Scampi: I have, which will unsurprise you, some few things to say.
Peter: I confess, it is undifficult to imagine such a circumstance.
Scampi: Yeah. I know. Some of what I have to say involves correspondence.
Peter: You plan to convey your thoughts in a letter?
Scampi: No. I’ve just been thinking about the way people used to write to each other.
Peter: People can write to each other whenever they like.
Scampi: What if they can’t write?
Peter: Were you speaking about illiterate people?
Scampi: No. I wasn’t.
Scampi: Once upon a time, things were not so different from the way they are now.
Scampi: One British gentleman might address another.
Peter: This is most assuredly the case.
Scampi: The case now is one of a fragmented empire. And my de-masted heart.
Peter: This nautical analogy escapes me, I’m afraid.
Scampi: What are you talking about?
Peter: What are you talking about? You believe your left ventricle is seaworthy?
Scampi: Her Majesty’s Navy sailed upon a sea of tears. Or something.
Peter: You seem distressed.
Scampi: I love it when you get all observant. I’m, uh, so impressed.
Peter: There is no need to address me in this fashion.
Scampi: Fashion? I love your style, Peter.
Peter: Oh, well. I do what I can.
Scampi: You give tweed the stench of truth. No one wears a garment like you do.
Scampi: King Arthur slept with his own sister.
Peter: Wasn’t she his half-sister?
Scampi: I’m pretty sure he got with both halves.
Scampi: Beaufort slept with his own sister.
Peter: Pardon me?
Scampi: He didn’t mean to.
Peter: I am unsure of where this is leading.
Scampi: Yes! I know. I am unsure of where this is leading.
Scampi: A gentleman can express himself so beautifully. And yet.
Peter: Many gentlemen do not express themselves well at all.
Scampi: Correct. And a thing of beauty –
Peter: Is a Greek vase?
Scampi: Ha! Look at us, slumming it on pottery row.
Peter: There is nothing wrong with a little crockery.
Scampi: Certainly not. Certainly not.
Peter: You seem a touch out of spirits.
Scampi: Oh, there are plenty of spirits. Stacked up high, a turbanful of ghosts.
Peter: A turban is quite a jaunty thing. I enjoy a turban as well as the next man.
Scampi: What I want to know is, who’s the next man?
Scampi: What’s that noise supposed to mean?
Peter: What noise?
Scampi: You just made a noise.
Peter: I don’t recall it.
Scampi: But you just did it.
Peter: I am sorry to disappoint you.
Scampi: Yeah, right.
Peter: That was uncalled for.
Scampi: Are you accustomed to being called for? By like, Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints?
Peter: I am accustomed to you brandishing my name with, ahem, vigour. If that applies.
Scampi: Someone has to apply himself with vigour. Why not me?
Scampi: I miss the ocean.
Scampi: Didn’t I once accuse you of missing the ocean?
Peter: That sounds familiar.
Scampi: I want to spend some time by the shore. Tonight.
Scampi: Yes. That is what I want.
Scampi: If you touch my shoulder in this manner, I might disintegrate.
Peter: Oh. Are you having composition issues?
Scampi: Perhaps it is a question of salinity.
Peter: Of the ventricle?
Scampi: Thar she blows!
Peter: [produces spyglass] Aye.
Scampi: She’s afloat, you see. The salt buoys her up.
Peter: That’s well.
Scampi: [speaking into the wind] Better.
Scampi: Yes. Yes.