"Hurry up." "We're late." "Mr. Gilbert?" "Yes." "Good morning." "We thought you might have caught the earlier train, sir." "Yes, well, I did, but it was late, and getting a taxi wasn't easy." "Allow me." "The Historic Hall." "Built, 1550." "Destroyed by fire, rebuilt 1732." "Restored, 1874." "It's very beautiful." "Great Chapel." "Built in the year 13..." "Sorry." "Wilson, you're late." "Yeah, but I'm not really late." "I don't care." "Three minutes late, Wilson." "Cromwell's." "Write it down tomorrow?" "Today." "Any boy late for the morning prayers is given Cromwell's, which is the word here for punishment." "Why?" "If you ask me why it's called "Cromwell's,"" "I'll say, "'Y' is a crooked letter and you can't make it straight."" " Quite." " Don't worry, sir." "You'll soon get the hang of it." "Mr. Gilbert, new master for next term." "Show him in, please." "Mr. Foster." "Trouble with the alarm clock again, sir?" "Morning, boys." "Morning, sir." "Announcements." "The interhouse boat race was won by Ironsides." "And we have to thank, for the excellent organization, Mr. Hunter." "Tomorrow, 2:00 PM, cricket match." "Scarffenel boys versus School First-11." "And tomorrow evening at 8:30 PM, concert by Small Choir from the library steps." "Now, Prize Giving on Friday will be the earlier time of 9:00 AM." "This is to enable Mr. Fletcher to reach London in order to join the NCC squad in preparation for their match against the Australians at Lords." "Now, now, now, now, now." "There's no need, no... to get overexcited." "There'll be tears before bedtime." "Right." "Now, as you know," "Mr. Fletcher is giving up teaching to become a professional cricketer." "Now, I'm sure you want to wish him well for the future at Prize Giving." "Now, you'll also want to show your appreciation to Mr. Crocker-Harris on Friday." "Mr. Crocker-Harris is resigning because of ill health." "He's been with us for 18 years." "He's taking up less arduous duties at another school, and I'm sure we're all very, very sorry to lose him." "And of course, we'll be sorry to lose his wife, also." "She's been with us for 15 of those 18 years, and, uh, she's endeared herself to us all so much." "Now, hymn number 555," ""Lead Us Heavenly Father, Lead Us."" "Who do you think's the best left-arm baller in the country?" " You are!" " You are!" "Oh, no, really, come on." "Don't be ridiculous, come on." "Move." "Make way for Mr. Harris." "I'll do it on the back." "Where would you like it?" "Just over there?" "All right." "Come on, sir, it's the end of term, sir." "Oh, yes, sir." " Please, sir." " You promised." "I never promised." "I never make promises to juvenile delinquents." "You did, sir." "You just want to see me blow myself up, don't you, you little monsters?" "Frank." "No." "Excuse me, Frank." "Good morning." "I still need the details of your classes for next term." "Oh, right, uh, sorry, Andrew." "Um, could I get them to you today?" "I'd be obliged." "Just the final piece of the jigsaw as it were." "Would 12:00 at my house be convenient?" "All right, listen." "One more experiment, but if you let anybody know," "I'll have your heads, you understand?" " Yeah!" " All right." " You're like policemen." " Sorry?" "You get younger and younger." "Laura Crocker-Harris." "Tom Gilbert." "I'm taking over from your husband." "I know, you're going to be head of the new language department." "Andrew, my husband, was only head of classical languages." "Um, could you do me a favor?" "Of course." "Could you point to me Mr. Frank Hunter?" "I'll do better than that." "Follow me." "Laura." "Diana." "Are we still going into town?" "Uh, darling, I'll be right back." "Ah, Laura." "I'm going to miss your regular attendance in morning prayers." "Well, thank you, Headmaster." "I shall miss it, too." "It's a nice way to start the day." "And the library won't be the same without you." "Well, well, well." "Tell me, how is Andrew taking all this?" "Well, I hope." "Yes, thank you, Headmaster." "He's, um, bearing up." "That's sad." "Very sad." "Hey, Taplow, did you get your switch to science?" "I don't know." "I'm just going to ask." "You work in the library?" "Oh, just two days a week." "Now, I have to seat parents." "I'd like you supervise the sound system." " All right." " We need about 20 Tannoys and..." "Good morning, Laura." "Hello, Laura." "Excuse me for interrupting." "This is, uh, Keith Rafferty, head of sciences... frightfully important..." "and Frank Hunter." "Tom Gilbert." "Andrew's successor." "Hello." "Hello." "Hello, the headmaster asked me to show you to your room." "If you don't mind." "No, not at all." "I hear you did a bit of rowing up at Oxford." "Oh, God, another sportsman." "The head loves them on the staff." "I'm waiting to see who wins Wimbledon." "We'll need somebody to take over from Frank in chemistry when he goes back to the colonies." "Well, we must keep our bodies in shape, mustn't we?" "Sir." "Um, I was wondering if I could have a word with you." "Certainly not." "The bell's gone, it's too late." "That's right." "Cut along." "Sir?" "Cut along." "Frank, you don't say "cut along" anymore." "Oh, we don't?" "What..." "What do we say?" "We say, "fuck off."" "And remember, don't bully the big boys." "Pick on the little ones, it's safer." "Good luck." "Thank you." "I should say hello to Mr. Crocker-Harris." "Oh, um..." "Listen, you can talk to him later, I mean, we don't want to keep the headmaster waiting." " Okay." " Come on, I'll show you where you're sleeping." "Sir." "Do I disturb you, sir?" "Perhaps." "I know the rules, sir, but it's very important to me." "Have I...?" "Have I got my switch to upper fifth science, sir?" "You have obtained exactly what you deserve... no less, and certainly no more." "And, Taplow," "I shall expect you at the house for extra work at 12:15, precisely." "What is it?" "I'd fixed to play golf, sir." "Well, then you must unfix it, mustn't you." "You missed an hour last week." "You can't expect me to take money from your father under false pretenses." "He won't mind, sir." "I'm not sure I should take your word for that, Taplow." "No, sir." "The point is that we mind, don't we?" "Yes, sir." "We mind." "12:15, extra work." "And you're an exchange, I take it?" "Yup." "Just finished my first year." "I'm here for three." "Do you like it?" "Yeah, it's a great place to teach." "You just feel the history, the tradition." "They put me up here when I first came for my interview." "I didn't sleep a wink." "The beds also date back to 1667, I think." "I'll be fine." "It's only for two nights." "Are you married?" "Yes." "Kids?" "Yes, two." "We'll all be here next term." "Have you found a place to stay?" "Yes, we're taking the Crocker-Harris house." "Oh." "Yes, most of our classrooms are in this building." "Go on, there, there." "Up here, up here is the upper fifth science, where Mr. Hunter manufactures foul-smelling concoctions for his own perverted branch of learning." "Well, not as perverted as the classics." "Won't, uh, Mr. Gilbert be teaching the boys about rape and murder, incest?" "Unworthy, Mr. Hunter." "If you knew more about the classics, you scientists, you might be less keen to destroy this little planet of ours." "Wasn't it Einstein who said," ""We don't understand science properly"?" "No, I believe he said, "We don't know how to use it sensibly."" "Have a nice day, Mr. Gilbert." "If only he had a little more discipline." "Of course, he's an American, you know." "Shit, he's coming." "Now, boys, Mr. Crocker-Harris is not here yet?" "No, sir." "Six minutes to go, yet, sir." "Ah, six minutes." "Hello, Watson." "How's your father?" "Um, he's quite well, thank you, sir." "But my name's Wilson, sir." "Wilson, is it really?" "But your father's all right just the same, is he?" "Yes, thank you, sir." "He's quite dried out now." "Well, well." "Now, boys, this is Mr. Gilbert." "He's going to be the head of our new languages department." "I trust those of you who will remain in this class next term will be as well behaved with Mr. Gilbert as I'm sure you were with Mr. Crocker-Harris." "Good morning, boys." "It might interest you to sit in on this period, Mister..." "Mister..." "Gilbert." "...Gilbert, yes..." "Mr. Gilbert, and observe your future pupils in action." "Yes, if I see him, I'll warn him." "Thank you, sir." "Pay attention to Mr. Gilbert, boys." "He doesn't take over his official duties until next term, but he can still report your misdoings to me today." "I put 150 milliliters of hydrogen peroxide solution in this water bottle." "Biggles, had a nosebleed this morning and was kind enough to donate this blood." "So we'll just mix this with the hydrogen peroxide solution." "Biggles, what do we got in this jar here?" "Iron sulfate." "That's right." "Nick, could you tell me the chemical formula for iron sulfate?" "FeSO4, sir." "That's very good." "Now, hang on." "Well... now this has never happened before." "Um, boys, I think you ought to just back off now." "What do you got in your blood, Biggs?" "Okay, boys, what do you want to do next?" "You there." "What do you want?" "Piss off, Taplow." "All right, knock it off." "You tried to see me this morning." "Yes, sir." "Well, why are you following me around?" "You with the CIA?" "KGB?" "MI-5?" "No, sir, the lower fifth, sir." "Same thing." "What's your name, boy?" "Taplow, sir." "I'll be in your class next term if I get my switch." "This isn't next term." "This is this term." "Vamoose." "Get out of here." "Taplow." "What's the, uh, the chemical formula for ethanol?" "C2H50H, sir." "Rouse!" "Get out of here!" "Oy, Taplow." "You'll know." "What's up with the Crock?" "Why's he being forced to retire?" "There's nothing wrong with him." "The head just wanted to give him the chop, that's all." "I know exactly what it is." "One night..." "first time for about ten years... he had it away with his wife, and it gave him a heart attack." "That's you, I should think." "No, it's not his heart." "If there's anything wrong with him, it's probably piles." "Of course, it's piles." "It always gets 'em in the end." "Grow up, Buller." "It's not piles." "It's his heart." "It can't be his heart." "He hasn't got one." "Right." "Hitler's a sadist." "Cut it out, boys." "I'm not really interested." "It is his heart, sir." "I have extra lessons with him." "Thank you." "Sadists don't have hearts anyway." "Are you going to be running special projects?" "Yes, I believe so." "Well, the fact is, we both want to start a magazine, and you allocate the funds, sir." "Mr. Crocker-Harris is still in charge, isn't he?" "So he should settle this." "Well, sir, you see," "Mr. Crocker-Harris always says no to anything new." "I don't think he does hate people." "I don't think he likes people, either." "And he doesn't care whether people like him." "Then I'd say he hasn't a care in the world." ""You've obtained exactly what you deserve... no less, and certainly no more."" "I think..." "if he gave us a chance..." ""...no less, and certainly..."" "I think we'd quite like him." "And now, I won't tell you again." "The fact is..." "I feel sorry for him." "Sorry for old Hitler?" "You little ass crawler, Taplow!" "Stop..." "Stop it now!" "That's enough!" "Good morning, sir." "I'm Gilbert." "Good morning." "Wilson." "Sir?" "Apparently you were late for chapel." "Just a few seconds." "I-I was in the library, and you can't hear the bell." "No doubt you will recount those excuses to your housemaster." "I fear I'm not interested in them." "Sir." "These are your Latin verses." "Only one boy's efforts, Bullers', had any merit and that somewhat doubtful." "The rest were mainly abominable." "It seems to me that the best way of employing the first part of this period would be for all of you to attempt the verse again." "And if you should find the disturbance from the upper fifth science too distracting, you may console yourselves, as good classicists, with the thought that, to amend an aphorism..." "Taplow?" "Yes, sir." "You laughed at my little epigram." "Yes, sir." "I'm flattered at the obvious advance your Latin has made that you should so readily understand what the rest of the class did not." "Perhaps you would be good enough to explain it to them so that they can share your pleasure." "Come along, Taplow." "Don't be so selfish as to keep a good joke to yourself." "Tell the others." "I didn't hear it properly, sir." "You didn't hear it?" "Indeed." "Then why, may I ask, did you laugh?" "Why did you laugh at what you did not hear?" "Politeness, sir." "I beg your pardon." "Politeness, sir." "Toujours la politesse." "I'm touched, Taplow." "But if you really wish to show me politeness, you will do so now by translating verses less appalling than the ones I corrected this morning." "Sit." "Sir." "Still feel sorry for him?" "Finish now." "As this is the, uh..." "last time we shall meet as a class, it may not be amiss for me to say good-bye and wish you all the best of good fortune." "And now the end of term treat." "We will read a scene from the Agamemnon by Aeschylus." "Agamemnon is perhaps the greatest play ever written." "The scene I have selected starts with Clytaemnestra standing over the bodies of Agamemnon her husband and the prophetess Cassandra, both of whom she's just murdered." "Very well, Laughton, begin." "Uh, forgive me for interrupting, but I have the impression you understand nothing of what you're reading." "No, sir." "I..." "Clytaemnestra has just committed murder." "She is describing her foul deed." "She's unrepentant." "Hmm?" "Do you not think she would show some emotion?" "Well, of course, sir." "I was just..." "I realize, Laughton, that you may not have met a wife who has destroyed her husband." "Nor perhaps had Aeschylus." "Nevertheless, he knew, alas, that such wives do exist." "He used his imagination, Laughton." "Imagination... a word I think not in your vocabulary." "For example..." ""I stand upon mine act." "Yea, where I struck."" "Do you not think, uh, in saying those words she might reveal a flash of, uh, cruelty and of pride?" "Hmm?" "Defiant creature." "And then here..." ""And I confess it," ""I did use such craft he could not fly nor fend him against death."" ""I caught him in a net as men catch fish." ""No room, no rathole in his loopless robe." ""I struck him twice." ""And once and twice he groaned, he doubled up his limb." ""And with that stroke, committed him to Zeus that keeps the dead."" "Very well, you may leave." "Good-bye, sir." "Cheerio, sir." "Good-bye, sir." "Good-bye, Mr. Crocker-Harris." "Thank you very much, sir." "Good-bye, sir." "Good luck." "Fa-la-la-la-la-la" "In the winsome month of May..." "Oy!" "Walk!" "We've got to get him." "I don't know." "We'll get in trouble." "Come on, Taplow." "Trubshaw's always picking on you." "We could do it tomorrow." "Come on." "It'll be a laugh." "It's the last day of term." "What can they do?" "Thank you, sir." "I realize, of course, you will not be putting so much emphasis on the study of Greek and Latin." "Perhaps they may be even dropped from the curriculum, or made optional extras." "My remit from the headmaster is to organize a new language department, sir." "That really means modern languages." "I believe we need a greater concentration on German, French, Spanish." "It is, after all, a multicultural society." "Ah, yes, yes..." "the modern approach." "Not so many years ago, the great passion was to learn Russian." "Then came perestroika." "Russian wasn't trendy anymore." "Yes, well, thank you for allowing me to observe." "Not at all." "Perhaps we shall see each other later." "Hello." "Anybody home?" "Just me, sir." "Taplow." "You are following me around." "No." "Sir." "I've got extra work with Mr. Crocker-Harris." "Uh-huh." "But he's not here yet." "And Mrs. Crocker-Harris?" "Uh... no, she's not here either." "What are you studying?" "Aeschylus, sir." "The Agamemnon." "Have you ever read it?" "Well, no." "I can't say that I have." "Is it any good?" "Oh, um... well, as a matter of fact, it is, really." "Yeah, well, what's it about?" "Lt... it's about a wife who's unfaithful, and murders her husband." "I get it." "A comedy." "Say... say, listen, did you get a chance to talk to Mr. Crocker-Harris about your transfer to my science class?" "Yes." "And?" "What did he say?" "What he always says for everything." "Now, come on." "What is it?" "You have obtained exactly what you deserve... no less, and certainly no more." "Andrew?" "Andrew, is that you?" "Oh." "What a pleasant surprise." "Hi ya, Laura." "Didn't expect to see you here." "Hello, Taplow." "Oh, Andrew asked me to come by." "It's about my timetable for next term." "Oh, and he's not here." "Well, it's not like Andrew to be late, now, is it, Taplow?" "No, Mrs. Crocker-Harris." "Well, excuse me, gentlemen." "I think I'll just go put these things upstairs." "Do you think she heard?" "Heard what?" "Me impersonating..." "Frank." "Oh, I, uh..." "I've got your timetable here, Andrew." "Oh, excellent." "Just what I wanted." "Sorry I'm late, Taplow." "I'll just put these down." "Frank, we see you too rarely." "Hello, Laura." "Andrew, you were late for Taplow." "I have apologized." "I do hope you're going to be joining us at the concert tomorrow evening." "Oh, yes." "I'm looking forward to it." "Taplow, why don't you go and get the lemonade?" "You know where everything is." "Thank you, Mrs. Crocker-Harris." "How have you been?" "Frank, would you like to see the timetable for next term?" "Yes, I'd like that very much, Andrew." "Take that outside, Taplow." "We'll have our glass in the garden today." "Let's see." "There you are." "You've really done a beautiful job, Andrew." "Well, thank you." "It has the merit of clarity, I think." "I don't know what we're going to do without you." "You'll find somebody else, I expect." "Or, uh... perhaps they'll buy a computer." "Say, what exactly is this new job of yours, Andrew?" "Teaching English to foreigners." "Andrew's doctor believes it will be less of a strain than the lower fifth." "Well, I-I'm really sorry, Andrew." "There's nothing to be sorry about." "I'm looking forward to the change." "See you later." "So long, Andrew." "Begin, Taplow." ""Oh, Clytemnestra, we are surprised that..."" ""We marvel at."" ""We marvel at thy tongue..." "Mm." ""...how bold thou art, that thou can..." ""Canst" is more poetic." "Canst." ""...canst utter such a boastful speech..."" "Mm." ""...over the, the bloody corpse of the husband, you've just so foully murdered."" "Taplow, I presume you're using a different text to mine." "No, sir." "That's strange, I see no" ""foully murdered," no "bloody corpse."" "Simply..."husband."" "Yes, sir." "Why do you insist on inventing words that are simply not there?" "Go on, Taplow." "Go on, I wish to understand." "I was thinking a bit like this, sir." "There she is, Clytemnestra, she really hates her husband Agamemnon." "He returns from winning the war, and what does she do?" "She welcomes him back and then murders him." "She stabs him over and over and then makes a speech..." "I'm, I'm delighted in your interest in the more lurid aspects of dramaturgy, Taplow." "But I still fail to understand why you should wish to improve Aeschylus." "Today in class, sir... for the first time I got a sense of the horror." "L-It was so vivid." "I mean, why can't we put more life into the translation, sir, like you did?" "Why can't we use words like, like, "bloody" and "corpse"" "and "murder?"" "Hmm." "When I was a very young man, not much older than you are now," "I wrote for my own pleasure a translation of the Agamemnon, a very free translation, I remember, in rhyming couplets." "That must have been hard work." "Yes, it was, it was." "Very hard work." "But I derived great pleasure from it, because the play had excited and moved me as it did you, and I wanted to communicate, however imperfectly, some of that emotion." "A little like what happened in class today." "My translation, I remember thinking was very beautiful... almost more beautiful than the original." "Was it ever published?" "I'm sorry?" "Was it ever published?" "Oh, no, no." "No, it was never published." "Shall I go on, sir?" "Uh, no, I fear we've run out of time." "Um... may I go now, sir?" "Yes." "And, Taplow..." ""The art of learning is to conceal learning."" "And I wouldn't try it on any of your friends." "It isn't particularly funny." "I wouldn't know, sir." "Turn that, turn that ghastly noise down!" "Off!" "Now, Buller..." "Where's Buller?" "Your mother's just telephoned." "She's awfully sorry, but neither she nor your father are going to be able to get down here today." "She wants you to take the train tomorrow." "Shrewsbury." "Then the chauffeur will meet you at the station." "You all right, Buller?" "Sir." "Good." "Keep the noise down." "I know it's hard, Buller." "But you'll get used to it, believe me." "Fuck off." "Good morning." "Morning." "Sleep well?" "Yes, fine, thanks." "And you?" "Yes, fine, thank you." "There you are." "Oh, there's a... a letter for you." "Is everything all right?" "Your mother all right?" "Yes." "Fine, fine." "Um..." "I forgot to cancel the papers." "Do you need anything from the village?" "No, no, thank you." "Laura." "Were you expecting someone else?" "I thought we agreed that we wouldn't meet here." "Who were you expecting?" "Gilbert, the new guy." "Laura... come away from the window please." "Would you please come away from the window?" "Aren't you going to say hello?" "I love you guilty." "It's the Puritan in you." "I love fucking you." "You talk when you make love." "Kettle, it's, it's just boiling." "Which is more, apparently, than we can say for you." "Laura, I haven't got much time." "No, I don't think I have either." "Tea?" "Frank, you're more English than the English." "Listen, if Gilbert does come, let's just say you're here delivering a message from Andrew." "To hell with Gilbert." "I've got good news." "Oh?" "What?" "Don't worry, I'm not pregnant." "I've had a letter from my mother." "She's decided to visit my sister in Canada." "So, I can have her cottage in Dorset for the whole summer." "That's great." "Andrew starts his new job in September, but I don't have to go there immediately." "That means you and I can be alone together." "If you like." "Just think, darling... whole months." "You will come, won't you?" "Frank?" "Frank..." "I need you." "I need to be with you." "You know my, my father's not well." "I may have to go back to the States." "God, you remind me of him." "Of who?" "Of whom." "Of whom, of Andrew, of course." "He didn't always used to be the old Croc, you know." "He wasn't much older than you are now when I first met him." "He was so pure, so... so idealistic." "But just as ungiving." "What happened to him?" "I did." "Weren't you two ever happy together?" "I can't remember." "Can't remember." "Laura, I..." "I feel sorry for him." "No you don't." "You feel guilty because you're screwing his wife." "Or to be more accurate, because his wife is screwing you." "I think we should tell him." "Tell him what?" "About us." "What, are you insane?" "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." "And what the hell would you want to tell him for, Laura?" "What are we talking about now..." "Marriage?" "Divorce?" "I'm talking about us." "I don't want us to become just good friends." "Listen, Laura..." "Don't." "Deja vu." "I know exactly what you're going to say now." "You're going to say you're not ready to settle down." "Isn't that what you were going to say?" "Anyone home?" "Oh, yes, come in," "Headmaster." "Ah, Andrew, Andrew, can't stay long." "Lovely day." "Beautiful, yes." "Uh, would you like to sit down?" "Two things I wanted to discuss with you." "Can I offer you tea or anything?" "Oh, no, don't bother about tea." "You have enough to do." "Two most stressful things in life... moving and divorce." "You know, it's extremely unlucky... ill health should have forced your retirement." "Well, I felt that I could have continued, Headmaster." "If you remember, it was yourself and the governors who thought that my health..." "Well, quite so, quite so." "I was going on to say that it's unlucky about your having to retire before becoming entitled to a pension." "You have decided not to award me a pension." "Not I. Not I." "Lord Baxter and the governors thought long and hard about it." "They were felt unable to, um..." "make an exception." "But, uh... exceptions have been made in the past, have they not?" "Ah." "Richardson, you mean." "Well, those were exceptional circumstances." "After all, it was in playing football, staff against school, he received his injury." "I understand." "The second thing I wanted..." "Oh, Headmaster." "I was just leaving." "Oh, uh... well, can I offer you a coffee or... it's too early for sherry, isn't it?" "Oh, it's far too early." "No, I'll leave you to it." "You're very busy." "Oh, Headmaster," "I've completed the timetable." "It's hot." "Would you like to take it with you?" "Oh, thank you very much." "Thank you very much, Andrew." "Oh, what do you make of your successor, young Tom Gilbert?" "He seems very agreeable." "Very agreeable." "High academic honors at Oxford." "Chancellor's Prize for Latin verse." "Oh, Andrew got that, too." "And a double First." "Of course you did." "Sometimes it's hard to remember, you know, but you must be one of the most brilliant scholars ever to come to this school." "You're very kind." "Oh, when I say it's hard to remember, it's because you've done so many other good things." "You know, timetable, your heroic battle for so long with the soul- destroying lower fifth." "Well, I haven't found that my soul has been destroyed by the lower fifth, Headmaster." "Oh." "Uh..." "No, I was only joking." "I see, well..." "Uh, what was the, uh, other matter you wished to discuss?" "Oh, nothing, nothing at all, Andrew." "And, uh, I was just saying, Laura, the two most stressing things in life... moving house and divorce." "Well, bad luck, Andrew and, um, I'll see you later." "Bye-bye." "Good-bye, sir." "Well, do we get it?" "Do we get what?" "The pension." "Do we get the pension?" "No." "What?" "No." "Why not?" "It's against the rules." "Well, Richardson got one." "Why couldn't they give one to you?" "It was special circumstances." "He received his injuries playing soccer for the staff against the school." "And what did you say?" "Just stood there and made some joke in Latin, I suppose." "There was very little I could say in Latin or any other language." "Oh, I would have said something." "Don't you worry, I would have..." "I'm sure you would." "I jolly well would." "Do you know what you are, Andrew?" "You're a wimp." "You always were and you always will be... a double first-class wimp." "You know, I think" "I could have forgiven you anything if you'd have just once said, "No." "Enough,"" "not just to me but to every setback you've ever had." "There was an old lady of 82..." "Parlez-vous?" "Oh!" "Out." "Go on, out." "Out!" "Out!" " Out!" " Out!" "Not you, Taplow." "Stay there." "Out!" "Move it!" "Come on." "You go to the Crock's house for extra work, don't you?" "Yeah." "Yes, Trubshaw." "Yes..." "Trubshaw." "Very good." "So what's the gossip, then?" "I don't know, Trubshaw." "Well, word is, Mrs. Crocker-Harris is having it off with somebody." "Is that right?" "I, I really don't know, Trubshaw." "Oh, come on, Taplow..." "I've seen you." "Nothing happens around here without you knowing about it." "Who's she shagging?" "Who is it?" "Dr. Rafferty." "I've no idea, honestly." "Would you like to give her one?" "Have you ever seen her tits?" "I have." "She was in the library once." "She bent over." "No bra, nothing." "Gorgeous." "I bet you'd like to put your face between them, wouldn't you, Taplow, you little wanker?" "Your parents coming down today?" "No." "No?" "Oh." "Why not?" "Oh." "Your mother's having it off with somebody as well." "Word is, she's a good fuck, your mother." "Is that right?" "Huh?" "Ah, Missus..." "Missus, uh..." " Missus..." " Wilson." "Wilson." "How are you?" " I have a complaint." " Oh, dear." "Ten spaghetti and one lettuce leaf is not enough for a growing boy." "Ludwig tells me that's all he's had for dinner for the past week." " Ah, well..." " We pay enough in fees." "Please ensure that he's properly fed." "I'll speak to the kitchens about it." "Do excuse me, won't you?" "I don't believe in stuffing the boys, you know, dear." "Ah, King Abakendi." "Do you know he owns most of Nigeria?" "Really?" "Oh, Your Majesty, how lovely to see you." "Dr. Frobisher." "Ah." "You know my wife Jane." "Madam." "Of course." "And Lord Baxter, head of Eurospace Industries, chairman of our governors." "Yes, and, uh, Lady Baxter." "Delighted, delighted." "A chap from Nigeria working for me... head of the design department." "I'm sure you know him." "Oh." "What is his name?" "We are very fortunate once again..." "Oh, he's doing very well." "You know, he's doing very well, this boy." "Marvelous job he's doing, yes." "Now, Your Majesty, you know, Lord Baxter and I would like to discuss our proposed center for Islamic..." "What a lovely hat." "Thank you." "Lovely." "Opening the batting... is their captain, David Fletcher." "This will probably be the last time that we'll ever see David playing amateur cricket, as he goes to London tomorrow to join the NCC." "I'm... sorry, sir." "Oh." "No, no." "It is I who should apologize." "After all, this is your room now, not mine." "If you'll allow me to continue with the chore of packing." "I only came in here because this room is to become the center of the new language block, and, well, I didn't expect anyone to be here." "I shan't be very long, I promise you." "Please don't hurry, sir." "The fact is, this afternoon, uh, I was feeling rather nervous." "You know, attack of the jitters, and, uh," "I thought that if I came in here and rehearsed taking a class or something, it... it might calm me." "Um, I expect you'd laugh at me for that." "Why would you expect that?" "You keep such order." "I saw that yesterday morning, and, well, after all, they call you the "Hitler of the Lower Fifth."" "That was clumsy of me, sir." "I'm sure nothing's meant by it." "It-it's just that you..." "you keep such wonderful discipline, that's all." "The Hitler of the Lower Fifth." "They're, uh, not bad boys." "Sometimes a little wild and unfeeling, perhaps, but not bad." "In the beginning, I tried very hard to communicate some of my own joy in the great literature of the past." "I failed... as, of course, you will fail 999 times out of a thousand." "But a single success can atone for all the failures in the world and sometimes..." "very rarely, it's true... sometimes, I had that success." "The Hitler of the Lower Fifth." "I'm desperately sorry." "Don't apologize." "I, uh, should have known for myself that I'm not only not liked, but positively disliked." "I realized many long years ago that the... the boys no longer laughed at me, but I..." "I don't know why they no longer found me funny." "Perhaps when you became ill." "No." "No, I don't think so." "I really don't know." "In the earlier years, they used to laugh at me." "At me, not with me." "At my... uh... funny mannerisms and tricks of speech, which we all develop." "The Hitler of the Lower Fifth." "I would have thought that by now that epithet would have lost its significance." "Apparently not." "Undoubtedly..." "it will become my epitaph." "I'm sure they'll come up with something much worse for me." "Well..." "I bequeath you this room." "I wish you a great success in it." "I'll do my best, sir." "And good luck to you in your future career." "My future career?" "Yes." "Thank you." "The, uh..." "The boys do still call me "The Crock," though, don't they?" "And there's another four runs to Fletcher." "Ah, Laura, Andrew." "Headmaster, Lord Baxter." "Good afternoon." "Uh, Lord Baxter and I would like to ask you, uh... have a little chat with you, Andrew." "Uh, good time for a word?" "Well, the great thing about cricket is you can talk and watch at the same time." "Precisely well put, Laura." "A little favor I have to ask you, Andrew." "And what favor would that be, Headmaster?" "It concerns tomorrow's Prize Giving." "I take it you're prepared to say a few words?" "Yeah." "Well, I have, uh, I have made a few notes." "Oh, well hit." "Well hit, Fletcher." "Good, good, good." "I know I can trust your discretion, not to mention your wit." "And I'm sure you'll agree with me that we don't want these things to become too long and distressing." "Well, I have included a few, uh, puns and jokes in my speech." "That would be extremely acceptable." "Oh." "Fine stroke, Fletcher." "Oh, yes." "Yes, that's good, just the thing." "I-I also want to touch on a matter of some gravity." "No doubt, no doubt." "Now, the favor I want to ask you is this." "You see, Fletcher..." "Fletcher is much, much junior to you, of course, and, uh, as such, his speech would come first, and yours last." "Absolutely." "But, uh, you know how the boys feel about David." "They adore him." "They simply adore him." "Now, there could well be a terrific display of emotion tomorrow, which would be difficult for me to cut short." "Fletcher's simply racing to his talent." "So, uh, do you wish me to speak first?" "Well, I feel wretched about asking you this, Andrew." "I really do." "But, you know, a thing that must come to a proper climax." "You know, I'm sure you'd agree with me there." "You understand, don't you, Laura?" "Well, naturally, Headmaster," "I would not wish to provide an anticlimax." "I'll speak first." "Don't take it amiss, Andrew." "Nothing personal." "Boys will be boys." "I mean, they'd much rather applaud the-the sportsman than the scholar." "It's only natural." "But it's quite impersonal, I promise you." "Well played, Tom!" "Well played!" "The possibility of a century here for David Fletcher." "Laura?" "Ah." "Yes, Diana." "Isn't Fletcher batting superbly?" "Oh, uh, just fantastic, but I got to tell you, every time he hits the ball," "I think he's going to drop the bat and run to first base." " Oh, really." " Good heavens." "He's 95." "This could be his 100th." "Oh." "Yes, that's 100 on Fletcher." "Tea, I think, everybody." "Before the rush." "Terrifically good idea." "I'd love some lemon." "Mmm." "Tea and cakes?" "You coming to tea?" "I'd rather watch a little more cricket if you don't mind." "Uh, Frank?" "Could you escort Laura to tea, please?" "Sure." "Thank you." "Ladies and gentlemen, as you know, the school supports many charities, and some of the charities that we do support will have stands in and around the chapel today so that you can see the sort of work" "that the school is doing with the money..." "Sir?" "Sir?" "Uh, I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but-but I did want to see." "Disturb me, indeed." "Well?" "Um..." "Well, Taplow?" "I..." "I thought this might interest you, sir." "First translation of the Agamemnon, sir." "Good heavens." "The Browning version." "I've glanced at it." "I don't think it's much good, but..." "I agree, the translation has its faults, but I think you'll enjoy it more when you become more familiar with the meter that Robert Browning employs." "Very interesting," "Taplow." "It... it's for you, sir." "For me?" "Yes, sir." "I-I've written in it." "Did you... buy this?" "Yes, sir." "It's only secondhand." "You shouldn't spend your pocket money in that way." "That's all right." "It wasn't very much." "The price isn't still inside, is it?" "No." "Only what you wrote." "Nothing else." "What's the matter, sir?" "Have I put the accents wrong?" "No." "The perispwmenon is perfectly correct." "Oh..." "Forgive me..." "Taplow, I've..." "I've been under rather a strain." "Yes, sir." "I understand." "Well good-bye, sir." "And the best of luck." "That's tea!" "Ladies and gentleman, the umpire has called tea, which will be taken in the large dining marquee near the entrance to the chapel." "Mr. Crocker-Harris." "Uh, excuse me, sir." "Do you remember us, sir?" "Now, don't tell me, don't tell me." "Wait a moment." "Trimmer, and you're Newton." "Yes, sir." "We just saw you there, sir, thought we'd say hello, sir." "And what have you two been up to?" "I'm in banking, sir." "Actually, I'm the managing director of National Western." "Are you, indeed?" "And I'm in the Army, sir." "Communications." "Communications, eh?" "But not in classical Greek, I fancy." "Well, actually, sir, Newton's the youngest brigadier in the British Army." "Indeed?" "Congratulations." "Stand easy, Brigadier." "Oh." "Well, it's very nice to see you both." "Yes, sir." "I see Fletcher got his hundred, sir." "Oh, well, it's only to be expected." "He's a superb player." "And-And quite, uh, quite beautiful to watch, isn't he?" "Yes." "Well, continued success to you." " And to you, sir." " Good luck, sir." "Sorry you're leaving." "God help me, I'm still terrified of the old bugger." "Me, too." "Wonderful inning." "Special, Dave." " Thank you, sir." " Splendid." "Excuse me." "So, there I was in my hotel corridor, absolutely naked, and no key." "I wish I'd been there." "Andrew, have a seat." "Oh, thank you." " Thank you." " Hello, Andrew." "You're looking pleased with yourself." "What have you been up to?" "That's a lot to ask, Laura." "Well, I'm looking pleased with reason." "I think I've just been given a present." "Oh, by whom?" " Taplow." " Taplow?" "That's fantastic." "Hey." "So, what was the present?" "Well, it's, uh, a translation of The Agamemnon, by, uh, by Robert Browning." " Great." " Let me see." "Oh, he's inscribed it." "What does it mean?" "Darling... what does it say?" "Uh, it's, uh, it's all Greek to me." "Mr. Gilbert, can you enlighten us, please?" "Uh, how marvelous." "It's a hexameter." "Yes, but what does it mean?" "Well, I'm not familiar with th-the Browning version, but, uh, roughly, uh, it translates as:" ""God from afar looks graciously upon a gentle master."" "Oh, how sweet!" "And very apt." "Can't imagine a boy giving me a present." "Nor me." "A very wonderful thing to do, don't you think?" " Yes." " Yes, very much, so, yeah." "And he, he bought it with his own pocket money." "What was the inscription again?" ""God from afar looks graciously upon a kind master."" "Well, perhaps not "kind master,"" "but..." ""gentle master."" "Yes, I agree, uh, with Mr. Gilbert." "I think "gentle"" "is a better translation." "Uh, all right." "Uh, it's a lovely gift." "I would rather have this present than anything else I could think of." "Cunning little brat." "Why cunning, Laura?" "Andrew, you don't have any wine." "Can I give you some champagne?" "Why cunning, Laura?" "Because yesterday, I saw Taplow doing an impersonation of you for Frank." "Well, obviously he was afraid that I would tell you, and that you would put him on Cromwell's, or stop his switch to Frank's form, or some other Hitlerian torture." "The book is clearly an insurance policy... a sweetener." "A bribe." "I see." "Laura, go and tell him it was a lie." "Certainly not." "It wasn't a lie." "Then I'll tell him." "I wouldn't do that if I were you." "He'll only hate you for your sympathy." "Andrew doesn't need sympathy." "That's his strength." "Andrew?" "I want to make something clear about Taplow." "He has a genuine affection for you." "Andrew, please believe me." "Well, I think you should treasure that book." "I'd rather like to be left alone at the moment, thank you." "You may find that it'll..." "have a special meaning to you." "Oh, yes, it will mean something." "It will remind me of my own foolishness." "You don't deserve this." "I mean..." "You've been treated badly, sir." "By the school, you mean?" "Not just by the school." "Never, never presume to know the secrets of a marriage." "Take my advice... sir." "Make a new start for yourself." "You could still find someone who will care for you, who'll... who'll be loyal, and who won't... who'll... be faithful." "Ah." "Hmm." "We..." "We were incompatible from the moment we met." "Although... neither of us realized that at the time." "Of course, Laura was, uh... was only 22 years of age." "We both required love, but of different kinds." "Worlds apart." "Worlds apart." "So, it's not really very tragic... or abnormal." "Just the problem of a dissatisfied wife and an inadequate husband." "Often, I believe, a subject for Faust." "Is there anything I can do to help you?" "I'd like to help... you." "Yes." "Don't take sides." "It's so very unbecoming." "Hey!" "Did you see that, Andrew?" "112 nut out, Fletcher, and seven for 23." "Send out the schools." "Skittle them out." "Let me do that." "You left Taplow's present behind." "I put it in your study." "Thank you." "It wasn't a very good impersonation." "I'm..." "I'm sorry." "Laura." "We, uh... we inhabit different worlds, you and I." "We always have." "We always will." "What are you saying?" "I'm saying "No."" "I'm saying, "Enough."" "Better not keep the headmaster waiting." "Do you still expect me to come to your Prize Giving?" "I, uh..." "I don't think either of us has the right any longer to expect anything of the other." "Right." "Well, I'll leave first thing tomorrow morning then." "As you wish." "And does your new school provide spending accommodation for staff?" "We haven't found anything that we like yet." "I've read somewhere the two worst things in life are moving house and divorce." "So, Laura, if I were you, I..." "Oh, hello, darling." "Well, I finished my rounds." "Do you know, I often think being a headmaster's like being a head waiter, except head waiters have to learn how to speak at least five languages." "This isn't the best moment, sir, but we're not staying the night, so, um... if ever you need any financial advice, uh, assistance in deed... anything of that sort, please telephone." "I'd like to help." "Think of it as, um... well, as repayment." "Well, thank you very much." "This is extremely civil of you." "Whoa." " See you." " Okay." " I'll see you." " Good night." "Shut it." "You'll get me in trouble." "What's going on?" "It's all right." " You all right, man?" " Yeah, yeah." "You little fucking bastards." "Yes!" "Hello?" "Anybody there?" "Oh, Foster." "Sorry to disturb you, sir." "I've come to pick up Mrs. Crocker-Harris." "Oh, yes, yes." "She's upstairs." "Laura," "Mr. Foster's here." "I'm coming!" "Glorious day." "Indeed, sir." "Glorious." "Sorry to hear about your... mother-in-law, sir." "Ah, yes, yes." "Must be a disappointment, sir." "Your wife... not being there for your farewell speech." "And... if I may be so bold, sir..." "Well, what is it, Foster?" "Well, I'd just like to say the old place won't be the same without you, sir." "Well, thank you, Foster." "That's very kind of you." "Ah, hello, Foster." "Would you mind, uh... there's a couple of suitcases upstairs." "Thank you." "I think there's, uh, just two more." "Well, I mustn't, uh, be late for the Prize Giving." "No, eh..." "You look very impressive." "Yes?" "Good-bye." "Ah, Andrew, there you are." "Right, follow me, everyone." "Headmaster, I must tell you I've changed my mind." "I, uh, wish to speak second, as is my right." "What about Mr. Fletcher?" "Mr. Fletcher will have to speak first." "But you promised yesterday." "Yes, but I now see the matter in an entirely different light, and, uh, today's today." "Uh, we're ready for you now..." "Just a second, please, Trubshaw." "Look, if you speak second..." "It'll be the most dreadful anticlimax." "Be that as it may, as senior master it is my privilege to so do." "We agreed yesterday." "All right, follow me, everyone." "The demill Prize for French studies:" "S.R. Ryan." "The Torkson Prize for Excellence:" "S. Trubshaw." "The Hanson Cup for Biology:" "E.R. Morris." "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my painful duty to listen with you to a few sad words from two masters who are leaving us." "First, I shall call upon..." "First, let us call upon" "Mr. David Fletcher." "I thought you were going to speak first." "Well, chaps..." "I'm not much good, you know... you know, on my feet, except when I'm running between the wickets." "So I'll just say" "I'm really... sad, you know, to be leaving this wonderful old place." "I've loved it here." "So, you know... good luck and... good-bye." "Now, three cheers for David Fletcher!" "Hip, hip..." "Hooray!" "Hip, hip..." "Hooray!" "Hip, hip..." "Hooray!" "And now..." "Mr. Andrew Crocker-Harris." "Study of the classics, in my view, is a foundation of our culture." "And culture is simply an expression of what is best in society." "Philosophy, decent government, justice, art, language." "Our classical heritage is no longer valued." "And how can we help meld civilized human beings... if we no... if we no longer believe in civilization?" "I am sorry." "I'm sorry because" "I have deserved the epithet" ""Hitler of the Lower Fifth."" "I am sorry because I have failed to give you what it is your right to demand of me as your teacher." "Sympathy, encouragement, humanity." "I have degraded the noblest calling a man can follow... the care and molding of the young." "When I came to this school..." "I still b-believed tha-that... uh, that I..." "I had a-a vocation for teaching." "I knew what I wanted to do, and yet, I..." "I did not do it." "I can offer no excuses." "I have failed, and miserably failed." "And I can only hope that you can find it in your hearts... you and the countless others who've gone before you... to... forgive me for having let you down." "I shan't find it... easy to forgive myself." "That is all." "Go on." "Sir?" "Taplow, boys." "Good-bye, sir." "Good-bye, Taplow." "Gentlemen." "Bye, sir." "Taplow?" "Mm." "Well, it means if you have any regard for me, next term you will kindly refrain from blowing yourself up when you switch to science." "Thank you, sir." "Yes!" "Well done, Taplow." "Thanks a lot." "Well done." "Well..." "You'll miss your train." "I'll..." "I'll write."