- George: Take back your bloody filthy insinuations and get the hell out of my - fortress. Fortress. Get out! Get out! Get out! Get out! Get out! Get out! Get out.
- Nicholas: [after being punished for scratching one of Teresa's records] That Froggy bitch pulled my ear off!
- Philip Fairweather: Here, here, here! Who taught you to speak like that?
- Nicholas: Mum did!
- Philip Fairweather: [slaps the back of Nicholas's hand] That'll teach you to tell lies.
- Teresa: Another gorilla, like you.
- Richard: You ain't English, are ya? Continental, huh? You got an accent. You ain't British.
- George: Well, you're not exactly Anglo-Saxon yourself.
- Richard: Snotty, huh? I'm acting regular with you, and you're acting snotty. I'm regular with you, ain't I?
- George: My-My wife is French.
- Richard: All right.
- Richard: I locked you up, you little tramp, didn't I? Didn't I? Why'd you get out? You want me to teach you a lesson, huh? Well, my name ain't George, and I don't wear horns. I could punch that pretty puss of yours into a pumpkin. Is that what you want?
- Philip Fairweather: Oh, yes, of course I remember! Oh! Bonnie Prince Charlie?
- Marion Fairweather: No, no! The Roundheads!
- Philip Fairweather: The Roundheads, with all those bagpipes?
- Cecil: Jacobites.
- Richard: Mind you, I recognize everybody's opinion. I concede there are a few priests who really believe in what they preach, but most of them are phonies. It's the same thing everywhere.
- George: Nag, nag! Nagging bitch! That's all you are. All you care about is your gossip. Your nag, nag, chitter-chatter - - That's your only aim in life.
- Marion Fairweather: Poor George. Poor George. It was bound to end like this. He's gone completely off his rocker because of that tart.
- George: Say that again.
- Marion Fairweather: Tart! She's a tart! One has only to look at you to see that she'd go to bed with anything in trousers.
- George: The tart, as you call her, happens to be my wife.
- Philip Fairweather: I wouldn't put up with that fellow's language.
- George: Yes, I know, but good gardeners are awfully difficult to come by, you know.
- Marion Fairweather: You're going to have an exhibition?
- Philip Fairweather: Hey, you've been hiding things from us. When are you going to have this show?
- George: Surely you can see Teresa's pulling both your legs. She's teaching me to work in oils. I'm just a Sunday painter like a thousand others.
- Marion Fairweather: Grandma Moses!