Philip: Is there more?
Carlton: I'm afraid so, Dad. We never got the clasp fixed on Mom's bracelet.
Philip: [chuckles] You never got the... [laughs; Will & Carlton start laughing] I don't know what to say. [all still laughing]
Will: We don't.
Philip: What can I do? What do you boys think I should do?
Will: I don't know. Reward us for our honesty? [all laugh uproariously] Hey, it worked for the Beave.
Philip: The Beave! [shouts] Do I look like a White guy named Ward? Now, you get that bracelet back and for the next six weeks I don't want to hear you breathe. Or I'm calling the Feds myself.
Will: I guess this probably ain't the best time to tell him we ran over the mailbox.

Geoffrey: Ah, my financial advisors have arrived. Moron! Fathead!
Carlton: l didn't know the Dodgers were playing.
Geoffrey: They're not, thieving wankers.

Philip: This is a delicious meal, Geoffrey. You've outdone yourself.
Geoffrey: You're too kind, sir. Moron! Fathead!
Vivian: Geoffrey, must you listen to the Dodgers game during dinner?
Geoffrey: I'm terribly sorry, madam. But it is the bottom of the ninth, bases are loaded. However, I will maintain my professionalism. Bunt, you pasty-faced sod! Peas?

Carlton: Will, give me all your money.
Will: I'm sorry, Carlton. I don't feel like playing 7-Eleven.
Carlton: This isn't a game, Will. I know you have $50, and I need it.
Will: Oh, forget it, man. $50? I could take 25 women out to dinner.

Carlton: Look, listen carefully, Will. And I know you can hear me with ears that big. Biff's dad is a bankruptcy lawyer and according to him, Westworld Airlines is about to fall prey to a corporate raider.
Will: Word? Man, I don't believe that. A corporate raider? What the bloody hell are you talking about?
Geoffrey: It's called inside information, and it's quite illegal.
Carlton: So is that French nanny you're dating.
Geoffrey: Enough said.
Carlton: The point is I've only got $50, and I need $100 to buy the stock.
Will: All right, just let me think about it for a little while, all right? No.
Carlton: Will, take my hand, come out of the ghetto and take a stroll down Wall Street. You see, we buy stock in Westworld Airlines today for $2 a share. And by Friday, it's worth $8. Now, when you take a girl out to dinner, they can get something to eat, too.

Male voice: [on TV] Here's a Wall Street update. The SEC has suspended trading of Westworld Air pending an announcement.
Will: Come on, Carlton, translate.
Carlton: How can I put this in terms he'll understand? More money, more money, more money. Man, I'm gonna get me the best girlfriend money can buy.
Will: Come on, man, you gotta think investment. See, I'm gonna go out and get me a Burger King, right? And then I'm gonna hire some topless counter girls and then I'm gonna really have it my way.

Geoffrey: Ah, Master Will.
Will: Hey, G.
Geoffrey: The Boogie Buns Agency called. It appears you have a job this evening.
Will: Bad! My first gig. Hey, where is it?
Geoffrey: The address is on the counter.
Will: All right.
Geoffrey: Oh, and they also requested that you bring a spare G-string.
Will: There's an explanation for that, G.
Geoffrey: [covers ears and hums]

Will: Yeah, man, I'm here for the gig.
Jacques: You? You are here to perform for the ladies?
Will: That's right.
Jacques: Of course you are.
Will: I'm serious, where are the other guys at? I gotta get changed.
Jacques: Other guys?
Will: Yeah, when I auditioned they said I'd be second on the bill. Between King Thong and Rambro.

Will: Hello there, Agnes. My, that's a lovely tattoo. You know, the knife dripping blood really sets off your eyes.
Agnes: I did it myself. So what you got?
Will: We have this lovely, expensive bracelet.
Agnes: $200.
Carlton: For an ordinary bracelet but not okay for one that formerly belonged to Catherine the Great.
Agnes: The one-armed chick that works the corner of Hollywood and Vine? She a class act. Okay, $300.
Will: Oh, did we mention that it ain't stolen?
Agnes: Okay, $400. But that's only 'cause I think your short friend here is kind of cute. Hey, small stuff you wanna come back here and check out the rest of my merchandise?

Hilary: Mom, have I told you that every year you grow even more youthful? You're going to be well into your 40s before you need plastic surgery.
Vivian: No, you cannot have the Diamond League over for lunch.
Hilary: Daddy, you promised you would reason with her.
Vivian: Honey, I don't know why you want to join that organization anyway. Baby, it was different when I joined. Today, all those women care about are cars, men, and money.
Philip: Well, what's wrong with that, sweetheart? Men with money can drive her away in their cars.
Hilary: Come on, it's just a little lunch. You never got me a pony.