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Ha! does he so? (Turning graciously to Glenfadden.) Glenfadden! How goes it with thee?—Joyous days are these— These days of peace.

These days of foul disgrace! Com'st thou to cheer the piper in our hall, And goblets quaff to the young chieftain's health, From proud Argyll descended?

Yes, Glenfadden, If ye will have it so; not else.

Thy hand— Thy noble hand!—thou art Benlora still.

Know ye that banish'd Allen is return'd— Allen of Dura?

No; I knew it not. But in good time he comes. A daring knave: