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was a farmour, an it's but a trick o' youth an the courſe o' youth maun be out; but ſhe may thank her good fortune an tell her friends ay, an count it a credit that ever ſhe bore a byſtart to the like o' him; a good fu' fat farmour's ſon, but ae ſtep laigher nor a laird.
Mar. A wae be to ſick a credit it's nae worth the cracking o, an whar was a his noble epuals whan he bute to lay a leg on my poor laſſie, poor clarty clunny that thou is, and if they were na baith ae man's mak, I wadna think naething o't; for there warna a needle o' differ between their daddies, an what war they baith but twa ſticket taylors at the beſt? ye had as good a gaen hame and a counted your bow-kail ſtocks as come here to count kindred wi' me.
Jock. Hout awa daft witleſs wives, I kenna what you're flyting about; I wad rather ſee the wean gin it be ony thing wally and like the warld.
Mar. Indeed all ye John, you'll ſee your ain picture for little filler, a muckle mouth'd haveral juſt like yaurſel.
(The child is preſented.)
Jock. Mither, mither, it has a muckle mouth juſt like mine, an ſees we baith o' it's een an bit five days auld yet.
Mith. Dear Johony thou's no wife man, wad tu hae the waen to be blin, the poor thing ſaw whan it was new born.
Jock. A what ken I mither, am no ſae weel ſkill'd as the howdies. an them that's ay hoblin
