Baldrick: My Uncle Baldrick was in a play once.
Baldrick: Yeah. It was called Macbeth.
Blackadder: And what did he play?
Baldrick: Second codpiece. Macbeth wore him in the fight scenes.
Blackadder: So, he was a stunt codpiece.
Baldrick: Yeah, that's right.
Blackadder: Did he have a large part?
Baldrick: Depends who was playing Macbeth.
Blackadder: Baldrick, I would like to say how much I will miss your honest, friendly companionship.
Baldrick: Thank you Mr. B.
Blackadder: But, as we both know, it would be an utter lie. I will therefore confine myself to saying simply sod off, and if I ever meet you again, it will be twenty billion years too soon.
Baldrick: You could have someone else fight the duel for you.
George: But I'm the Prince Regent! My portrait hangs on every wall.
Blackadder: Answer that, Baldrick.
Baldrick: Well, my cousin, Bert Baldrick, Mr. Gainsborough's butler's dogsbody, says that all portraits look the same nowadays, since they're painted to a romantic ideal, rather than as a true depiction of the idiosyncratic facial qualities of the person in question.
Blackadder: Well, your cousin Bert obviously has a larger vocabulary than you, Baldrick.
Blackadder: Am I jumping the gun, Baldrick, or are the words "I have a cunning plan" marching with ill-deserved confidence in the direction of this conversation?
Baldrick: They certainly are, sir!
Blackadder: Well, forgive me if I don't do a cartwheel of joy. Your record in this department is hardly 100%. So what is it?
Baldrick: We do nothing.
Blackadder: Yup, it's another world-beater.
Baldrick: No, wait. We do nothing ... Until our heads have actually been cut off.
Blackadder: And then we ... Spring into action?
[Blackadder is writing a letter to Amy, as dictated by the Prince.]
Prince George: Tally ho, my fine, saucy young trollop. Your luck's in. Trip along here with all your cash and some naughty night attire, and you'll be staring at my bedroom ceiling from now till Christmas, you lucky tart. Yours with the deepest respect etc. Signed George. PS Woof, woof!
Blackadder: Ah, yes your highness...if I may change one small aspect?
Prince George: What?
Blackadder: The words?
[Blackadder tells Mr. Hardwood that the prince wants to marry his daughter Amy.]
Mr. Hardwood: Ah, ah... Can it be true? Surely love has never crossed such boundaries of class?
Amy: But what about you and mum?
Mr. Hardwood: Yes, yes I grant thee when I first met her, I was the farmer's son and she was just the lass who ate the dung but that was an exception.
Amy: And Aunty Dot and Uncle Ted.
Mr: Hardwood: Yes all right he was a pig poker and she was the Duchess of Argyle but...
Amy: And Aunty Ruth and Uncle Isiah she was a milkmaid and he was...
Mr. Hardwood: The Pope! Yes, yes all right. Don't argue!
Blackadder: I've had it up to here with that Prince. One more insult and our contract will be as broken as this jug
Baldrick: But that jug's not broken
Blackadder: You really do walk right into these things, don't you Baldrick?
[Smashes the jug on Baldrick's head.].
Baldrick: I'm glad to say you won't be needing those pills Mr. B.
Blackadder: Am I jumping the gun Baldrick, or are the words 'I have a cunning plan' marching with ill-deserved confidence in the direction of this conversation?
Baldrick: They certainly are.
Blackadder: Well forgive me if I don't jump up and down with glee, your record in this department is not exactly 100%.
[Baldrick has just been made a lord, much to Blackadder's annoyance, and been given £400,000.]
Blackadder: Give me the bloody money, Baldrick or you're dead.
Baldrick: Give me the bloody money Baldrick or you're dead, MY LORD.
Blackadder: Just do it Baldrick, or I shall further enoble you by knighting you very clumsily with this meat cleaver.
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