say in her daffin', that fouk sud aye try gin the house will haud their plenishing.
Mag. Ay Johnny, a wife is aye thing and a house is anither, a man that's amind to marry a woman, he'll aye be fond of her.
Jock. 'Tis a' true, Maggy, but fouks may kiss or they be married, and no hae nae ill in their minds.
Mag. Indeed Johnny, I like you better than ony lad I see; and I sall marry you an ance my father's muck were out, my mither downa work at the midden.
Jock. Ah Maggy, Maggy! I'm fear ye beguile me, then my mither will murder me for being so silly.
Mag. My jo, Johnny, tell your mither to provide a' things for the bridal and I sall marry you in three ouks after this; but we maun gie in siller to the Precentor, a groat and a drink to the bellman, and then the kirk wa's maun hear o't three Sundays or it come.
Jock. But Maggy, I'm not to mak a blind bargain wi' you nor nae body; I maun ken o' your things and you sall ken o' mine.
