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Andro doucht nocht abyd it, bot brak af upon the King in sa zealus, powerfull, and unresistable a maner, that whowbeit the King used his authoritie in maist crabbit and colerik maner, yit Mr.
Crabbit was, and cause had. Comparisons are odious. Cold cools the love that kindles over hot. Cut duels in every Town. Condition makes, and condition breakes. Come not to the councell uncalled. Dead and marriage makes Term-day. Do weil and have weil. Do as ye wald be done to. Do in Hill, as ye wald do in Hall. Dame dein warily. Dummie cannot lie. Draff is good enough for Swine.
It said on it, 'If I had the world I'd give you half of it. And that set her thinkin' what a nice surprise she could fix up if she'd will you some of her money. And she said, too, that Jonas was a good man but it worried her that she broke off with a poor man to marry a rich one when she liked the poor one best. I guess all that made her so queer and crabbit.
Well, her nest is scarcely cold, when in comes me Mistress Adversity, a wee outspoken sour crabbit gizzened anatomy of an old woman "You ne'erdoweel, Tam," quoth she, "is it no enough that you consort with that scarlet limmer, who has just yescaped thorough the winday, but ye maun smoors my firstborn, puir Conscience, atween ye? Whare hae ye stowed him, mantell me that?"
I know I'm done for. I don't want a lot o' strangers pokin' round in my things and takin' care of me. I'm crabbit and they don't have no patience." "Ach, you'll be around again in no time," said Millie cheerfully. "Don't you worry. I'll run everything just like it ought to be. I'll tend you so good you'll be up and about before you know it." "I'm not so easy fooled.
But in this I am speaking of the change when it had come to a full head; for in verity it must be allowed that when the country gentry, with their families, began to intromit among us, we could not make enough of them. Indeed, we were deaved about the affability of old crabbit Bodle of Bodletonbrae, and his sister, Miss Jenny, when they favoured us with their company at the first inspection ball.
After a', nae man is rid o' a difficulty till he's conquered it single-handed for himsel: besides, I'm na poet, mair's the gude hap for you." "Why, then?" "Och, och! they're puir, feckless, crabbit, unpractical bodies, they poets; but if it's your doom, ye maun dree it; and I'm sair afeard ye ha' gotten the disease o' genius, mair's the pity, and maun write, I suppose, willy-nilly.
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