Non. Here's like to be a fine charge towards! We shall all be brought to-bed together! Well, if I be with devil, I will have such gossips: an usurer, and a scrivener, shall be godfathers.
Isa. I'll help you, uncle; and Sawney's two grannies shall be godmothers. The child shall be christened by the directory; and the gossips' gifts shall be the gude Scotch kivenant.
Const. Set. Non. Tob. Amb. Uh! uh! uh!
Isa. What rare music's here!
Non. Whene'er it comes from me, 'twill kill me; that's certain.
Set. Best take a vomit.
Isa. An't come upward, the horns will choke him.
Non. Mass! and so they will.
Isa. Your only way, is to make sure o'the man-midwife.
Non. But my child's dishonour troubles me the most. If I could but see her well married, before I underwent the labour and peril of child-bearing!—What would you advise, niece?