Yes, sir, but the Librarian likes bananas, sir." "Very nourishin' fruit, Mr Stibbons." "Yes, sir. Although, funnily enough it's not actually a fruit, sir." "Really?" "Yes, sir. Botanically, it's a type of fish, sir. According to my theory it's cladistically associated with the Krullian pipefish, sir, which of course is also yellow and goes around in bunches or shoals." "And lives in trees?" "Well, not usually, sir. The banana is obviously exploiting a new niche." "Good heavens, really? It's a funny thing, but I've never much liked bananas and I've always been a bit suspicious of fish, too. That'd explain it.
Alright! You sir, you sir, how about a shave? Come and visit your good friend Sweeney. You sir, too sir? Welcome to the grave. I will have vengenance. I will have salvation. Who sir, you sir? No ones in the chair, Come on! Come on! Sweeney's. waiting. I want you bleeders. You sir! Anybody! Gentlemen now don't be shy! Not one man, no, nor ten men. Nor a hundred can assuage me. I will have you! And I will get him back even as he gloats In the meantime I'll practice on less honorable throats. And my Lucy lies in ashes And I'll never see my girl again. But the work waits! I'm alive at last! And I'm full of joy!
Sir Arthur stopped at the bottom of the hill and awaited the charging rider. The horseman halted in front of Sir Arthur and mud flew in all directions. 'Who are you?' demanded Sir Arthur. He stared into the masked face and turbaned head of an assassin. Rufus's heart stopped. A gasp escaped his frozen lips and his legs wobbled. Sir Arthur asked again, 'Who are you?' The man dismounted and drew from his golden sash a long scimitar. He approached Sir Arthur. The knight lifted his sword and the duel began.
and there encountered with him all at once Sir Bors, Sir Ector, and Sir Lionel, and they three smote him at once with their spears, and with force of themselves they smote Sir Lancelot's horse reverse to the earth. And by misfortune Sir Bors smote Sir Lancelot through the shield into the side...
How can you protect yourself by carrying a sword if you don't know how to use it?' Not me, sir. Other people. They see the sword and don't attack me, ' said Maladict patiently. Yes, but if they did, lad, you wouldn't be any good with it, ' said the sergeant. No, sir. I'd probably settle for just ripping their heads off, sir. That's what I mean by protection, sir. Theirs, not mine. And I'd get hell from the League if I did that, sir.
Every day Zuigan used to call out to himself, "Master!" and then he answered himself, "Yes, Sir!" And he added, "Awake, Awake!" and then answered, "Yes, Sir! Yes, Sir!" "From now onwards, do not be deceived by others!" "No, Sir! I will not, Sir!"
She dotes on poetry, sir. She adores it; I may say that her whole soul and mind are wound up, and entwined with it. She has produced some delightful pieces, herself, sir. You may have met with her 'Ode to an Expiring Frog, ' sir.
(...) Sir Boris had fought and killed the Paynim; Sir Gawain, the Turk; Sir Miles, the Pole; Sir Andrew, the Frank; Sir Richard, the Austrian; Sir Jordan, the Frenchman; and Sir Herbert, the Spaniard. But of all that killing and campaigning, that drinking and love-making, that spending and hunting and riding and eating, what remained? A skull; a finger. Whereas, he said, turning to the page of Sir Thomas Browne, which lay open upon the table - and again he paused. Like an incantation rising from all parts of the room, from the night wind and the moonlight, rolled the divine melody of those words which, lest they should outstare this page, we will leave where they lie entombed, not dead, embalmed rather, so fresh is their colour, so sound their breathing - and Orlando, comparing that achievement with those of his ancestors, cried out that they and their deeds were dust and ashes, but this man and his words were immortal.
Well, sir, do you mean to remain there, commending my father's taste in wine, or do you mean to accompany me to Ashtead?' 'Set off for Ashtead at this hour, when I have been traveling for two days?' said Sir Horace. 'Now, do, my boy, have a little common sense! Why should I?' 'I imagine that your parental feeling, sir, must provide you with the answer! If it does not, so be it! I am leaving immediately!' 'What do you mean to do when you reach Lacy Manor?' asked Sir Horace, regarding him in some amusement. 'Wring Sophy's neck!' said Mr. Rivenhall savagely. 'Well, you don't need my help for that, my dear boy!' said Sir Horace, settling himself more comfortably in his chair.
You are my heart, ' he said. He'd said those very words to her that morning. But that morning, they'd sounded affectionate and playful. Now he said them as if he were stating a fact of anatomy. 'I will not lose you. I'm sending you away to keep you safe. Do you understand? Say 'Yes, sir.'' Nora nodded and swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. 'Yes, sir.' Soren bent his head and kissed her long and slow before pulling back.
Sir Beldevere: What makes you think she's a witch? Peasant 3: Well, she turned me into a newt! Sir Beldevere: A newt? Peasant 3: [meekly after a long pause]... I got better. Crowd: [shouts] Burn her anyway!