Hyst. Ingram Maclure in Benbole.

Jurym. Here.

Hyst. Gilbert Strathdee in Drummalloch.

Jurym. Here.

Hyst. Gabriel Tam in Dirthole.

Jurym. Here.

Hyst. Lowrie Macwill o' Powmuddle.

Jurym. Here.

Hyst. Daniel Losh o' Benskair.

Jurym. Here.

Hyst. John Stoupie, writer, Kirkfuddle.

Jurym. Here.

Hyst. Bailie Bole, shoemaker there.
Jurym. Here.

Hyst. Samuel Maguire in Craig-gullion.
If present, sir, answer your name.

Jurym. Here.

Hyst. Quintin Maccosh in Knockdullion.
Jurym. Here,

Hyst. Gal-lery-si-lence-Ahem!

AIR-In the Garb of Old Gaul.

Macer. Hem!-Si-lence.

Cal. Officer, bring John Black to the bar.

[The Pannel is brought in guarded, and

petitions for banishment.

AIR-The Lee Rig.

Pannel. Oh send me ower the lang seas,
My ain kind lordie, O;

Oh send me ower the lang seas,
My ain kind lordie, O.

Oh send me east, or send me wast,
Or send me south or nordie, O;

But send me ower the lang seas,
My ain kind lordie, O.

AIR-Lass, gin ye lo'e me, tell me now.

Cal. Pannel, a halter must be your end,
The fiend at your skirts has now his prong;
Your days, that are number'd, in penitence spend ;
But I'll lecture you presently, half an hour long.

Mercy were folly, if lavish'd on him;

Robbing and thieving, the gallows shall check;
Our duty is plain, we'll proceed to condemn―

John

you shall presently hang by the neck.

AIR-We're gayly yet.

Pannel We're no guilty yet,

We're no guilty yet;

Although we're accused,
We're no guilty yet.

Afore ye condemn,

Ye maun hear us a bit ;

For although we're accused,

We're no guilty yet.

Jury are chosen, and the Indictment read.

• AIR-Grimaldi's Fig in Mother Goose.

Hyst. Whereas by the laws o' this realm,

And o' every well-govern'd land,

To seize on anither man's gear1
(As the tangs ance a Highlandman fand),

And whether the thief he be caught
In the fact, or be gruppit out-fang, 2
The law says expressly, and wisely,
That chiel by the thrapple shall hang.

And you, John Black there, the pannel,
Ye robbit, assaulted, and a';

And sae, gang till an assize, sir,
And underlie pains o' the law.

AIR-Miss Macleod's Reel.

Bombyx. Painful the duty is which I must now per

form,

Stating a train of guilt uncommon and enorm

Ous-calling my witnesses to make the fact out plain, And if your verdict's guilty, my labours not in vain.

Gentlemen, your feelings must with justice never jar, The statutes of the land condemn the pris'ner at the bar; The law most clearly indicates the gallows, as reward For culprits such as him between the soldiers of the guard.

John Black met Peter Brown upon the king's highway, With foul intent to rob-I fear intent to slay;

John Black, the pannel, did step up to Peter Brown, And with his fist, or bludgeon, did knock said Peter down.

Ferocious, atrocious, felonious also,

Did then and there, with that or this, reiterate the blow; Then seizéd Peter by the throat, to suffocate his cries, And most outrageously exclaim'd-'Your money, dyour eyes.'

Enter PETER BROWN.

AIR-The bonniest lass in a' the warld.

Peter. The pannel's a regardless loon,1
And brags that he defies man ;
And bauldly threepit through the town
He'd do for the exciseman.

1 Fellow. Silly Fools. 'Knocked.

I thought 'twas nought but silly clash,3
That sneevlin gowks' wad tell me ;
Quo' I, 'My thumb I winna fash,"
It's no siclike can fell me.'

Four cadgers® rade through Halk-wood-stack,
I doubted Jean Macleerie ;
I took the road, when up cam Black,
And dang me tapsalteerie.

He rypit, maybe for his knife,
I thought I saw it glancin';
He took the rue, and saved my life,
Syne, like a deil, gaed dancin'.

2 Boldly threatened.
Will not trouble.

• Topsy-turvy.

8 Idle rumour.

Travelling beggars or tinkers. • Searched.

Enter PEPPERTAIL.

AIR-Braw lads o' Gala Water.

Pep. Comin frae the town o' Straiven,

On my poor mare that had the spavin',
I met the pannel near the Kirk o' Shotts-
Like ony madman he was ravin'.

Black his hair, and blue his coat

Tightly he did the gauger han'le ;

The mair he shook the fallow by the throat,
The steadier still I e'ed the pannel.

Enter MATTHEW MUTCHKIN.

AIR-Calder Fair.

Matt. As I cam hame frae Ruglin fair,
At e'en, when it was dusky,

I had enough—and maybe mair,
A drap ower muckle whisky.

I saw twa fallows yoke thegither,
Wha they were, the taen or tither,
I ken nae mair nor Abram's mither,
I was blind wi' whisky.

Enter Bizz.

AIR-Will ye gang and marry, Katy?

Bomb. Pray, what is your name, friend? tell us.
Bizz. Tammas Bizz.--I've blawn the bellows,
And I've clinkit' on the studdy,'

Sin' a wean, knee-heigh and duddy.

1 Hammered.

• Anvil.

• Child.

• Ragged.