Christabel LaMotte: I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you. No mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed.
Christabel LaMotte: Your hands are shaking. Are you afraid?
Randolph Ash: No... a little.
Roland Michell: There's no such thing as poets anymore.
Randolph Ash: You cut me, Madam.
Christabel LaMotte: I'm sorry. I only meant to scratch.
Fergus: Mitchell's late again?
Blackadder: Roland, asked for another day off, Fergus.
Fergus: Oh, really? Where's he gone?
Blackadder: I didn't ask, and he didn't say. He's an American for God's sake. He's probably off trafficking drugs.
