[Westley is lying weak on the bed, having just been challenged by Prince Humperdinck.]
Humperdinck: To the death!
Westley: No! To the pain.
Humperdinck: [pauses] I don't think I'm quite familiar with that phrase.
Westley: I'll explain. And I'll use small words so that you'll be sure to understand, you warthog-faced buffoon.
Humperdinck: [flinching angrily] That may be the first time in my life a man has dared insult me.
Westley: It won't be the last. "To the pain" means the first thing you lose will be your feet, below the ankles, then your hands at the wrists. Next your nose.
Humperdinck: [losing his patience] And then my tongue, I suppose. I killed you too quickly the last time, a mistake I don't mean to duplicate tonight.
Westley: I wasn't finished! The next thing you lose will be your left eye, followed by your right—
Humperdinck: [exasperated] And then my ears, I understand! Let's get on with it—
Westley: WRONG! Your ears you keep, and I'll tell you why. So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out, "Dear God, what is that thing?" will echo in your perfect ears. That is what "to the pain" means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever.
Humperdinck: [pauses] I think you're bluffing.
Westley: It's possible, pig. I might be bluffing. It's conceivable, you miserable vomitous mass, that I'm only lying here because I lack the strength to stand. Then again, perhaps I have the strength after all. [standing slowly and holding out his sword] Drop. Your. Sword.
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