Plunkett & Macleane (1999)
French Count: I hope they hang you in Tyburn for your bad French.
Macleane: Merci Monsieur. I hope it rains every day of your fucking visit.
Macleane: Still swinging both ways, Rochester?
Lord Rochester: Jamie, I swing every way.
Plunkett: See, I'm talking "BIG".
Macleane: You forget something. I have morals.
Plunkett: Oh, do you?
Macleane: Most certainly, yes I do.
Macleane: How big?
Rebecca: [Rebecca walks up to Macleane after he has been staring at her] You are not a gentleman.
Macleane: I'm sorry?
Rebecca: No gentleman would stare at a lady like that in public.
Macleane: I do beg your pardon. Captain James Macleane, at your service.
Rebecca: Oh, so you are a gentlemen?
Rebecca: What a shame.
Macleane: What rhymes with Rebecca?
Plunkett: Pecker. How's your old, uh...?
Macleane: Ah. Much better. Thank you.
Macleane: Yes. You know, I think it's actually got bigger, if you can imagine such a thing.
Plunkett: I'd rather not.
Macleane: And Rebecca's lost to me. How can I make love to her with the pox?
[MacCleane and Lady Darcy are having sex in the back room]
Macleane: Oh, my angel, my siren's song, you've ambushed me in the forests of your hair, you've drowned me in the pools of your eyes, you've shackled me to the...
Lady Darcy: Do shut up! Fuck me!
Rich Prisoner: Care to express an opinion, sir?
Will Plunkett: Yeah. You've got more money than brains.
Lord Rochester: No, the new world is too far. Too big. Too primitive. No, no, my place is here... corrupting the young.
Macleane: [Complaining about the pox] My John Thomas is a complete disaster area!
Macleane: [after Plunkett has rescued him from hanging] Sure took your time.
Plunkett: Weren't sure you were worth it.
Rebecca: [after her father has asked why she is dancing with Macleane] He doesn't make my flesh crawl.
Macleane: *Thank* you.
Rebecca: [Talking to her father about one of her suitors] He makes my flesh crawl.
Judge Beresteade: Captain James Macleane, for drunkenness, unruly behavior, causing an affray and disturbing the King's, I hereby sentence you to be placed in the Knightsbridge debtors' jail and to be held there until you are sober. Take him away.
Dixon: Who were those buggers?
Winterburn: Buggers with style, my darling, buggers with style.