my name is inigo montoya


Humperdinck: “I don’t think I’m quite familiar with that phrase.”
Westley: “I’ll explain. And I’ll use small words so that you’ll be sure to understand, you wart‑hog‑faced buffoon.”
Humperdinck: “That may be the first time in my life a man has dared insult me.”
Westley: “It won’t be the last. ‘To the pain’ means the first thing you lose will be your feet, below the ankles. Then your hands at the wrists. Next your nose.”
Humperdinck: “—And then my tongue, I suppose. I killed you too quickly the last time, a mistake I don’t mean to duplicate tonight.”
Westley: “I wasn’t finished. The next thing you lose will be your left eye, followed by your right.”
Humperdinck: “—And then my ears, I understand. Let’s get on with it!”
Westley: “WRONG! Your ears you keep, and I’ll tell you why: So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out, ‘Dear God! What is that thing?’ will echo in your perfect ears. That is what ‘to the pain’ means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever.”

“But it's so simple. All I have to do is divine from what I know of you: are you the sort of man who would put the poison into his own goblet or your enemy’s? Now, a clever man would put the poison into his own goblet, because he would know that only a great fool would reach for what he was given. I am not a great fool, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But you must have known I was not a great fool; you would have counted on it, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me.”

