Dr. Smith: Oh, the pain, the pain.
[
to Robot]
Dr. Smith: Yours not to question why; yours to do as I say or die.
[
repeated line]
Dr. Smith: Silence, you ninny.
[
repeated line]
Dr. Smith: Silence, you mental midget.
[
repeated line]
Dr. Smith: Never fear, Smith is here.
Robot: [
singing operatically] Figaro! Figaro! Figaro!
Dr. Smith: Oh, shut up.
Robot: That does not compute!
Dr. Smith: What day is it?
Robot: The day is Thursday. The month is March. The year is...
Dr. Smith: Never mind the year.
Robot: I compute it to be an ionic directional probe searching for receiving outlets.
[
to Robot]
Dr. Smith: Now come along with me, you ludicrous lump, there's much to be done.
Robot: I cannot accept that course of action.
Dr. Smith: [
thinking he has been transported to Hades] Good Heavens!
Morbus: Guess again.