Nathaniel Winkle: Gentlemen, Mr. Jingle is the viper in our midst.
Samuel Pickwick: Viper?
Nathaniel Winkle: Viper, sir.
Tracy Tupman: Nonsense, Winkle.
Samuel Pickwick: Nonsense, Winkle.
Augustus Snodgrass: N-nonsense, Winkle.
Nathaniel Winkle: Very well, then... we shall see,

Mr. Jingle: Miss Wardle... forgive intrusion... no time for ceremony... all is dicovered!
Rachel Wardle: Zat?
Mr. Jingle: Sshh... fat boy... scoundrel... treachorous dog... told old lady... old lady furious... raving.
Rachel Wardle: My mother?
Mr. Jingle: You and Tuppy.
Rachel Wardle: Tuppy?
Mr. Jingle: Kissing in greenhouse.
Rachel Wardle: Ah! Mr. Jingle, if you're trying to insult me.
Mr. Jingle: On the contrary... overheard fat boy... come to warn you... dreadful danger... tender my services... prevent hub-bub... other hand... think it an insult... leave room.
Rachel Wardle: What shall I do? My brother will be furious!
Mr. Jingle: No possible doubt... outrageous.
Rachel Wardle: Oh, Mr. Jingle, what can I say?
Mr. Jingle: Ah. Say, um, say he grifted. Nothing simpler... fat boy horsewhipped... your word believed... end of matter. One word of warning: beware of false hearts beating beneath smiling face.
Rachel Wardle: Whoever do you mean?
Mr. Jingle: Wild horses wouldn't drag... only wants you for your money.
Rachel Wardle: You're referring to Mr. Tupman?
Mr. Jingle: Lips sealed... old friend... ladykiller... loves another.
Rachel Wardle: Another? Who?
Mr. Jingle: Niece... Emily.
Rachel Wardle: My niece. It can't be. I won't believe it.
Mr. Jingle: Watch him.
Rachel Wardle: I will.

[continued from above conversation]
Mr. Jingle: Watch his looks... his whispers. He'll sit next to her at table. He'll flatter her and cut you.
Rachel Wardle: Cut me?
Mr. Jingle: Dead... you'll see for yourself.
Rachel Wardle: I will indeed!
Mr. Jingle: You'll cast him out?
Rachel Wardle: I will!
Rachel Wardle: You'll take another?
Rachel Wardle: Yes!
Mr. Jingle: You shall. I shall be that man! A worship from first... devoted slave... in a torment... sleepless nights... fortune of my own...
[examines the jewel on her finger]
Mr. Jingle: love you for yourself... death do us part... dare I hope.
Rachel Wardle: Oh, Mr. Jingle.
[she faints in his arms]