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Ye look as ſpruſh as ane that's wooing,
I ferly lad, what ye've been doing.
Joukum. My very much reſpected brither,
Shou'd we hide ought frae ane anither!
And not, when warm'd by the ſame blood,
Conſult ilk ane anither's good;
And be it kend t'ye, my deſign,
Will profit prove to me and mine.
Bris. And brither, troch it much commends
Your virtue, thus to love your friends,
It maks me blyth, for aft I ſaid,
Ye were a clever mettl'd lad.
Jouk. And ſae, I hope, will ever prove,
If ye befriend me in my love:
For Roſie, bonny, rich, and gay,
And ſweet as flowers in June and May,
Her gear I'll get, her ſweets I'll rifle
If ye'll but yield me up a trifle.
Promiſe to do't, and ye'ſe be free,
With ony thing pertains to me.
Briſtle. I lang to anſwer your demand,
And never ſhall for trifles ſtand.
Joukum. Then ſhe defires as a propine,
Theſe Bonnets, Bawſy's, your's and mine;
And weel I wat that's nae great matter,
If I ſae eaſily can get her.
Briſtle. Ha, ha! ye Judas, are ye there?
The D— then nor ſhe ne'er get mair.
Is that the trifle that ye ſpoke of?
Wha think ye, Sir, ye mak a mock of?
Ye ſilly, manſworn, ſcant o' grace,
Swith, let me never ſee your face.
Seek