— Wait... I am with child. Yours.
— I don't recall that we ever had...
— You were drunk.
— I've actually never been that drunk.
— Ah, you pretended to love her, then you left her and broke her heart.
— Worse. I may have had, briefly, mind you... stirrings.
— Stirrings?
— Stirrings.
— What? Like feelings, you mean?
— No, no, no. Not quite all the way to feelings. More like... All right, feelings, damn you.
— And you left her still. That's low.
— Thank you.
— I heard you're putting together a crew.
— If enough people keep saying it, it must be true.
— That knife will serve you no better than the mutiny you devised.
— Mutiny served me well. It gained me an audience with you.
— You are Jack Sparrow?
— There should be a 'Captain' in there somewhere.
— I've heard of you. And you know who I am.
— Face is familiar. Have I threatened you before?
— You are in the presence of George Augustus, Duke of Brunswick-Luneburg Archtreasurer and Prince-elector of the Holy Roman Empire. King of Great Britain and Ireland, and of you.
— Doesn't ring a bell.
— Friends of yours?
— I may have unintentionally slighted some king or other.