Bewitched (1964–1972): Season 5, Episode 28 - Samantha's Good News - full transcript

Tabitha, you promised Daddy
you'd eat all your breakfast.

- I will.
- He meant today.

- Good morning, ladies.
- Oh, Daddy.

Hi, Grandpapa.

Well, look at my lovely little Tabitha.

She's outgrown the toddler stage
and blossomed into early witchhood.

Where's Dennis?

Dennis who?

Your husband. The M-O-R-T-A-L.

D-A-R-R-l-N is at work.

- Devastated to have missed him.
- Oh, well, he'll be devastated too.



Now, sweetheart,
you finish your breakfast.

Grandpapa and I
will be in the living room.

- Samantha, you look absolutely radiant.
- I do?

Yes, there's a special aura about you.
So special that its vibrations...

have zonked across the atmospheric
continuum and led me to you.

- Well!
- What's happened?

Nothing, except I'm happy to see you.

You ought to zonk across
the atmospheric continuum more often.

I will, now that I've increased
my efficiency.

Increased it?
Daddy, when it comes to efficiency...

you are one of the all-time greats.

That's very kind of you, dear,
but the truth of the matter is...

I'm getting a little older
and a bit forgetful.

So, I've engaged an assistant.



An assistant warlock?

Kind of a private secretary.

- Would you like to meet her?
- Oh, I'd love to.

Miss Beecham, on duty, please.

- Hi, there.
- My daughter Samantha.

Miss Abigail Beecham.

What's your first impression?

Well...

my first impression
is that she looks...

- Yes?
- She looks very efficient.

- Miss Beecham, tell me...
- Yes, my dear?

Have you had much experience?
As a secretary, I mean?

Of course she's had experience.
Why else would I hire her?

Oh, I don't know.
There might be another reason.

- Mommy, I ate all my breakfast.
- Oh, that's a good girl.

Miss Beecham,
this is my daughter, Tabitha.

- Hello, ducky.
- Hello.

You're beautiful.

Isn't she, Grandpapa?

Yes, now that you mention it.
Yes, she is.

Sweetheart, why don't you run
outside and play?

I want Grandpapa
to make me a toy.

- Tabitha, really.
- I'd be delighted, my darling.

Now, how about
a nice little swing set?

Okay.

That's some little swing set.

Tabitha, haven't you
forgotten something?

- Thank you, Grandpapa.
- You're welcome, my dear.

That's better. And you remember,
the swing set is only temporary.

When Grandpapa goes, it goes.
Okay. Scoot.

A strict mother, aren't you, lovey?

Well, not exactly.
It's just that I feel...

Speaking of formidable females,
how's Endora?

Oh, she's fine.

When was the last time
you saw her?

Two or three months ago, maybe 18.

My wife and I have what might
be described as an informal marriage.

That's the best kind.
I'd like to meet her someday.

That can be arranged. Mother?

- Oh, Samantha, no need to bother.
- Oh, Daddy, don't be silly.

Miss Beecham said
she'd like to meet Mother...

and I'm sure that Mother would like
to meet Miss Beecham. Mother!

Darling, did you call?

- Endora, ravishing as usual.
- Maurice, how scintillating to see you.

It's Noel Coward time.

- Who is that?
- Noel Coward time is over.

- Mother, that is Miss Abigail Beecham.
- This is Endora.

Nice to meet you.

She's a private secretary.

- To whom?
- To me.

He hired her to increase his efficiency.

- His efficiency? In what?
- My efficiency in general.

Abigail, to demonstrate your efficiency,
take a little dictation, will you?

Hamlet, act two, scene two.

"O, what a rogue
and peasant slave am I!"

He can say that again.

"O, what a rogue
and peasant slave am I!

Is it not monstrous
that this player here...

But in a fiction,
in a dream of passion...

Could force his soul so
to his own conceit"...

and so on and so forth.

That's it.

Perfect.

Not bad. Her typewriter
needs a new ribbon, but...

Oh, Samantha, there's no skill to that.

Any witch can type
a Shakespearean soliloquy.

But there's something
about her physical dexterity.

Oh, you admit it! It isn't her skill.
It's her outward appearance.

Endora, you know me better than that.
I judge witches by their character.

Good. In that case,
you won't mind this.

- Mother, that is skill.
- Thank you.

Don't worry, Maurice.
She still has the same character.

Maybe, but I will not have you
tamper with her out of spite.

- Where was I?
- At the un-beauty parlour.

Endora, that reminds me
of the time when you got mad...

when a young witch flirted with me,
and you had her drafted into the army.

Oh, yes.

- What was her name again?
- Attila the Hun.

Abigail, why don't you and I
have a cup of coffee...

- and let the two lovebirds reminisce?
- All right.

But you pull any more tricks
on me, and I'll...

Abigail, don't live dangerously.

My mother has the most powerful
one-two punch in the cosmos.

Come, come.

Endora, have you noticed
that Samantha is remarkably vibrant?

No! And please
don't change the subject.

What is the subject?

The subject is you
and Abigail Beechnut.

- How long have you been married?
- Five years.

- And your husband is a mortal?
- Yep.

Well, that's one for the record. You
have a lot of courage. I'd never do it.

I wouldn't even get married
to a handsome, young warlock.

How about a handsome,
older warlock?

No, I'm not the marrying type.

I like to keep moving
from one romance to another.

I see. I guess wherever you go
you leave behind you...

a trail of broken hearts.

Yes, I do. But it takes them
a couple of weeks...

to wipe the smiles off their faces.

Endora, have you quite finished
nagging at me?

I have not.

Then will you allow me a brief moment
to make an observation?

You have 10 seconds.

- I hate to say this, Endora, but...
- But what?

I've come to the conclusion
that you're jealous.

I? I?

You! You!

Oh, that's absurd.
I haven't a jealous bone in my body.

Well, how's everything going?

You leave my husband alone
or I'll disintegrate you.

What did I do?

Nothing. She's jealous of you.

Oh, well, that's understandable.

Mother, have you and Daddy
been quarrelling?

- No.
- Yes.

I merely pointed out that your father
is making a fool of himself.

Did you point it out in a nice way?

Samantha, I will repeat for your benefit
what I told Endora.

My relationship with Abigail
is professional. Purely.

That's right.

And thanks for defending
my reputation.

There! There, you see?

- They're carrying on in public.
- Now, Mother, he's only...

If you have no consideration for me,
at least think of your daughter.

- Oh, really.
- Oh, darling.

Try not to let this
scar you permanently.

Yes, Mother, I'll try.

Daddy, at least tell Mother
you're sorry.

- Sorry for what?
- I don't know. Think of something.

Endora, if by any remote chance
I've done something to offend you...

- Don't... touch me.
- But I'm your husband.

- Not for long.
- What does that mean?

I am going straight
to the Witches' Council...

and I'm going to file
for an ectoplasmic interlocutory.

- You're kidding.
- On what grounds?

On the grounds of conduct
unbecoming to a warlock.

She doesn't mean it.
I'm sure she doesn't mean it.

Do you think she means it?

I don't know.
We'll have to wait and see.

- In the meantime...
- Yes?

What's for lunch?

Samantha, I have to admit that,
despite my misgivings...

so far, your marriage
seems to have agreed with you.

Well, thank you, Daddy.
Wish I could say the same for yours.

My marriage agrees with me.
It's your mother who doesn't.

I don't think I've ever seen her
so angry at you.

Oh, I have.

We've been through these little
misunderstandings for centuries.

But has she ever threatened you
with an ectoplasmic interlocutory?

No. But I suppose there's
a first time for everything.

You don't seem too worried.

Yes, it'll be a difficult adjustment
for me, but I'll struggle to make it.

And you'll have Abigail
to help you.

Speaking of help, can you carry
these two plates in for me?

Didn't I just give you two plates?

They're on the dining room table
together with those...

- Thanks.
- Come along, my dear.

- What's for lunch, ducks? I'm starved.
- Ham and cheese sandwiches.

- Oh, what else?
- Potato salad.

And if you want dessert,
there's ice cream.

- I want dessert.
- Yes, I know you do, sweetheart.

Sandwiches, potato salad and
ice cream? What kind of lunch is that?

It's a gourmet lunch, mortal-style.

I just thought I'd show you
how the other half lives.

I'm not interested.
I want my regular lunch.

- Then make it yourself.
- Okay, I will.

That's your regular lunch?
What do you have for dinner?

Oh, dinner's my big meal.

I'm almost ready
for that ice cream.

Abigail, you're a jolly good eater.

Now, you have a nice nap, Tabitha.
And when you wake up...

Grandpapa is going to recite Macbeth
for you, from beginning to end.

You lucky girl.

Mother? Mo...

We'll talk in your bedroom.

- I don't want Maurice to know I'm here.
- Okay.

What took you so long?

I travelled the hard way.

Well, did you go
to the Witches' Council?

No. I realized that an
ectoplasmic interlocutory...

might be just
what your father wants.

- So?
- So, I won't give it to him.

- Mother, that's just an alibi.
- For what?

You yourself don't want
an ectoplasmic interlocutory.

- Yes, I do.
- No, you don't.

What difference does it make
what I want, when your father wants...

Miss Abigail... Beechwood?

By the way, am I on Durwood's side
of the bed or yours?

- Mine.
- Good.

Mother, Daddy doesn't want Abigail.

Deep down, he knows
that you are the only one for him.

Then what can I do about it?

How about the old jealousy approach?

It's corny, but effective.

Whom could we get?

Dr. Bombay's nephew. The one
that looks like Steve McQueen?

He is Steve McQueen.

Besides, he's too young for you.

Well, isn't Abigail
too young for your father?

Well, yes, of course.

But, you see,
we'd be much cleverer if we...

- Are you ready for this?
- No. But tell me anyhow.

John Van Millwood.

Maurice will have an absolute fit!

Let's do it.

Maurice, let's go. I'm bored.

We are waiting for me
to recite to my granddaughter.

Tabitha will be up from her nap
in a few minutes.

What am I supposed to do
whilst you're reciting?

You can listen to me, enthralled.

Or you could whip up 30 pounds
of hamburger and fix yourself a snack.

I don't want to spoil my dinner.

I dropped by to...

Oh, I didn't know you two
were still here.

Goodness gracious,
if it isn't John Van Millwood!

- Oh, so you remember me, eh?
- Remember? How could I ever forget?

Brisbane, Australia,
the annual Warlocks' Coven.

You played Brutus to my Antony...

an interpretation calculated to cause
the stones of Rome to rise in mutiny.

Come off it, mate. The audience
couldn't understand a word you said.

Balderdash.

Hi. I'm Abigail Beecham.

Hi.

John, you remember
Samantha, don't you?

I said, John...

you remember Samantha,
don't you?

- Yes. Yes, of course.
- What a pleasant surprise.

Endora, did you enjoy yourself
at the Witches' Council?

Oh, I never got there. I flew into John,
and we had an intimate lunch together.

Broiled kangaroo, no doubt.

Broiled kangaroo
is a taste sensation.

Or could it be that you object
to us having lunch together?

Oh, don't be silly.

Daddy doesn't mind Mother
being friendly with other warlocks...

- do you Daddy?
- Depends on who they are.

Miss Beecham, are you a thespian?

I beg your pardon?

An actress, dear.

Oh, I'm a private secretary.

She keeps my husband busy,
so I can be busy elsewhere.

They do make a cute couple,
don't they?

Like fire and water.

Miss Beecham, you have
the bearings of a great actress.

How would you know?

- That does not become you, Morris.
- Maurice.

Maurice.

However, I shall disregard it...

on the basis that Will Shakespeare
always said...

that my interpretation of Romeo
was by far the best of the warlocks.

"But, soft! What light
through yonder window breaks?

It is the east,
and Juliet is the sun."

Great heavens! Those vowels.

I suppose you delude yourself to
believe you could do it better.

Infinitely. "It is the east,
and Juliet is the sun.

Arise, fair sun,
and kill the envious moon...

Who is already sick
and pale with grief...

That thou her maid
art far more fair than she."

That was very good too, Daddy.

What do you mean, "too"?

His performance was enough to make
Shakespeare turn over in his grave.

Endora, I am shocked...

that you would associate
with an untalented, fraudulent colonial.

I'll associate with whomever I please,
just as you do.

- That is no comparison.
- Why not?

Miss Beecham is young enough
to be my daughter...

and he is old enough
to be your husband.

Then doesn't that make
their association more logical?

Certainly not.
If he were youthful and handsome...

I could understand his attraction
for an older female.

But if you find
this ancient relic attractive...

I'll have you know,
I was Mr. Torso of Tasmania.

This ham from Down Under afflicted
with an appalling speech impediment...

then, Endora, as your husband...

I am insulted to the very marrow
of my bones.

I'm tired of all this arguing.

I think I'm going to find myself
another job.

Come to think of it,
I could use a travelling companion.

Would you be interested?

I might.

Well, I'm convinced
you really are star material.

- Really?
- Yes.

Suppose we go some place
and discuss it, eh?

Farewell, Endora; Samantha.

"Good night, sweet prince...

And flights of angels
sing thee to thy rest!"

No, no, no. The tip of the tongue,
the teeth, the lips...

"Flights of angels
sing thee to thy rest!"

Talking of rest...

Oh, Maurice, there's no one
who can hold a candle to you.

Thank you, my dear.

- Samantha?
- Yes, Mother.

There is something different about you.
Some kind of an inner glow.

I've been telling her that all day.

The last time I saw her look
this way was a little...

Samantha...

how old is Tabitha?

That's it.

That's it.

Samantha, you're going
to have another baby.

I am?

Answer the question: Are you going
to have another baby? True or false?

- Those my only two choices?
- Yes.

Okay, then it's true. I am.

- Oh, my darling.
- Another little nipper. How delightful.

- Excuse me.
- Where are you going, Samantha?

I'm going to call Darrin.

I had this foolish idea
that after the doctor and me...

he'd be the first to know.

- Grandma.
- Grandpapa.

Yes, Darrin. I will.

I will.

I won't.

I will.

I will.

Oh, thank you, sweetheart.
I'm thrilled you're thrilled.

- Bye.
- How very exciting.

Soon there'll be
a handsome little warlock...

the spitting image
of his grandfather.

Well, it could be a mortal boy,
the spitting image of his father.

Samantha, bite your tongue.

Oh, here's my precious. Come along.

Macbeth, act one, scene one.

We open on three nice witches,
stirring a great big pot.

Daddy, could you hold the curtain?
I'd like to tell Tabitha too.

Please. Come along, sweetheart.

Tabitha.

Have you ever wished for a
little brother or a little sister?

Sometimes, but not very often.

Well, I'd like you
to start wishing it more often.

- When will it come?
- In about six months.

Where is it now?

Daddy and I will explain
that later tonight.

Instead of television?

Yes. Sorry about that.

Now, won't that be fun,
having a real live baby to play with?

I'd rather have a pony.

Well, you're gonna get a little baby.

Will it be a witch or a warlock?

There's always a chance
that it'll be a mortal boy or girl.

- I say a witch.
- I say a warlock.

Boy or girl?
Witch or warlock?

Which?

Oh, good grief.