University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

A snug Thack-house, before the Door a Green;
Hens on the Midding, Ducks in Dubs are seen.
On this Side stands a Barn, on that a Byre;
A Peat-stack joins, and forms a rural Square.
The House is Glaud's;—there you may see him lean,
And to his Divot-Seat invite his Frien'.

GLAUD and SYMON.
Glaud.
Good-morrow, Nibour Symon,—come sit down,
And gie's your Cracks.—What's a' the News in Town?
They tell me ye was in the ither Day,
And sald your Crummock and her bassend Quey.
I'll warrant ye've coft a Pund of Cut and Dry;
Lug out your Box, and gie's a Pipe to try.

Sym.
With a' my Heart;—and tent me now, auld Boy,
I've gather'd News will kittle your Mind with Joy.
I cou'dna rest till I came o'er the Burn,
To tell ye things have taken sic a Turn,
Will gar our vile Oppressors stend like Flaes,
And skulk in Hidlings on the Hether Braes.

Glaud.
Fy, blaw! Ah! Symie, ratling Chiels ne'er stand
To cleck and spread the grossest Lies aff hand,
Whilk soon flies round like Will-fire far and near:
But loose your Poke, be't true or fause, let's hear.

Sym.
Seeing's believing, Glaud, and I have seen
Hab, that abroad has with our Master been;
Our brave good Master, wha right wisely fled,
And left a fair Estate, to save his Head:
Because ye ken fou well he bravely chose
To stand his Liege's Friend with Great Montrose.
Now Cromwell's gane to Nick; and ane ca'd Monk
Has play'd the Rumple a right slee Begunk,
Restor'd King CHARLES, and ilka thing's in Tune:
And Habby says, We'll see Sir William soon.

Glaud.
That makes me blyth indeed;—but dinna flaw:
Tell o'er your News again! and swear till't a';
And saw ye Hab! And what did Halbert say?
They have been e'en a dreary Time away.
Now GOD be thanked that our Laird's come hame,
And his Estate, say, can he eithly claim?

Sym.
They that hag-raid us till our Guts did grane,
Like greedy Bairs, dare nae mair do't again;
And good Sir William sall enjoy his ain.

Glaud.
And may he lang; for never did he stent
Us in our thriving, with a racket Rent:
Nor grumbl'd, if ane grew rich; or shor'd to raise
Our Mailens, when we pat on Sunday's Claiths.

Sym.
Nor wad he lang, with senseless saucy Air,
Allow our lyart Noddles to be bare.
Put on your Bonnet, Symon;—Tak a Seat.—
How's all at hame?—How's Elspa? How does Kate?
How sells black Cattle?—What gie's Woo this Year?—
And sic like kindly Questions wad he speer.

Glaud.
Then wad he gar his Butler bring bedeen
The nappy Bottle ben, and Glasses clean,
Whilk in our Breast rais'd sic a blythsome Flame,
As gart me mony a time gae dancing hame.
My Heart's e'en rais'd! Dear Nibour, will ye stay,
And tak your Dinner here with me the Day?
We'll send for Elspath too—and upo' sight,
I'll whistle Pate and Roger frae the Height:
I'll yoke my Sled, and send to the neist Town,
And bring a Draught of Ale baith stout and brown,
And gar our Cottars a', Man, Wife and We'an,
Drink till they tine the Gate to stand their lane.

Sym.
I wad na bauk my Friend his blyth Design,
Gif that it hadna first of a' been mine:
For heer-yestreen I brew'd a Bow of Maut,
Yestreen I slew twa Wathers prime and fat;
A Firlot of good Cakes my Elspa beuk,
And a large Ham hings reesting in the Nook:
I saw my sell, or I came o'er the Loan,
Our meikle Pot that scads the Whey put on,
A Mutton-bouk to boil:—And ane we'll roast;
And on the Haggies Elspa spares nae Cost;
Sma' are they shorn, and she can mix fu' nice
The gusty Ingans with a Curn of Spice:
Fat are the Puddings,—Heads and Feet well sung.
And we've invited Nibours auld and young,
To pass this Afternoon with Glee and Game,
And drink our Master's Health and Welcome-hame.
Ye mauna then refuse to join the rest,
Since ye're my nearest Friend that I like best.
Bring wi' ye a' your Family, and then,
When e'er you please, I'll rant wi' you again.

Glaud.
Spoke like ye'r sell, Auld-birky, never fear
But at your Banquet I shall first appear.
Faith we shall bend the Bicker, and look bauld,
Till we forget that we are fail'd or auld.
Auld, said I! troth I'm younger be a Score,
With your good News, than what I was before.
I'll dance or Een! Hey! Madge, come forth: D'ye hear?

Enter Madge.
Mad.
The Man's gane gyte! Dear Symon, welcome here.
What wad ye, Glaud, with a' this Haste and Din?
Ye never let a Body sit to spin.

Glaud.
Spin! snuff—Gae break your Wheel, and burn your Tow,
And set the meiklest Peat-stack in a Low.
Syne dance about the Bane-fire till ye die,
Since now again we'll soon Sir William see.

Mad.
Blyth News indeed! And wha was tald you o't?

Glaud.
What's that to you?—Gae get my Sunday's Coat;
Wale out the whitest of my bobbit Bands,
My white-skin Hose, and Mittons for my Hands;
Then frae their Washing cry the Bairns in haste,
And make your sells as trig, Head, Feet and Waist,
As ye were a' to get young Lads or E'en;
For we're gaun o'er to dine with Sym bedeen.

Sym.
Do, honest Madge:—And, Glaud, I'll o'er the gate,
And see that a' be done as I wad hae't.

Exeunt.