Diana: It's good to see you, Marcellus.
Marcellus Gallio: It's ah - good to see you - again.
Diana: Then you do remember me?
Marcellus Gallio: Ah - yes, of course. Let me see now, it was the - was the...
Diana: And your promise, have you forgotten that too?
Marcellus Gallio: What promise?
Diana: To marry me.
Marcellus Gallio: Was I drunk?
Diana: That's not very flattering, Marcellus.
Marcellus Gallio: Oh, I - I mean, if you'd tell me when I was supposed to have said this - the circumstances...
Diana: Oh, I remember them perfectly. I'd cut my finger, and I cried. And then you took the dagger and cut your own finger to show that it didn't really hurt, and then you kissed me, and I stopped crying - and then you promised to marry me when we grew up.
Marcellus Gallio: Dianna! Where have your freckles gone?
Diana: I lost them.
Marcellus Gallio: Oh, I loved every one of them.
Diana: Then I'm sorry I lost them.

Diana: No, Marcellus, they'll kill you!
Marcellus Gallio: You must have faith...
Diana: Faith in what? This new God of yours? How can he help you? He couldn't help his own son, they crucified him!

Diana: Perhaps you don't believe that a girl of eleven could fall in love, and stay in love all these years...
Marcellus Gallio: Don't cry, my love. Lucia thought I was in love, and I laughed at her, but women are wise in these matters.

Diana: Then all the tales I've heard of you are true.
Marcellus Gallio: Every man makes enemies.
Diana: All your enemies seem to be women.

Caligula: You put him to death? Then why are you risking your life for him?
Marcellus Gallio: I owe Him more than my life.

Demetrius: [awaking to darkness] Is it night?
Jerusalem woman aiding Demetrius: No. It's the middle of the day. This isn't like other days.

Demetrius: [to Marcellus] You crucified him. You, my master. Yet you freed me. I'll never serve you again, you Roman pig. Masters of the world, you call yourselves. Thieves! Murderers! Jungle animals! A curse on you! A curse on your empire!

Demetrius: Make Pilate understand that if he stains his hands with his blood, he's worse than a murderer.

Demetrius: Until now you only remembered what you did to a man. The wrong, and your shame. But now - you remember the man.

Demetrius: You're afraid, but you really don't know the reason why. You think it's his robe that made you ill. But it's your own conscience, your own decent shame. Even when you crucified him you felt it.