Robert Burns: A play

by John Drinkwater

Thou art divine, fair Lesley,

The hearts o’ men adore thee.

The Deil he could na scaith thee,

Or aught that wad belang thee;

He’d look into thy bonnie face,

And say, ‘I canna wrang thee!’

[Very gravely and courteously he bows to Mrs. Stewart at the end, and to a murmur of approval moves across to the fireplace. Mrs. Stewart remains talking to Walter. Muir follows Burns to the fireplace.]

Muir: Very pretty, Mr. Burns—especially that one about the Campbells. I believe you join our little party at dinner to-night?

Burns: I am much obliged to your lordship.

Muir: The Barley Sheaf at seven. I subscribed for two copies of your book. Don’t understand most of it, but I daresay I’ve spent money worse. And I like straight riding, sir. Seven o’clock. [Burns bows to this.]