Bryan Brown: Lt. Peter Handcock

Breaker Morant

Lt. Peter Handcock

Sentry: Do you want the padre?
Harry Morant: No, thank you. I'm a pagan.
Sentry: And you?
Peter Handcock: What's a pagan?
Harry Morant: Well... it's somebody who doesn't believe there's a divine being dispensing justice to mankind.
Peter Handcock: I'm a pagan, too.
Harry Morant: There is an epitaph I'd like: Matthew 10:36. Well, Peter... this is what comes of 'empire building.'
Major Thomas: Matthew 10:36?
Minister: "And a man's foes shall be they of his own household."

Peter Handcock: [standing on a table] There once was a lad from Australia, who painted his ass like a dahlia, the color was fine and likewise the design, but the aroma -whew!- that was the failure.

Harry Morant: As a matter of interest, how many courts-martial have you done?
Major Thomas: None.
Lt. George Witton: None?
Peter Handcock: Jesus, they're playing with a double-headed penny, aren't they?
Major Thomas: Would you rather conduct your own defence?
Lt. George Witton: But you have handled a lot of court cases back home, sir?
Major Thomas: No. I was a country-town solicitor. I handled land conveyancing and wills.
Peter Handcock: Wills. Might come in handy.

Peter Handcock: [Drummond has just left the witness stand] You couldn't lie straight in bed, Drummond.
Sgt. Maj. Drummond: I don't have to take that from you.
Peter Handcock: You wanna do something about it? Come outside, I'll knock your bloody head off!
Lt. Col. Denny: Control yourself, Mr. Handcock, or you will find yourself in serious trouble.
[Handcock scoffs at this]
Lt. Col. Denny: You find that amusing?
Peter Handcock: Well, I was just wondering how much more serious things could be.

Harry Morant: "To do good to mankind is the chivalrous plan, And is always as nobly requited, Then battle for freedom wherever you can, And, if not shot or hang'd, You'll get knighted."
Lt. George Witton: Did you write that, Harry?
Harry Morant: No, no. It was a minor poet, called Byron.
Peter Handcock: Never heard of him.
Harry Morant: I did say he was a minor poet.

Lt. George Witton: [after Handcock has admitted to murdering the missionary] Major Thomas has been pleading justifying circumstances and now we're just lying.
Peter Handcock: We're lying? What about THEM? It's no bloody secret. Our graves were dug the day they arrested us at Fort Edwards.
Lt. George Witton: Yeah, but killing a missionary, Peter?
Harry Morant: It's a new kind of war, George. A new war for a new century. I suppose this is the first time the enemy hasn't been in uniform. They're farmers. They come from small villages, and they shoot at from behind walls and from farmhouses. Some of them are women, some of them are children, and some of them... are missionaries, George.

Lt. Col. Denny: I must say, I find this sort of behavior from a soldier in the British Army morally disgraceful. These were married women.
Peter Handcock: Well, they say a slice off a cut loaf's never missed.
Major Thomas: Leftenant Handcock's personal morality is not on trial, sir.
Lt. Col. Denny: [under his breath to a fellow officer] Regrettably.

Lt. George Witton: [Saying his goodbyes to Morant and Handcock] Harry! Peter!
Peter Handcock: See you in hell, mate!
Harry Morant: [Gripping George's hand] Goodbye, George.
Lt. George Witton: [Sobbing] Why did they do this to us, Harry? Why?
Harry Morant: They have to apologize for their damned war. They're trying to end it now, so they need scapegoats.
Lt. George Witton: [Being dragged away by prison guards] HARRY! PETER!
Harry Morant: George! We're scapegoats to the bloody empire!
Lt. George Witton: [Being led past the soldiers preparing their rifles for Morant and Handcock's firing squad] Jesus...

Peter Handcock: [after helping repel a Boer attack on the prison where he and Morant are being held] Well that broke the monotony.

Lt. George Witton: To freedom and Australia.
Lt. George Witton, Harry Morant, Peter Handcock, Major Thomas, Capt. Alfred Taylor: Freedom and Australia!
Harry Morant: To freedom, Australia and horses.
Lt. George Witton, Harry Morant, Peter Handcock, Major Thomas, Capt. Alfred Taylor: Freedom, Australia and horses.
Peter Handcock: Freedom, Australia, horses and women!
Lt. George Witton, Harry Morant, Peter Handcock, Major Thomas, Capt. Alfred Taylor: Freedom, Australia, horses and women!
Harry Morant: Live every day as if it were going to be your last. One day, you're sure to be right.

Peter Handcock: Go on, read it to us, Harry.
Harry Morant: Oh, Peter, come on. Come on. You know you loathe poetry.
Lt. George Witton: Well, there's not much else to bloody do here. Come on, read it.
Harry Morant: "Oh, those rides across the river, Where the shallow stream runs wide, And the sunset's beams were glossing strips of sand on either side, They would cross the sparkling river on the brown horse and the bay, Watch the willows sway and shiver and the trembling shadows play, 'Tis a memory to be hoarded, Of a foolish tale and fond, Till another stream be forded, And we reach the great beyond"
Lt. George Witton: I don't want to die.
Harry Morant: Well, every life ends in a dreadful execution, George. Yours will be much quicker and less painful than most.
Lt. George Witton: And a lot earlier than most.

Lt. George Witton: I used to hate Sundays in Melbourne. No trams or anything. On a hot day, you couldn't even get down to St. Kilda's for a swim.
Harry Morant: Did you have family readings?
Lt. George Witton: No.
Harry Morant: We did. I had to sit in a high-backed chair wearing a white lace collar, while my father read selections from "Pilgrim's Progress": "How glorious it was to see the open region filled with horses, With trumpeters and pipers, With singers and players..." Et cetera. Et cetera. Et cetera.
Peter Handcock: Sunday was a good day for chasin' a few tarts around Bathurst. Everyone else was in church. I used to whip down the riverbank for a bit of smoochin'. Worst thing about dying, no more girls.

Peter Handcock: [listening to carpenters building his and Morant's coffins] Could have had the decency to measure us first.
Harry Morant: I don't suppose they've had many complaints.

Peter Handcock: Knew? Of course they bloody knew. You can't trust these blokes. How many sides you fighting on, mate?

Lt. George Witton: He believes in the British Empire, you know. We all do in my family. That's why I volunteered, to help keep the Empire together.
Peter Handcock: Yeah? I volunteered because there's a depression back there and I've got a wife and kid.
Lt. George Witton: You believe in the Empire, Harry?
Harry Morant: Do I?
Peter Handcock: Don't reckon he does, mate.

Lt. Col. Denny: You mean to tell me you were on intimate terms with two Boer ladies?
Peter Handcock: Yeah, well, you could put it that way.

Peter Handcock: I know some good poems, too! That surprised you, didn't it? "There once was a man from Australia, Who painted his arse like a dahlia, The color was fine, likewise the design, But the aroma, ew, that was a failure."