HAYTER: This is the Doctor. He's here to help us.

(As they run down the stone staircase, Ace stops at a Gainsborough-like painting of a lady.)

ACE: Professor, that's me.

DOCTOR: What? Gosh, so it is. My goodness, what a good likeness.

ACE: How come I ended up here?

DOCTOR: Well, it hasn't happened yet.

ACE: But it's two hundred years ago.

DOCTOR: I know. We haven't done it. That's why you don't remember it.

ACE: It doesn't make sense.

DOCTOR: Well, it did to Louis Armstrong, but then he really understood time.

NARRATOR: Now the sounds from the rest of the sickbay receded into the distance, and even the gentle ticking of the monitors faded into silence as the Doctor looked down at the pale and bruised too-old face, framed by its dirty blond hair, and wondered if he had ever really looked at anyone before.

CHARLEY: Your eyes.

FERRAS: What about them?

CHARLEY: You've lost your eyes.

BENNY (to the Doctor): "Oh, well don't you know how to take all the fun out of archaeology!"