Oliver Twist (1948)
Mr. Brownlow: The law assumes that your wife acts under your direction.
Mr. Bumble: If the law supposes that, then the law is a ass, a idiot! If that's the eye of the law, then the law is a bachelor. And the worst I wish the law is that his eye may be opened by experience.
Nancy: I will not turn on the others because, bad as they are, they never turned on me.
Mr. Bumble: Cry your hardest now, it opens the lungs, washes the countenance, exercises the eyes and softens down the temper. So cry away.
Oliver Twist: Please, sir. I want some more.
Workhouse Master: What?
Mrs. Corney: What?
Mr. Bumble: What?
Chairman of the Board: Ask for more?
Fagin: What's become of the boy? Speak or I'll throttle you!
Dodger: The traps have got him, and that's all about it!
Mr. Bumble: You'll make your fortune, Mr Sowerberry.
Mr. Sowerberry: The prices allowed by the board are very small.
Mr. Bumble: So are the coffins.
Mr. Sowerberry: There's an expression of melancholy in his face, my dear, which is *very* interesting.
Oliver's Mother: Well?
Mr. Sowerberry: He'd make a delightful mute, my love.
Noah Claypole: Workhouse, what's your mother?
Oliver Twist: She's dead.
Noah Claypole: What - she die of workhouse?
Oliver Twist: They said she died of a broken heart.
Mr. Brownlow: It only remains for me to tell you that neither of you will ever be employed in a position of trust again.
Town Crier: [SPOILER] Murder! Brutal Murder!
Fagin: That's the worst of having to deal with women, my dears. But they're clever and we can't get on without them.
Chairman of the Board: Gentlemen, it is my considered opinion that our charity is being presumed upon.
Workhouse Board Member: Here, here...
Chairman of the Board: This Workhouse has become a regular place of *entertainment* for the poorer classes.
Mr. Sowerberry: I've just taken the measure of the two women that died last night.
Mr. Bumble: Coffins are looking up, Mr. Sowerberry.
Mr. Bumble: You'll make your fortune, Mr. Sowerberry.
Mr. Sowerberry: The prices allowed by the Board are very small, Mr. Bumble.
Mr. Bumble: So are the coffins.
Mr. Sowerberry: Well, well, Mr. Bumble, there's no denying that. But we must have some profit, Mr. Bumble.
Mrs Sowerberry: Your bed's under the counter. You don't mind, I suppose?
Oliver Twist: No, ma'am.
Mrs Sowerberry: Doesn't much matter whether you do or you don't, for you can't sleep anywhere else.
Mr. Grimwig: I'll take the liberty, if you'll allow me, of helping us both to a glass of sherry.
Mr. Grimwig: You old women never believe anything but quack doctors and lying story books.
Mr. Bumble: I have the dubious pleasure of naming these orphans. Alphabetically. The last one was Swallow, this one I've named Twist.
Mr. Brownlow: He'll be back in 20 minutes.
Mr. Grimwig: Are you sure he will return ? That boy has a new set of clothes, a pack of valuable books, and a £5 note in his pocket. If he returns back to this house I will eat my hat.
Nancy: [about Oliver] I thieved for you when I was a child not half his age, and I've thieved for you ever since, don't you know it!
Fagin: And if you have, it is your living!
Nancy: Aye, it is. It is my living. And you're the wretch that drove me to them long ago, and that'll keep me there, day and night, day and night, DAY AND NIGHT!
Noah Claypole: Do you know who I am?
Oliver Twist: No, sir.
Noah Claypole: I'm Mr Noah Claypole and you're under me so don't you forget it!
Fagin: You'd like to make pocket handkerchiefs as easily as the Artful Dodger, wouldn't you my dear?
Oliver Twist: Yes, if you teach me sir.
Fagin: We will, my dear, we will.
Mr. Brownlow: Somehow I feel you and I are going to be good friends.
Mr. Brownlow: How would you like to grow up a clever man and write books?
Oliver Twist: I think I'd rather read them sir.
Mr. Brownlow: What, don't you want to be a book writer?
Oliver Twist: I think I'd rather be a bookseller sir.
Bill Sikes: There's light enough for what I've got to do.
Nancy: Why are you looking at me like that? Oh, no! No! No! Bill! Bill! Bill!
Nancy: Let him be or I'll put that mark on you that'll send me to the gallows before me time.
Bill Sikes: Fair or not fair, give it 'ere you avaricious old skeleton.
Mr. Bumble: Be good enough to tell Mr. Sowerberry that the beadle is here.
Doctor Who Delivers Oliver: It's all over, Mrs. Thingummy.
Mr. Bumble: He comes from a bad family, sir. Excitable natures, Mrs. Sowerberry.
Noah Claypole: You know, Workhouse, your mother must have been a regular, right-down bad 'un.
Oliver Twist: What did you say?
Noah Claypole: A regular, right-down bad 'un, Workhouse. And it's a great deal better, Workhouse, that she died when she did, or else she'd have been doing hard labor in Bridewell. Or transported or hung, which is more likely than either.
Mrs. Corney: Are you gonna sit there snoring all day?
Mr. Bumble: I shall sit here as long as I think proper, ma'am. And though I was not snoring, I shall snore, gape, sneeze, laugh or cry as the humor strikes me.
Mrs. Bedwin: Mr. Brownlow wants to see you, and we must make you smart as sixpence.
Mr. Bumble: The prerogative of a man is to command.
Mrs. Corney: And what's the prerogative of a woman, in the name of goodness?
Mr. Bumble: To obey, ma'am.
Mrs. Corney: Huh!
Bill Sikes: You hold your tongue and keep your melting pot ready.
Landlord Of 'Three Cripples': Now, ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to you, a charming young singer who has never appeared in public before. Miss Lucy Willow.
Singer At 'Three Cripples': [singing] This morning early, My malady was such, I in my tea took brandy, And I took a drop too much...