Page:Whole proceedings of Jockey and Maggy (3).pdf/14

 Mith. Ye silly dog an be drown'd to you, how cou'd ye confcssconfess [sic] sae muckle to maeslie-shanket Marion, although she be her mither?

Jock. O mither! mither! say nae mair about it, my ain wan has dung me dourly; sadly have I suffered for that, and ye ken a' the misery's com’d oer our Maggy, my mouth's the mither o't, sae haud your tongue I tell you now.

Mith An tell me to haud my tongue? Gin ye had hae hauden your tongue and your tail, and ha'e done as I bid you, ye hadna had sae muckle ado the day, daft silly dog it tu is.

Jock. Mither, mither, gie's nane of your mocks, nor malice; for tho' I got the wean, ye hae as muckle the wyte o't as I. Gae seek me out my three new sarks, an Sunday's shine, and I'se gae whar never man saw my face before, neither wood, water, nor wilderness sall haud me again.

Mith My bra' man, Johnny, you manna do that; stay at hame wi' me, an set a stout heart to a stie brae, I'se gae to the session wi' you, gang whan you like.

Jock. A well mither, I sall do your bidding for ance yet, but when the minister flytes on me, answer ye him, for I canna speak well again.

Mith Say nae mair, I hae a pockfu' o' perfect petitions to louse and put to him and his elders, an if tu maun gae to their black stool, it's no be thee thy lane sall sit.

Jock. But mither, whether will I deny the doing o't; or confess the game, was at the getting o't.

Mith Ay, ay, confess you did it, but say but ance, and that on the terms of marriage, the way that a' our kintry bystarts are gotten.

Now Jocky being three times summoned to the session, and did not appear, the session insist for a warrant from the justice of the peace, which was readily granted, more for diversion nor justice sake; the warrant being given to John King the constable, who went away with Clinkem Bell on Saturday's morning, and catched John just at his breakfast, hauls him awa', ane at ilka oxter, like twa butcher's dogs hinging in a bull's beard. His mither followed, driving him up wi' good counsels.-My bra' man, Johnny, haud up your head, dinna think shame, for a' your fa't is but perfect honesty, you're neither a thief, whore, nor horse stealer.

Then Maggy ran for uncle Rabby, and uncle Rabby sent for Sandy the souter of Siggyhole; the souter saddled his mair, and uncle Rabby got aff at a gallop-on his grey powney, west the hags, and owre by White hill-sheugh, the