The Bishop: I tried to teach the rudiments of rugby football. But it wasn't really their sort of thing. They hang on to the ball for too long. Weeks, sometimes.
Ada: Most o' my boys just want company... a bit o' cheerin' up. I'm like a mother to 'em! Only they can't fuck their mothers so they come 'ere.
[On her husband's dying]
Lady Fermleigh: It was really a breach of manners. He's never done it before.
Slatterthwaite: You can't miss it, sir. Turn right out of the station. Or left.
Lord Ames: I once had a chap before me who'd been caught stealing from the mess. I ordered every alternate fingernail to be removed, and you know, I still get a card from him every Christmas.
Lord Ames: You see, what I think is wrong with the country today is that there aren't enough people chained up.
[Writing to The Times on how to treat the poor]
Lord Ames: Are there two "l"s in "disembowelment"?
Deborah Fitzbanks: Everyone was asking after you. They're all terribly excited about the wedding.
Reverend Fortescue: Wedding?
Deborah Fitzbanks: OUR wedding!
Reverend Fortescue: Oh, yes... Yes.
Reverend Fortescue: I shall be looking after women... Women who are in... moral trouble.
Deborah Fitzbanks: Liars?
Reverend Fortescue: Deborah, do you know what is meant by "fallen women"?
Deborah Fitzbanks: Women who have hurt their knees.
Reverend Fortescue: I'm going to remain a missionary.
Deborah Fitzbanks: But I thought...
Reverend Fortescue: A missionary IN ENGLAND!
Deborah Fitzbanks: But everyone's ENGLISH in England.
Reverend Fortescue: The locals had never seen a bicycle before. They used to call me "The Man on the Starving Horse."
Reverend Fortescue: Vicki...
Reverend Fortescue: Er, Violet. Would you and Ruby...
Reverend Fortescue: Rosie. Go and clean upstairs, and get some help from the three girls in my bed.
Lord Ames: He really is the most disastrous butler. Can't we get rid of him?
Lady Isabel Ames: Of course we can't. He's been here for 25 years.
Lord Ames: I don't know why we ever got rid of Marcheson.
Lady Isabel Ames: You know perfectly well why we got rid of Marcheson.
Lord Ames: That was only a bit of harmless fun.
Lady Isabel Ames: Not for the parents.
Lady Isabel Ames: Fetch the coaches, will you?
Corbett: Oh, I love it when you give me orders.
Lady Isabel Ames: [annoyed] NOW!
Reverend Fortescue: Isabel?
Lady Isabel Ames: Charles! What are you doing here?
Reverend Fortescue: I've come to stop you.
Lady Isabel Ames: How dare you? How dare you interfere with my plans?
Reverend Fortescue: You mustn't kill him.
Lady Isabel Ames: Why not? What business is it of yours, interfering priest?
Reverend Fortescue: You could hang for it.
Lady Isabel Ames: No one's going to hang. It's a simple shooting accident.
Reverend Fortescue: Isabel, this is England in 1906. People don't go around killing each other just because they don't get on!
Lady Isabel Ames: No, they just endure don't they? Stiff upper lip, that's the British way. I'm sure it wasn't like that in Africa.
Reverend Fortescue: Africa's primitive!
Lady Isabel Ames: Oh, yes. God save us from being primitive.
Reverend Fortescue: There's not so much wrong with the British way, for your class especially.
Lady Isabel Ames: My class? This is not my class, Charles.
Reverend Fortescue: You know what I mean.
Lady Isabel Ames: You don't know what *I* mean.
[Adopts a changed accent and demeanor]
Lady Isabel Ames: You alone, sir? Want some company? Clean and cheap?
[She returns to normal, Fortescue is speechless]
Lady Isabel Ames: Yes. I've disguised it well, haven't I? I had to. The honest tart never gets anywhere. No, they're not my bloody class, thank God!
[Attempting to talk her out of a dangerous plan]
Reverend Fortescue: Isabel, I...
Lady Isabel Ames: Please, don't. I don't want to be understood.
Lady Isabel Ames: Not now.
Reverend Fortescue: What are you going to do? What are you going to gain from this?
[Isabel begins to say something, tearfully sighs, and walks out the door]
[Isabel has been injured]
Reverend Fortescue: I'm sorry. Dear, God, I'm so sorry.
Lady Isabel Ames: You were only trying to do the decent thing.
[Fortescue begins to drape his coat around her]
Lady Isabel Ames: No, don't Charles.
[He continues anyway]
Lady Isabel Ames: That's the trouble with you. You're far too decent.