Servant Girl: Oooh, Squire Western, you dirty old devil, Sir. And I thought you was asleep.

Squire Western: Did you now? Hey, don't struggle so, you know I've got a bad heart. And when I go, I want to die in bed.

Servant Girl: Not with me, you ain't!

Squire Western: Hmm, you're plump as a Christmas goose. And that's without the stuffing.

Servant Girl: Many a true word spoken in jest, Sir.

Squire Western: What do mean, girl?

Servant Girl: I hardly know how to say it, Sir. As you know, I'm a single girl, God-fearing and blameless.

Squire Western: Yes, yes, yes, go on.

Servant Girl: I'm with child!

Squire Western: What? Tell me who's pupped you and I'll make him wish he'd never been born.

Servant Girl: Careful of your heart, Sir.

Squire Western: Damn my heart! Give me his name. I'll make him wed you. Come along!

Servant Girl: T'was you, Sir!

Squire Western: Whaaat?

Servant Girl: T'is yours, Sir.

Squire Western: Oh, my heart!

Servant Girl: At Christmas, when you was giving out the presents. Oh, Sir, are you alright?

Squire Western: Yes. Yes, but best not to mention it again.

Servant Girl: What I am to do?

Squire Western: When the brat arrives, wrap him in a pudding cloth and place the bastard dumpling on the doorstep.

Servant Girl: Then what, Sir?

Squire Western: Then I'll deem that it's been left by providence and adopt it as my own.

Servant Girl: But the child, Sir. What life is there for a bastard child?

Squire Western: The best. Ha-ha! For i should know.

Servant Girl: Oh, were you one, Sir. I might have guessed.

Squire Western: Impudent, Hussy, certainly not. Put another log on the fire and listen to the tale I have to tell...