Witness for the Prosecution (1957)
Sir Wilfrid: [getting progressively more agitated] The question is whether you were lying then or are you lying now... or whether in fact you are a chronic and habitual LIAR!
Leonard Vole: What are you looking for?
Christine Vole: My accordion.
Leonard Vole: [stepping on it] I think I've found it.
Christine Vole: Step on it again. It's still breathing.
Sir Wilfrid: Be prepared for hysterics and even a fainting spell. Better have smelling salts handy and a nip of brandy.
Christine Vole: I do not think that will be necessary. I never faint because I am not sure that I will fall gracefully and I never use smelling salts because they puff up the eyes. I am Christine Vole.
Sir Wilfrid: I'd better take that thermos of cocoa with me. It helps me wash down down the pills.
Miss Plimsoll: Let me see. My learned patient is not above substituting brandy for cocoa.
[opens thermos and smells]
Miss Plimsoll: Sniff, sniff. It is cocoa. So sorry.
Sir Wilfrid: If you were a woman, Miss Plimsoll, I would strike you.
Sir Wilfrid: My Lord, may I also remind my learned friend that his witness, by her own admission, has already violated so many oaths that I am surprised the Testament did not LEAP FROM HER HAND when she was sworn here today! I doubt if anything is to be gained by questioning you any further! That will be all, Frau Helm!
Janet Mackensie: Perhaps you can help me, your Lordship. Six months, I have applied for my hearing aid and I am still waiting for it.
Judge: My dear madame. Considering the rubbish that is being talked nowadays, you are missing very little.
Sir Wilfrid: I am constantly surprised that women's hats do not provoke more murders.
Miss Plimsoll: Shall we roll up the window, Sir Wilfrid?
Sir Wilfrid: Just roll up your mouth, you talk too much. If I'd known how much you talk I'd never have come out of my coma. This thing weighs a ton.
[He tosses toward Plimsoll a robe he is under during the trip from hospital to home]
Christine Vole: Damn you. Damn you. Damn you! Damn you!
Miss Plimsoll: Wilfrid the Fox! That's what they call him, and that's what he is!
Christine Vole: [as the Cockney Woman] I'll give ya somethin' to dream about, Mister. *Wanna kiss me, ducky?*
Sir Wilfrid: Give me a match.
Leonard Vole: Sorry, I don't carry matches.
Sir Wilfrid: [to Brogan-Moore] I thought you said I'd like him.
Leonard Vole: But I do have a lighter.
Leonard Vole: You're quite right, I do like him.
Leonard Vole: But this is England, where I thought you never arrest, let alone convict, people for crimes they have not committed.
Sir Wilfrid: We try not to make a habit of it.
Sir Wilfrid: Kings, prime ministers, archbishops, even barristers have stood in the dock.
Miss Plimsoll: [hands Sir Wilfrid his thermos bottle] Sir Wilfrid, you've forgotten your brandy!
[Miss Plimsoll discovers cigars hidden in Sir Wilfrid's cane]
Sir Wilfrid: You could be jailed for that. You had no search warrant for my cane!
Sir Wilfrid: [Leonard Vole has been acquitted] We've disposed of the gallows, but there's still that banana peel somewhere.
Christine Vole: It isn't even my letter paper! I write my letters on small, blue paper with my initials on it?
Sir Wilfrid: Like these?
[pulling out a sheaf of letters on blue paper]
Christine Vole: Damn you! Damn you! Let me go! Let me get out of here!
Brogan-Moore: Touching isn't it? The way he counts on his wife.
Sir Wilfrid: Yes, like a drowning man clutching at a razor blade.
Miss Plimsoll: I almost married a lawyer once. I was in attendance when he had his appendectomy, and we became engaged as soon as he could sit up... and then peritonitis set in and he went just like that!
Sir Wilfrid: He certainly was a lucky lawyer.
Miss Plimsoll: Teeny weeny flight of steps, Sir Wilfrid, we mustn't forget we've had a teeny weeny heart attack.
Leonard Vole: [in Christine's bombed-out hovel] It's horrible! In a gemutlich sort of way.
Mr. Myers: I hope we are not to be deprived of the learned and stimulating company of Sir Wilfrid?