Will: How are we going to tell Lord Fowler we lost his daughter?
Geoffrey: I'll break the news, Master William. You're young. You have your whole life ahead of you. It's best I bear the brunt of the punishment.
Will: You got a point there. Good luck.

Philip: Geoffrey, how's your cousin Roddy?
Geoffrey: I regret to tell you, I have no cousin Roddy.
Lord Fowler: Damn malaria.
Geoffrey: No. You don't understand. What I'm about to tell you is very difficult to say.
Lord Fowler: Geoffrey, it's not more gambling debts, is it? I thought we had that productive chat.

Lord Fowler: So, what's all the fuss about? Will made it up to the third act, which is more than I could've done. An evening of opera. I can't imagine anything more boring.
Vivian: I can.
Lord Fowler: Geoffrey, I'm surprised at you, getting all hot and bothered just because the boy ducked out of it early. It's nothing compared with your old exploits.
Geoffrey: There's no need to go into that, milord.
Lord Fowler: I seem to recall a time that you were caught in the gazebo after that randy game of strip croquet. But I've told enough stories for one evening.
Philip: No, no, I want to hear this one.
Lord Fowler: No, no. It's late. Perhaps next visit.
Vivian: No. Now. We've earned it.
Lord Fowler: No, I'm sorry. You know, that's the mark of a great storyteller. Always leave them wanting more.

Philip: Well, Will, you certainly proved that you're responsible.
Will: That's right.
Philip: You took Lady Penelope out and you brought her back without a hair out of place as promised.
Will: Yep. Just like I promised.
Philip: So, I guess you can use the car next weekend after all.
Will: Thanks a lot, Uncle Phil.
Philip: Just one thing, Will, out of curiosity. Since that explanation that Lady Penelope rattled off was obviously a complete crock, what really did happen tonight?
Will: Well... You should sit down. It's going to be a long story, Uncle Phil.
Philip: No, no. Never mind. Enjoy the concert.