- Friend: When you get to the alehouse, see a way to get a message to my wife.
- Jacob: Anything, Friend. Anything.
- Friend: Tell her... tell her I hate her. Tell her I did burn her father's barn. 'Twas payment for forcing our marriage. Tell her I loved her sister. Who I had. Many times. From behind. Like a beautiful prize sow.
- Jacob: If I'd have known that, I would have paid you more respect, brother.
- Whitehead: [after coughing up stones carved with mysterious symbols] Well, I have no recollection of consuming anything of the remotest sort.
- O'Neil: A man can hold a great deal inside that he does not comprehend. I am not familiar with these symbols, though.
- Whitehead: Nor I. I feel... Suddenly empty.
- O'Neil: Then maybe you should keep your mouth shut unless something else should rush in while you're not paying attention, because you are apparently nothing more than an envelope.
- Friend: It does not surprise me that the Devil is an Irishman, though I thought perhaps a little taller.
- Jacob: Am I bewitched?
- Whitehead: No. Sir, you merely suffer a disease in the private parts, occasioned by too much venereal sport.
- Jacob: 'This all?
- Whitehead: Well, I also deduce gout, bloody flux, apostem of the mouth, the pissing disease, St. Anthony's fire, iliac passion, hemorrhoids and palsy brought on by drink.
- Jacob: Then, I'm not turn into a frog?
- Whitehead: 'Tis the one complaint you do not suffer besides plague. All I can do is administer a poultice to your yard, to soothe.
- Jacob: Thank you.
- Jacob: Am I bewitched?
- Whitehead: No. Sir, you merely suffer a disease in the private parts, occasioned by too much venereal sport.
- Jacob: 'This all?
- Whitehead: Well, I also deduce gout, bloody flux, apostem of the mouth, the pissing disease, St. Anthony's fire, iliac passion, haemorrhoids and palsy brought on by drink.
- Jacob: Then, I'm not turn into a frog?
- Whitehead: 'Tis the one complaint you do not suffer besides plague. All I can do is administer a poultice to your yard, to soothe.
- Jacob: Thank you.
- Jacob: He's the king of cold-hearted bastards, I'll give him that. Could do with more like him in the ranks.
- Jacob: Sooner I get back to fucking London, the fucking better. A new fucking coat. Fucking doors that fucking shut. And citizens that pay small fucking reckoning to astrology. I would rather die of the fucking plague in the fucking fleet than spend another fucking minute in the countryside.