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: Forgive me. Mary, Queen of Scots
: How's your head? Bothwell
: Sore. Mary, Queen of Scots
: I could remove it for you. Bothwell
: Well, that would do the trick, aye. Mary, Queen of Scots
: You caused Lord Darnley great offense, you called Lord Darnley a long streak of English piss! Bothwell
: Then I must apologize. Lord Darnley
: I thank you. Bothwell
: 'Twas English *pish*. Lord Darnley
] Banishment, I think. Bothwell
: Anywhere but France.
: Your lord? Lord Darnley
: Your majesty! Bothwell
: Your majesty, will I tell the groom to put away your horse or will you be going back to the tavern? Lord Darnley
: I am one of the finest swordsmen in England, Bothwell. Bothwell
: Well, you're in Scotland now *your majesty*! Lord Darnley
: Then sleep with one eye open.
: You never can count on a woman. Marry her, and she turns to ice.