Sir Wilfrid: Kings, prime ministers, archbishops, even barristers have stood in the dock.
Christine Vole: You think Mrs. French looked upon Leonard as a son? Or a nephew?
Brogan-Moore: I do. An entirely natural and understandable relationship.
Christine Vole: What hypocrites you are in this country.
Sir Wilfrid: Doctors! They've deprived me of everything: alcohol, tobacco, female companionship.
Sir Wilfrid: My Lord, may I also remind my learned friend that his witness, by her own admission, has already violated so many oaths that I am surprised the Testament did not leap from HER hand when she was sworn here today! I doubt if anything is to be gained by questioning you any further! That will be all, Frau Helm.
Cockney Woman: I'll give ya somethin' to dream about, Mister. Wanna kiss me, ducky?
Miss Plimsoll: It's beddy-bye. We better go upstairs now, get undressed and lie down.
Sir Wilfrid: We? What a nauseating prospect.
Miss Plimsoll: I almost married a lawyer once. I was in attendance when he had his appendectomy, and we became engaged as soon as he could sit up... and then peritonitis set in and he went just like that.
Sir Wilfrid: He certainly was a lucky lawyer.
Miss Plimsoll: You know, I feel sorry for that nice Mr. Vole. And not just because he was arrested, but that wife of his, she must be German. I suppose that's what happens when we let our boys cross the Channel. They go crazy! Personally, I think the government should do something about those foreign wives. Like an embargo. How else can we take care of our own surplus. Don't you agree Sir Wilfrid?
Christine Vole: You are burning my nose.
Mayhew: She and her husband had lived abroad for many years in British Nigeria. He was in the colonial service. He died in '45 of a heart attack.
Sir Wilfrid: Oh, please, Mayhew, not while I'm smoking.
Sir Wilfrid: We've disposed of the gallows, but there's still that banana peel somewhere.
Miss Plimsoll: I shall have a very serious talk with Doctor Harrison. It was a mistake to let you come back here. I shall take you directly to a rest home or resort. Some place quiet, far off, like Bermuda.
Sir Wilfrid: Shut up. You just want to see me in those nasty shorts.
Miss Plimsoll: Is there too much of a draft? Should I roll up the window?
Sir Wilfrid: Just roll up your mouth, you talk too much. If I had known how much you talk I'd never have come out of my coma.
Brogan-Moore: Touching isn't it? The way he counts on his wife.
Sir Wilfrid: Yes, like a drowning man clutching at a razor blade.
Leonard Vole: But this is England, where I thought you never arrest, let alone convict, people for crimes they have not committed.
Sir Wilfrid: We try not to make a habit of it.
Miss Plimsoll: Teeny weeny flight of steps, Sir Wilfrid, we mustn't forget we've had a teeny weeny heart attack.