Inigo Montoya: Where is this Count Rugen now, so I may kill him?
Fezzik: He's in the castle with the prince. But the castle gate is guarded by 30 men!
Inigo Montoya: How many do you think you could handle?
Fezzik: I don't think more than 10.
Inigo Montoya: Leaving 20 for me?

Fezzik: Inigo?
Inigo Montoya: What?
Fezzik: I hope we win.

[admiring his torture contraption] Beautiful isn't it? It took me half a lifetime to invent it. I'm sure by now you've discovered my deep and abiding interest in pain. Presently I'm writing the definitive work on the subject, so I want you to be totally honest with me on how the machine makes you feel. This being our first try, I'll use the lowest setting.

Count Rugen

Count Rugen: As you know, the concept of the suction pump is centuries old. Really that's all this is except that instead of sucking water, I'm sucking life. I've just sucked one year of your life away. I might one day go as high as five, but I really don't know what that would do to you. So, let's just start with what we have. What did this do to you? Tell me. And remember, this is for posterity so... be honest. How do you feel?
Westley: [moans in pain]
Count Rugen: Interesting...

Count Rugen: Your princess is quite a winning creature. A trifle simple, perhaps. Her appeal is undeniable.
Prince Humperdinck: I know, the people are quite taken with her. It's odd, but when I hired Vizzini to have her murdered on our engagement day, I thought that was clever. But it's going to be so much more moving when I strangle her on our wedding night. Once Guilder is blamed, the nation will truly be outraged... they'll demand we go to war!

Prince Humperdinck: Tyrone, you know how much I love watching you work. But I've got my country's 500th anniversary to plan, my wedding to arrange, my wife to murder, and Guilder to frame for it; I'm swamped.
Count Rugen: Get some rest. If you haven't got your health, then you haven't got anything.

Inigo Montoya: Who are you?
Westley: No one of consequence.
Inigo Montoya: I must know...
Westley: Get used to disappointment.
Inigo Montoya: 'kay.

Westley: You're amazing!
Inigo Montoya: I ought to be after 20 years.
Westley: Oh, there's something I ought to tell you.
Inigo Montoya: Tell me.
Westley: I'm not left-handed either.

Westley: All right. Where is the poison? The battle of wits has begun. It ends when you decide and we both drink, and find out who is right... and who is dead.
Vizzini: But it's so simple. All I have to do is divine from what I know of you... are you the sort of man who would put the poison into his own goblet or his enemy's? Now, a clever man would put the poison into his own goblet, because he would know that only a great fool would reach for what he was given. I am not a great fool, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But you must have known I was not a great fool, you would have counted on it, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me.

Man in Black: You've made your decision then?
Vizzini: Not remotely. Because iocane comes from Australia, as everyone knows, and Australia is entirely peopled with criminals, and criminals are used to having people not trust them, as you are not trusted by me, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you.

Buttercup: And to think, all that time it was your cup that was poisoned.
Man in Black: They were both poisoned. I spent the last few years building up an immunity to iocane powder.

Fezzik: We face each other as God intended. Sportsmanlike. No tricks, no weapons, skill against skill alone.
Man in Black: You mean, you'll put down your rock and I'll put down my sword, and we'll try and kill each other like civilized people?
Fezzik: [holds rock] I could kill you now.
Man in Black: Okay... but, I think the odds are slightly in your favor at hand fighting.
Fezzik: It's not my fault being the biggest and the strongest. I don't even exercise.

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