Mar.] A wae be to him an his actions baith, he’s the father o't, fornicator dog that he’s; he’s ruin’d me an my bairn; I bore her and brought her up honestly, till she came to you; her father died and left me wi’ four o’ them, there wasna ane o’ them cou’d pit on anither’s claes, or tak a louse aff ither.
Mit.] I bid you haud your tongue, an no oven your bystarts to my bairn, for he’ll ne’er tak wi’t: he, poor silly lad, he wad ne’er look to a lass, be’s to lay her down. Fy Maggy cry in o’ John, and let’s ratify’t wi’ the auld ruddoch; ay, ye’re no blate for saying sae.
Mar.] Be angry, or be well pleased, I’ll say’t in ’a your faces, an I’ll ca’ you before your betters about it or lang gae.
John enters] A what want ye now, is our brose ready yet?
Mit.] Ay brose, black brose indeed for thee my bairn; here Marion Mushet saying ye hae gotten her dochter wi’ bairn.
Jock.] Me mither! I ne’er lay in a bed wi’ her dochter a’ my days; it’ll be the young laird’s, for saw him kiss her at the Lammas fair, and let glam at her nonsense.
Mit.] Ay, ay, my man Jonnny, that’s the way she has gotten her belly full o’ bairns; ’tis no you, nor the like o’ you, poor innocent lad, that gets bystart weans; a wheen silly lowns, every one loups on anither, and gies you the wyte o’t.
Mar.] You may say what you like about it, ’tis easy to ca’ a court whar there’s nae body to say again, but I’ll tell you a’ I ken about it, and that is what she tell’t me’ and you guidwife, tell't me some o’t yoursel; an gin ye hadna brought in Maggy wi’ her muckle tocher atween the twa, your Jockie and my Jenny had a been man an wife the day.
Jock.] I wat well that’s true?
Mit.] Ye filthy dog that ye are, are ye gaun to confess wi’ a bystart an it no yours; dinna I ken as well as ye do wha’s aught it.
