The Metropolitan Opera HD Live (2006–…): Season 2, Episode 5 - Britten: Peter Grimes - full transcript

Peter Grimes, an unmarried, eccentric fisherman, can't keep an apprentice: they disappear mysteriously every time. In the absence of OSHA laws or child-protective services, the townspeople gather to conduct an inquest into the matter.

Do you wish to give evidence?

Will you step into the box?

Peter Grimes, take the oath after me.

"I swear by Almighty God..."

"...that the evidence I shall give..."

"...shall be the truth..."

Tell the court the story in your own words.

You sailed your boat round the coast...

...with the intention
of putting into London.

We'd caught a huge catch,
too big to sell here.

And the boy died on the way?

The wind turned against us.
Blew us off our course.

We ran out of drinking water.

How long were you at sea?

Three days.

He died lying there...

...among the fish.

Threw them all overboard,
set sail for home.

When you landed, did you call for help?

I called Ned Keene.

The apothecary here?

Somebody brought the parson.

You mean, the Rector,
Mister Horace Adams?

Bob Boles started shouting.

There was a scene in the village street...

...from which you were rescued
by our landlady?

- Yes, by Auntie.
- We don't call her that here!

You then took to abusing
a respectable lady....

You shouted abuse at a certain person?

- Mrs. Sedley here....
- I don't like interferers!

When women gossip, the result is
someone doesn't sleep at night.

Who helped you carry the boy home?

The schoolmistress, the widow,
Mrs. Ellen Orford?

When you pray, you then
can't tell the truth from lies!

Mrs. Orford, as the schoolmistress,
the widow, how did you come into this?

I did what I could to help.

Help this kind of fellow,
callous, brutal and coarse?

There's something here
perhaps in your favor.

I'm told you rescued the boy
from drowning in the March storms.

Have you something else to say?

Then I have!

Peter Grimes, I here advise you... not get another boy apprentice.

Get a fisherman to help you,
big enough to stand up for himself.

Our verdict is that William Spode,
your apprentice...

...died in accidental circumstances...

...that's the kind of thing
people are apt to remember.

But when the crowner sits upon it,
who can dare to fix the guilt?

Like every other fisherman,
I have to hire an apprentice.

Get a woman to help you look after him!

That's what I want, but not yet.

Not till I've stopped people's mouths!

"Stand down!" you say.
You wash your hands.

The case goes on in people's minds.

The charges that no court has made
will be shouted at my head.

Let me stand trial!
Bring the accusers into the hall.

Let me thrust into their mouths
the truth itself, the simple truth....

Clear the court.

The truth....

The pity...and the truth.

Peter, come away.

Where the walls themselves
gossip of inquest....

But we'll gossip, too, and talk, and live.

While Peeping Toms nod as you go,
you'll share the name of outlaw, too.

Peter, we shall restore your name...

...warmed by the new esteem
that you will find.

Until the Borough hate
poisons your mind.

There'll be new shoals to catch.

- Life will be kind.
- Only of drowning ghosts.

- The hot sun will spread his rays around.
- The dead are witness, and fate is blind.

Your voice out of the pain... like a hand that I can feel...

...and know here is a friend.

Oh, hang at open doors
the nets, the cork...

...while squalid sea-dames
at their mending work.

Welcome the hour,
when fishing through the tide...

...the weary husband
throws his freight aside.

O cold and wet and driven by the tide...

...beat your tired arms
against your tarry side.

Find rest in public bars where fiery gin...

...will aid the warmth
that languishes within.

- Auntie!
- Come in, gentlemen.

Her vats flow with poisoned gin!

Boles has gone Methody!

A man should have hobbies
to cheer his private life.

Dabbling on shore,
half-naked sea-boys crowd...

...swim round a ship,
or swing upon a shroud.

Or in a boat purloined with paddles play...

...and grow familiar with the watery way.

Shoo, you little barnacles!
Up your anchors, hoist your sails!

- Dr. Crabbe....
- He drinks "Good health!" to all diseases!

- Storm?
- A long way out.

The wind is holding back the tide.
If it veers round... for your lives.

And if the spring tide
eats the land again...

...till e'en the cottages
and cobbled walls of fishermen...

...are billets for the thieving waves
which take... if in sleep,
thieving for thieving's sake.

Good morning, dear Rector.

Had Auntie no nieces,
we'd never respect her.

Good morning, your worship, Mr. Swallow.

You jeer, but if they wink,
you're eager to follow.

I'm coming tonight to see your nieces.

"The Boar" is at its patrons' service.

God's storm will drown your hot desires!

God stay the tide,
or I shall share your fears.

Give us a hand!

Haul the boat!

Haul it yourself, Grimes!

Hi! Somebody bring the rope!

I'll give a hand,
the tide is near the turn.

We'll drown the gossips in a tidal storm.

Parsons may moralise and fools decide...

...but a good publican takes neither side.

O haul away!

The tide is near the turn.

Man invented morals, but tides have none.

This lost soul of a fisherman
must be shunned... respectable society.

Let the captains hear,
let the scholars learn...

...shielding the sin,
they share the people's scorn.

Grimes, you won't need help from now.

- I've got a prentice for you.
- A workhouse brat?

I called at the workhouse yesterday.

All you do now is fetch the boy.
We'll send the carter with a note.

He'll bring your bargain on his cart.

Jim Hobson, we've a job for you.

Cart's full, sir. More than I can do....

You'll go to the workhouse
and ask for Mr. Keene his purchase.

Bring him back to Grimes.

Cart's full, sir. I have no room.

You'll do what there is to be done!

Is this a Christian country?

Are pauper children so enslaved
that their bodies go for cash?

Hobson, will you do your job?

I have to go from pub to pub,
picking up parcels....

My journey back is late at night.

Mister, find some other way
to bring your boy back.

He's right. Dirty jobs!

Carter! I'll mind your passenger.

- What? And be Grimes' messenger?
- Whatever you say, I'm not ashamed.

Somebody must do the job.

The carter goes from pub to pub,
picking up parcels....

The boy needs comfort late at night.

He needs a welcome on the road.

Coming here strange, he'll be afraid.

I'll mind your passenger.

Mrs. Orford is talking sense.

Ellen, you're leading us a dance...

...fetching boys for Peter Grimes...

...because the Borough is afraid... who help will share the blame.

Whatever you say....

Let her among you without fault
cast the first stone.

And let the Pharisees and Saducees...

...give way to none.

Whosoever feels his pride
humbled so deep...

...there is no corner he can hide,
even in sleep...

...will have no trouble to find out... a poor teacher...

...widowed and lonely,
finds delight in should'ring care.

Mr. Hobson, where's your cart?

Up here, ma'am. I can wait.

Have you my pills?

- My sleeping draught?
-The laudanum is out of stock...

...and being brought
by Mr. Carrier Hobson's cart.

Meet us both in the pub.

The Boar..."Auntie's" we call it.
It's quite safe.

I've never been in a pub in my life!

You'll come?

If the old dear takes much more laudanum,
she'll land herself one day in Bedlam!

Look! The storm cone!

The wind veers in from the sea
at gale force!

Now the floodtide and sea-horses...

...will gallop over the eroded coast.

The wind veers in from
the sea at gale force.

A high tide coming will eat the land.

Fasten your boats!
The spring tide's here.

- Is there much to fear?
- Only for the goods you're rich in.

It won't drown your conscience.
It might flood your kitchen.

God has his ways which are not ours.

His high tide swallows up the shore.

Repent! Repent!

And keep your wife upstairs!

O tide that waits for no man,
spare our coasts!

And do you prefer the storm
to Auntie's parlour and rum?

I live alone. The habit grows.

Grimes, since you're a lonely soul,
born to blocks, and spars, and ropes...

...why not try the wider sea
with merchantman or privateer?

I am native, rooted here.

Rooted by what?

By familiar fields, marsh and sand,
ordinary streets, the prevailing wind.

You'd slip these moorings
if you had the mind.

By the shut faces of the Borough clans...

...and by the kindness of a casual glance.

You'll find no comfort there.

When an urchin's quarrelsome,
brawling at his little games...

...mother stops him with a threat:
"You'll be sold to Peter Grimes!"

Children taught to be ashamed
of the legend on their faces....

Then the crowner sits to hint...

...but not to mention crimes...

...and publishes an open verdict...

...whispered about this "Peter Grimes."

Your boy was workhouse-starved.

Maybe you're not to blame he died.

Picture what that day was like...

...that evil day.

We strained into the wind, heavily laden.

We plunged into the wave's
shuddering challenge.

Then the sea rose to a storm
over the gunwales.

And the boy's silent reproach
turned to illness.

Then home, among fishing nets...


...with a childish death!

This storm is useful.
You can speak your mind.

And never mind the Borough commentary.

There is more grandeur
in a gale of wind... free confession...

...set a conscience free.

They listen to money,
these Borough gossips.

I have my visions, fiery visions -
they call me dreamer.

They scoff at my dreams, my ambition.
But I know a way to answer...

...I'll win them over.

With the new prentice?

We'll sail together.
These Borough gossips listen to money....

I'll fish the sea dry,
sell the good catches.

That wealthy merchant Grimes
will set up household and shop.

You will all see it!

I'll marry Ellen!

Go and ask her. Without your booty,
she'll have you now.

No, not for pity!

Then the old tragedy is in store.

New start with new prentice,
just as before.

- What Peter Grimes decides is his affair.
- You fool, man, you fool!

Might as well try shout the storm down....

Take your advice.
Put it where your money is!

The storm is here!

And I shall stay!

What harbour shelters peace...

...away from tidal waves,
away from storms.

What harbour can embrace...

...terrors and tragedies?

With her, there'll be no quarrels.

With her, the mood will stay...

...a harbour evermore...

...where night is turned to day.

- Past time to close.
- He said half past ten.

- Mr. Keene...
- Him and his women!

- What do you want?
- Room from the storm.

That is the sort of weak politeness
makes a publican lose her clients.

Keep in the corner out of sight!

I didn't see you, Missus.
You'll give the regulars a surprise.

She's meeting Ned...the quack.
He's looking after her heart attack.

- Bring us a pint.
- It's closing time.

Fearful old female,
why should you mind?

Did you hear? The tide has broken over
the northern road.

Fearful female, why do you leave
your windows naked?

Better strip a niece or two
and clamp your shutters!

It's blown our bedroom windows in!

We'll all be drowned!

I wouldn't mind if it didn't howl.
It gets on my nerves.

D'you think we should stop
our storm for such as you?

Coming all over palpitations!

Auntie, get some new relations!

Loud man, I never did have time...

...for the kind of creature
who spits in his wine.

A joke's a joke, and fun is fun.

But say your grace and be polite
for all that we have done.

For his peace of mind....

This is no place for me!

Loud man, you're glad enough to be
playing your cards in our company.

A joke's a joke, and fun is fun.

This is no place for me.

There's been a landslide up the coast.

I'm drunk....

You're a Methody wastrel!

Is this a niece of yours?

Who's her father?

I want to pay my best respects... the beauty and misery of her sex!

Methody, you'd better tune your piety
to another hymn.

I want her!

He's the local preacher.
He's lost the way of carrying liquor.

No, I mean love!

We live and let live, and look....

We keep our hands to ourselves.

Pub conversation should depend...

...on this eternal moral.

So long as satire don't descend... fisticuff or quarrel.

We live and let live, and look....

We keep our hands to ourselves.

We sit and drink the evening through...

...not deigning to devote a thought... the daily cud we chew...

...but buying drinks by rota.

Have you heard, the cliff is down
up by Grimes' hut?

-Thank God you've come!
-You won't blow away!

- The carter's over half an hour late.
- He'll be later still. The road's under flood!

- You'll have to stay if you want your pills.
- With drunken females?

They're Auntie's nieces...
and better than you for kissing, ma!

Mind that door!

- Get the brandy, Aunt.
- Who'll pay?

I'll charge her for it!

Talk of the devil, and there he is.

Grimes is waiting his apprentice.

This widow's as strong as
any two fishermen I have met!

Everybody's very quiet.

Now the Great Bear and Pleiades...

...where earth moves...

...are drawing up the
clouds of human grief...

...breathing solemnity... the deep night.

Who can decipher in storm or starlight...

...the written character
of a friendly fate... the sky turns...

...the world for us to change?

But if the horoscope's bewildering... a flashing turmoil
of a shoal of herring...


Who can turn skies back...

...and begin again?

He's mad or drunk!

His song alone would sour the beer.

His temper's up.

Oh, chuck him out!

You've sold your soul, Grimes!

Satan's got no hold on me!

I'll hold the gospel light before
the cataract that blinds his eyes.

His exercise is not with men,
but killing boys!

For God's sake, help keep the peace!
D'you want me up at the next assize?

For peace sake, someone!
Start a song!

"Joe has gone fishing,
and Young Joe has gone fishing."

"And you know who's gone fishing,
and found them a shoal."

"Pull them in in han'fuls
and in canfuls and in panfuls!"

When I had gone fishing...

...when you know'd gone fishing,
we found us Davy Jones!

Bring him in with horror!
Bring him in with terror!

And bring him in with sorrow!

O haul away!

The bridge is down. We half swam over.

And your cart, is it seaworthy?

We're chilled to the bone.

My dear, there's brandy
and hot water to spare.

- Let's look at the boy.
- Let him be.

- Nice sweet thing....
- Not for such as you!

Let's go! You ready?

Let them warm up.
They've been half drowned.

Your hut's washed away.

Only the cliff!

Young prentice, come!

Goodbye, my dear. God bless you.

Peter will take you home.

Do you call that home?

Glitter of waves and glitter of sunlight... us rejoice
and lift our hearts on high.

Man alone has a soul to save...

...and goes to church
to worship on a Sunday.

Shall we not go to church this Sunday...

...but do our knitting by the sea?

Nothing to tell me? Nothing to say?

Shall I tell you what your life was like?
See if I'm right.

I think you liked your workhouse,
with its grave, empty look.

Perhaps you weren't so unhappy
in your loneliness.

When first I started teaching...

...the life at school to me
seemed bleak and empty.

But soon I found a way
of knowing children.

Found the woes of little people
hurt more...

...but are more simple.

John, you may have heard the story
of the prentice Peter had before.

But when you came, I said --

"Now this is where we make
a new start."

Every day I pray it may be so.

There's a tear in your coat.
Was that done before you came?

Badly torn.

That was done recently.

Take your hand away.
Your neck, is it?

John, what are you trying to hide?

A bruise.

It's begun....

Child, you're not too young to know
where roots of sorrow are.

Innocent, you've learned
how near life is to torture.

Let this be a holiday,
full of peace and quietness...

...while the treason of the waves
glitters like love....

Storm and all its terrors...

...are nothing to the heart's despair.

After the storm will come a sleep... oceans deep.

Come, boy!

I've seen a shoal. I need his help.

But if there were, then all the boats
would fast be launching.

I can see shoals to which
the rest are blind.

This is a Sunday, his day of rest.

This is whatever day I say it is!

You and John have fished all week,
night and day without a break...

...painting boat, mending nets,
cleaning fish -- now let him rest.

But your bargain...his weekly rest.

He works for me. Leave him alone...
he's mine!

This unrelenting work...

...this grey, unresting industry...

...what aim, what future, what peace...

...will your hard profits buy?

Buy us a home, buy us respect...

...and buy us freedom from pain
of grinning at gossip's tales.

Believe in me. We shall be free!

Peter, tell me one thing...

...where the youngster
got that ugly bruise.

Out of the hurly burly.

Your ways are hard and rough
beyond his days.

Peter, were we right
in what we planned to do?

Take away your hand!

My only hope depends on you.

If you take it away, what's left?

Were we mistaken when we schemed... solve your life by lonely toil?

Wrong to plan? Wrong to try?
Wrong to live? Right to die?

Were we mistaken when we dreamed....

Wrong to struggle? Wrong to hope?

Then the Borough's right again?

You cannot buy your peace.

You'll never stop the gossips' talk
with all the fish from out the sea.

We were mistaken to have dreamed.

Peter...we've failed.

So be it!

God have mercy upon me!

Fool, to let it come to this!

Fool, to let it come to this!

Wasting pity, squandering tears....

See the glitter in his eyes!
Grimes is at his exercise!

What he fears is that the Lord
follows with a flaming sword.

You see all thro' crazy eyes.
Grimes is at his exercise!

Where's the pastor of this flock?

Where's the guardian shepherd's hook?

Parson, lawyer...all at prayers.

Now the church parade begins.

Fresh beginning for fresh sins!

Ogling with a pious gaze...

...each one's at his exercise!

- Doctor!
- Leave him out of it!

I heard two voices during psalms.
One was Grimes, one more calm.

While you worshipped idols there,
the devil had his Sabbath here!

Maltreating that poor boy again!

Grimes is weatherwise and skilled
in the practice of his trade.

Let us forget what slander can invent. at his exercise!

Dullards build their self-esteem
by inventing cruelties.

Even so, the law restrains
too impetuous enterprise.

Fishing's a lonely trade.
Single men have much to bear.

If a man's work cannot be made decent,
let him stay ashore.

My flock -- oh, what a weight is this,
my burden pastoral!

What a dangerous faith is this
that gives souls equality!

When the Borough gossip starts,
somebody will suffer.

People! No, I will speak!

This thing here concerns you all.

Whoever's guilty gets the rap.


This prentice system's uncivilised!
And unchristian!

Something of the sort befits
brats conceived outside the sheets.

Where's the parson in his black?
Is he here or is he not... guide a sinful, straying flock?

Is it my business?

Your business to ignore,
growing at your door...

...evils like your fancy flowers?

Ellen, dear, see I've gathered
all your things.

She can tell you -- Ellen Orford.

She helped him in his cruel games.

What am I to do?

Speak out in the name of the Lord!

We planned that their lives
should have a new start.

That I, as a friend,
could make the plan work... bringing comfort
where their lives were stark.

You planned to be worldly-wise,
but your souls were dark.

We planned this time
to care for the boy...

Little care you for the prentice.... save him from danger
and hardship sore.

Call it danger, call it hardship
or plain murder!

Mending his clothes,
and giving him regular meals....

Thanks to flinty hearts,
e'en quacks can make a profit!

Perhaps his clothes you mended,
but you work his bones bare!

Oh, pity those who try to bring...

...a shadowed life into the sun.

O hard hearts, pity those who try....

Who lets us down must take the rap.

The Borough keeps its standards up.

Oh, Lord...hard hearts!

Tried to be kind! Murder!

Swallow, shall we go
and see Grimes in his hut?

Popular feeling's rising.

Balstrode, I'd like you to come.

I warn you, we shall waste our time.

I'd like your presence just the same.

Little do the suspects know,
I've the evidence, I've a clue!

No bobtail, if you please.

Back to the gutter! You keep out of this.

Only the men....

Carter Hobson, fetch the drum.
Summon the Borough to Grimes' hut.

Now is gossip put on trial.

Now the rumours either fail...

...or are shouted in the wind...

...sweeping furious through the land.

Now the liars shiver for... if they've cheated, we shall know.

We shall strike and strike to kill
at the slander or the sin.

Now the whisperers stand out... confronted by the fact.

Bring the branding iron and knife.

What's done now is done for life.

From the gutter...

...why should we trouble... their ribaldries?

And shall we be ashamed...

...because we comfort men from ugliness?

Do we smile or do we weep...

...or wait quietly till they sleep?

When in storm, they shelter here.

We know they'll whistle their goodbyes....

On the manly calendar,
we only mark heroic days.

Do we smile or do we weep...

...or wait quietly till they sleep?

They are children when they weep.

We are mothers when they strive...

...schooling our own hearts... keep the bitter treasure...

...of their love.

Do we smile or do we weep....

Go there!

Here's your sea boots. Take those
bright and fancy buckles off your feet!

Here's your oilskin and sou'wester.

Stir your pins. We must get ready!

There's the jersey that she knitted...

...with the anchor that she patterned.

I'll tear the collar off your neck.

Don't take fright, boy. Stop.

Look. Now's our chance.

The whole sea's boiling.

Get the nets! Come, boy!

They listen to money,
these Borough gossips....

Now is our chance to get a good catch,
get money to choke down rumour's throat.

I'll set up with house, home and shop.
I'll marry Ellen.

Coat off!

Jersey on!

My boy...we're going to sea!

In dreams, I've built myself
some kindlier home...

...warm in my heart...

...and in a golden calm...

...where there'll be no more fear...

...and no more storm.

And she will soon forget
her schoolhouse ways...

...forget the labour of those weary days...

...wrapped round in kindness... September haze.

The learned at their books
have no more store...

...of wisdom than
we'd close behind our door.

Compared with us...

...the rich man would be poor.

I've seen in stars
the life that we might share.

Fruit in the garden...

...children by the shore.

A whitened doorstep
and a woman's care.

But dreaming builds
what dreaming can disown.

Dead fingers stretch themselves
to tear it down. I hear those voices...

...that will not be drowned...

...calling, "There is no stone
in earth's thickness to make a home..."

"...that you can build
with and remain alone."

Sometimes, I see that boy here in this hut.

His eyes are on me
as they were that evil day.

In harbour still and deep....

There's an odd procession here.
Parson and Swallow coming near.

You've been talking!
You and that bitch were gossiping!

What lies have you been telling?

The Borough's climbing up the hill.
To get me....

I'm not scared, I'll send them off....

Grimes ahoy!

You sit there watching me,
and you're the cause of everything.

Your eyes, like his, are watching me
with an idiot's drooling gaze.

Will you move?

Or must I make you dance?

Here's the way we go to sea.
Down the cliff to find that shoal....

Careful, or you'll break your neck.

Down the cliffside to the deck.
I'll pitch the stuff down.

Now shut your eyes, and down you go!

What about the other door?

Was this a recent landslide?
It makes almost a precipice. How deep?

Say forty feet.

Dangerous to leave the door open.

He used to keep his boat down there.
Maybe they've both gone fishing.

Yet his hut is reasonably kept.

Here's order, here's skill.

The whole affair gives Borough talk
its, shall I say, quietus.

Here we come pell-mell, expecting
to find out we know not what.

All we find is a neat and empty hut.

Gentlemen, take this to your wives--

"Less interference in our private lives!"

No point in staying here. And will the last
to go, please close the door?

Assign your prettiness to me.

I'll seal the deed and take no fee.

My signature, your graceful mark,
are witnessed by the abetting dark.

Together we are safe as any
wedded wife, for safety in numbers lies.

A man is always lighter,
his conversation's brighter...

...provided that the tete-a-tete's
in threes.

Assign your prettiness to me.
I'll call it real property.

Your sister shan't insist upon
her stay of execution.

Save us from lonely men! They're like
a broody hen with habits but with no ideas.

Given choice of pleasures,
they show their coloured feathers...

...provided that the tete-a-tete's
in threes.

I shall take steps to change her mind.

She has first option on my love.

If my appeal should be ignored,
I'll take it to the House of Lords!

O pairing's all to blame
for awkwardness and shame....

These manly sighs and tears
wouldn't be expended...

....if people condescended
to tete-a-tete's in threes!

Ned Keene is chasing me.
Gives me no peace!

He went to The Boar to have a glass.
Sister and I will join him there.

If you don't want Ned,
you better stay here.

They're all watching.
I must wait till Auntie's turned her back.

Can you spare a moment?

I've something to say that's
more than urgent...

...about Peter Grimes and that boy.

Neither of them was seen yesterday.
It's more than suspicion now.

It's fact! The boy's disappeared.

You expect me to act like
a Bow Street runner or a constable?

At least you can trouble to hear
what I've got to say.

For two days, I've kept my eyes open.
For two days, I've said nothing...

...pieced clue to clue and bit by bit
reconstructed all the crime.

Everything points to Peter Grimes.

He is the murderer!

Old woman, you're far too ready
to yell blue murder.

If people poke their noses into
other's business...

...they won't get me to help them.
They'll find there's merry hell to pay!

- You just tell me where's the body!
- In the sea the prentice lies...

...whom nobody has seen for days.

Murder most foul it is.
Eerie I find it.

My skin's a prickly heat...
blood cold behind it.

In midnight's loneliness
and thrilling quiet...

...the history I trace,
the stifling secret.

Murder most foul it is,
and I'll declare it!

Are you mad, old woman,
or is it too much laudanum?

- Has Peter Grimes been seen?
- He's away.

- And the boy?
- They're fishing likely.

- Has his boat been seen?
- Why should it?

His hut's abandoned.

I'm dry, good night.

Come along, Doctor.
We're not wanted here, we oldsters.

I looked in a moment.
The company's gay...

...with pretty young women
and youths on the spree.

So parched like my roses,
but now the sun's down...

...I'll water my roses
and leave you the wine.

Good night, Dr. Crabbe.
All good friends, good night.

Don't let the ladies
keep company too late.

My love to the maidens,
wish luck to the men.

I'll water my roses,
and leave you the wine.

Crime, which my hobby is,
sweetens my thinking... who can breach the peace
and kill convention.

So many guilty ghosts,
with stealthy body...

...trouble my midnight thoughts.

Is the boat in?

Yes, for more than an hour.

Peter seems to have disappeared.

Not in his boat, not in his hut....

This I found down by the tide-mark.

The boy's...?

My broidered anchor on the chest....

Embroidery in childhood...

...was a luxury of idleness.

A coil of silken thread... dreams...

...of a silk and satin life.

Now my broidery affords the clue...

...whose meaning we avoid.

My hand remembered its old skill.

These stitches tell a curious tale.

I remember I was brooding...

...on the fantasies of children.

I dreamt that, only by wishing...

...I could bring some
silk into their lives.

Now my broidery affords the clue....

Now my broidery affords the clue...

...whose meaning we avoid.

We'll find him, maybe give him a hand.

We have no power to help him now.

We have the power.

In the black moment...

...when your friend suffers
unearthly torment...

...we cannot turn our backs.

When horror breaks one heart...

...all hearts are broken.

We shall be there with him.

Nothing to do but wait...

...since the solution is beyond life...

...beyond dissolution.

I want the lawyer Swallow!

- He's busy.
- Fetch him, please. This is official.

Business about the Borough criminal!

My customers come here
for peace, for quiet...

...away from you
and all such nuisances.

This is an insult!

You'll find that I always speak my mind!

My customers come here,
they take their drink, their ease....

What's the matter?

Look! It's Grimes' boat, back at last!

Is Hobson there?

You're constable of the Borough.

As the mayor, I ask you
to find Peter Grimes!

What I claims is, he's out at sea.

But here's his boat.

- We'll send a posse to his hut.
- If he's not there, you'll search the shore...

...the marsh, the fields, the streets,
the Borough.

Crime, that's my hobby.

By cities hoarded...rarely are country
minds lifted to murder!

Who holds himself apart,
lets his pride rise.

Him who despises us, we'll destroy!

Him who despises us, we'll destroy!

And cruelty becomes his enterprise.

Our curse will fall upon his evil day.

We shall tame his arrogance.

Our curse shall fall upon his evil day.

Him who despises us, we'll destroy.

We'll make the murderer pay for his crime!

We'll make the murderer pay for his crime!

Peter Grimes!

There you are.

Nearly home....

What is home?

Calm as deep water....

Where's my home?

Deep in calm water.

Water will drink my sorrows dry...

...and the tide will turn.

Steady! There you are! Nearly home.

The first one died. Just died.

The other slipped...

...and died.

And the third will....

"Accidental circumstances...."

Water will drink his sorrows... sorrows dry.

And the tide will turn.

Here you are! Here I am! Hurry, hurry!

Now is gossip put on trial.
Bring the branding iron and knife...

...for what's done now is done for life!

Come on! Land me!

Turn the skies back...

...and begin again.

"Old Joe has gone fishing..."

"...and Young Joe has gone fishing..."

"...and you'll know who's gone fishing..."

"...when you land the next shoal."


Give me your hand.

There now, my hope is held by you.

If you leave me alone....

Take away your hand!

The argument's finished, friendship lost,
gossip is shouting, everything's said.

To hell with all your mercy!

To hell with your revenge...

...and God have mercy upon you!

Do you hear them all shouting my name?

Old Davy Jones shall answer,
"Come home, come home!"

Peter, we've come to take you home.

O come home...

...out of this dreadful night.

See, here's Balstrode.

What harbour shelters peace?

Away from tidal waves,
away from storms....

What harbour can embrace...

...terrors and tragedies.

Her harbour evermore...

...where night is turned... day.

To those who pass,
the Borough sounds betray...

...the cold beginning of another day.

And houses sleeping by the waterside...

...wake to the measured ripple
of the tide.

There's a boat sinking out at sea,
coast guard reports.

Within reach?

Let's have a look through the glasses.

Or measured cadence of the lads who tow...

...some entered hoy to fix her in her row.

Or hollow sound
that from the passing bell... some departed spirit bids farewell.

What is it?

Nothing I can see.

One of these rumours....

In ceaseless motion
comes and goes the tide.

Flowing, it fills the channel...

...broad and wide.

Then back to sea
with strong, majestic sweep... rolls in ebb yet terrible and deep.