you can hardly lock me up until I die

Goodbye, my darling.

Sybil, dear, your privilege is showing.

Seriously? Did you just tell an Irish man in 1920 not to talk about Ireland in front of the British stablishment? Oh, yeah, I forgot, not to talk about it “all the time.” Why don’t you, white girl, date a black man and tell him “don’t talk about race all the time”? Because that isn’t offensive or anything. Gosh, opressed people, talking about their issues all the time and spoiling everybody’s fun, can’t their forget about it for a couple of hours? [/sarcasm]

Have you any idea, Sybil, dear, what the English —with the British Army and your own kind (English protestant landlords) as standard bearers— did to the Irish? Have you heard of the Great Famine? Did you really expect him to sit down and shut up in front of the people that considered the Irish an inferior race? Not to mention, Sybil, dear, that your family spends the entire episode trying to “civilize” your husband as if he were a wild animal.

So, you know, shut up.

We do have feelings and don’t make the mistake of thinking we don’t.

Wait… Were you expecting something? Because you just barged into the room. I mean… Imagine they were doing something. You would have that image branded on your mind forever, Mary.

Special points for naïvete to Sybil, because after Mary says “Thank God nothing’s happened” Sybil answers “What do you mean nothing’s happened?” Of course something happened, she’s going to elope with Tom. Isn’t that, like, important? And her sisters are like “LOL! No. The only important thing is if you lost your virginity or not, silly child.”

Mary: What has he said to you?

Sybil: That he loves me and wants me to run away with him.

Mary: Good God in Heaven!

Sybil: He’s frightfully full of himself.