Crisis, Baldrick! Crisis! No marriage, no money, more bills. For the first time in my life, I've decided to follow a suggestion of yours. Saddle Prince George's horse.
Oh, sir, you're not gonna become a highwayman, are you?
No, I'm auditioning for the part of Arnold the Bat in Sheridan's new comedy.
Oh, that's alright, then.
Baldrick, do you have any idea what irony is?
Yeah. It's like gold-y and bronze-y, only it's made of iron.
Never mind, never mind. Just saddle the prince's horse.
Oh, that'll be difficult. He wrapped her around that gas lamp in the Strand last night.
Well, saddle my horse, then.
What d'you think you've been eating for the last two months?
Well, go out into the street and hire me a horse!
Hire you a horse? For ninepence? On Jewish New Year in the rain? A bare fortnight after the dread Horse Plague of Old London Town? With the Blacksmith's strike in its' fifteen week and the Dorset Horse Fetish Fair tomorrow?
Right. Well, get this on, then. [shoves a bridle into Baldrick's hands] It looks as though you could do with the exercise.
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