You'll never see me weep again.
I'm finished with tears forever.
You do have two sons left you, Fee...
and you have Meggie.
It's not too late for Meggie.
- Meggie? - Will you promise me something?
If you like.
Look after Meggie. Don't forget her.
Make her go to the local dances, meet the young men.
Help her look around her world and find some good, kind man to marry...
who'll give her children and a home of her own. It's time.
- Whatever you say, Father. - Fee, she's your daughter.
It's as if you never remember that.
Does any woman?
What's a daughter?
Just a reminder of the pain...
a younger version of oneself...
who will do all the same things, cry the same tears.
No, Father.
I try to forget I have a daughter.
It survived.
Meggie, I need no reminder of you. Not now, not ever.
I carry you within me. You know that.
I must go.
Yes.
Everything's all right now.
All in order.
The dead are buried and blessed...
and you and mom have my life planned out.
Meggie, we must make an end to this.
My life belongs to God. You've always known that.
That dear and gentle God...
who has taken from me everyone that I've loved most in the world.
One by one.
Frank, and Hal...
and Stuie...
and my father.
And you, of course. Always you.
God is merciful.
There'll be no one else to grieve.
He is merciful.
I know you can't see that now, but he is.
He spared the rose.
He sent the rain.
Who sent the fire?
Good, they've come.
Nice to see them after two years of not even enough sheep to need them.
All new lads, I think.
Not a bad-looking lot, for shearing men.
- That one's quite a dandy. - Which?
The one in the white, you mean. I suppose he's all right.
Bet he spends all his time washing and ironing, just to keep up appearances.
I'll bet a man with his looks doesn't have to do his own washing.
Mrs. Smith.
Get this wool!
All right, lads! There's your day!
You know, you owe me one.
You're a regular dreadnought, aren't you?
What about you?
Never saw a boss cocky who could shear like that.
I like to keep a hand in. You're O'Neill, aren't you?
Yes, sir, Luke O'Neill.
Look at this, Bob.
O'Neill shore 200. Just a couple ahead of you.
The lads have been talking about getting up a contest between you two.
- Are they, now? - Well, you know...
they always are eager to win a few quid wagering.
Why not? What do you think, O'Neill?
The fact is, I'm not much on contests...
but thank you all the same, Mr. Cleary.
- Good day, miss. - Good day.
Fresh as a daisy, are we?
Nothing like shearing a ton or two of sheep to set a man up.
I'm Luke O'Neill.
- I take it you're the famous Meggie Cleary. - Do you?
How did you come by that information?
I saw you cooling yourself on your nice, big veranda.
- And they said you were a beauty. - Really?
What else did they tell you?
You'd be surprised what a bloke can learn if he's interested.
Judy...
Mrs. Smith was looking for you. Something about the washing up.
Yes, Mr. Cleary.
Judy?
That wasn't nice.
Still interested?
Listen, man, you ought to give that contest a bit more thought.
You're a good match for Bob.
I could out-shear Bob Cleary any day...
if I was cruel enough to show him up in front of these men.
Bob's not like that. And what do you care, anyway?
You'll be going down the track in a couple of weeks.
Pete, who's that girl?
That's just Meggie. Now, listen...
there's good money in this contest, I'm telling you.
Shouldn't swim alone, you know.
Too dangerous.
And what are you doing here?
Seeing you don't drown.
I don't know why you'd swim in that thing, anyway. It smells like hell.
It's the sulfur.
I'm Luke O'Neill.
Meggie Cleary.
Meggie?
That doesn't suit you a bit.
Not enough dignity. I'm going to call you Meghann.
I detest the name Meghann.
Good night, Meghann.
I often wonder what can account for such sadness...
in a face with so much spiritual beauty.
I should be sorry to think that I look sad when I pray, Your Grace.
No, but it's true.
And at other times...
when you think no one is watching.
And the passage of time seems only to deepen it, my Ralph.
Perhaps it's the Irish strain in me. We're a tragic lot, you know.
You received a wire from the Vatican this morning.
The Athens Conference is all arranged. I'll soon have our travel plans in order.
Splendid. The Church is long overdue for some discussions...
with our Greek Orthodox brethren.
I'm delighted you want me to accompany you.
It will be excellent training for you.
A good opportunity to nourish your career as a church diplomat.
And besides, you know very well...
that you have become indispensable to me, my dear Ralph.
If you're not with me, how could I possibly continue...
my interesting little game of working out...
precisely what makes you tick?
It's too early to tell, but we could have one of the biggest clips ever.
It's nice to see the place get back on something like a paying basis.
I don't believe it was only two years ago, Christmas, that we were almost burnt out.
Couldn't have done it without Father Ralph...
advancing us the money for new stock.
Good day, Meghann.
Missus.
Good day, O'Neill. What can we do for you?
- I've come about the shearing contest. - I thought you weren't interested.
The lads have been on at me about it, so I thought I might give it a go.
Fine, just name your terms.
If I was to win, what would you say to hire me as a stockman?
- A stockman? - Just for a month, say, to try me out.
I know my way around livestock, all right.
I thought we weren't hiring any new stockmen this year.
If Luke here is as good in the saddle as he is at the board...
Stone the crows, you'd think I'd already lost this contest.
What if you lost, O'Neill?
Same terms, except I work the month for free.
You'll actually work for no wages just to be a stockman?
But that's daft. You could make more at shearing, anyway.
Yeah, but a shearer's a rover.
I don't intend to be a rover all my life.
And I do like it here on Drogheda.
All right, lads, this is the last call. Gentlemen, let's hear them.
This £5 on Cleary.
I'll match any of that.
Now, we all know the rules.
The men will shear for two hours only...
and since my own brother's in there, I'm stepping out.
So I want one of you shearing men to keep score...
and you, Drogheda lads, choose a man to watch the time.
- Are we ready, men? - Yeah!
Mr. Cleary, show him what a boss cocky can do.
We'll show him!
Hold him steady, O'Neill.
Come on!
Here we go.
Come on.
All right, Mr. Cleary, come clear. Just squeeze him through the breezer.
Hurry up! Down the chute!
Good show, O'Neill!
You're making twice the number of blows because you're not filling your shears.
Fill your shears, boy!
Don't let us down.
Come on, O'Neill.
That's it, O'Neill, you've got him on the run now!
- Come on! - Jack, who's winning?
It's only half-over, still an hour to go. But looks like old Bob's losing so far.
Losing? Come on, Meggie.
Judy, you go back to the house.
You can do it. Long blows, Mr. Cleary.
Fill your shears, boy!
Luke, pay attention!
Come on, Bob, let's show them what Drogheda men are made of!
- I could out-shear that learner. - That's his job, missus.
Stay in there, Bob! You can do it!
Don't stop! Keep going!
Come on, Bob!
Two minutes to go!
Go! Go!
What did I tell you? I taught him myself!
What about a cheer for a bonzer opponent? Luke O'Neill!
Hip, hip, hooray!
There's not a pub around for 40 miles, but if a barrel of rum and another of ale...
will take away the sting, they're outside!
Well done, Bob.
That's my Bob.
Would you like some champagne, then, Bob?
- Congratulations, Mr. Cleary. - Bob.
It was only by half a sheep. Could have gone the other way.
You've got yourself a stockman, free of charge for the next month.
Then if you like what you see...
There's not much to see here now we got the wool away.
I wonder you didn't go with it.
You don't appear to have made much of a bargain here.
I'm happy with it.
There's a dance next Saturday night.
Will you come with me?
Thank you, but I can't dance so there wouldn't be much point.
There's nothing to dancing.
I could teach you in two flicks of a lamb's tail.
Wonder if your brother would lend us the car.
We ought to go in style, don't you think?
- I said I wouldn't go. - No. You said you couldn't dance...
and I said I'd teach you. Not scared, are you?
No. Not here.
It's only a wool shed, you know. And it's a wool-shed ball we're going to.
Now...
One, two, three...
- Having fun? - Don't let go of me.
I don't intend to.
You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in that dress.
Thank you. I don't really like it, but it's the only party dress I have.
Go on, a posh girl like you?
You could've bought as many dresses as you liked.
Is that what you think?
That I'm some snobby squatter's daughter? Because I'm not.
The Clearys don't even own Drogheda, and we never will.
Touched a nerve, didn't I? I'm sorry, Meghann.
I know the blessed papists did you out of your place.
- What do you mean? - My, but we're sensitive.
I suppose now you'll never have me because I'm Protestant.
- You are? - Orange through and through.
I think the Catholic Church is run by a bunch of poofters...
in black nightgowns.
You do waltz divinely, Mr. O'Neill.
I do hope Meggie is not intending to be selfish.
It would be an honor to dance with you, Miss Carmichael...
but, you see, Miss Cleary here has hired me for the whole night.
- This isn't so bad, is it? - What?
- Dancing. - I think I'm learning to like it.
Good, 'cause there's another dance next week...
and the week after that, and the week after that.
So I went to the wool shed when I was 12, as a tar-boy.
Me and my mate, Arne Swenson.
He's the best, Arne is. Always looked out for me.
- Is he still shearing? - No, not Arne.
He runs a gang of cane-cutters up in northern Queensland.
You reckon shearing's hard, but I tell you there's not too many blokes...
big enough or strong enough to cut the sugarcane.
You make it sound like your life's ambition.
I wouldn't mind trying it for the money it can make.
My life's ambition is to have my own place...
my own sheep station, up in western Queensland, where I come from.
And I will someday, too, have my own place.
And someone to share it with.
Someone who'll love me and work alongside me.
God, you are beautiful.
How many times have you been in love?
Only once.
Whoever he was, he was a fool to let you go.
Good night, Meghann.
You did not understand this play, Phaedra?
You've noticed how quiet I've been through the conference here in Athens.
My Greek isn't up to yours, I'm afraid, Your Grace.
You must study your languages if you're to be a church diplomat.
The dying youth in the play is Hippolytus.
He is cold to Aphrodite, the goddess of love.
To punish him for his neglect...
she causes his mother to fall hopelessly in love with him.
But, Hippolytus spurns her.
And that's why she kills herself?
Hippolytus' father blames him and has him killed...
by the god of the sea.
A cruel story, and so unjust.
Hippolytus dies even though he's innocent. In fact, he behaves laudably.
A good Catholic interpretation, yes, perhaps.
But to the ancient Greeks...
he is quite guilty of the sin of pride.
You see, it is that Hippolytus holds himself...
above human love.
He's cold.
He will not even admit that human passion exists.
And what if he would admit it? Would he then escape his fate?
That is the cruelty...
because this is his fate.
He cannot choose to love...
anymore than his poor mother can choose to be cold.
The gods have willed it for their sport.
Cruel, but rather an appealing system, is it not?
No decisions to make, no conscience, no agony of free will...
nothing. All fated from the first.
Rather shockingly at odds with the teachings of the Church of Rome.
My dear Ralph, do you not find it humbling to realize...
that when this play was first performed...
Rome was still infested with fur-clad barbarians?
They simply find you beautiful.
Blessed by the gods, perhaps?
They've been out together again.
I don't see the harm. He never lets it get in the way of work.
But I'm beginning to see why he likes it so much here.
I'm just as glad.
He's the only man Meggie's ever shown the least bit of interest in.
And somebody's got to keep the Cleary line going.
I hope that Meggie is all he wants.
I saw Angus MacQueen in Gilly the other day.
He seemed to think that Luke might be something of a fortune hunter.
A fortune hunter, Luke?
Of course, Meggie does have the money Father Ralph sets by for her...
but it's not what I'd call a fortune.
Some might, though. But I think he's just what he appears to be.
A hardworking bloke with plenty of ambition.
I suppose you're right.
Anyway, Meggie's a grown woman.
How she chooses to spend her life or her money is her own affair, isn't it?
You know...
I was just thinking...
of that old woman in the market.
She reminded me of how very certain I once was...
that I had found your Achilles' heel.
Those looks of yours...
They had to have made you the target, or perhaps even the victim...
of so many desires.
But, I have tested you...
had you watched...
thrown you together with beautiful women, and with men.
No result. Not a flicker.
No. Whatever you burn for, Ralph...
is not for the flesh.
I am...
surprised, Your Grace.
Shocked, you mean, by my methods.
But you shouldn't be.
They are simply tactics of which you must be aware...
if your weakness lies where I think it does:
In ambition.
If that is a flaw, I shall try to mend it...
Archbishop.
I might find that rather tedious as it is a weakness which I share.
And like all self-perpetuating institutions...
the Church has always a place for ambitious men.
In fact...
you are everything the Church admires...
in her high officials.
You are conservative, quick, subtle.
You know enough never to give away...
what is going on behind those eyes.
And you have the most exquisite gift...
of knowing how to please.
Even when it comes to pleasing those you loathe.
You make me out to be a Machiavelli, except that he was an Italian.
My dear Ralph, you are a delight.
I can scarcely wait to see your effect on our short, fat prelates in Rome.
Rome?
The beautiful, sleek cat among the plump, startled pigeons.
In time, my ambitious friend. In time.
These conferences will soon be over...
and then we shall see...
what fate has in store at the Vatican...
for both of us.
This is great.
We do have better in Queensland, of course.
You can't imagine how absurd you were that night, claiming I might drown.
You could've pretended you were drowning.
- And make myself as ridiculous as you? - Then I could've swooped you up...
Put me down.
...and do what I've been wanting to ever since that moment.
No. That's enough.
- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. - You didn't offend me. Really.
I suppose...
I'm just not very used to it, that's all.
That's all right.
You said you'd been in love once, so I thought he must've...
- But I guess it wasn't like that. - No, it wasn't.
He wasn't.
We'd best go in.
Marry me, Meghann.
Up so late, Mom?
I wanted to get this summary report in order for Father Ralph.
We've really come back very strongly since the fire.
Maybe even stronger than ever.
I think Ralph will be quite surprised.
- Is he back from Greece? - No.
In fact, I had a letter just today. Quite an announcement.
He's off to the Vatican with that... The one with the name a yard long.
Ralph's to be made a bishop.
So who knows if he'll ever be back to Australia.
The Vatican.
- That's nice. - Nice?
- I thought you'd be pleased for him. - Of course, I'm pleased.
It's what he always wanted, isn't it?
It's just that I've got my own announcement to make.
I'm going to marry Luke O'Neill.
What I wouldn't give if she were yours instead of Luke's.
God knows how much I've hurt you. But I do love you.
- Meghann's my wife, not yours! - Then be a husband to her, man!
I tried to forget you with someone else!
Two lives on a collision course with destiny.
I've tried so hard to get her out of my heart.
The Thorn Birds continues.
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