Philip: I believe in nothing of what you've told me. I believe had I been here my cousin would still be alive. And I believe, whatever it cost him, in pain and suffering before he died, I will return with full measure upon a woman that caused it.
[First lines]

Philip: [voice over] Did she? Didn't she? Who was to blame?
Philip: The only women allowed in the house were the dogs.
[Last lines]

Philip: Was she? Did she? Didn't she? Rachel, my torment.
Rachel: She died on her wedding night.

Philip: God, of what?

Rachel: Of shock... I think.
Rachel: Or, I run out of money and am forced to give Italian lessons to the *bored* wives of the gentry.

Philip: Oh, no-no. Only spinsters teach. Everybody knows that. And then only when no one will support them.

Rachel: And what about widows?

Philip: Widows? Ah, well, widows remarry as fast as they can. And if they can't do that, they just pawn their wedding rings.

Rachel: Well, I think I would prefer to give Italian lessons.
Philip: Yesterday, you seemed all down in the dumps.

Louise: I'm amazed you noticed.

Philip: We all did. I'm surprised the Pascoe girls didn't remark on it.

Louise: Well, the Pascoe girls were probably far to busy remarking on something else.

Philip: What?

Louise: How easy it must be for a woman like your cousin Rachel to twist you around her little finger.
Philip: What is it?

Rachel: Tisane. It's Italian... tea infusions made from these herbs. Here, try. Try.

[Hands him the cup]

Philip: [Takes a tentative sip from the cup] It's, em, disgusting.

Rachel: [laughs] It's good for you. Good for the health.
Philip: [to Rachel] I would much rather you hit me than to hear you cry.
Louise: Philip, inquiries were made. My father...

Philip: What inquiries?

Louise: In matters of the heart, it seems that Enrico Rainaldi is more Greek than he is Italian... He likes boys, Philip.
Philip: [under his breath] Unbelievable bitch.

Enrico Rainaldi: Hm?

Philip: I said how much I was looking forward to seeing her.
Louise: Look at it! The dust!

Philip: She can dust it herself if it bothers her.

Louise: And the smell! Has every dog in the county taken a shit in here?

Philip: Possibly.
Louise: Poor Philip, are you being orphaned all over again?
Louise: Look.

[reading a message hidden inside an envelop that Ambrose wrote and mailed to Philip]

Louise: "She has done for me at last. Rachel, my torment. For God's sake, come quickly."
Philip: Where is he?

Enrico Rainaldi: Where is he? Surely, my dear fellow, you know. He is dead.
Enrico Rainaldi: Your cousin Rachel, Mr. Ashley, is a woman of very strong - impulse - and passion! Very strong. Do you understand?
Philip: You know perfectly well she drove him to his death.

Kendall: We know nothing of the sort.
Louise: What are you going to do with her?

Philip: Confront her. Of course, she'll try and bluster her way out of it - with a faint.

Louise: A swoon, theatrically.

Philip: Have hysterics. Isn't that what one expects of Italians.

Louise: Well, she's only half Italian.
Philip: With all that macaroni, she'll probably be too fat to get up the stairs.
Philip: I want justice, for Ambrose.
Louise: Good luck - and try not to throttle her before dinner.
Philip: Where the devil are the dogs?

Seecombe: I think they followed her upstairs.
Philip: What was she like, for God's sake?

Seecombe: I can't say, Sir.

Philip: My God, man, is she fat? Thin? Tall? Short? Does she have a wooden leg? A moustache? Has she got a wort on her nose?

Seecombe: I don't know nothin' about that, Sir.
Rachel: The butter's - melting. You better lick your fingers.
Rachel: I'll open the window before I go to bed.

Philip: Then, the rain will come in and spoil the new carpet.

Rachel: How pernickety you are.

Philip: I thought you lots worried about things like that.

Rachel: You lots?

Philip: Women.

Rachel: Only when they have nothing else to worry about.
Rachel: All this was his passion. So, I made it my passion too.
Philip: Everyone will be gawking at you.

Rachel: Then I shall just gawk back.
Rachel: Now, who will join me in drinking this delicious port wine? Or, unless, of course, the men wish to retire to the next room while we smoke our pipes.
Rachel: How would you define it? Our femininity? Mrs. Pascoe's and mine?

Philip: God knows. All I know is I like looking at you; but, I don't like looking at Mrs. Pascoe.
Philip: Where is she?

Kendall: In the kitchen.

Philip: Doing what?

Kendall: Hard to tell.
Rachel: Can't you let me be a person in my own right? A woman! Who's making her way in the world - as she wishes to!
Rachel: Don't you see, if I had wanted your money, I would have asked you for it!
Philip: Good night.

Rachel: Good night.

Philip: And I hope you'll sleep.

Rachel: You too.

Philip: And not be angry with me.

Rachel: I wasn't angry with you, Phillip. Come here. Bend down.

[she gives him a kiss]

Rachel: Now, go to bed like a good boy. Go. Go!
Rachel: Why should women suffer in childbirth? Is it simply their destiny to do so?

Philip: I never thought about it.

Rachel: No. Of course, you haven't. You know nothing about women.
Kendall: They were notorious. Both him and her - for unbridled extravagance and, apparently, limitless appetite. Do you understand? Do you?
Philip: You are a stickler for these things, aren't you, Mr. Couch?

Couch: Well, that's my job, Master Ashley. To stickle.
Philip: Rachel. Rachel.

Rachel: What is it?

Philip: I've got something for you.

Rachel: I'm asleep.
Philip: There's only one thing I want. But, I won't ask for it.

Rachel: Why not?

Philip: Because, you'd slap my face.

Rachel: Tell me.

Philip: I know - I - I know now, what I lack.

Rachel: Do you?

Philip: Yes.

Rachel: Are you sure?

Philip: I'm sure.

Rachel: [blows out the candle] Happy birthday.
Rachel: I have known shame in my life. Terrible shame. But *this*, is the worst!
Rachel: I wanted you to enjoy it, I wanted to thank you.

Philip: For what?

Rachel: For what? For everything! For being so kind to me. For the jewels. Or, did you - did you - did you think you had bought me?
Rachel: Don't close the door. After last night, I cannot be alone with you.

Philip: Please don't do this.

Rachel: I don't feel safe with you.

Philip: I beg you.
Rachel: You are at the beginning of everything! A boy. How can I live with a boy - however lovely? Glorious puppy, wandering all around, miserable and wet nosed, looking for its mother. Drink. Drink.
Rachel: Why shouldn't I have a life of my own? And make a life for myself? And do as I please!