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Jagger: Smile, you ponderous gibbon. Let's at least pretend to be civil, shall we?
Jagger: Now, there's only one fellow cunning enough to devise such a plan to be rid of me, to send me home in fraudulent triumph. Blackbeard is emerging from me home, leaving him free to wreak havoc upon the world. Must I wreak havoc upon you to learn precisely what his plan might be?
Tom: The Commodore has you busy, I see.
James: Well, he likes to work in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform.
Tom: I'm not sure wonders is quite the word you're looking for.
Tom: You seem very buoyant, Commodore.
Blackbeard: Time's winged chariot, Mr. Lowe. It focuses the mind.
Blackbeard: I grant you, none of my crew is a stranger to theft, but as a breed, we do have a tendency to be a bit direct about the process.
Tom: You do look a man in the eye when you're robbing him, I'll give you that.
Blackbeard: While you—you're the kind of fellow who robs a man and is halfway home before he knows it.
Tom: I was raised to believe the Devil vomits Spaniards.
James Balfour: My apologies, Commodore.
Blackbeard: Tish. It's only a diamond. O f course, it's of tidy value to someone. Take it to the right place, to London or Paris, and men will risk the gallows for want of it.
Begum Samsar: How does a man acquire such a fortune so quickly?
Blackbeard: A man sells something.
Begum Samsar: What was it, this thing you sold?
Blackbeard: A clock.
Begum Samsar: Made of what, God's teeth?
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