"Ay, 'tis so, but, Sir Joseph, thinkest thou these burghers love the Stuart not?"
"'Nay, methinks they are true to thee, but their starch commander—(give me my time, this is a lang ane,) but their arch commander is thy bitterest foe. Vile spoon that he is! (It's no spoon, it's spawn.)"
"Thou meanest the craven Cathro?"
"Methinks ay. (I like thae short anes.)"
"'Tis well!" says Stroke, sternly. "That man hath ever slipped between me and my right. His time will come."
"He floppeth thee—he flouteth thee from the battlements."
"Ha, 'tis well!"
("You've said that already.")
("I say it twice.")
("That's what aye puts me wrang.) Ghost thou to meet the proud Lady Grizel to-night?"