"Your efforts in my favour are the more generous," said Lord Glenvarloch, "as you offer them to one whom you believe you have cause to think hardly of but they are altogether unavailing. Fortune has taken the field against me at every point. Even let her win the battle." "Zouns!" exclaimed Heriot, impatiently, "you would make a saint swear!
Kind Light, a little of your aid now must I be peeping, though my Curiosity should lose me all hah Zouns, what here a Hovel or a Hog-sty? hum, see the Wickedness of Man, that I should find no time to swear in, but just when I'm in the Devil's Clutches. Enter Pert, as an old Woman, with a Staff. Old W. Good Even to you, fair Sir. Gay.
Zouns! sir, we would slit any nose that was turned up at us honest fellows. Ay, sir, we would slit it up to the gristle, though it had smelt nothing all its life but musk, ambergris, and court-scented water. Rabbit me, I am a soldier, and care no more for a lord than a lamplighter!"