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Blackadder I, The Queen of Spain's Beard
Messenger: My Lord, news: the Swiss have invaded France.
King: Excellent! (to one of the men standing) Wessex, while they're
away, take ten thousand troops and pillage Geneva.
Chiswick: But the Swiss are our allies, My Lord.
King: Oh yes... Well, er, get them to dress up as Germans, will you?
King: Chiswick, remind me to send flowers to the King of France
in sympathy for the death of his son.
Chiswick: The one you had murdered, My Lord...
King: Yes, that's the fellow.
Edmund: 'morning.
Baldrick: My God, what's happened to your neck?
Edmund: Erm, er, well, well, well, well, they're love bites, actually!
Baldrick: Look more like dog bites to me.
Edmund: Well, yes, yes, she was, erm, a bit of an animal!
Percy: Really, My Lord!
Edmund: Oh yes!
Percy: Fight to the death, eh!
Edmund: Oh yes. Well, as my tutor, Old Bubbleface used to say,
"Make love and be merry, for tomorrow you may catch some
disgusting skin disease."
Baldrick: Actually, I'd be prepared to swear they were dog bites.
Edmund: They are not dog bites! She was very attractive.
Baldrick: Yeah: shiny coat, wet nose, clear eyes...
Percy: You know, they do say that the Infanta's eyes are more beautiful
than the famous Stone of Galveston.
Edmund: Mm! ... What?
Percy: The famous Stone of Galveston, My Lord.
Edmund: And what's that, exactly?
Percy: Well, it's a famous blue stone, and it comes ... from Galveston.
Edmund: I see. And what about it?
Percy: Well, My Lord, the Infanta's eyes are bluer than it, for a start.
Edmund: I see. And have you ever seen this stone?
Percy: (nods) No, not as such, My Lord, but I know a couple of
people who have, and they say it's very very blue indeed.
Edmund: And have these people seen the Infanta's eyes?
Percy: No, I shouldn't think so, My Lord.
Edmund: And neither have you, presumably.
Percy: No, My Lord.
Edmund: So, what you're telling me, Percy, is that something you have never
seen is slightly less blue than something else you have never seen.
Percy: (finally begins to grasp) Yes, My Lord.
Infanta: Tu nariz mas pequen~a que yo esperara.
Don: Your nose is smaller than I expected.
Edmund: I have suffered no similar disappointment.
Baldrick: Why not make her think you prefer the company of men?
Edmund: But I do, Baldrick, I do!
Baldrick: No, no, My Lord. I mean, erm, the, er, intimate
company of men...?
Edmund: You don't mean...like the Earl of Doncaster...?
Baldrick: I mean just like the Earl of Doncaster.
Edmund: That great radish? That steaming great left-footer? The Earl of
Doncaster, Baldrick, has been riding side-saddle since he was seventeen.
Baldrick: Mm! And who would want to marry the Earl of Doncaster?
Edmund: Well, no-one wou-- (realises) Brilliant! Of course! No-
one would marry the Earl of Doncaster! ... except, perhaps, the
Duke of Beaufort.
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