The Pickwick Papers

Nathaniel Winkle:
Gentlemen, Mr. Jingle is the viper in our midst.

Samuel Pickwick:
Viper?

Nathaniel Winkle:
Viper, sir.

Tracy Tupman:
Nonsense, Winkle.

Samuel Pickwick:
Nonsense, Winkle.

Augustus Snodgrass:
N-nonsense, Winkle.

Nathaniel Winkle:
Very well, then... we shall see,

Mr. Jingle:
Miss Wardle... forgive intrusion... no time for ceremony... all is dicovered!

Rachel Wardle:
Zat?

Mr. Jingle:
Sshh... fat boy... scoundrel... treachorous dog... told old lady... old lady furious... raving.

Rachel Wardle:
My mother?

Mr. Jingle:
You and Tuppy.

Rachel Wardle:
Tuppy?

Mr. Jingle:
Kissing in greenhouse.

Rachel Wardle:
Ah! Mr. Jingle, if you're trying to insult me.

Mr. Jingle:
On the contrary... overheard fat boy... come to warn you... dreadful danger... tender my services... prevent hub-bub... other hand... think it an insult... leave room.

Rachel Wardle:
What shall I do? My brother will be furious!

Mr. Jingle:
No possible doubt... outrageous.

Rachel Wardle:
Oh, Mr. Jingle, what can I say?

Mr. Jingle:
Ah. Say, um, say he grifted. Nothing simpler... fat boy horsewhipped... your word believed... end of matter. One word of warning: beware of false hearts beating beneath smiling face.

Rachel Wardle:
Whoever do you mean?

Mr. Jingle:
Wild horses wouldn't drag... only wants you for your money.

Rachel Wardle:
You're referring to Mr. Tupman?

Mr. Jingle:
Lips sealed... old friend... ladykiller... loves another.

Rachel Wardle:
Another? Who?

Mr. Jingle:
Niece... Emily.

Rachel Wardle:
My niece. It can't be. I won't believe it.

Mr. Jingle:
Watch him.

Rachel Wardle:
I will.

[continued from above conversation]

Mr. Jingle:
Watch his looks... his whispers. He'll sit next to her at table. He'll flatter her and cut you.

Rachel Wardle:
Cut me?

Mr. Jingle:
Dead... you'll see for yourself.

Rachel Wardle:
I will indeed!

Mr. Jingle:
You'll cast him out?

Rachel Wardle:
I will!

Rachel Wardle:
You'll take another?

Rachel Wardle:
Yes!

Mr. Jingle:
You shall. I shall be that man! A worship from first... devoted slave... in a torment... sleepless nights... fortune of my own... [examines the jewel on her finger] love you for yourself... death do us part... dare I hope.

Rachel Wardle:
Oh, Mr. Jingle. [she faints in his arms]

Samuel Pickwick:
[to Mr. Jingle] Sir! I have only this to say to you, sir: I might have taken a greater avenge for the indignities which I suffered at your hands; but I will content myself with exposing you, sir - which is a duty I feel I owe to society.

Mr. Jingle:
[to the others present] Good fellow, Pickwick... fine heart... a stout old boy... but a little odd... slightly eccentric.

Samuel Pickwick:
I will add this, sir: I consider you to be a ruffian, sir. And a rascal, sir. And worse than any man I've ever seen... or even heard of!

Mr. Nupkins:
Sir! Do you admit you're an impostor?

Mr. Jingle:
Never admit anything, sir... bad for liver.

[Pickwick is angry at Mrs. Bardell's lawyers over her breach of promise suit, and they are goading him]

Dodson:
Perhaps you'd like to call us swindlers, sir. Pray do so if you feel disposed, ah pray do, sir.

Samuel Pickwick:
I do. You ARE swindlers.

Dodson:
Very good. You'd better call us thieves, sir. Perhaps you'd like to asault one of us.

Fogg:
Pray do so, if you would. We would make not the slightest resistance.

Sam Weller:
[realizes what's happening and steps in to save Mr. Pickwick] You just come away, sir. Battledore and shuttlecock's a *wery* good game... provided you ain't the shuttlecock and two lawyers ain't the battledores.