Percy: It will be a great day tomorrow for we nobles.
Edmund: Well, not if we lose, Percy. If we lose, I'll be chopped to pieces. My arms will end up at Essex, my torso in Norfolk, and my genitalia stuck up a tree somewhere in Rutland.

The King: If you cross me, now or ever, I shall do unto you what God did unto the Sodomites.

Harry: A tragic accident...tragic.
Edmund: Ah, yes. Almost as tragic as Archbishop Bertram being struck by a falling gargoyle while swimming off Beachy Head.
Harry: And nearly as tragic as poor old Archbishop Wilfred slipping and falling backwards onto the spire of Norwich Cathedral. Oh, Lord, you do work in mysterious ways.

King: Chiswick, remind me to send flowers to the king of France in sympathy for the death of his son.
Chiswick: The one you had murdered, my lord?
King: Yes, that's the fellow.

Percy: Only this morning in the courtyard, I saw a horse with two heads and two bodies!
Edmund: Two horses standing next to each other?
Percy: Yes, I suppose it could have been.

Edmund: You ride a horse rather less well than another horse would. Your brain would make a grain of sand look large and ungainly and the part of you that can't be mentioned, I am reliably informed by women around the court, wouldn't be worth mentioning even if it could be.

Series two: Blackadder II

Hag: Two things, my lord, must ye know of the wise woman. First, she is a woman. And second, she is...
Edmund: Wise?
Hag: You do know her, then?
Edmund: No, just a wild stab in the dark, which is incidentally what you'll be getting if you don't start being a bit more helpful.

Edmund: We live in an age where illness and deformity are commonplace and yet, Ploppy, you are without a doubt the most repulsive individual that I have ever met. I would shake your hand but I fear it would come off.

Edmund: Oh, God, I didn't know you had a girl.
Percy: Oh, yes. Lady Caroline Fairfax.
Edmund: Caroline! I didn't know you knew her.
Percy: Oh, yes! I even touched her once.
Edmund: Touched her what?
Percy: Uh, once. In the corridor.
Edmund: I've never heard it called that before.

Edmund: The eyes are open, the mouth moves, but Mr Brain has long since departed, hasn't he, Perce?

Edmund: Baldrick, go forth into the streets and let it be known that Lord Blackadder wishes to sell his house. Percy, just go forth into the street.

Bishop of Bath and Wells: You fiend! Never have I encountered such corrupt and foul-minded perversity! Have you ever considered a career in the Church?

Series three: Blackadder the Third

Edmund: If you want something done properly, kill Baldrick before you start.

Prince George: Why on earth would an anarchist possibly want to kill you?
Edmund: I think it might've been you he was after, sir.
Prince George: Oh, hogwash! What on earth makes you say that?
Edmund: Well, my suspicions were first aroused by his use of the words, 'Death to the stupid Prince'!

Edmund: Am I jumping the gun, Baldrick, or are the words 'I have a cunning plan' marching with ill-deserved confidence in the direction of this conversation?

Edmund: They do say, Mrs M, that verbal insults hurt more than physical pain. They are, of course, wrong, as you will soon discover when I stick this toasting fork in your head.

Edmund: The girl is wetter than a haddock's bathing costume.

Edmund: He's mad. He's mad! He's madder than Mad Jack McMad, the winner of last year's Mr Madman competition.

Series four: Blackadder Goes Forth

George: I'm thick, you see. I'm as thick as the big-print version of The Complete Works of Charles Dickens.

Bob: I want to see how a war is fought... so badly.
Edmund: Well, you've come to the right place, Bob. A war hasn't been fought this badly since Olaf the Hairy, High Chief of all the Vikings, accidentally ordered 80,000 battle helmets with the horns on the inside.

Edmund: We're in the stickiest situation since Sticky the Stick Insect got stuck on a sticky bun.

General Melchett: If nothing else works, then a total pig-headed unwillingness to look facts in the face will see us through.

Edmund: Well, George, I strongly suspect that your long wait for certain death is nearly at an end. Surely you must have noticed something in the air...?
George: Well, yes, of course, but I thought that was Private Baldrick.

Edmund: We've been sitting here since Christmas 1914, during which time millions of men have died, and we've advanced no further than an asthmatic ant with some heavy shopping.