Dorian: This young lady.
Manager: Miss Sibyl Vane, my lord, in the role of Ophelia.
Sibyl: ...see that noble and most sovereign reason like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh. That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth blasted with ecstasy. Oh, woe is me.
Manager: May I present the Theatre Royale's Miss Sibyl Vane, my lord?
Gray: I'm not really a lord. I don't know why he keeps saying that.
Sibyl: We don't get many gentlemen in this theatre.
Gray: Really? Well, then, I shall recommend it to them.
Sibyl: May I ask what brings you to my dressing room?
Gray: Well, I...I just happened to be passing the theatre and...Well, you see, I was in the gin shop...
Sibyl: I know.
Gray: You remember? Well, a friend took me there for the first time. Well, I say the first time. Of course, I have...Well, I wanted to... wanted to say hello, but then you left with...
Sibyl: With Jim.
Gray: Yes. Quite. Jim.
Sibyl: My brother.
Gray: Well, that's splendid! Sorry. It was wrong of me to... Please forgive my intrusion, Miss Vane.
Sibyl: Wait! There's something you haven't told me.
Gray: Yes, of course. I do beg your pardon. Ophelia is a most challenging role and your performance this evening was...impeccable. In fact, extraordinary. In fact...you are extraordinary. And when I saw you on the stage, and even more so, now I stand before you, I am awestruck and humbled by your radiance.
Sibyl: I meant your name. You didn't tell me your name.
Sibyl: So, how many other girls do you bring here?
Gray: Hundreds. Thousands.
Sibyl: You must be courting dozens at least.
Sibyl: You can tell me the truth.
Gray: There's only you. There's only you.
Henry: Tell me, what are your actual relations with this young thing?
Basil: A fraction of respect, man.
Gray: It's not like that. Sibyl's sacred.
Henry: It's only the scared things that are worth touching. People nowadays fear their passions.
Gray: Well, I don't.
Henry: Of course you do. We're taught terror from the nursery. Terror of God, or, even worse, of scandal. We're taught to spend our entire lives cowering in self-denial. The truth, Mr Gray, is that every impulse we strangle only poisons us.
Basil: You'll make him wish he'd never mentioned the girl.
Tailor: Well, Monsieur.
Henry: There's something missing.
Gray: Thank you, Harry.
Gray: I took the liberty of filling it with my blend.
Sibyl: Oh, Dorian. It's beautiful.
Gray: I just thought it would suit you.
Sibyl: I should be going. Jim will worry.
Gray: Of course. Or we could...I mean...You could...stay...here...with me. We shouldn't be afraid of our feelings, Sib.
Sibyl: It's just...I've seen other girls who give themselves, and then I've seen what becomes ofthem.
Gray: I love you. Forgive me. I didn't mean...
Sibyl: You're all I ever want in the world.