Jocelyn: I demand poetry, and when I want it, and I want it now.
William: Your breasts... they're beneath your throat.
Jocelyn: Your name makes no matter to me, so long as I may call you my own.
William: Oh, but I am your own, Jocelyn.
Adhemar: Why didn't Ulrich finished him?
Jocelyn: He shows mercy.
Adhemar: Then he shows his weakness - that is all mercy is.
William: I've waited my whole life for this moment.
Wat: You've waited your whole life for Sir Ector to shite himself to death?
Chaucer: There she is, William. The embodiment of love. Your Venus.
William: And how I hate her.
Wat: I don't understand women.
Chaucer: Nor do I. But they understand us. Well, maybe not you.
William: [on asking Kate to mend his armor] It's just as well, they said I was daft for even asking.
William: The other armorers.
Kate: Is it because I'm a woman?
William: No, that said you were great with horseshoes, but shite with armor. The fact that you were a woman wasn't even mentioned.
William: I'll ride in his place.
Roland: What's your name, William? I'm asking you William Thatcher, to answer me with your name? It's not Sir William. It's not count, or duke or earl William. It's certainly not King William.
William: I'm aware of that.
Roland: You have to be of noble birth to compete!
William: A detail. The landscape is food. Do you want to eat or don't you?
Roland: If the nobles find out who you are there'll be the devil to pay.
William: Then pray that they don't.
Kate: It is romantic though.
Roland: Are you a woman or a blacksmith?
Kate: Sometimes I'm both.
William: This is a disaster.
Roland: [staring at the tent material] Nah, I think it'll tunic up quite nicely.
Wat: You have been weighed.
Roland: You have been measured.
Kate: And you have absolutely...
Chaucer: Been found wanting.
William: Welcome to New World. God save you, if it is right that he should do so.
Chaucer: I'm a writer.
Wat: A what?
Chaucer: A wha- a what? A writer. I write, with parchment, and ink. Geoffrey Chaucer's the name, writing's the game. You've read my book? the Book of the Duchess? No? Well, it was allegorical.
Roland: Well, we won't hold that against you, that's for every man to decide for himself.