Adhemar: And you are?
William: Well, I am, um.
Adhemar: You've forgotten, or your name is Sir Um?
William: Ulrich von Lichtenstein from Gelderland.
Adhemar: Well, I'd forget as well, what a mouthful.
William: Your name lady, I still need to hear it.
Jocelyn: Sir hunter, you persist.
William: Well perhaps angels have no names, only beautiful faces.
Chaucer: Yes, behold my lord Ulrich, the rock, the hard place, like a wind from Guilderland he sweeps by blown far from his homeland in search of glory and honor, we walk in the garden of his turbulence.
[crowd is silent, cricket noise]
William: I'm Ulrich von Leichtenstein, from Guilderland, and these are my faithful squires.
[gestures to Roland]
William: Delves, of Dogington,
[gestures to Wat]
William: and Falhurst, of Crew.
Chaucer: I'm Richard the Lionheart. Pleased to meet you. No, wait a minute, I'm Charlemagne. No, I'm Saint John the Baptist!
[William draws a large knife]
William: All right, hold your tongue sir, or lose it.
Chaucer: Now you see *that* I do believe, Sir Ulrich.
William: Oi sir, what are you doing?
Chaucer: Uh... trudging. You know, trudging?
Chaucer: To trudge: the slow, weary, depressing yet determined walk of a man who has nothing left in life except the impulse to simply soldier on.
William: Uhhh... were you robbed?
Chaucer: [laughs] Funny really, yes, but at the same time a huge resounding no. It's more of an... involuntary vow of poverty... really.
Jocelyn: Sir Ulrick. What are you wearing to the ball tonight?
William: er... nothing...
Jocelyn: Well, we shall cause a sensation, for I shall dress to match.
William: [annoyed] Don't you ever get tired of putting clothes on?
Chaucer: [whispers] I think she's talking about taking them off, sir.
Jocelyn: A flower is only as good as its petals. Don't you agree?
William: A flower is good for nothing. You can't eat a flower, a flower can't keep your warm...
Jocelyn: And a rose never knocked a man off a horse either.
William: You're just a silly girl arn't you.
Jocelyn: Better a silly girl with a flower, than a silly man with a horse and a stick...
[she walks away]
Wat: It's called a lance... hello...
Jocelyn: Better a silly girl with a flower than a silly boy with a horse and a stick.
Wat: It's called a lance. Hello?
Roland: God love you, William.
William: I know, I know. 'Cause no one else will.
William: Where will we live? In my hovel? With the pigs inside during the winter so they won't freeze?
Jocelyn: Yes, William. With the pigs.
William: I will not lose.
Jocelyn: Then you do not love me.
Kate: With hope. Love should end with hope. My husband, God rest him, told me something I'll never forget.
[in a letter]
Kate: Hope guides me. It is what gets me through the day and especially the night. The hope that after you're gone from my sight it will not be the last time I look upon you.
Jocelyn: Run and I will run with you.
William: I cannot run!