Archibald Cunningham: He's a fair hand with a cleaver, it must be said.
Duke of Argyll: Oh, you do not think much of our highland weapons?
Archibald Cunningham: If I had to slaughter an ox, your grace, a Claymore would be my first choice.
Will Guthrie: You'd best use a musket. Save the beast a slow dying.
Archibald Cunningham: I would not need a musket for you, Guthrie.
Montrose: Great men, such as yourself, draw rumors as shite draws flies.
Duke of Argyll: You are the shite, Montrose, and the flies upon it.
Referee: You are here on a matter of honor. I am here to see that you settle it honorably. There will be no back-stabbing, you will not throw your blades, nor will you use weapons other than those agreed. If quarter should be asked.
Robert Roy MacGregor: No quarter will be asked.
Archibald Cunningham: Or given.
Killearn: My God, what a crew you highlanders are. With your airs and honors, come beggin' a thousand pound as though you were doing the lender a favor. Sheep-shaggers, the lot of ye. Baaa.
Robert Roy MacGregor: What passes for honor with me is likely the same as what passes with Your Lordship. When my word is given, it is good.
Montrose: Well, you are to be congratulated on such cheaply-bought nobility.
Mary: I love the bones of you, Robert McGregor, but you take too much to heart that canna' be helped.
Archibald 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.
Mary MacGregor: Robert, there is more. I am carrying a child and I do not know who is the father."
Robert Roy MacGregor: Ach, Mary.
Mary MacGregor: I could not kill it, husband.
Robert Roy MacGregor: It's not the child that needs killing.
Robert Roy MacGregor: Did you boys know there's going to be a new addition to the family?
Duncan MacGregor: Is it inside you?
Mary MacGregor: Yes.
Duncan MacGregor: How does it get out?
Robert Roy MacGregor: Same road it got in.
MacDonald: I do not serve Robert McGregor. I am his friend, and count myself fortunate to claim it.
Mary: You look bemused.
Betty: No worse bemused than I deserve, Mrs. MacGregor. For I have a bastard's bastard in me. And no home for him when he comes out.
Chosen answer: She wants to clean herself thoroughly ASAP, so as to avoid pregnancy (though that way doesn't work anyway); if she waited until she was alone, it would've been too late to even try.
Xofer