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THURLOW: My dear Lady Orlando, is something troubling you? I knew it - that damned creature's got some sort of power over you! I don't care if it can speak - some sort of damnfool trickery, if you ask me. As though a ready tongue is any proof of good intentions - goddamned Whigs like Fox will talk the hind legs off your horse - before they push you off and steal it. All they've got on their minds is overturning the rightful order - and this monster's even got the same damned name!
FOXY: I can sssee that the Lord Chancellor wasss even lesss tolerant of thingsss outssside hisss underssanding at thisss point in his life.
LADY ORLANDO: Lord Thurlow, please restrain yourself. My distraction has nothing to do with Foxy. There is a gentleman in St. James's who is waiting for me - if you will excuse me...
THURLOW: Dammit, dear lady - that is to say, you can't leave now! We're in the midst of a riot!
PITT: A civil disturbance, to be more precise - which, it occurs to me, would stand better chance of being quelled if those in charge of the judiciary were better placed to deal with it.
THURLOW: Oh, Pitt the second edition's spoken, has he? One Parliamentary session representing your damned rotten borough and you imagine you can run Government. When you become First Minister, Pitt - which will be a cold day in hell - you can make such suggestions to your Lord Chancellor. Until that time, keep your damned mouth shut and - dammit, the Lady Orlando's gone! That's the result of wasting my breath discoursing with schoolboys and hissing beasts. Give me that lantern, dammit - I'm going out to look for her.
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