_Mad._ [_laughing._] I think I've towzl'd his harigalds a wee; He'll no soon grein to tell his love to me. He's but a rascal that wad mint to serve A lassie sae, he does but ill deserve. _Mause._ Ye towin'd him tightly,--I commend ye for't; His blooding snout gave me nae little sport: For this forenoon he had that scant of grace, And breeding baith,--to tell me to my face, He hop'd I was a Witch, and wadna stand, To lend him in this case my helping hand. _Mad._ A Witch!--How had ye patience this to bear, And leave him een to see, or lugs to hear? _Mause._ Auld wither'd hands, and feeble joints like mine, Obliges fowk resentment to decline; Till aft 'tis seen, when vigour fails, then we With cunning can the lake of pith supplie. Thus I pat aff revenge till it was dark, Syne bade him come, and we should gang to wark: I'm sure he'll keep his triste; and I came here To seek your help, that we the fool may fear. _Mad._ And special sport we'll have, as I protest; Ye'll be the Witch, and I shall play the Ghaist; A linen sheet wond round me like ane dead, I'll cawk my face, and grane, and shake my head. We'll fleg him sae, he'll mint nae main to gang A conjuring, to do a lassie wrang. _Mause._ Then let us go; for see, 'tis hard on night, The westlin cloud shines red with setting light. [_Exeunt._ _ACT IV.--SCENE II._ When birds begin to nod upon the bough, And the green swaird grows damp with falling dew, While good Sir William is to rest retir'd, The Gentle Shepherd tenderly inspir'd, Walks through the broom with Roger ever leel, To meet, to comfort Meg, and tak farewell. PATIE _and_ ROGER. _Roger._ Wow! but I'm cadgie, and my heart lowps light. O, Mr. Patrick! ay your thoughts were right: Sure gentle fowk are farther seen than we, That nathing ha'e to brag of pedigree. My Jenny now, wha brak my heart this morn, Is perfect yielding,--sweet,--and nae mair scorn. I spake my mind--she heard--I spake again, She smil'd--I kiss'd--I woo'd, nor woo'd in vain.