Edward Lionheart Quotes in Theater of Blood (1973)
Edward Lionheart Quotes:
[after sealing Larding's corpse in a wine barrel]
Edward Lionheart: I wonder if he'll travel well?
Edward Lionheart: Officer! If I'm not mistaken, Mr. Psaltry is murdering his wife.
Policeman: Oh... Thank you, Sir.
[Edward is still disguised as Butch]
Edward Lionheart: [looking at the police officer] Who's this great big beautiful thing with you? Is he yours?
Miss Chloe Moon: Well, only just.
Edward Lionheart: Come on, baby, let me get to it. Let me get at it, huh?
[the policeman, uncomfortable sits down]
Edward Lionheart: You just sit there, baby, and relax, eh? She won't be long.
Edward Lionheart: [as Butch] Oh, I wish you'd let me do something camp with the colour, darling. Like flame with ash highlights.
Miss Chloe Moon: These are very funny rollers, Butch.
Edward Lionheart: Naughty, naughty! Don't touch, Butch knows best. They're something new from Gay Paree.
Peregrine Devlin: Nothing you can do will sway me from my original judgement.
Edward Lionheart: Your judgement was ill considered and irresponsible.
Peregrine Devlin: It was neither. We gave the award to William Woodstock as your performances lacked originality.
Edward Lionheart: Lacked originality? My Julius Caesar, cut down by a drunken mob in an abandoned warehouse? My Titus Andronicus: this is your dish, Meredith Merridew? My Othello, one of the greatest performances in the history of the theatre?
Peregrine Devlin: Lionheart!
Edward Lionheart: Alive and triumphant. And you thought me slain? Lionheart is immortal! He can never be destroyed, never!
Oliver Larding: Lionheart!
Oliver Larding: Impossible!
Edward Lionheart: No, Larding! So, this critic slept through my Richard, did he? No doubt because you supped too much, you drunken hog. You may know that in Richard III, Clarence... and I do want you to try out for that part, Larding... was drowned in a vat of wine!
Oliver Larding: No!
[the tramps grab him and begin to drown him in a barrel]
Edward Lionheart: Excellent, Larding, I'll make an actor of you yet.
[while stabbing Dickman to death]
Edward Lionheart: Do you still say my Shylock was inadequate?
Edward Lionheart: Now, let us see what that stupid cretin Mr Meredith Merridew had to say about my Titus Andronicus.
Edward Lionheart: Mr Lionheart's rendering of the role can only be described as villainous. Laid between the delicately underplayed performances of Miss Lillywhite as Lavinia and Miss Mole as Tamora, one is irresistibly reminded of a ham sandwich.
Edward Lionheart: My reputation.
Meredith Merridew: Where could my doggies have got to?
Edward Lionheart: Why, there they are both, baked in that pie. Whereof their mother daintily hath fed, eating the flesh that she herself hath bred.
Edward Lionheart: Well, Larding, you said my Richard III cast such a spell on the audience...
Edward Lionheart: "It put this reviewer in a deep sleep. And I awoke that I was spared attending the aging matinee idol's ranting and posturing." Well, let's see if we can get more rapt attention from you today.
[the door opens]
Edward Lionheart: Dive, thoughts, down to my soul, here Clarence comes.
Edwina Lionheart: It's all right, sir. You're among friends, sir.
Hector Snipe: Thank you. I was beginning to get a bit nervous.
Edward Lionheart: We were just rehearsing Troilus and Cressida. Specifically the scene where Hector, thinking he's among friends, is unexpectedly killed by them.
Hector Snipe: Lionheart, I came here for an interview, not a lecture on Shakespeare. Now tell me the amazing story of your resurrection.
Edward Lionheart: It's a grave tale, Snipe. But I think you can rise to the occasion.
[Snipe is catapulted onto the stage, where the tramps begin to attack him]
Edward Lionheart: I always admired you as a critic, Snipe. Your clever use of analogy and metaphor, plus you always strived to be complimentary. But not always complimentary.
Hector Snipe: Critics make mistakes, Lionheart. We're only human.
Edward Lionheart: An opinion I find myself incapable of sharing.
[Lionheart is force-feeding Merridew his poodles]
Edward Lionheart: Will you ever again ruin the reputation of an honest man?
Meredith Merridew: No.
Edward Lionheart: Have you learned your lesson?
Meredith Merridew: Yes.
Edward Lionheart: Can I be sure you will never again offend me?
Meredith Merridew: Yes.
Edward Lionheart: You're right. I can be sure.
[quoting Romeo and Juliet]
Edward Lionheart: Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth, Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food!
Hector Snipe: You must admit I was most enthusiastic about your performance as Achilles.
Edward Lionheart: Oh, yes. Yes, now that you mention it, I vaguely recall you wrote some review.
Hector Snipe: I remember it very well. I wrote, Edward Lionheart's Troilus and Cressida must be considered as a brilliant theatrical achievement, and his own performance as Achilles unsurpassed. Well, something of that sort.
Edward Lionheart: A splendid review, my dear Snipe. Splendid. What else did you say?
Hector Snipe: More in the same vein.
Edward Lionheart: Let me refresh your memory.
Edward Lionheart: ...Achilles unsurpassed. This clearly is Lionheart's own view. That actor's oft-expressed desire for solitude is well known. He must derive much satisfaction in knowing that he is absolutely alone in his opinion of this lamentable production.
Peregrine Devlin: Lionheart!
Edward Lionheart: Alive and triumphant. And you thought me slain? Lionheart is immortal!
Peregrine Devlin: You did kill Larding and the others didn't you?
Edward Lionheart: How many actors have you destroyed as you destroyed me? How many talented lives have you cut down with your glib attacks? What do you know of the blood, sweat and toil of a theatrical production? Of the dedication of the men and the women in the noblest profession of them all? How could you know you talentless fools who spew vitriol on the creative efforts of others because because you lack the ability to create yourselves! No Devlin, no! I did not kill Larding and the others. PUNISHED them my dear boy, punished them. Just as you shall have to be punished.
Peregrine Devlin: Well get it over with then, just so you don't have to make me listen to that demented rubbish of yours. Go on, kill me then!
Peregrine Devlin: Think about your daughter! Imagine what your madness is doing to her?
Edward Lionheart: My daughter? Edwina?
[the hippie removes his beard and glasses to reveal he is Edwina]
Edwina Lionheart: You have begot me, bred me, loved me: I Return those duties back as are right fit. Obey you, love you, and most honour you
Edward Lionheart: I will kill you when I am ready. Be it next week, next month perhaps next year. But first, I'm going to make you suffer in the same way you made me suffer!
Miss Chloe Moon: You know, Butch, I'm very uncomfortable.
Edward Lionheart: "Bring forth that sorceress condemned to burn." That's from Henry the Sixth, duckie, part one. It's a very interesting play, don't you agree, Miss Moon? Particularly that scene where Joan of Arc gets burnt at the stake.
[removing his disguise]
Edward Lionheart: Though you may find our novel version a bit of a shock.
[she struggles, but he ties her down and heads towards an electric switch]
Edward Lionheart: Spare for no fagots, let there be enough: Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake, That so her torture may be shortened.
[he suddenly cranks the electric up]
Edward Lionheart: And yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure. Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee: Use no entreaty, for it is in vain. Break thou in pieces and consume to ashes, Thou foul accursed minister of hell!
Edward Lionheart: [after feeding Meredith Merridew a pie made from his own pet poodles] He just didn't have the stomach for it.
George Maxwell: You... It's you! But you're dead!
Edward Lionheart: No. Another critical miscalculation on you part. I am well. It is you who are dead.
[Edward is disguised as Butch, an effeminate hairdresser]
Edward Lionheart: Hullo, I'm Butch. Hey, dishy, dishy hair. Can't wait to get my hands on it.
Edward Lionheart: Do have some more!
Peregrine Devlin: Lionheart! What the hell do you want here?
Edward Lionheart: [picking up the best actor award] This. My just reward. The whole world knows it is mine by right. But you deliberately withheld it from me. You deliberately humiliated me in front of the press, my public and my peers. It was the culmination of your determined denial of my genius!
Peregrine Devlin: We denied you nothing...
Edward Lionheart: For thirty years, the public has acknowledged that I was the master. And that, this year, my season of Shakespeare was the shining jewel in the crown of the immortal Bard.
Meredith Merridew: [sotto voce, to Chloe Moon] Quite insane!
Miss Chloe Moon: [sotto voce, to Meredith Merridew] He must be drunk.
Edward Lionheart: But you, with your overweening malice, give the award to a twitching, mumbling boy who can barely grunt his way through an incomprehensible performance! No. No! It is mine!
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