

                   

The bank sent a letter

saying you were short in your accounts.



   

                   

Sir Mulberry also wrote.



   

                   

-He declined your invitation to invest.

-Rubbish!



   

                   

The boy is not invincible.



   

                   

People who wish to be thought of as good

are always weak!



   

                   

I will listen to every rumor

and every rumble...



   

                   

until I can strike him.



   

                   

And then I will strike him...



   

                   

until he can be struck no more.



   

                   

Now, my dear, you must....



   

                   

I do entreat and beseech of you....

You must get up.



   

                   

Please, a chair, place her here.



   

                   

Not a word for your life, brother Ned.



   

                   

Now, my dear sir, you must leave.



   

                   

Is there no way I could be of service?



   

                   

...to which they said no.



   

                   

It has now been three weeks.

She's never come back.



   

                   

And no one will tell me anything about her.



   

                   

They never answer any questions on it,

and discourage the posing of others.



   

                   

This distresses me.



   

                   

Nicholas, have you found

your matching half?



   

                   

Then we must think of how to find her.



   

                   

For when she knows you,

she will love you, too.



   

                   

This is our nephew, Frank.

This is Mr. Nickleby's sister, Kate.



   

                   

My uncle says you're quite a gardener.

May I show you around?



   

                   

Please.



   

                   

Mrs. Nickleby, would you excuse Nicholas?



   

                   

We have a small matter of business

to attend to.



   

                   

Of course.



   

                   

I never thought I'd find fault

with your brother's statements...



   

                   

but he has described you

as exceedingly pretty.



   

                   

May I offer the correction

that such a remark seems inadequate?



   

                   

He has told me much of you...



   

                   

and of how patient

you have been in teaching him.



   

                   

Do you remember the young lady

who fainted in our office?



   

                   

Fainted?



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

She is the daughter of a lady whom,

when she herself was young...



   

                   

I loved very dearly.



   

                   

You will smile, perhaps,

to hear an old man talk about such things.



   

                   

I have no such inclination.



   

                   

In fact, I'm eager to know

if she returned your affection.



   

                   

She made another choice.



   

                   

A man named Bray.



   

                   

Inconsiderate of all obligations,

except to those of his own leisure...



   

                   

he squandered his fortune, and then hers.



   

                   

Finally, after    years of bitter unhappiness,

she came to me...



   

                   

sadly changed. She was dying.



   

                   

And she asked us

to help her daughter, Madeline...



   

                   

should she ever seek our assistance.



   

                   

But Madeline has sought

these past two years...



   

                   

to earn her money on her own.



   

                   

However, the demands for service

her father places upon her...



   

                   

make steady, not to mention lucrative,

employment an impossibility.



   

                   

She came to us,

that day you caught her from fainting...



   

                   

and made the appeal,

asking only that her father never know.



   

                   

So we came up with this scheme...



   

                   

of which we are not unreasonably proud.



   

                   

-lt is a very good scheme.

-It's very good, indeed.



   

                   

Madeline is an artist...



   

                   

and we thought

that someone could make a feint...



   

                   

of commissioning her paintings

for a high price.



   

                   

This allows her to stay at home,

where he needs her--



   

                   

And allows our involvement to be disguised.

He knows us.



   

                   

We were hoping you would be the agent.



   

                   

Madeline, who is this?



   

                   

Who told a stranger we could be seen?



   

                   

I'm here to purchase some paintings, sir.



   

                   

-These three, please.

-Very well.



   

                   

I want a newspaper, and grapes,

and another bottle of wine!



   

                   

Yes, Father, very well,

I'll just finish with this gentleman.



   

                   

I want it now!



   

                   

Please, Father.



   

                   

This purchase will help us

pay for the things you want.



   

                   

This never happened

when your mother was alive.



   

                   

Sir.



   

                   

Pray, do not mention to my mother's

dear friends what has passed here.



   

                   

Father has suffered so much,

and is worse than usual this morning.



   

                   

You have but to hint at a wish,

and I would hazard my life to gratify it.



   

                   

Have you ever had the sensation

of looking at someone for the first time...



   

                   

and ever so quickly,

the past and future seem to fuse?



   

                   

-The first time I saw you--

-At your uncle's.



   

                   

And then, that day on the street by the wall.



   

                   

-You remember.

-I felt such concern for you.



   

                   

And I for you.



   

                   

Does that not mean something?



   

                   

That we felt so much, so deeply,

before speaking?



   

                   

And now that I know your history...



   

                   

I entreat you to believe,

I would do anything to help you.



   

                   

Do you know Madeline Bray?



   

                   

Nigel Bray's daughter?



   

                   

Indeed I do. She may be

the prettiest girl in all of London.



   

                   

Bray owes me money.



   

                   

What if I were to erase that debt...



   

                   

in exchange for his giving you

his daughter's hand?



   

                   

Would that put you in a better frame of mind

to consider my investment?



   

                   

I should say it would secure it.



   

                   

My...



   

                   

the canvas must blush, she flatters it so.



   

                   

Are they not extraordinary?



   

                   

I'm sorry to intrude,

but I was passing this way.



   

                   

I remember your telling me on our walk

how much you like violets.



   

                   

I thought I would bring some

for your mother...



   

                   

and all of you.



   

                   

That is most kind of you. They're lovely.



   

                   

Thank you.

Won't you stay and have supper?



   

                   

Why, of course.



   

                   

Smike, old friend, will you not join us?



   

                   

I'm not hungry tonight.



   

                   

You seem so melancholy of late.



   

                   

Do you fear Squeers might come again?



   

                   

It is not that.



   

                   

Then what?



   

                   

Speak of it, and let me help you if I can.



   

                   

I will tell you the reason one day...



   

                   

not now.



   

                   

I hate myself for it.



   

                   

But I cannot help it.



   

                   

Will you trust me to tell you later?



   

                   

Of course.



   

                   

My heart is very full.



   

                   

You cannot know how much.



   

                   

I shall want two more in a week's time.



   

                   

Is that possible?



   

                   

-There won't be any more sales.

-Father.



   

                   

Not since the news.



   

                   

News?



   

                   

What is it?



   

                   

-Can you not go see her and ask?

-No.



   

                   

That would arouse suspicion

on her father's part.



   

                   

She will come to us and tell us, I feel sure.



   

                   

I shall ask my sister and mother.



   

                   

Their feminine sympathies

may shed some light.



   

                   

There is no need. Your sister is here.



   

                   

Forgive me...



   

                   

but there is a matter about which

I am harboring the gravest concerns.



   

                   

It is Smike.



   

                   

Inhale.



   

                   

Again.



   

                   

He's gravely ill.



   

                   

Every token of rapid consumption

is present.



   

                   

His only hope depends upon

his being instantly removed from London.



   

                   

-Devonshire's the best place.

-We come from Devonshire.



   

                   

Whoever takes him should

prepare for the worst. He may never return.



   

                   

Good evening.



   

                   

Father...



   

                   

I know I am stronger than when you left us,

but not strong enough to lose Smike.



   

                   

If this is what that strength is for,

then I do not want it.



   

                   

Not Smike.



   

                   

This is my room.



   

                   

Once, when Kate was very little,

she was lost.



   

                   

After hours of search,

we found her here, fast asleep...



   

                   

before there was any grave...



   

                   

protected from the sun by this tree.



   

                   

Father took her up, still sleeping,

and told my mother that whenever he died...



   

                   

he was to be buried

where his dear little child had laid her head.



   

                   

It is a beautiful tree.



   

                   

It is like a home.



   

                   

What is it?



   

                   

Do you remember my telling you

of the man who took me to school?



   

                   

I just now raised my eyes

towards that tree...



   

                   

and there, with his eyes fixed on me,

he stood!



   

                   

Only reflect for a moment.



   

                   

Granted that he is alive...



   

                   

and wandering around

so lonely a place as this...



   

                   

so far from the public road...



   

                   

do you think at this distance of time

you could possibly know the man again?



   

                   

Anywhere.



   

                   

Let us go inside.



   

                   

I've had such pleasant dreams.



   

                   

You asked me some time ago

why I was so melancholy.



   

                   

Shall I tell you why?



   

                   

Not if it pains you.



   

                   

I only asked that I might make you happier.



   

                   

I know.



   

                   

I felt that.



   

                   

You will forgive me, because...



   

                   

I could not help it.



   

                   

Though I would've died to make her happy...



   

                   

it broke my heart to see.



   

                   

I know he loves her dearly.



   

                   

Kate.



   

                   

I love her.



   

                   

I procured a lock of her hair.



   

                   

It hangs at my breast, in these ribbons.



   

                   

When I am dead...



   

                   

would you please take it off,

so that no eyes but yours might see it?



   

                   

And when I am laid in my coffin...



   

                   

and am about to be put in the earth...



   

                   

would you hang it round my neck,

that it might rest with me forever?



   

                   

On my knees, I pledge it.



   

                   

Now....



   

                   

Now I can say it:



   

                   

I am happy.



   

                   

Newman.



   

                   

Smike is gone.



   

                   

Bless you, dear boy.



   

                   

Thank God for you, Newman.



   

                   

Always there to catch me.



   

                   

But what brings you here?



   

                   

The young lady

for whom you've come to care so deeply--



   

                   

-ls she in danger?

-She's to be married...



   

                   

-to Sir Mulberry Hawk.

-What?



   

                   

Before I tell you this,

promise you won't do anything rash.



   

                   

Tell me.



   

                   

It was your uncle. It was his idea.



   

                   

I overheard it,

and I'm sure he did it to wound you.



   

                   

I've so much more to tell you about him

and your dear friend Smike.



   

                   

Your uncle doesn't know it yet,

but he has just lost £     .



   

                   

What are you doing here?



   

                   

I come to offer aid

to the unhappy subject of your treachery:



   

                   

-Madeline Bray.

-Do you know her?



   

                   

I beg you for a moment alone.



   

                   

You were betrayed and sold for money.



   

                   

This web is of my own weaving.

I know what I am doing and why.



   

                   

I know why, too.

It only deepens my esteem for you.



   

                   

But you cannot degrade yourself

in your esteem...



   

                   

by giving yourself away

as payment for another man's debt.



   

                   

I will not disguise from you, sir,

that I have undergone some...



   

                   

pain of mind.



   

                   

I do not love the gentleman.



   

                   

This he knows,

and knowing, still offers me his hand.



   

                   

By accepting, I can free my father--



   

                   

Does your own happiness matter so little?



   

                   

Father is all that remains of my family.



   

                   

That is why I have come to offer you

a place in our home.



   

                   

You have been so good to me.



   

                   

But I cannot leave Father.



   

                   

He must come with you.



   

                   

He is too proud.



   

                   

I am proud, too...



   

                   

to know someone...



   

                   

so good.



   

                   

Madeline, come at once. It's your father.



   

                   

He wouldn't stir, even after I tapped him.



   

                   

Come.



   

                   

Let us leave this place.



   

                   

My curse upon you.



   

                   

My bitter, deadly curse upon you, boy.



   

                   

Your curse has no power over me.



   

                   

The structures you raised

all through your misspent life...



   

                   

are crumbling into dust.



   

                   

This very day...



   

                   

£      of your hoarded wealth are gone...



   

                   

in one great crash.



   

                   

-How could you know such a thing?

-lt is true, and you shall find it so.



   

                   

Your day is done.



   

                   

Night is coming fast for you.



   

                   

£     ? Can that be true?



   

                   

I've invested such a sum...



   

                   

and I am waiting...



   

                   

for news of it.



   

                   

But he could not know that.



   

                   

If he is right that you have lost the money...



   

                   

and the money that Bray owed you,

you shall not have my money now.



   

                   

He is...



   

                   

not right.



   

                   

My life collapsed like a house of sticks

the day my father died.



   

                   

I clung to my mother and sister,

then Smike and Noggs...



   

                   

hoping, waiting for I knew not what.



   

                   

I knew not what,

until that day when I opened my eyes...



   

                   

and the darkness

was replaced with the sight of your face.



   

                   

It was the island towards which

I'd been sailing, unguided, my whole life...



   

                   

the dream my father had promised me

before I could even imagine its existence.



   

                   

I have been happy for times,

little times, since he died...



   

                   

but never at peace.



   

                   

Not until I looked at your face...



   

                   

and saw the universe in order behind it.



   

                   

Nicholas...



   

                   

I feel you know what it's like

to be without happiness...



   

                   

but do you know what it's like

to be afraid of it?



   

                   

To see the world...



   

                   

as so conniving, you cannot take pleasure

in the appearance of something good...



   

                   

because you suspect...



   

                   

it is only a painted drop

behind which other troubles lie.



   

                   

That has been my life.



   

                   

Every good thing has been a trick.



   

                   

Until you.



   

                   

Yet I am afraid to take your hand.



   

                   

What if you cannot or will not...



   

                   

save me?



   

                   

I can bear to be maltreated

by the greedy or the weak...



   

                   

but to be let down...



   

                   

-by an angel--

-I am not an angel.



   

                   

I live as far from that lofty perch as any man.



   

                   

My temper alone, my impatience....



   

                   

Perhaps I should not list all my faults,

in case I am too persuasive.



   

                   

You are the one

who is so admirably able and strong.



   

                   

I am tired of being strong.



   

                   

As am l.



   

                   

Weakness is tiring,

but strength is exhausting.



   

                   

You see, I cannot save you...



   

                   

for I need saving, too.



   

                   

What are you proposing?



   

                   

Only this:



   

                   

that we save ourselves together.



   

                   

Nicholas, please. Think of the others.

People might see.



   

                   

I don't care.



   

                   

Noggs?



   

                   

My God.



   

                   

Ten thousand...



   

                   

pounds.



   

                   

Who bade you enter this house?



   

                   

-I have no business with you.

-Alas, we have business with you.



   

                   

We have come

to report a tragedy in your family.



   

                   

-Has something happened to my niece?

-No, sir.



   

                   

Though we do bring news of a death.



   

                   

Don't tell me it's her brother's death?



   

                   

That would be too welcome to be true.



   

                   

Sorry to disappoint you, Uncle.



   

                   

But it will not be the last unhappy

development for you this night.



   

                   

You know nothing.



   

                   

Every word I will say to you

is based on information...



   

                   

from an unimpeachable source.



   

                   

This man...



   

                   

who'd sell his soul for a drink?



   

                   

This is a good beginning.



   

                   

To tamper with a fellow like this,

whose every word is a lie!



   

                   

Who made me a fellow like this?



   

                   

If I'd sell my soul for a drink,

why wasn't I a thief?



   

                   

Swindler?



   

                   

Here, you, Nickleby!



   

                   

You say they tampered with me.



   

                   

Who was it tampered

with the Yorkshire schoolmaster...



   

                   

to take Smike away from them?



   

                   

You're listening now, aren't you?



   

                   

You are an eavesdropping,

drunken scoundrel.



   

                   

I deny the charge,

but ask regardless, what of it?



   

                   

I'm back, Mr. Nickleby.



   

                   

What have we now?



   

                   

Do you know who this is?



   

                   

We are satisfied

Mr. Brooker speaks the truth.



   

                   

A common thief.



   

                   

A beggar. A convict!



   

                   

Were you not once married?



   

                   

What?



   

                   

There's no crime in that.



   

                   

But you desired the marriage

to be kept secret...



   

                   

for if your wife's father had known...



   

                   

he would have changed his will

and denied you his fortune.



   

                   

Mr. Brooker also tells us

your wife had a child.



   

                   

Your child.



   

                   

Because the marriage was secret,

this, too, had to be kept secret...



   

                   

and you sent her away.



   

                   

Hush, my dear.



   

                   

Don't mind it now.



   

                   

Let me raise your head.



   

                   

There.



   

                   

So the child was put out to nurse, far away.



   

                   

His mother never saw him,

and she grew tired of the deception.



   

                   

So she eloped with another man.



   

                   

Soon thereafter, she came into her money.



   

                   

You, naturally, pursued her...



   

                   

Ieaving me in charge of the boy.



   

                   

I was told to bring him here, which I did,

keeping him in the garret.



   

                   

Neglect made him sickly.



   

                   

Mr. Brooker consulted a doctor...



   

                   

who said he must be removed from the city

for a change of air...



   

                   

or he would die.



   

                   

But he did die. I know that.



   

                   

At last I can say it.



   

                   

I told you that the boy had died,

but he had not.



   

                   

I had heard, like most men,

of Yorkshire schools.



   

                   

So I took the child to one

kept by a man named Squeers.



   

                   

I was able to pay the fees myself,

but then my troubles took over...



   

                   

and I was sent away out of this country.



   

                   

When I returned, nearly eight years later,

I sought you out.



   

                   

But you repulsed me.



   

                   

So I found out your clerk...



   

                   

and showed him there were good reasons

for communicating with me.



   

                   

I told him my story.



   

                   

But just to be sure that the boy

I was thinking of was the same boy...



   

                   

I went to Devonshire,

and knew at once that it was.



   

                   

Did Squeers...



   

                   

know who the child was?



   

                   

No.



   

                   

I told him his name was Smike.



   

                   

Then the crippled boy...



   

                   

is my son.



   

                   

Was your son.



   

                   

That boy, whose loving cheerfulness

and sweetness of heart...



   

                   

could have been

the life-saving comfort you need...



   

                   

as all your fortune falls away...



   

                   

that boy now sleeps in the ground...



   

                   

by my father.



   

                   

Nearer and nearer draws the time



   

                   

the time that shall surely be



   

                   

when the Earth shall be filled

with the glory of God



   

                   

as the waters cover the sea



   

                   

Ring on.



   

                   

For births that lead to early deaths...



   

                   

for marriages made in hell...



   

                   

and for the coming in of every year...



   

                   

that brings this cursed world

closer to its end.



   

                   

Would that it had come...



   

                   

before tonight.



   

                   

What can we do to work God's work



   

                   

to prosper and increase



   

                   

the brotherhood of all mankind



   

                   

the reign of the Prince of Peace?



   

                   

What can we do to hasten the time



   

                   

the time that shall surely be



   

                   

when the Earth shall be filled



   

                   

with the glory of God



   

                   

as the waters



   

                   

cover the sea?



   

                   

In every life, no matter how full

or empty one's purse...



   

                   

there is tragedy.



   

                   

It is the one promise life always fulfills.



   

                   

Thus, happiness is a gift...



   

                   

and the trick is not to expect it,

but to delight in it when it comes...



   

                   

and to add to other people's store of it.



   

                   

What happens if, too early...



   

                   

we lose a parent...



   

                   

that party on whom we rely

for only everything?



   

                   

What did these people do

when their families shrank?



   

                   

They cried their tears,

but then they did the vital thing:



   

                   

They built a new family, person by person.



   

                   

They came to see

that family need not be defined...



   

                   

merely as those

with whom they share blood...



   

                   

but as those for whom

they would give their blood.



   

                   

It is in that spirit

that we offer this heartfelt toast...



   

                   

to the brides and grooms.



   

                   

The brides and grooms.



   

                   

We are going to live in the old house again.



   

                   

And we will walk and sit here every day...



   

                   

soon, I hope, with our children.



   

                   

We will always be with you...



   

                   

and you with us, dearest Father...



   

                   

and cousin.











 
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