ither beasts, or gin ye be aun ony penny, let somebody tak them up o’ desperate debt, I sud flie the fykes frae them, they anger’d you, and sham’d you baith with their bastards, a wheen daft jades it gets men or they be married, and bairns or they get bridals.
Goodwife. A wat weel that’s true, lad.
Girzy. A weel, John, then, will ye tak me; I hae nae bastards; how will you and I do?
John. I wat na gin ye be able to get a bastard, yet ye may hae some waur faut; but ye maun be my pennyworth, for ye’re unco little, and I’m o’er muckle, and gin ye and I war ance carded through ither, we may get bonny weans o’ a middlen mak. I hae nae fauts to ye, but ye hae a high breast, a humph back, a short neck, and high shouthers, the hands and legs may do, tho’ your mouth be a wee to the tae side it will lie weel to the rock, and I hae a hantle o’ tow to spin, will be baith sarks and sacks till us, ye’ll be my soncy dauty, up and down; a perfect beauty, wi cat’s yellow een, black brous, and
