So, tell me, cousin, I hear you have a cunning plan.
I do. I want you to take the place of the Prince Regent and kill the Duke of Wellington in a duel.
Aye, and what's in it for me?
Enough cash to buy the Outer Hebrides. What do you say?
Fourteen shillings and sixpence? Well, it's tempting, but I've got a better plan. Why don't I pretend to be the Duke of Wellington and kill the Prince of Wales in a duel? Then I could kill the king and be crowned with the ancient stone bonnet of MacAdder!
And I shall wear the granite gown and limestone bodice of MacMiggins, Queen of all the herds!
For god's sake, MacAdder, you're not Rob Roy. If you kill the prince, much less the king, they'll just send the bailiffs around and arrest you.
Oh blast, I forgot the bailiffs.
So we can return to our original plan?
No, I'm not interested. I'd rather go to bed with the Loch Lomond Monster. Besides, I have to be back in the office on Friday. I promised Mr. MacNaulty I'd help shift a particularly difficult bloater for him. Forget the whole thing. I'm off home with Miggsy!
Yes! Show me the glen where the kipper roams free, and forget Morag forever!
No, never! Must do right by Morag. We must return to Scotland and you must fight her in the old Highland way - bare-breasted and each carrying an eight pound baby.
Yes, yes! I love babies! [kisses MacAdder on the cheek]
Aye, you're a woman of spirit. I look forward to burying you in the old Highland manner. Farewell, Blackadder, you spineless goon! [leaves]
Fortune vomits on my eiderdown one more.
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