- Jason McCord: Is that how you want history to end this story? With a senseless murder? John Wilkes Booth shot down a great man. He'll go down in infamy. Edwin Booth... Shot down a dog and he went to the gallows for it. Well, what's it to be... tragedy or some cheap catch-penny melodrama? The last act is up to you, Edwin Booth.
- Edwin Booth: I suppose I should warn you, I'm often taken for a cuspidor, you in turn will garner your share of spit. Not to mention snubs, brickbats, catcalls, and an occasional rotten egg.
- Jason McCord: Well, it wouldn't be new.
- Jason McCord: He fired me?
- Hannibal - Valet: You don't have to worry about that, Mister Jason, a man like you knows how to get along.
- Jason McCord: Sure.
- Hannibal - Valet: Mister Edwin, he's not like you. He don't know how to carry his burden. He goes about it all wrong.
- Edwin Booth: John... F... Parker! You are John F. Parker, formally of the Washington Police Force. Who volunteered for White House duty in order to escape the draft. A lazy, insubordinate bully who through some devilish accident stood between Abraham Lincoln and eternity! That's right! If I had been there, he wouldn't have gotten there alive! Where were you? Where were you in that black hour? Out hoisting a tack of ale? That beer cost my brother his life... cost the President his life!
- Jason McCord: He fired me?
- Hannibal - Valet: You don't have to worry about that, Mister Jason, a man like you knows how to get along.
- Jason McCord: Sure.
- Hannibal - Valet: Mister Edwin, he's not like you. He don't know how to carry his burden. He goes about it all wrong.
- Jason McCord: I was just beginning like Booth, contrary as he is.