- Miles: What shall I sing to my lord from my window? What shall I sing for my lord will not stay? What shall I sing for my lord will not listen? Where shall I go when my lord is away? Whom shall I love when the moon is arisen? Gone is my lord and the grave is his prison. What shall I say when my lord comes a calling? What shall I say when he knocks on my door? What shall I say when his feet enter softly? Leaving the marks of his grave on my floor. Enter my lord. Come from your prison. Come from your grave, for the moon is a risen. Welcome, my lord.
- Flora: [singing] We lay, my love and I, beneath the weeping willow. But now alone I lie and weep beside the tree. Singing "Oh willow waly" by the tree that weeps with me. Singing "Oh willow waly" till my lover returns to me. We lay, my love and I, beneath the weeping willow. But now alone I lie. Oh willow I die, oh willow I die...
- Mrs. Grose: [referring to Peter Quint and Miss Jessel's abusive relationship] A person ought to keep quiet about it.
- Miss Giddens: You must tell me.
- Mrs. Grose: Oh, miss, there's things I've seen I... I'm ashamed to say.
- Miss Giddens: Go on.
- Mrs. Grose: Rooms... used by daylight... as though they were dark woods.
- Miss Giddens: They didn't care that you saw them? And the children?
- Mrs. Grose: I can't say, miss. I... I don't know what the children saw. But they used to follow Quint and Miss Jessel, trailing along behind, hand in hand, whispering. There was too much whispering in this house, miss.
- Miss Giddens: Oh, yes, I can imagine. Yes, I can imagine what sort of things they whispered about. Quint, Miles. I can hear them together.
- Mrs. Grose: But there was nothing wrong in Master Miles wanting to be with Quint. Quint taught him to ride and took him walking. The poor lad needed someone to...
- Miss Giddens: To corrupt him?
- Mrs. Grose: But Master Miles is a good boy, miss. There's nothing wicked in him.
- Miss Giddens: Unless he's deceiving us. Unless they're both deceiving us. The innocents.
- Mrs. Grose: Innocents they are, miss. It's not fair. You have no right to accuse them of...
- Miss Giddens: Oh, forgive me, Mrs. Grose. I'm not accusing. I'm just trying to put it together, to understand. Tell me, were the children happy?
- Mrs. Grose: Oh, they seemed to be. The same as now. But sometimes I used to wonder if they really cared for them, those two... or if they weren't just using them.
- Miss Giddens: Using them?
- Mrs. Grose: Yes, of course they were... and still are.
- Miss Giddens: [first lines, after the opening O Wilow Waly song] All I want to do is save the children, not destroy them. More than anything, I love children. More than anything. They need affection. Love. Someone who will belong to them, and to whom they will belong.
- Miss Giddens: The children... have they had a governess before?
- The Uncle: Yes, unfortunately. Not that there was anything wrong with Miss Jessel. She was an excellent governess and a most respectable woman. The children quite liked her especially little Flora. Oh, which reminds me: Be careful not to broach that subject to Flora unless of course, she broaches it to you first which I doubt will happen because she was so fond of Miss Jessel and it did come as an appalling shock.
- Miss Giddens: I'm not certain that I understand you, sir.
- The Uncle: She died.
- Miss Giddens: And where, my pet, is Miss Jessel? Where is she, Flora?
- Mrs. Grose: Miss Giddens!
- Miss Giddens: Where is she? You know you can see her!
- Mrs. Grose: Miss!
- Miss Giddens: Look, Flora! Look! There! You know you can see her!
- Flora: I can't! I can't!
- Miss Giddens: Admit it! She's there! You know you can see her!
- Flora: I can't! I can't!
- Miss Giddens: But look, she's there!
- Flora: Help me, I'm frightened!
- Mrs. Grose: Please, miss.
- Miss Giddens: But you can see her! You must!
- Mrs. Grose: Hush! Hush, dear, hush! She isn't there. How could she be? She's dead and buried. Hush, Flora.
- Flora: I can't see anything! I've never seen anything! You're cruel! You're wicked! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!
- Miss Giddens: Flora!
- Flora: Take me away from her! She's cruel! Take me away! Please take me away! Don't look at her! Don't look at her! She frightens me so!
- Miss Giddens: We must try to learn what it is these horrors want. Think, Mrs. Grose. The answer must lie in the past. Were Quint and Miss Jessel in love? They were in love, weren't they?
- Mrs. Grose: Love? Oh, I suppose that's what she called it. But it was more like a sickness. A fever that leaves the body burned out and dry. There was no cruelty she wouldn't suffer. If he struck her - oh, yes, and I've seen him knock her to the floor - she'd look at him as though she wanted the weight of his hand. No pride, no shame. Crawl to him on her hands and knees, she would. And him laughing at her. Such a savage laugh he had. Oh, it hurts me to remember. Bad she was, but no woman could have suffered more.
- The Uncle: I'm a bachelor but not I might add a lonely one. I spend a great deal of time abroad and as for my London life, well, it amuses me, but it's not the sort of amusement that one could suitably share with children. In brief Miss Giddens, I'm a very selfish fellow, and the last man alive to be saddled so suddenly and so awkwardly with two orphaned infants. It's most unfortunate, as I have no room for them mentally or emotionally. Does that seem quite heartless?
- The Uncle: Miss Giddens, may I ask you a somewhat personal question? Do you have an imagination?
- Miss Giddens: Oh!
- [chuckles]
- Miss Giddens: Oh, yes, I can answer that. Yes.
- The Uncle: Good. Truth is very seldom understood by any but imaginative persons... and I want to be quite truthful.
- Miss Giddens: [referring to Miss Jessel] Flora saw her, too.
- Mrs. Grose: Did she tell you so?
- Miss Giddens: No, of course not. She lied to me. Well, it amounted to a lie.
- Mrs. Grose: Oh, now, miss, I've never known either of the children to tell lies. Why would they?
- Miss Giddens: Why? Because they are both playing, or being made to play some monstrous game. I can't pretend to understand what its purpose is. I only know that it is happening. Something secretive and whispery and indecent. I tell you, believe me, the children are in dreadful peril.
- Miles: Where are the servants?
- Miss Giddens: They've gone home.
- Miles: Oh. Did you send them, or did they take fright and run away?
- Miss Giddens: What do you mean?
- Miles: Well, you're afraid and perhaps you made them so.
- Miles: Now it's your turn to hide!
- Flora: Hurry! Run!
- Miss Giddens: [getting up] Alright, where should I hide?
- Miles: Wherever you like, we'll count to 100.