Lord Rochester: No, the new world is too far. Too big. Too primitive. No, no, my place is here... corrupting the young.

Macleane: Still swinging both ways, Rochester?

Lord Rochester: Jamie, I swing every way.

Dixon: Who were those buggers?

Winterburn: Buggers with style, my darling, buggers with style.

[last lines]

Lord Rochester: Well, we've had an exciting day, haven't we? Stiff drink and straight to bed for me. Back to the real world. I could quite get used to this... adventure lark.

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.

Lord Pelham: When one goes, Jamie, one must go with style.

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?

Macleane: Yes.

Rebecca: What a shame.

Macleane: What rhymes with Rebecca?

Plunkett: Pecker. How's your old, uh...?

Macleane: Ah. Much better. Thank you.

Plunkett: Good.

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?

Chance: Does that hurt?

Plunkett: Only when I laugh.

[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!

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.

[first lines]

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.

Rich Prisoner: Care to express an opinion, sir?

Will Plunkett: Yeah. You've got more money than brains.

Chance: I pay you. And yet, you do nothing.

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: Mr. Chance, I do believe you have halitosis.

Chance: [to Rebecca, as Macleane is being hanged] Open your eyes!