Rob: If it's a boy, call him Robert. If it be a lass, name
her after my love, Mary McGregor.
Archibald Cunningham: Love is a dung hill and I am but a
cock that climbs atop it to crow.
Cunningham: Think of yourself a scabbard, Mistress McGregor,
and I the sword. And a fine fit you were, too. Mary: I will
think on you dead, until my husband makes you so. And then
I will think on you no more.
Archibald Cunningham: Your wife was much sweeter forced
than many are willing.
Duke of Argyll: Another one of your "likely lads"? Or are
you a buggerer of boys? Archibald Cunningham: It has been
months since I last buggered a boy, though I thought him
a girl at the point of entry. Duke of Argyll: Will, do you
hear this? Apparently Mr. Cunningham has trouble telling
the difference between arse and quim, what say you to that?
Will Guthrie: I've heard many Englishmen have the same problem.
