Peggy monologue — The Gentle Shepherd: A Pastoral Comedy

May sic ill luck befa' that silly she, Wha has sic fears; for that was never me. Let fowk bode well, and strive to do their best; Nae mair's requir'd, let Heaven make out the rest. I've heard my honest uncle aften say, That lads shou'd a' for wives that's vertuous pray: For the maist thrifty man cou'd never get A well stor'd room, unless his wife wad let: Wherefore nocht shall be wanting on my part, To gather wealth to raise my Shepherd's heart. What e'er he wins, I'll guide with canny care, } And win the vogue, at market, tron, or fair, } For halesome, clean, cheap and sufficient ware. } A flock of lambs, cheese, butter, and some woo, Shall first be said, to pay the laird his due; Syne a' behind's our ain.--Thus, without fear, With love and rowth we thro' the warld will steer: And when my Pate in bairns and gear grows rife, He'll bless the day he gat me for his wife.