Eleanor: It is a pretty fiction that mothers love each child in equal measure... a fiction, no more than that. There is always a favorite. With me, it was Richard. With Henry, it was you. John: No. I was not his favorite. It was rather that I was the only son he had left. Have you forgotten? My brothers sided with you.'

Eleanor: I'm tired, John, am asking you to keep this charade mercifully brief... for my sake if not for your own. John: For your sake? There was a time when I'…

Joanna: Richard's arrival at Messina was a godsend, in truth, and I will ever be grateful to him. Yet I do not doubt you'd have done as much for me too, Johnny…

Servant: My lord! My lord, the Queen has just ridden into the bailey! John: That cannot be! My mother is in Normandy. Servant: No, my lord, she's in the great …