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John enters before the Justice with a red red face, like a well-paid arse, faus down on his knees, saying, Guide'en Mr. Justice, Sir James an’t please your honour, you mauna put me in prison, for I’m no a malefactor, but a poor honest kintryman, that was born under an ill planet, my mither says; I had the ill luck o’ a misfortune to fa’ foul wi’ fornication, an got my mither’s lass wi’ bairn the last year, an they’re gaun to father’t on me the year.
The Justice, smiling, answer’d, Indeed John, I think it is but very just and reasonable, that ye be accountable this year for your last year’s labours.
Jock. Ay, ay, Stir, I ha’e labour’d very sair since my father died, but our plough canna get gane for frost this four days.
Just. Ay, but John, that’s no what I mean, ’tis the child you got last year, ye must be answerable for this.
Jock. A deed, Stir, there was twa o' them, but there is ane o, them dead.
Just. A-well then, John, you’ll have the more to give the one that’s alive.
Jock. O but, Stir, it’s my ain wean that’s dead, the ane I got wi' my wife; I dinna ken whither the tither be mine or no.
Just. Your’s or no, sir, when ye told me ye got it! If ye should get it wi’ a beggar wife at the back o’ a dyke, what’s that to the purpose? When it is of your getting, you must maintain it.
