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In which a wren could scarcely lay her egg,— Your tea-pot, pouring from its slender beak Hot water, as it were some precious drug, Must be, for fashion's sake, set in array To please the Lowland lady.

Mind thy concerns, and I will look to mine. My pretty playthings are in daily use, As I hear say, in the great town of Edinburgh; And 'tis a delicate and wholesome beverage Which they are filled withal. I like, myself. To sip a little of it.

Dainty dear! No doubt thou dost; aught stronger would offend thee. Thou would'st, I think, call rue or wormwood sweet, Were it the fashion in your town of Edinburgh. But, hark! the bridal folks are at the door; We must not parley longer. [Music without.] I hear their piper playing the "Good-night."

They are at hand, I hear: and have ye had A merry evening, Allen?