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Mith. Hech, is that poor body in her bed yet.
Her mother anſwers, Weel I wat ſhe's in her bed an cauld, cauld, and comfortleſs is her lying. byſtarts getting is juſt like lent gear, ſeldom or never weel paid back again, but my poor laſſie coudna done war nor ſhe's done, O gin ſhe had yeilded her body to ſome bit herd laddie, he wad a ſeen her lang or now.
Mich. A dear Marrion what wad ye be at? Do ye think that our John wha has a wife of his ain, coud come and wait on her as if ſhe were a dame o' honour, or yet an honeſt man's wife, poor ſilly lown that ſhe is, an had he thought on what he was com'd of he wad ne'er a offer'd benevolence to the like o' her.
Mar. An ye had a been as great an inſtrogater againſt his making her double ribbet, as ye are now againſt doing her juſtice, for the filthy jimerack he's gien her, ye wadna need to ca' her ſilly lown the day, an him an honeſt man, but the ne'er an honeſt man wad a hoodl'd ſae lang on ae por huſſie an then gaen awa' an married anither for love o' a pickle auld clouts an twa or three pockfus o' tow and ſhe is but a ſilly lown indeed that lute him or ony rattle ſcull elſe, ſhake their tail ſae ling upon her, without his faith and his troth, as his nieve before the miniſter.
Mith. A cauld be your caſt kimmer, do ye think it your daddling doughter is a match for my ſon John, I think leſs may ſair. her father was but a poor cotter carle, an our John's father
