Sawny. I think some of the fishers and her might mak it up. Matty. A fisher, laddie! haith the fishers wad rather hae a pickle good bait to their hooks, and twa three bladders to their lines, than put up wi’ the like of her, a stinking prideful jade, altho’ I bore her, ay scourin and washin at hersel, prickin and prinnin keeps, her face ay like a Flander’s baby, and naeless than ribbons and rings, and her shoon made of red clouts; a devil stick pride, when our auld guidams ran barefoot, and our gutchers gade wi bare hips. Gie her a man! ill thief stap a gouk in her arse first, that may cry cuckow when e’er she speaks o’t; she can do naething but scour ladies pishpots, and keep clean the tirlie-wherlies that hang about the fire: haith she’s o’er gentle brought up to be a poor man’s penny-worth. Heigh how, quo’ Sawny, and ’tis e’en a great pity, for she’s weel-far’d lusty hissie; he had a great kindness for her. Matty. A well-a-wat she’s no lingletailed, she may be a caff bed to a good fallow, but an thou had but seen me at her age, I was a sturdy gimmer; there was nae a Hynd in a Dubbyside could lay a corpen to a creel wi me, the fint a fallow in a Fife but I wad a laid on the bread of his back, and a’ his gear uppermost, I was na a chicken to chatter wi indeed laddie, for I had a flank like an ox, and a pair of cheeks like a chapmans arse. Sawny. Nae doubt but ye had a pair of beefy buttocks, for your very cheeks hings like leather bags to this day; but I’ll tell you what I’m gaun to tell you--do ye think that your Kate wad tak me, an I would come to court her? Matty. Tak you, laddie, tak you, faith she’ll tak you, for she would tane a poor button thing of a half blind tailor, wartna me, a poor, blind, bowly, scabbit like creature; I’ve seen the day I wad hae carried him in my pouch. Wode I’se warrant her jump at you, like a fish at a flee, wad I say tak you, and she winna tak you, I’se tak you mysel, but she an I cust out the day about her cockups and black caps, gar’d me say muckle of her; but she’s my sonsy dawty for a that; weel-a wat she’s a weel-natured lassie, and gin she turn an illnatured wife I canna tell. Sawny. A well then I’ll venture on her as she is, for my mither’s pleased; an ye’re pleased, an I’m pleased; wode I am sure to get her, an the taylor has nae bridled her; or tane a trying trot o’ her. Matty. But Sawny, man, I’ll tell you what we’ll do, I’ll hame and broach her the night on’t, an come ye the morn, we’ll male it fu’ fast in a wee time, so thou’s get mair tocher than a Cramon, gammon to gammon; she has baith blankets and sheets, a covering, and twa cods o’ caff, a caff bed and bowster, and hear’st thou’ my laddie, I hae a bit auld hogger, and something in’t, thou’s get it when I die; but by my sooth it will be the last thing that I’ll part wi’, I kenna what I may need yet--it is an auld wife that kens her ain weird.