Merlin : You noticed anything about Gwen of late?
Gaius : Nothing unusual. Why?
Merlin : I'm not sure, exactly.
Gaius : Something she's said? Something she's done?
Merlin : No. It's nothing in particular. It just seems to me that ever since she returned from The Dark Tower, she hasn't been quite herself.
Gaius : Well, is that so surprising? She lost her only brother. Elyan was all the family she had, and grief changes people, Merlin.
Merlin : I know they do, but...
Gaius : Besides, we can only guess at what Morgana put her through.
Merlin : That's what worries me.
Merlin : I don't think this is over.
Sir Gwaine : What do you mean?
Merlin : Well, whoever's responsible for the attack on Arthur's life - what's to stop them from trying again?
Sir Gwaine : They haven't a chance. The citadel's on full alert. Every entrance, every exit's being watched. Trust me, Arthur's safe as long as he remains in Camelot.
Merlin : That's just it. What if he's not safe here? What if Camelot's the most dangerous place that he could be? Who could have access to the stables? Who could've known the way out to the cells? Who knew that Tyr would do anything to protect his mother? You need to stay close to Arthur and do whatever you can to protect him.
Sir Gwaine : You have my word on it, Merlin.
Arthur : Merlin, I would strongly recommend that you start showing a little less interest in Geinevere's clothing and a little more interest in mine.
Merlin : I think I prefer Gwen's.
Arthur : I'm gong to... do everything in my power to try and forget that you ever just said that. I suggest you do the same.
Audrey : You! What are you doing in my kitchen?
Merlin : [as the aged Emrys] Nothing.
Audrey : "Nothing" means "mischief" in my book.
Merlin : Well, you've been reading the wrong book.
Audrey : And "mischief" means "theft."
Merlin : No, it doesn't.
Audrey : And theft means my pies.
Merlin : Your pies? Why on earth would anyone want to steal your godforsaken pies?
Audrey : My pies are the talk of Camelot.
Merlin : Oh. Yes, indeed they are - a crust like rusted iron, a filling like last year's horse dung, and the smell - oh, yes - just like the guard house's latrine!
Audrey : No one insults my pies and gets away with it!
Merlin : Oh, I'm sorry. Should I speak instead of your poisonous flans - like vomit, curdling in the noonday sun - or your dumplings? The king, himself, likened them to freshly lain frog spawn wrapped in pig snot!
Audrey : What would you know about the king and my dumplings?
Merlin : Oh, good grief.