Rebecca: My heart is breaking, Father.
Isaac of York: My heart broke long ago. But it serves me still.
Minor Role: Milord, there is a stranger at your gate who begs shelter. He is a Jew who calls himself Isaac of York.
Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert: I share no roof with an infidel.
Wamba: Why not, sir knight? For every Jew you show me who's not a Christian, l'll show you a Christian who's not a Christian.
Wamba: A gentleman at last, and my first task is to steal a horse!
Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert: Rebecca, you must blame the fates that it was I who loved you, and not Ivanhoe - for you were always mine, and only mine - God keep you.
Rebecca: My lady, in death he spoke the truth.
Lady Rowena: Do you still love Ivanhoe?
Rebecca: No, my lady. I stole a little happiness, perhaps - but not from you - or him - only from my dreams.
Rebecca: I love you - and I must not feel it - yet Ivanhoe I love you, with all the longing in this lonely world.
King Richard the Lionhearted: Before me kneels a nation divided - rise as one man, and that one, for England!
Sir Cedric: Delayed? How so?
Wamba: Well, when I heard Normans were approaching I ran to lock up my wife. But, she'd also heard they were approaching, and locked me up instead.
Ivanhoe: Hold my Lords!
Ivanhoe: I Wilfred of Ivanhoe, do challenge the judgment of this tribunal. In the name of the accused, I demand that her guilt or innocence be determined in the eyes of God by wager of battle.
Isaac of York: I heard the jester call you "lvanhoe." But lvanhoe is Cedric's son, and Cedric called him dead. Who are you, then?
Ivanhoe: I am King Richard's envoy. Does that make us friends or foes?
Isaac of York: It does not make you my foe, sire, but then, I am allowed no king.
Ivanhoe: Why not?
Isaac of York: Because I am allowed no country. I am deeply in your debt, sire. Tell me how I can repay you.
Ivanhoe: I seek 150,000 marks of silver - the price of Richard's ransom from Leopold of Austria.
Isaac of York: Glance around you, sire. What you see is all we've saved from every home we tried to make. A toy or two from every land that cast us out. I am not a rich man, Sir lvanhoe.
Ivanhoe: No, but you are the patriarch of your tribe. Tell your people Richard must be ransomed. They will find the wealth.
Isaac of York: I see you love Richard, sire, but he was no friend to my people. Our synagogues were looted to send him on his crusades.
Ivanhoe: Do you prefer the persecution of his brother, John?
Isaac of York: There is little to choose between Black John and Richard, yea and nay, if you are a Jew.
Ivanhoe: Then I pledge you this, Isaac. You're a race without a home or a country. Deliver Richard, and he will deliver your people from persecution.
Isaac of York: My friend, you ask for more than we can give. - And you offer more than Richard can give.
Ivanhoe: Do you doubt my word? Write down whatever terms you want. I shall sign them in King Richard's name.
Isaac of York: We shall need no pledge on paper, you and I. Let Richard promise this instead. Let him promise justice to each man whether he be Saxon or Norman or Jew... for justice belongs to all men or it belongs to none.
Ivanhoe: But that is a Christian teaching.
Isaac of York: Strange as it may be, sire, we are taught it too.
Wamba: A cow jumped the moon, but a fool he jumps higher, from Wamba the serf, to Wamba the squire.
[Locksley and his men are lying in ambush]
Clerk of Copmanhurst: Now, Locksley, now! While they're still in range.
Locksley: Peace, you hothead. Would you slay Sir. Ivanhoe?
Clerk of Copmanhurst: Sir Ivanhoe died in the Holy Land.
Locksley: The troubadour is Sir Ivanhoe. He takes those Normans to his father's keep.
Clerk of Copmanhurst: Ivanhoe defied his father when he went to the war and Cedric cast him out. He will never go there... unless he's turned traitor to the Saxons and his father with him.
Locksley: Put down your bows. I'll know why he rides with Normans and why he takes those Normans to his father before I'll believe ill of Sir Ivanhoe or Cedric. And so shall you, you rattle pit.
Clerk of Copmanhurst: Hmm?
Locksley: We know you, sir knight. From this moment on, at any time, at any price, we are your men.
Narrator: In the 12th century, at the close of the third crusade to free the Holy Land, the Saxon knight called Wilfred of Ivanhoe undertook a private crusade of his own. England's warrior king Richard the Lionhearted had disappeared during his homeward march, vanishing without trace. His disappearance dealt a cruel blow to his unhappy country, already in turmoil from the bitter conflict between Saxons and Normans. And in time, most of his subjects came to mourn him as dead. But Ivanhoe's faith that his king still lived took him on an endless quest from castle to castle to castle until at last he came to Austria.
[Ivanhoe, disguised in black armor, pays homage to Rebecca]
Sir Cedric: By St. Dunstan! Our champion pays homage to the Jews.
Lady Rowena: No, my lord. His homage was to beauty, not to faith, I fear.
Isaac of York: I think I know that knight, Rebecca, but how do you?
Rebecca: But did you not bring him to our house?
Isaac of York: How did he get his armor and his horse?
Rebecca: My mother's jewels were mine to give. Did I do wrong?
Isaac of York: Nay, I approve. But only of the gift.
Prince John: His taste in women is a glove in every Saxon face. Now let Sir Ralph DeVipont throw him and his shame's complete.
Clerk of Copmanhurst: This knight is no stranger. Only one Saxon could ever fight like that.
Locksley: Sir Ivanhoe?
Clerk of Copmanhurst: Yeah.
Locksley: And you would have had me shoot him down, remember?
Clerk of Copmanhurst: Why, blast me assunder, it was me who stopped you.
Prince John: Your foe has bloodied you, sir knight. Will you concede defeat?
[Ivanhoe, disguised in black armor, shakes his head no]
Prince John: You fight too well to die so mean a death. Will you not throw in your lot with me instead?
Ivanhoe: That would be an even meaner death, your grace.
Prince John: To the confusion and confining of that cursed death's-head knight. Why could you fools not kill him on the field?
Sir Hugh De Bracy: Because he was no fool, my liege.
Prince John: How can a Norman hold the throne of England when the knights who are his strength go down like chaff beneath an unknown Saxon mountebank?
Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert: Neither a mountebank, nor yet unknown. I road against that self-same knight at Acre in the war.
Prince John: Then tell us who he is.
Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert: The favored henchman of your brother Richard, my liege, Wilfred of Ivanhoe.
Prince John: Ivanhoe here in England?
[turning to his advisor]
Prince John: You told me he was dead!
Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert: He should be and he shall be when he and I meet again. I carry his death warrant here against my breast.