Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

I'm sorry, Mr Dickens, but the master's indisposed.
My books, Doctor... do they last?
I suppose... There is one lad. The butcher's boy.
but let any man explain to me, if he can,
- Where's the weak point? - Here. Beneath the arch.
Do the death of Little Nell... No, forget that. Faster!
Projection on glass? Who put you up to it?
- No. No servants where I'm from. - And you've come such a long way.
It looked... like that.
- For how long? - For ever.
In which case, have I wasted my brief span here, Doctor?
In the box? Both of you?
- How much? - I know. I would have been happy with six.
Gwyneth, send them back!
in this most trying hour.
- She's in there, sir. I'm certain of it. - Right.
That you're human.
and I felt your hands having a quick wander!
The things you've seen.
But she can help. She can open up the rift, make a bridge and let them through.
On with the motley.
"There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
made his nephew look like a cherub though he'd been a fortnight in the weir.
- I trusted you. I pitied you. - We don't want your pity!
Gwyneth?
Reach out.
You need a bit more in your life than Mr Sneed.
- Together? - Yeah.
- I saw nothing but an illusion. - If you're going to deny it, just shut up.
- Brecon? - Close.
- Why not? - It's not... I mean, it's not...
Seances?
- Blimey! - Are you all right?
My father died years back.
I can see that.
I'm the Doctor. Who are you?
as Marley used to look.
You can be born in the 20th century and die in the 19th and it's my fault.
After all I've learned tonight, there can be nothing more vital.