[theme music] ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ FRANCESCA: "How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?

The orchard walls are high and hard to climb.

And the place death, considering who thou art, if any of my kinsmen find thee here."

RANSOM: "With love's light wings did o'erperch these walls for stony limits cannot hold love out.

And what love can do, that dares love attempt.

Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me."

"If they do see thee, they will murder thee."

"Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye than 20 of their swords.

Look thou but sweet, and I am proof against their enmity."

"I would not for the world they saw thee here."

"I have night's cloak to hide me from their eyes.

And but thou love me, let them find me here.

My life were better ended by their hate than death prorogued wanting of thy love."

Mowersby, come and pick it up.

[murmurs] Come on.

Just because you've got a tin ear, Charles Mowersby, just because your sole ambition is to end your days as a chartered accountant, don't spoil life for everyone here who may care just a little for poetry and love.

Now, go on, back to your place.

And put your tie in.

[laughter] OK, Francesca-- I mean, um, Juliet.

"By whose direction founds't thou out this place?"

"By love that first did prompt me to inquire.

He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.

I am no pilot, yet wert thou as far as that vast shove--" What's this?

"As that vast shore washed with the farthest sea, I should adventure for such merchandise."

You, Ransom, were writing this slush?

It's not slush, headmaster.

It's Shakespeare.

You were writing these amorous ravings to a girl who, according to your fall register, is exactly 15 years and 11 months old.

11 months and 25 days.

You see, it's her birthday next week.

HEADMASTER: Francesca Clapstick.

Capstick, sir.

Her friends call her Frank.

You see, we're doing Romeo and Juliet for O-level, so naturally I sent her that quotation.

"And since our night at the Festival Hall and the cannelloni and Orvieto at Luigi's, I realize I love you spiritually and physically more than anyone I've ever loved before."

Is that a quotation from Shakespeare?

No, Headmaster.

As a matter of fact, it's a quotation from me.

I rather thought it was.

You see, I've got all your letters.

Yes, I-- I rather wonder who gave them to you.

And what exactly does that passage mean?

Well, it means that we went to the Festival Hall where we heard a Vivaldi concert, and afterwards we went to Luigi's in Covent Garden where we had cannelloni and a bottle of Orvieto.

Anything else?

Anything else?

Oh, yes, yes.

Uh, Francesca had a large Cassata ice.

Uh, I had a cup of black coffee and a Strega.

We didn't go to bed together.

We'll have to see what Ms. Clapstick says about that.

Well, I'm sure she'll say exactly the same thing.

And she might even tell you that her name's Capstick, sir.

I'm glad you reminded me of that.

No doubt I shall have to send in a full report on this case to the proper authorities.

Has it become a case?

That, Ransom, will rather depend on what Francesca tells me.

Yes.

Yes, of course.

Right.

[water splashing] RUMPOLE (VOICEOVER): "Ah, me.

For aught that I could ever read, could ever hear by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth.

But either it was different in blood, or if there were a sympathetic choice, war, death, or sickness did lay siege to it.

Making it momentary as a sound, swift as a shadow, short as any dream."

Rumpole.

Ah.

You're an early bird.

Ah, so are you, my learned head of chambers.

Well, I just couldn't face Marigold at breakfast.

Ah.

Quite frankly, she's on about it again.

On about what?

On about divorce.

Oh.

You see, um, I-- I told her about that-- well, that little fling I had with the temp from the clerk's room.

It never ceases to astonish me why people make confession statements.

I just couldn't face the stink of a divorce at the moment.

I mean, a divorce plays merry hell with your chance of getting a bottom on the bench.

Oh, is that where you want to get it?

Well, it's not me so much.

It's Marigold.

Well, Marigold fancies being a judge, does she?

She says that she'll divorce me unless I am.

Oh.

Look, there's something I wanted to ask you.

Yeah.

Do you think that that judge we're appearing before today-- Oh, the, uh, dreaded Vosper, you mean?

Yes.

Do you think he has any sort of say in judicial appointments?

I wouldn't put it past him.

That's what I thought.

So I'm playing golf with Mr. Justice Vosper on Saturday and old Keith from the Lord Chancellor's Office.

Oh, my learned friend, you are desperate.

Absolutely, Rumpole, absolutely desperate.

Yes, well, you'll have to excuse me now, Guthrie.

I've-- I've got an early con.

Unlawful carnal knowledge.

Isn't that rather distasteful?

Well, what's marriage?

Lawful carnal knowledge?

Yes, I suppose that's the difference.

[door closes] "I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I did till we loved.

Were we not weaned till then?"

What are you talking about, Horace?

You're always babbling on.

The course of true love, Erskine-Brown, something you should know about surely.

Is it?

Well, you are engaged to be married to the Portia of these chambers, to our Ms. Trant.

Tell me, don't you think that love has been greatly overestimated by the poets?

Sorry?

Well, take the late Lord Byron as an instance.

Or Dr. John Donne.

I mean, they can't have been at it all the time, can they, as they'd have us believe?

Rubbish.

I'll bet Lord Byron, for example, spent many an evening on his own with a poached egg .

Oh, dear.

The trouble with schoolmasters is they have conferences so very early in the morning.

I only ask, Erskine-Brown, for information.

Don't you think the power of love has been exaggerated by the contributors to the Oxford Book of English Verse?

Don't ask him.

Oh, Ms. Trant.

I very much doubt whether he has any opinions on the subject.

- Really, Phylli?

Don't start again.

Not in the clerk's room.

I may see you down at the Bailey later.

Oh, the Bailey.

Yes, I'll be down there later.

I've got a robbery against our learned head of chambers, Guthrie Featherstone.

I hope to find time for a bite of breakfast.

I may see you there, Horace.

Oh, dear, I am sorry.

I thought you were engaged.

Well, we were.

According to Phylli, we aren't any longer.

Oh, well, it's just what I was always saying.

What?

"The course of true love never did run smooth."

I have your headmaster's statement.

Apparently, this girl, Francesca, confessed to him.

He grilled her, Mr. Rumpole.

She's only a child.

I don't think we'd better dwell on that aspect of her character, Mr.

Ransom.

Apparently, she confessed to him that, quote, "Intimacy had taken place between you--" Intimacy?

Yes, well, it's-- that's old Potter's word for it.

He's a mathematician.

I suppose that's why he can't speak English.

Ah, no ear for the verse, is that, Mr.

Ransom?

Absolutely right, yes.

Yes, well, apparently she told him that "it happened at the house of a friend of yours in Hampstead after you had taken her to a concert and an Italian restaurant."

She says your friends were away for the night.

The Singletons, yes.

They were in France.

RUMPOLE: I see.

And on other occasions in your Ford Capri in a wood near St. Albans, the art room after school dance.

Well, that's not true.

RUMPOLE: Isn't it?

Well, it-- it-- it would have been impossible.

You see, there's-- there's no lock on-- on the art room door.

Were you looking for one, Mr.

Ransom?

No.

Um, what do you mean?

If it is not true, it is far safer to confine yourself to an unembroidered denial.

Now, this occasion, the house in Fitzjohns Avenue, after the Vivaldi and the Orvieto.

Did it happen there?

Yeah.

Mr.

Ransom has thought the matter over extremely carefully, and he has decided to plead guilty.

Oh, has he indeed?

Why?

Well, she-- she told the old boy I did it, didn't she?

That doesn't necessarily make you guilty.

Doesn't it?

Fantasy.

That's why she said that.

Pure fantasy.

I shall have to educate the trial judge, who no doubt considers the All England Law Reports as the height of erotic fantasy.

[chuckles] I shall have to explain to him just how strongly poetry can affect a young girl's mind.

How about the body?

We'd better forget about the body.

Judges in this class of case don't like to be reminded that the body exists.

This case, I shall say, this case exists entirely in a young girl's imagination, overstimulated by indulgence in the love scenes from Romeo and Juliet.

Ms. Fanny Chopstick-- RANSOM: Capstick.

--well, whatever her name is, reads that she is someone's enthusiastic mistress and promptly imagines herself to be precisely that.

So you would have to cross-examine her then?

RUMPOLE: I will, just gently, gently, just so as to point out the vividness of her imagination.

I'm sorry, Mr. Rumpole, but I just couldn't have her put through that in court.

I'm sorry.

Mr.

Ransom, may I remind you of the present overcrowded conditions in our penal institutions.

Do you wish to add to the congestion?

Of course I don't.

RUMPOLE: And may I also remind you of the unpopularity with the other inmates of people convicted of offenses against young girls.

It's so very easy to spill a cup of boiling cocoa over someone's head.

I believe they call it cocoaing the SOs.

Um, what-- what's an SO, Mr. Rumpole?

A sexual offender, Mr.

Ransom.

GRAYSON: My client does want to keep out of prison, Mr. Rumpole.

RUMPOLE: Oh, well, how unusual.

It wouldn't be prison, would it?

I mean, she was nearly 16.

Well, she is 16 now.

Exactly.

RUMPOLE: Now is not the point.

Whether Mr.

Ransom goes to prison or not depends entirely, in my opinion, on the judge concerned.

Now, if you could give me some idea of who that might be?

GRAYSON: Yes, sir, I can tell you that.

It's not Judge Bullingham, is it?

Oh, no, no, no, it will be at our local Crown Court.

It will be His Honor Judge Frobisher.

George Frobisher?

My old friend Judge George Frobisher?

Mr.

Ransom, fate has spun the wheel and handed you the jackpot.

Breakfast.

[clinking] Thank you.

[chatter] Ms. Trant, ah, may I join you?

Yes.

Yeah.

Oh, dear me, you don't look in the least bit well.

You're sickening for something?

Yes, I'm afraid I am.

Well, what can I get you?

They have particularly good bacon and egg here with a fried slice.

No, thank you, Rumpole.

I've just thrown up in the loo at Blackfriars Station.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Gastric flu.

A lot of it about.

As a matter of fact, I'm up the spout, and there's a lot of that about.

Ms. Trant, you astonish me.

You're such a careful young lady.

You're always beautifully prepared in court.

Yes, well, I wasn't in court at the time, and I wasn't prepared.

I don't know why I should be telling you all this.

I suppose it's because, well, you've brought me up in the law, haven't you?

You're a sort of father figure.

The, uh, proposed offspring does emanate from Claude Erskine-Brown, I suppose?

- Yes.

I can't bring myself to tell him.

He'll want to marry me or something.

You wouldn't like that?

No.

Claude would want me to stay at home and mix up the Ostermilk.

Look, I've got three new firms of solicitors and a three-months' fraud starting in Portsmouth.

Why would I want to get married for?

I'm just getting a practice.

Lady barristers are so much keener on being barristers than barristers are.

And I'm prosecuting you next week, Rumpole.

Spot of unlawful carnal knowledge in Hertfordshire-- before Judge Frobisher.

Ah, yes, dear old George.

And my dear Ms. Trant, my little schoolmaster struck it lucky.

You don't think it's going to take long, do you?

I mean, I don't want it to clash with my super fraud in Portsmouth.

Oh, I'd say about three weeks.

TRANT: What?

Well, of course, unless I could twist my client's arm, get him to plead guilty.

Do you think there's any hope of that?

Well, of course.

Anything's possible.

But I wouldn't like him to be sent to prison.

Yes.

[sighs] Well, I must be going.

Yeah.

I've got a bail application at 10 o'clock.

Why should he get sent to prison anyway?

She was almost 16.

In my opinion, the wretched girl asked for it.

[chatter] Well, nearly there, Guthrie.

Mm.

Got your final speech for the prosecution already, have you?

Um, well, I have a few words to say about your ridiculous defense, Rumpole, yes.

Of course, if you, uh-- [clears throat] If you really want the high court bench, I suppose we'll be seeing you starting to do your cases in a different sort of way, right?

[chuckles] Rumpole?

Yes.

What exactly do you mean by that?

Oh, come on, Guthrie, you know exactly what I mean.

Well, you'll stop trying so hard to win.

Yes, you'll probably be adopting the, uh-- well, the judicial attitude, I suppose.

Will I?

Oh, yes, of course.

BAILIFF: Be upstanding in court.

The judicial attitude.

Uh, yes, Mr. Featherstone.

Um, uh, of course, members of the jury, as prosecuting counsel, I, uh, adopt an attitude which is fair and, I hope, judicial.

The prosecution has to prove its case.

Otherwise, the defense is entitled to succeed.

So, uh, if you think the accused did win the money in his bank account at the races, even if he has forgotten the name of the horse or even the track concerned, then you must acquit him.

If you think he-- he was taking those various animal masks to a party at Dr. Barnardo's homes, or-- or if you think, as, um, he says, he needed those heavy tools to put up his do-it-yourself shelving to accommodate his Encyclopedia Britannica, then the-- the-- the-- the prosecution will not have proved its case, and the defendants-- defendant Higgins is entitled to be acquitted.

[murmurs] Um, in-- in all things, we must be judicial, totally fair and-- and keep a balanced view.

We must judge all things fairly.

What's up with him, Mr. Rumpole?

Is he ill or something?

GUTHRIE: Now, as you realize-- No, he's just suffering from the terrible consequences of love.

Oh, nice, nice.

"And his dark secret, blank, doth thy life destroy."

Four letters.

Good Lord, love.

I'll give you another clue.

There's a lot of it about.

There's a lot of what about, Rumpole?

Love, L-O-V-E. - Love?

- Mm.

Oh, that's right.

That fits.

Loved-- oh, four letters.

Thank you, Rumpole.

Yes, apparently, Ms. Trant, the Portia of our chambers, is expecting offspring.

She told you that, Rumpole?

Whatever for?

Well, I suppose she was trying to explain why she didn't fancy two eggs and a fried slice.

I suppose that man Claude Erskine-Brown is responsible.

I imagine so.

The poor infant's probably lying in the womb at this very moment, boning up on the law of landlord and tenant.

They'll expect it to get a place in chambers, I expect.

And are they expecting to get married at any time?

Or will she be too busy with the baby?

And Marigold wants Featherstone to be a judge.

She threatens to divorce him unless he gets a red dressing gown.

Marigold Featherstone has had a great deal to put up with.

I think that love has been greatly overestimated by the poets.

If all the time in my life that I've devoted to the passion of love was put end to end, I doubt if it would fill up a single summer holiday.

I doubt very much if it would, Rumpole.

Of course, I was rather smitten by that girl I was engaged to when I was up at Oxford.

So you told me.

Engagement had to be broken off by reason of a sudden death.

And speaking of love-- Were we?

Of course, we were.

I'm doing an unlawful carnal knowledge in Hertfordshire tomorrow before old George Frobisher, who, as you well know, is now a circuit judge.

George Frobisher?

Mm.

Oh, well, you'll be able to twist him round your little finger, won't you, Rumpole?

My dear old friend.

My dear old friend, Judge George Frobisher.

Oh, very good to see you, Rumpole.

I must say, I've been looking forward to the day I had you before me.

I'm sure you have, George.

I'm sure.

But I won't be before you today for very long.

Oh, really?

No, I've-- I've had a word with my learned friend for the prosecution.

Well, you remember Ms. Trant of course?

Indeed, I do.

Very glad to have you before me too, Ms. Trant.

I'm sure it'll be a pleasure, Judge.

Yes, we've been able to put our heads together, George.

Have you?

I've come to no sort of view at all, of course.

I find it far better in this job not to come to any sort of view until one is, um-- well, until one has heard all the evidence.

Yeah.

Ms. Trant, would you-- Thank you.

Well, George, how's the job treating you?

Life is very lonely nowadays, I must say that it is.

Bring you in a decent lunch, though, do they?

Sandwiches.

The usher brings me in sandwiches.

It's usually cheese with tomato, but for some reason or other, on Fridays he brings me sardine.

Probably got a Catholic usher there, George.

Catholic?

Do you think so?

Do you know that hadn't occurred to me, Rumpole?

Bring you in a decent glass of plonk, though, from the off license, do they?

There is a machine in the outer hall that expels a warm, sweet liquid into a plastic cup, and I'm never quite sure whether my usher has pushed the button marked "Tea," "Cocoa," "Coffee," or "Oxtail Soup."

Oh, George, your working conditions are positively squalid.

Oh, no, not squalid, Rumpole.

Not squalid, really, just extremely lonely.

But then I-- I led a lonely sort of life in my evenings at the diggings of the Royal Borough Hotel, Kensington.

But I knew that I had the companionship of you fellas in chambers during the day.

And a friendly glass of plonk in Pomeroy's after a hard day's work, eh, George?

Oh, yes, indeed, Rumpole.

I must say, I look back on those evenings with-- well, with considerable nostalgia.

Yeah.

But, uh, you say you're not going to be here for very long?

No, George, no, not long.

GEORGE: What a pity.

Well, as far as I'm concerned, yes.

But, uh, for my client-- Rumpole says it's going to be a plea.

Oh, Really?

But that's not like you, Rumpole?

Do I know?

You always taught me never to plead guilty.

Well, I didn't say it would be a plea, George.

I just said it might be.

GEORGE: Mm-hmm.

Look, George, this silly old client of mine-- The schoolmaster?

Yes, the schoolmaster.

Of course, he was in loco parentis.

Oh, don't let's get bogged down in the Latin, George.

I mean, let's start from some sort of reality.

My client doesn't want this young girl put through the considerable ordeal of being cross-examined by me, which I must say is very decent of him.

I would have thought that should earn him a considerably lower tariff.

Would you?

Well, when you bear in mind she started the whole thing on her own evidence.

Did she?

TRANT: Yes, that is perfectly clear, Judge.

In fact, the prosecution will go so far as to say she led the man on.

RUMPOLE: Yeah.

Uh, the very first letter you'll see from the depositions was the one she wrote to him and left in his locker in the staff room.

It contains a quotation from Romeo and Juliet.

Yes, I wonder if there isn't too much poetry taught in school nowadays.

Oh, George, look, dear old fella.

Mm-hmm.

Look, pull yourself together, George.

The girl would have been 16 in another month.

She's 16 now.

Is that a defense?

Remind me.

Do you know how old Juliet was when she met Romeo, George?

No, I don't, but I'm quite sure that you'll use the fact in your speech to the jury.

She was under 14.

You remember more Shakespeare than I do, Rumpole.

I always admired you for it.

But now, um, Juliet came to rather an unfortunate end, as I remember.

What was it now?

Locked up in a tomb, was it?

Taking poison?

Oh, well, of course, I mean, when you talk about locking up, George, I mean, nothing of that sort would be appropriate here.

The prosecution wouldn't regard this as an offense that warrants a prison sentence.

RUMPOLE: Mm.

But then it really got nothing to do with the prosecution, has it?

Well, not strictly.

You know perfectly well I can't come to any sort of bargain with you.

Well, George, you could at least say that there'd be no prison involved.

I mean, we know each other well enough.

Well enough for me to be able to tell you both this, that if Ransom is found guilty, I couldn't rule out the possibility of prison.

Hm?

I couldn't rule it out at all.

Now does that help you?

You know bloody well it doesn't!

Come on, Ms. Trant.

Thank you, Judge.

Enjoy your sandwiches, George.

[door closes] Well, thank God it's not Friday.

He won't even get sardines.

- I'm sorry, but I-- I-- I thought you said he was a friend of yours, Mr. Rumpole?

That bloody mauve dressing gown, it's gone to his head.

I just don't want Francesca to suffer.

All right, then you suffer.

How would you like to go away for a year or 18 months?

If that's what you want, my old friend George Frobisher is ready to hand it to you on a plate.

Unless, of course, you tell me that you actually bedded the young lady.

No.

No, I don't tell you that.

Right, then we plead not guilty.

We win this case.

We teach old George a lesson he will never forget.

How do we do that, Mr. Rumpole?

By having a go at Ms. Francesca Capstick.

Please, Mr. Rumpole, just-- well, just treat her gently, please.

How much is known about her?

Nothing at all, as far as I'm concerned.

Except-- - What?

What?

Well, Martin might know something.

In fact, he might know a good deal.

Martin?

Who is this invaluable grass?

My son Martin.

He's in the same class with her at the William Shakespeare.

He'd know all of Francesca's friends.

My dear fellow, do you think you could get Martin down here with all available dispatch?

Well, I'll telephone.

Splendid.

Thank you.

[chatter] Tell me, who is that malignant youth with Francesca?

Is that a brother?

No, no, no, no.

It's someone called CJ Mowersby.

Mhm.

He's known as Chas.

He's a pain in the neck in class.

He's got absolutely no ear for poetry at all.

[birdsong] It's a funny thing what makes a fella a likely candidate for the high court bench.

Am I right, Keith?

Funny thing, yes, Judge.

That's what I'm always saying.

You needn't be a great lawyer.

You needn't be a great advocate even.

Of course, you need common sense.

Isn't that right, Keith?

Common sense, yes, of course, Judge.

And complete respectability.

Wouldn't you say that, Keith?

Respectability, of course, Judge.

No good one of Her Majesty's judges being dragged through the divorce court, eh, Keith?

No good at all, Judge.

Unthinkable.

[laughs] Not one of your most memorable drives, Keith.

No, it wasn't, Judge.

[sighs] Also, a potential judge must come from a respectable set of chambers.

Who's in your chambers, Featherstone?

Not that fellow Rumpole?

Well, he, uh-- Fellow with the peculiar old hat.

Well, there are other fellows besides Rumpole, Judge.

Claude Erskine-Brown-- uh, do you know him?

Has a very good class of practice, does a lot of civil.

Well, that's a bit better than Rumpole's life of crime.

Uh, civil, uh, all the same.

The important thing is respectability.

Brilliant fellow who shall be nameless, came from a set of chambers where they were always getting divorced, hopping in and out of bed with his lady pupils, producing a lot of by-blows, never got his bottom near the high court bench.

Did I slice that?

Hardly at all, Judge.

Of course, Vosper has a lot of influence when it comes to judicial appointments.

Yes, I know.

He doesn't like losing at golf.

Thanks.

Keith, thank you very much.

I'll, uh, do my best.

This isn't going to be one of my best drives.

I have that feeling.

[chuckles] Oh, super.

Good God, Featherstone, you're on the green.

Blast.

Bad luck.

So far as judge material is concerned, I always say you know a man by the way he runs his chambers.

Isn't that right?

Absolutely right, Judge.

Does he run a happy and respectable ship?

Our chambers is, without a doubt, all shipshape and very happy and terribly respectable.

What a hopeless lie, absolutely hopeless.

Oh, damn.

[chuckles] What a total fluke, Judge.

I promise you it won't happen again.

And after Mr.

Ransom had left you?

I sent for Francesca Capstick.

And when she came to your room, what did she tell you, Headmaster?

RUMPOLE: Your Honor.

GEORGE: Yes, Mr. Rumpole.

An unsworn complaint made by Ms. Capstick is no evidence.

Yeah, I won't, um, press the matter.

Well, the evidence of a complaint is admissible, surely, in a sexual case, to negative consent.

But the learned lady for the prosecution doesn't press the point.

It is my responsibility to rule on the evidence, and I do so now.

The evidence of this young girl's complaint is admissible.

George.

Yes, Ms. Trant, what was your question again?

[clears throat] What did Francesca Capstick tell you, Headmaster?

She made it quite clear to me that sexual relations had taken place between herself and Mr.

Ransom on a number of occasions.

TRANT: Thank you.

GEORGE: Yes, thank you.

I think this might be a convenient moment to rise for luncheon.

BAILIFF: Be upstanding in court.

I hope your sandwiches come from British Rail.

It was love.

That's all it was.

Must it be dragged out in court and cheapened?

I'm afraid it must.

That boy, Mowersby, such malevolence.

He looks as though he really hates you.

Yes, he does.

GRAYSON: Ah, there you are, Mr. Rumpole.

This is my son Martin.

My dear fellow, I'm so glad you could come.

Now, could you spare us half an hour?

Would you excuse us?

- Certainly.

Splendid.

Now, there we are.

Care for a mint?

Um-- I'd rather have one of your small cigars.

Would you indeed?

Well, let's go and have a nice, quiet smoke somewhere.

There's a counsel's consulting room, and they'll never let your father or your headmaster in there.

Nothing for me this afternoon, is there, Henry?

Just the judge in chambers at 3:30.

Mr. Featherstone wants to see you, sir, as a matter of urgency.

Oh, all right.

Erskine-Brown.

Yes, Guthrie, whatever is it?

[sighs] Look here, Claude, I'm trying to run a happy and respectable ship, particularly a respectable ship.

Ships should be respectable.

I mean, we simply can't afford any sort of scandal, can we?

Do you know I haven't got the faintest idea what you're talking about?

The point is, I was playing golf with Mr. Justice Vosper.

Oh, really?

Did you beat the old idiot?

Yes, I did, damn it.

Anyway, he made the point to me very clearly about respectability.

Well, you're not making it in the least bit clear to me.

Splendid.

Go on, Martin.

You interest me strangely.

Well, the point is, Erskine-Brown, that my wife, Marigold, sings in the Bar Choral Society.

They're putting on Elijah.

Well, congratulations.

And the point is that Hilda Rumpole sings there also.

She's a contralto.

Featherstone.

Yes, Erskine-Brown.

Are you feeling quite well?

Well, yes, of course, I'm feeling well.

Did you call me here as a matter of urgency to tell me that Hilda Rumpole is going to sing contralto in the Elijah?

No, not altogether, no.

Because I'm up before the judge in chambers at 3:30, and I shall need to look up some authorities.

Face the facts, Erskine-Brown!

During the intervals between singing, Hilda Rumpole and my wife talk.

Well, I think I can face it with a certain amount of courage.

And during one such talk, Hilda Rumpole told my wife what Phyllida Trant had that told Rumpole.

Is this some sort of a game?

Well, it may be some sort of a game to you, Erskine-Brown, but it's my whole future in the law!

Naturally, I have some hopes of a judgeship!

Well, I suppose the Lord Chancellor moves in a mysterious way.

But not if I come from a chambers where you get our one and only lady barrister pregnant and-- and show absolutely no sign of doing the decent thing.

I did what?

What am I supposed to have done?

Well, surely, Erskine-Brown, you must be the first to know.

But I don't know.

I know nothing apart from what you've told me.

Oh, thank you, Guthrie, my dear fellow.

Thank you.

This is the most wonderful news.

Wonderful.

Poor Phylli, she's so shy.

She doesn't like to talk about things.

Oh, thank you, Guthrie.

Thank you for telling me.

Erskine-Brown, I keep trying to explain.

Marigold wants me to be a judge!

Well be one then.

I'm going to be a father.

[laughs] You kept all the letters that Mr.

Ransom wrote to you?

That's right.

And you kept copies of the letters you wrote to him?

Mm-hmm.

Speak up, please.

Yes, I did.

I kept copies.

Why?

I don't know.

I suppose I just wanted to.

Was it because you were in love with Mr.

Ransom?

I just kept copies.

And this correspondence started with you?

Did it?

This is the first letter of that correspondence in date order, and you wrote it to Mr.

Ransom.

"And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay," you wrote, "and follow thee, my Lord, throughout the world."

It comes from the play we were doing, Romeo and Juliet.

Oh, thank you.

What did you mean by all your fortune?

I don't know.

Well, you weren't offering your teacher your pocket money or your savings certificates, were you?

Not exactly.

RUMPOLE: No, you were offering your love.

That's what I said.

Offering to do anything for him?

I suppose so.

And to follow him wherever he asked you to go.

Mr. Rumpole, your client wasn't bound to take advantage of that offer.

RUMPOLE: Oh, no, Your Honor, of course not.

I merely wish to establish who made the first approach.

Ms. Clapstick, have you any idea how this bundle of letters got onto the headmaster's table?

No, no idea.

RUMPOLE: Well, presumably you kept them safely.

I gave them to a friend of mine to keep for me.

Oh, really?

Could we have the name of that friend?

Oh, really, Mr. Rumpole?

Is that relevant?

Perhaps not, Your Honor.

I'll leave it for the moment.

Of course you have a good many friends at school, haven't you?

Of course, I have.

Oh, of course.

Yes, you're a very popular girl.

At the time you wrote this first letter to Mr.

Ransom, did you have a particular friend?

Girlfriends, you mean?

You know perfectly well I don't mean girlfriends.

You mean anyone I was going out with?

Ah, going out with so often means staying in, doesn't it?

Oh, really, Mr. Rumpole?

Doesn't it?

You mean Chas?

RUMPOLE: Yes, Mr. Mowersby.

Oh, you mean I was going out with Chas Mowersby?

Yes, I was.

What about it?

Is Mr. Mowersby in court?

Perhaps he would stand up.

Perhaps he would stand up.

Is that CJ Mowersby?

FRANCESCA: That's Charles, yes.

RUMPOLE: Yeah.

Now, before you embarked on this correspondence with Mr.

Ransom, did you go on a school holiday to France, camping with Mr. Mowersby?

With all our class, yes.

I was sharing a tent with my girlfriend.

Quite so, a girl named Mary Pennington.

With Mary, yes.

RUMPOLE: And did a boy called Martin Grayson go on this holiday with you?

Martin did, yes.

He was sharing a tent with Charles.

RUMPOLE: Quite so.

And on the first night, did you ask Mary Pennington to go into Martin Grayson's tent so that Mowersby could come into yours?

I might have done.

Did you spend the night with Charles Mowersby?

Did you sleep with him?

Mr. Rumpole, I'm really wondering what the relevance-- Did you?

I might have done.

And did you say to CJ Mowersby, a Form 5B, the William Shakespeare School, "I'll follow thee, my Lord, throughout the world"?

No, I didn't.

RUMPOLE: Oh, why not?

Charles doesn't like poetry.

RUMPOLE: No, he doesn't like poetry.

And he doesn't like Mr.

Ransom either, does he?

Mr. Rumpole.

Does he?

Because Mr.

Ransom writes rude remarks on his essays on Wordsworth.

Mr.

Ransom reports him to the headmaster.

Mr.

Ransom suggests he continue his education elsewhere.

So Charles doesn't like your teacher.

He doesn't like him, no.

RUMPOLE: No, he hates him.

Perhaps.

And this friend to whom you gave your letters for safekeeping, was that CJ Mowersby by any chance?

Yes.

RUMPOLE: And was it Mr. Mowersby who gave them to the headmaster?

He might have done.

Mr. Rumpole, suppose all this is true-- Suppose all this is true, My Lord, then this whole charge is a pretense.

It is nothing but a cruel joke played on my client by this-- this young woman who merely wanted to help her boyfriend get his revenge.

This first letter you wrote to Mr.

Ransom, full of Juliet's love, did Mr. Mowersby suggest you write that letter?

FRANCESCA: He wanted to show Mr.

Ransom up.

RUMPOLE: For what?

For a fool who'd have his head turned by young girls writing poetry?

Something like that, yes.

So it was Charles Mowersby who suggested that you write that letter?

RUMPOLE: He found the bit out of the play, yes.

Oh, really?

That must have been the very first time Mr. Mowersby ever took an interest in literature.

And did you hand on my client's replies to Mr. Mowersby as you received them?

More or less.

RUMPOLE: Yes, and I suppose he was delighted with the way things were going.

He had a nice little bundle of trouble for Mr.

Ransom all ready to drop onto the headmaster's table.

I suppose he did.

Thank you.

He never wanted me to go to the concert, though.

Thank you, Ms. Capstick.

FRANCESCA: Chas never wanted me to go to that, but I'd found out he was taking Mary Pennington out.

Martin Grayson told me he'd seen them together at the pictures.

So, well, I went to the concert.

And then-- But not to bed with my client?

Not to bed with the man on whom you were playing such an elaborate practical joke just so's your boyfriend could get him into trouble with the headmaster, your victim, your poor, wretched gull, you didn't go to bed with him, did you?

I told you I'd heard that Charles was taking out Mary Pennington, so that's how it happened.

GEORGE: How what happened?

FRANCESCA: How I had it away with Mr.

Ransom.

You mean sexual intercourse?

Yes.

Just because you were annoyed with Charles, you did that?

I wasn't annoyed.

I was furious with him.

And because of that, you say you had it away, as you call it, with my client?

FRANCESCA: That was the reason, really.

Without love?

Yes.

Did you enjoy the experience?

Not much.

He kept on spouting poetry.

[chatter] Phylli.

Good heavens, Claude, are you everywhere?

Phylli, what wonderful news.

Da-- darling, why didn't you tell me?

I have absolutely nothing to discuss.

[chatter] Phylli.

Phylli, darling.

Phylli.

Phylli, I understand-- ah.

Uh, Phylli-- Ah, what on Earth are you doing here?

That's the lady's robing room.

You can't keep anything to yourself, Horace, can you?

[laughs] Thank goodness for it.

Phylli.

Love.

It's bound to have something to do with love.

It doth make men mad.

Phyllida, now then.

Phyllida.

♪ Love that bloom in the spring ♪ ♪ Tra la ♪ ♪ Breathe promise of merry sunshine ♪ I'll drive you home, Phylli.

I'm walking to the station I can't understand why you never told me.

It's the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to anyone.

Really?

I thought it happened to everyone all the time, like flu.

I've done a certain amount of reading on the subject, of course, and it seems that Dr. Spock is more or less completely discredited.

You've been reading?

What we'll have to give it Philly will be loving authority.

What we'll have to give it, Claude, is bloody bottles at inconvenient hours of the night and awful spoonfuls of mashed spinach puree out of little tins and groats and Farex and dill water.

Nonsense, Phylli.

Dill water went out with the ark.

And you'll find that after a couple of months you can drop the night feed.

Goodnight Good night, Horace.

Oh, night, Rumpole.

What have you been doing, Claude?

Subscribing to Nursery World?

Well, I don't mind doing some of the feeds, naturally, if you want to sleep.

I don't want to sleep.

I want to be in court.

Court?

And so you shall, Phylli.

I always thought that once we started a family, I'd try to get more paperwork, and then I could do it at home.

And you could cope with the Ostermilk, um, if I was in court, say, for the odd, long firm fraud?

Come on, Phylli.

You really shouldn't carry all this stuff, you know.

Well, thanks for Martin.

Not at all.

Glad he's able to be of some use.

Keep your fingers crossed.

We'll do that.

Goodbye.

- Goodbye.

- Come on, Martin.

- Bye.

GEORGE: Ronald Ransom, very few of us in this world are perfect, and I have no doubt that this young girl, Francesca Capstick, had her faults and imperfections.

They certainly provided no excuse for what you did.

I have no doubt that you used your position, and indeed the poetry that you were employed to teach, to turn this young girl's head and corrupt her morals.

The least sentence that I can pass on you is one of two years imprisonment.

Very well.

Take him down.

BAILIFF: Be upstanding in court.

[band music] [chatter] "For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

Oh, Rumpole, how can you say such a thing?

It's all ended beautifully.

No, no, I was thinking about the other pair of star-crossed lovers.

But it's been such a lovely wedding.

It made Marigold cry.

Oh, that's something of an achievement.

Hello, tide's gone out.

Excuse me.

Uh, excuse me.

Thank you.

[camera shutter clicking] Oh, Guthrie.

Yes, Marigold.

Doesn't it all remind you of something?

Uh, of a wedding.

[chuckles] Of our wedding.

Oh, yes.

Yes, of course.

Couldn't we just start all over again, as if it were our wedding day too?

Oh, Marigold.

What a splendid idea.

Oh, look, there's, um, Vosper J?

Why don't you ask him if he'd dined with us this evening, um, a sort of a celebration?

♪ ♪ Rumpole, it's all going wonderfully well.

Ah?

Yes, Marigold's so moved by Erskine-Brown's wedding that she's offered to forgive me without conditions.

It's amazingly generous of her.

So you don't even have to be a judge?

Well, I have to get my bottom on the bench eventually.

I have to get my butting worse.

[laughs] Actually, Vosper's dining with us-- ah, Judge-- this evening.

Oh, hello, Featherstone.

How are you?

Well, let me introduce my daughter.

Oh.

[scoffs] Come on, everybody, big smile.

[camera shutter clicks] Marvelous.

Very dapper, Claude.

Oh, thank you, Horace.

Come on, another one for the album.

There you go.

- Horace.

Hello, George.

No, Rumpole, I'm-- I'm sorry I had to pop that fellow, Ransom.

I really had no alternative.

The-- was, um, two years too much, do you think?

Two days would have been too much, George.

You know that.

I hear they're not prosecuting young Mowersby.

Oh.

Probably a wise decision.

Different, isn't it, for the young?

You mean because they're so much more grown up and experienced than we are?

Your client was her schoolmaster, Rumpole.

Hm?

Uh, he was in charge of her.

No, George, she was in charge of him, totally.

Are you angry with me, Rumpole?

I was, exceedingly.

I was only doing my job, you know.

You don't blame me, do you?

No, no, no, not really, George.

What do you suggest?

Blame life, blame love, blame youth, blame Shakespeare, blame the law.

But not you, George.

No, certainly not you.

I suppose your client hates me.

Oh, of course he does.

Not half as much as he hates me.

You, Rumpole?

Well, you only took his liberty away.

I deprived him of the part of Romeo.

I cast him as the fool.

GROOM: Come on, everybody!

We're going to cut the cake!

[applause] [applause] [theme music] ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ [bright music]