Porthos: Come Dartanian, we're saving the king.

Aramis: Athos! Is that anyway to greet out guests? Gentlemen, don't be shy, come in. You're friends have been expecting you.
Guard: You are under arrest.
Athos: Under whose authority?
Rochefort: Mine.
Athos: Ah hello again, cyclops...

Porthos: Did I miss anyone. Drat, I was trying to hit Rochefort.

Porthos: Rochefort...isn't that a smelly kind of a cheese?

Porthos: You boy, are arrogant, hot tempered, and entirely too bold. I like that...reminds me of me.

Richlieu: A word of caution Milady. A snap of my fingers and you could be back on the block where I found you.
Milady: And with a flick of my wrist, I could change your religion.

Athos: Where have you been?
Porthos: Taking care of something ugly.

D'artangon: They're firing at us.
Porthos: Champaign?
Athos: We're in the middle of a chase, Porthos.
Porthos: You're right. Something red.

Cardinal Richleu: One less mouth to feed.

Cardinal's guards: What should I do with the Musketeer flag?
Rochefort: Burn it.

D'Artagnan: But what about the Musketeers?
Porthos: Go home boy. Find a wench. Have fat babies and live a good long life.

Porthos: Rochfort. Isn't that a smelly kind of cheese?

Queen Anne: I would rather die!
Cardinal Richelieu: That can be arranged!

King Louis: This world is an uncertain realm, filled with danger. Honor underminded by the pursuit of power, freedom sacrificed when the weak are oppressed by the strong. But there are those who oppose these powerful forces, who dedicate their lives to truth, honor, and freedom. These men are known as Musketeers. Rise, D'Artagnan, and join them.

Guard: Do you intend to resist?
Porthos: Oh don't be so stupid, of course we intend to resist! Just give us a minute! (To his comrades:) Five of them, three of us. Hardly seems fair.
Aramis: Maybe we should give them a chance to surrender.
D'Artganan: Excuse me, there's four of us.
Athos: It isn't your fight. You're not a Musketeer.
D'Artagnan: I may not wear the tunic, but I believe I have the heart of a Musketeer.
Porthos: Warrior?
Aramis: Poet!
Athos: You got a name, boy?
D'Artagnan: D'Artagnan.
Athos: Athos, Porthos, Aramis.
D'Artagnan: Pleased to meet you again.
Armis: Pleasure.
Porthos: Everyone acquainted?
(The four whirl around and unsheath their swords.)
Porthos: NOW, we are ready to resist you!

Porthos: The picnic was delicious, the wine was excellent, remind me to send the Cardinal a note.

Cardinal Richelieu: One for all and more for me

Porthos: This sash was a gift to me, from the Queen of America.
D'Artagnan: There's no queen of America!
Porthos: I beg to differ, infant. We're on quite intimate terms, unless you can prove otherwhise.