 | Cardinal Beaton |  |
SCENE VII.
—Castle Wynd of St Andrews.Enter Janet Geens and Katie Tervat, as they pass with staves in their hands, and drest in their red plaids up the lane.
JANET.
Hech na, Katie, here are we ance mair i'our auld wynd
agen!
KATIE.
Aweel, we've haen a fine straik, an' are now safe hame
agen; I'm a wee forjeskit though, wi' trachlin' sae lang.
JANET.
But haena we been weel awa frae this town baith this
mornin' an' yesterday? Siccan a strabash as has been in't
man sticket an' slachtered. Dinna you see him hingin'
out o'his grand window yonder, like a speldet calf? He's
wallopin' bonnily by the heels yonder—He needs nae velvet
cods below him the day to haud him saft.
KATIE.
It's but a pitifu' sight, Janet.
JANET.
Nae sic sights an' sic brulzies down on the coast-towns
yonder—a'quiet peaceable-livin' buddies yonder—no a
single cheep in Anster an' Cellardyke—frae the beathel
up to the minister, as quiet's pussie, the hail tot o'them.
KATIE.
It's the Cardinal's wyte, a'this brulzie-business. Now
that he's gane, we'll hae quietness. See how the very weather's
cleared up syn he was slachtered. It was a raw
dauky sour-lookin' mornin' when we set out, but it's a bra
sunny day now.
JANET.
Hoot, woman, the sun's glad to pap his gowden nose
out, an' get a good smell o'the caller warld, now that the
rogue's gane. It stank sae muckle when he was alive, that
it's nae wonder the sun scunnered.
Young hizzies now will marry without ony fashery, an'
decent douce auld women like oursells, will ance mair lick
up sappy sermons at the Scores an' dykesides, in spite o'
the auld deil an' his cleckin' o'grayfriars.
JANET.
Deil gin a banefire were but made o'them only!
KATIE.
I'd gie a peck o'gude spunks to that fire mysel, Janet.
JANET.
Ah, will-a-wins, Katie, look yonder to the ase o'the fire
that brunt guid Maister Wishart yesterday! See how
they're spread out, a mickle white midden afore my door!
KATIE.
I think I'se hae a pickle o'them—I'se keep them for
the honest man's sake a'the days o'my life.
[Picks up a few of the ashes.
JANET.
A guid thought, Katie; I'se treasure up some too, for
a keepsake,
(Picks up some ashes.)
I sall sleep wi' them
below my head i'the night-time—I sall lock them up i'
my kist i'the day-time; an' we'll hae sweet dreams by
night, an' a blessin' by day, e'en for their very sake, Katie.
we'se hae a bannock an a poot to our dinner.
KATIE.
Weel I wat an' I'm gay yap after my walk; it's een a
lang trachle frae the Kirk Wynd in Anster, to the Castle
Wynd in St Andrews.
JANET.
Gang in than, Katie, we'se hae the bannock an' the
poot this mament.
[Exeunt.
| Cardinal Beaton | |