.-V ^A M^B\r^ Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from University of Pittsburgh Library System http://www.archive.org/details/gentleshepherdscOOrams '^ THE eEMTLE SHBPHERB: SCOTS PASTORAL COMEDY, BY ALLAN RAMSAY. A NEW EDITIOK, \^TTH THE SONGS. CAREFULLY CORRECTED. Tlie Gentle Shepherd sat beside a Spring", All in the shadow of a bushy Brier, That Colin height, which well could pipe and sing For he ofTiTYRushis song did lere. Spkncer, p. 1113. PITTSBURGH : PUBLISHED BY PATTERSOIf & HOPKIITS. S. Engles 8c Co. Printers. 181^. THE GENTLE SHEPHERD : ▲ PASTORAL COMEDY, INSCRIBED TO THE RIGHT rfONOUEAB LB SUSANNA, COUNTESS OF EGLINTOUN. Madam, THE love of approbation, and a desire to please the best, have ever encouraged the poets to finish their designs with chearfulness. But conscious of their own inability to oppose a stomi of spleen and haughty ill- nature, it is generally an ingenious custom among them to chuse some honourable shade. Wherefore I beg leave to put my Pastoral under your Ladyship's protection. If my patroness says the Shep- herds speak as they ought, and that there are several natural flowers that beautify the rural wild : I shall have good reason to think myself safe from the aukward •censure of some pretending judges, that condemn be- fore examination. I am sure of a vast number that will croud into your Ladyship's opinion, and think' it their honour to agree in their sentiments with the Countess of Ecj;lintoun, whose penetration, superior wit, and sound judgment, shine with an uncommon lustre, while accompanied v/ith the diviner charms of goodness and equality of mind. If it were not for offending only your Ladyship, here, Madam, I might give the fullest liberty to rny muse, to delineate the finest of women, by drawing your Lady- ship's character, and be in no hazard of being deemed a flatterer : Since flattery lies not in paying what is due to merit, but in praises misplaced. Were I to begin with your Ladyship's honorable birth and alliance, the field is ample, and presents us witli numberless great and good patriots, that have dignifie^l the names of Kennedy and Montgomery ; be that the care of the herald and historian. 'Tis personal meritj aiid the heavenly sweetness of the Fair, that y;ispire the tuneful lays. Here every Lesbia must be excepted, whose tongues give Liberty to the slaves which their eyes had made captives. Such may be flattered ; but your Ladyship justly claims our admiration and pro- foundest respect : for while you are possest of every outward charm, in the most perfect degree, the never- fading beauties of wisdom and piety, which adorn your Ladyship's mind, command devotion. All this is very true, cries one of better sense than 5::-ood nature ; but what occasion have you to tell us the sun shines when we have the use of our eyes, and feel his influence ? — Veiy true ; but I have the liberty to use the Poet's privilege, which is, " To speak what every body thinks." Indeed there might be some strength in the reflection, if the Idalian registers were of as short duration as life ; but the Bard, who fondly hopes im- mortality, has a certain praise-worthy pleasure in com- municating to posterity the fame of distinguished cha- racters. 1 write this last sentence with a hand that trembles between hope and fear ; but if I shall prove so happy as to please your Ladyship in the following at- tempt, then all my doubts shall vanish like a morning vapour ; I shall hope to be classed with Tasso and Gua- rini, and sing with Ovid, " If 'tis allow'd to poets to divine, ^ One half of round eternity is mine." MADAM, Your Ladyship's most obedient, and most devoted Servant, ALLAN RAMSAY. ALEXANDER BOSS, A. M. In his Introduction to Melenore, or the Fortunate She'pherdess, says of the Gentle Shepherd : r What wad I geen, had ScoTApiit her thumb Upo' the weel telPd tale till I had come ; Syne led my hand alangst it, line for line, O to my dying day, how I wad shine ! And as far 'yont it as syn Habbie play*d. Op Christ's Kirk o' the Green was first essay-d \ And mair I wad na wiss, but Alias^ bears Tlie gree himsel, and the green laural wears ; Weel may he brook them, for he justly ought, Tlie Gentle Shephesd is sae finely wrought, Wi' acts and Scenes, of maisterly design, Which doth in Scota's pitliy language shine. This excellent Piece does honour to North Brt- tain. There is no Pastoral in tlie English Language comparable to it ; and, I believe, there is none in any language superior to it. Lord Gardenstone. THE PERSONS. MEJS\ Sir William Worthy. Patie, the Gentle Shepherd in love with Feggy. KoGER, a rich young Shepherd in love ivith Jenny. SiMo^, I ^^^^.^ ^i^ Shepherds, Tenants to Sir William. Glald, J Balldy, a Hind engaged with Xeps. WOMEX. Peggy, thought to he GUmd'i Xiece. Jenivy, Gland's only Daughter. Mause, an old Womattf supposed to he a Witch. Elspa, Simon's Wife. Madge, Gland's Sister. SCENE, a Shepherd's Village and Fields some few Miles from Edinhiirgh. Time of Action, 7cithin Twenty four Hours. 5'irst Act begins at eight in the Morning. Second Act hegins at Eleren in the Forenoon. Third Act hegins at Four in the Aftei'noon. Fourth Act begins at Xine o'clock at Xight. Fifth Act begins at Bay-light next morning. ^ The Gentle Shepherdt ACT I Scene I. PROI.OGIJE. Benaithtlie south side of a craigy bleld. Where crystal springs the halsome waters- jdekl, Twa youthfu' shepherds on the govvans lay. Tenting their flocks ae bonny morn of May. Poor Roger gi-anes, 'till hollow echoes ring : But blyther Patie likes to laugh and sing. PATIE AND ROGER. SANG I. The wawUn^ of the Faul(t, Patie. 1%/l^Y Peggy is a young thing, 111 Just eiiter'd in her teens. Fair as the day and sweet as May, JB'air as the day and always g*ay. My Peggy is a young thing, And Pm not very auld, Yet weel I like to meet her at The wawking of tlie fiiiikl. My Peggy speaks sae sweetly, When e'er we meet alane, I wish nae mair to lay my care, I wish nae mair of a' that's rar^. My Peggy speaks sae sAveetly, To a' the lave Fm caiiH ; But she gars a' my spirits glow. At wawking of the fauld. My Peggy smiles sae kindly, When e'er I whisper love. That I look down on a' tlie town. That I look down upon a crown. My Peggy smiles sae kindly. It makes jne bly the and bauW, 8 Andnactliinggi'es mc sic delight. As walking of the fauld. My Peggy sings sae saftly, Wien oa my pipe I play ; By a' the rest it is confest. By a' the rest that«he sings best. My Peggy sings sae saftly. And in her saug*s are tald, "Wi* innocence, the wale of sense. At wawking of the fatdd. THIS sunny morning, Roger, chears my blood. And puts a' nature in a jovial mood. How hartsoiue is't to sec the rising plants. To hear the biixls, eliirm o'er the pleasing rants. How halesome is't to snuff the cawler ah*. And a' the sweets it beai's, when void of care. AVliat ails thee, Roger, then ? what gars thee granc ? Tell me the cause o' thy ill-season'd pain. Boger, Vm born, O Patie, to a thrawart fate i I'm born to strive wi' hardships sad and great. Tempests may cease to jaw the rowan iiood, Coi'l)ies and tods to grien for lambkins blood ; But I, opprestwi' never-ending grief. Maun ay despair of ligliting on relief. Fatie, llie bees shall lothe the flow'r, and quit the hive. The saughs on boggie grounds shall cease to thrive. Ere seornfu' queans, or loss of warldly gear. Shall spill my rest or ever force a tear. Roger, Sae might I say; but it's no easy done By ane whase saul's sae sadly out of tune. Ye hae sae saft a voice, and slid a tongue. You are tlic darling of baith auld and young. If I but ettle at a sang or speak. They dit their lugs, syne uj> their leglanes eleek> And jeer me hameward frae the loan or bught. While I'm confus'd wi' mony a vexing thought ; Yet I am tall, and as well built as thee, Nor mair unlikely to a lass's eye. For ilka sheep ye ha'e, I'll number tew. And should, as ane may think, come farer been. Patie, But ablins* nibour ye hae not a heaBt^ And (lowna eithly \vi' your eunzie part : If that be true what signifies your gear ? A miiid that's scrimpit never wants some care. Rogei\ My byre tumbled, nine braw nowtwep« smoor'd. Three elf- shot were, yet I these ills endur'd : lii winter last my cares were very sma', 'I'ho' scores of watliers perisli'd in the snaw. Fatie. Were your bien rooms as thinly flock'd as mine, . liCss ye wad loss, and less ye wad repine. He tliat has just enough can soundly sleep, , The o'ercome only fashes fowk to keep. lloger, oViay plenty flow upo' thee for a cross. That thou mayst thole the pangs of mony a loss : 0 mayst thou doat on some fair paughty wench, l^hat ne'er will lout thy lowaii drowth to queneli ; Till birz'd beneath the burden, thou cry dool ! And awn that ane may fret that is nae fool. Vatic, Sax good fat Iambs, I sauld them ilka elute. At the West-port, and bought a winesome flute Of plumtree made, wi' iv'ry virls round; A dainty whistle wi' a pleasant sound : I'll be mair canty wi't, and ne'er cry dool. Than you wi' a' your cash, ye dowie fool. llogev. Na, Patie, na ! I'm nae sic churlish beast; Some other thing? lies heavier at mv breast ; 1 dream'd a dreary dream this hinder nigltt. That gars my flesli a' creep yet wi' the fright. Fatie. Now, to a friend, how silly's this pretence. To ane wha you and a' your secrets kens ! Daft are your dreams, as daftly wad ye hide Your weel seen love, and dorty Jenny's pride ; Tak courage Roger, me your sorrows tell, And safely think nane kens them but yoursek ILoger. Indeed now, Patie, ye ha'e guess'd o'er true. And there is naethisig I'll keep up frae you. ]Me dorty Jenny looks upon a squint ; To speak but till her I dare hardly mint : In ilka place, she jeers me air and iate, 10 And gars me look bombaz'd and unco' blate : But yesterday I met her *yont a know, She iTedas iVaea slielly-coatedkow. Slic Baaldy looes, Bauldy that drives the car ; But geeks at me, and says 1 smell o' tar. ^Patie. But Bauldy looes na her, right weel I wat, He siglis for Neps : — sae that may stand for that. Roger, I wish I cou'dna looe her ; but in vain, I still maun do't, and thole her proud disdain, ^ly Bawty is a cur I dearly like, E'en while he fawn'd, she strak the poor dumb tyke j If I had fill'd a nook within her breast. She wad ha' shawii mair kindness to my beast. ■\\Tien I begin to tune my stock and liorii, AVi' a' her face she shaws a cauldrife scorn. Last night I play'd, (ye never heard sic spite) O'er Bogie was the spring, and her dely te ; Yet tamitingly she at her cousin speerM, Giffslie coidd tell what tune I play'd, and sneer'd— Flocks, wander where ye like, I dlnna care, I'll break my reed, and never whistle mair. Patie, E'n do sae, Roger, who can help misluck ? Saebins she be sic a thrawn gabbet chuck Yonder's a craig ; since ye hae tint all hope, Gae till't your ways, and tak the lovers lowp. Roger, 1 need na mack sic speed my blood to spill, I'll warrant death come soon enou^li a-will. Patie, Daft gowk! leave affthat siilywhinging way, Seem careless, tliere's my handye'U win the day. Hear how I scrv'd my lass I lo'e as weel As ye do Jenny, and wi' heart as Icel. Last morning I was gay and early out, - Upon a dyke I lean'd, glowring about, I saw my Meg, come linkan o'er the lee ; I saw my IMcg, but !Meggy saw na me ; For yet the sun was wading thro' tlie'mist. And slie was close upon me ere she wist. Her coats were kiltet, and did sweetly shaw Her straught baie legs, that whiter were than snaw f Her cocker nony snooded up fu' sleek ; Her haffat locks hang waving on her clieek ; Her cheeks sae ruddy, and her ecn sae clear : 11 And O lier mouth's like ony liinny pear. Neat, neat she was, in hustine waistcoat clean : As she came skiffing o'er the dewy green, BI jthsome I cryM, my honny Meg, come here, I lerly wherefore ye'er so soon asteer ; But I can guess^ ye'er gawn to gather dew: She scour'd awa' and said, wliat's that to you ? ITien fare ye weel, Meg Dorts, and e'en*s ye like, I careless ery'd, and lap in o'er the dyke. I trow, when that she saw, within a crack. She came wi' a right thieveless errand hack ; Misca'd me first— tlien bade me hound my dog. To wear up three waif ewes stray'd on the bog. I leugh ; and saedid she ; then wi' great haste, I clasp'd my arms about her neck and waist ^ About her yielding waist, and took a fouth Of sweetest kisses from her glow an mouth. While hard and fast I held her in my grips. My very saul came loupan to my lips. Saiiv sair she Act wi' me 'tween ilka smack. But weel I kend she meant na as she spak. Dear Roger, when you're jo puts on her gloom^ Do you sae too, and never fash your thumb. Seem to forsake her, soon she'll change her mood ; Gae woo anither, and she'll gang clean wood. SANG n. Tune, Fy gar rub her o'er wi* Strae, Dear Roger, if your Jenny geek. And answer kindness wi* a slight. Seem uneoncern'd at her neglect ; For women in a man deliglit : But then despise who're soon defeat. And wi' a simple face gi'e way To a repulse — -then be not Mate, Push bauldly on, and win the day. When maidens, innocently young. Say aften what they never mean ; Ne'er mind their pretty lying tongue. But tent the language of their een : If these agree and she persist To answer a' your love wi' hate. 12 Seek elsewhere to be better blest. And let her sigh when 'tis too late* Roger, Kind Patie, now fair fa' your honest heart, Ye're ay say cadg^', and ha'e sic an art To hearten ane ; For now as clean's a leek, Ye've therish'd me since ye began to speak. Sae for your pains, I'll mak ye a propine, (My mother rest her saul ! she made it line;) A tartan plaid, spun of good hawsloek w 00% Scarlet and green the sets, the bonlers blue ; Wi' spraiiigs like gowd and siller, cross'd wi' black, I never had it yet upon my back. Weel are ye woi'dy o't, wha ha'e sae kind lied up my revel'd doubts, and clear'd my mind. Patie. Weel baud ye there ■ and since ye'v« frankly made To me a present of your braw new plaid, My flute be yours, and she too that's sae nice. Shall come a- will gif ye'll tak my advice. Moger, As ye advise, I'll promise to observe't; But ye maim keep the flute, ye best deserve't. Now tak it out, and gie's a bonny spring. For I'm in tift to hear you play and sing. Patie, But first w^e'll tak a turn up to the height. And see gifi*' a' our flocks be feeding right ; Be tliat time bannocks and a shave o' cheese. Will make a breakfast that a laird might please : Might please the dantiest gabs were they sae wise To season meat with health instead of spice. "When we ha'e tane the grace drink at this w ell, rU whistle syne, and sing t'ye like mysel. [Exeunt 13 SCENE n. PROLOGUE. A flowrie howm between twa verdant braes. Where lasses use to wash and spread their claiths : A trotting burnie wimpling' thro' the ground. Its channel peebles shining smooth and round { Here view twa barefoot beauties clean and clear ; First please your eye, next gratify your ear ; While JENNY what she wishes discommends. And MEG, wi' better sense, true love defends. PEGGY AND JENNY. Jenny, Come Meg, let's fa' to wark upon the green. This shining day will bleach our linen clean ; The water's clear, the lift unclouded blue. Will mak tliem like a lily wet wi' dew. Peggy. Gae farer up the burn to Habbie's hoir, WTiere a' the sweets of spring and simmer grow ; Between twa birks out o'er a little lin The water fa's and maks a singan din ; A pool breast deep, beneath as clear as glass, Kisses, wi' easy whirles, the bordering grass. We'll end our washing, while the morning's cool. And when the day grows het, we'll to the pool. There wash oursells — 'tis healthf u' now in May, And sweetly cawler on sae warm a day. Jenny, Daft lassie, when we're naked what'll ye say, Oif our twa herds come brattling doAvn the brae. And see us sae ? that jeering fallow Pate, Wad taunting say, Haith lasses ye're no blate. Feggy, We're far frae ony road, and out o' sight ; The lads they're feeding far bey out the height ; But tell me now, dear Jenny, (we're our lane,) What gars ye plague your wooer wi' disdain I The nibours a' tent this as weel as I : That Roger lo'es ye, yet ye care na by. What ails ye at him ? Troth, between us twa, He's wordy you the best day e'er ye saw, B } 14 Jenny, I dinna like him, Peggy, thci*e's an end, A lierd mair sheepish yet I never keiwl: He kames his hair indeed and gaes I'iglit snug, AV i' ribbon-knots at liis hlue bonnet hig; AViiilk pensylie he wears a thonglit a-jee. And spreads his garters dic'd heneatJi his knee. He i'anlds his o'erlay down his breast wi' care, And few gangs trigger to tlie kirk or fair ; For a' that, he can neither sing nor say : Kxcept, How d'ye ? — or, there's a honnij day, Peggy, Ye dash the lad wi' constant sligliting pride Hatred for love is uneo sair to bide : Bnt ye'll repent ye if his love grow cauld, AVhat like's a dorty maiden when she's auld ? Like dawted wean, that tarrows at its meat. That for some feckless whim will orp and greet 5 The lave laugli at it till the dinner's past, And syne the tool thing is oblig'd to fast Or scart anither's leavins at the last. SANG ni. Tune, Polwart on the green. The dorty will repent If lover's heart grow cauld. And naneher smiles will tent, Soon as her face looks auld : The dawted bairn thus takes the pet* Nor eats tho' hunger crave ; Whimpers and tarrows at its meat, And's laught at by the lave. Theyjest it till the dinner's past, Thus by itself abus'd, The fool thing is oblig'd to fast. Or eat what they've refused. Fy, Jenny, think, and dinna sit your time. Jenny. I never thonglit a single life a crime. Peggy, Noi' I But love in whispers lets us ken. That men were made for us and we for men. Jenny, If If oger is my jo he kens himsel, Fos sic a tale I never heard him tell. He glours and sighs^ and I can guess the cause ; But wha's oblig'd to spell Ids hums and haws ? Whene'er he likes to tell liis mind mair plain. 15 I'se tell Mm frankly ne'er to do't again. Tiliey're fools that slav'ry like, and may be free ; The chiels may a' knit up themselves for me. Pcggij. Be doing your ways ; for me I have a mind To be as yielding as my Patie's kind. Jennii. Hen, lass ! how can ye lo'e that rattle skull ! A very de'il tliat ay maun liae his will. We'll soon hear tell what a poor feightan life You twa w ill lead, sae soon's ye're man and w ife. SAA G lY. Tune, 0 dear mitJiey^ ivhat shall I do^ O dear Peggy, love's beguiling, We ought not to trust his smiling 5 Better far to do as I do. Lest a harder luck betide you. Lasses when their fancy's carry'd. Think of nought but to be marr^^'d ; Running to a life destroys Heartsome free and youthfu' joys. Faggiu V\\ rin the risk, nor have I ony fear. But rather think ilk langsome day a year, 'Tilll wi' pleasure mount my bridal bed, ¥/her8 on my Patie's breast I'll lean my head^ There we may kiss asiang as kissing's good. And what we do, there's nane dare ca' it rude. lie's get his will ; why no ? tis good my part To give him that, and he'll give me his h?-t?rt. Jenmj, He may indeed for ten or iifteen days Mak miekle o' ye wi' an unco fraise. And daut ye,baith afore fowk and your lane ; But soon as his newfangleness is gane, liell look upon you as his tether-stake. And think he's tint liis freedom for your sake. Instead then of lang days of sweet delyte, Ae day be dumb, and a' the neist he'll flyte ; And may be, in his barlikhoods ne'er stick To lend his loving wife a loundering lick. Peggy, Sic coarse spun thoughts as tliae want pith to move My settled mind ; I'm o'er far gane in love. Patie to me is dearer than my breath. 16 But want of him I dread nae other skaith. There's nane of a' the herds that tread the green Has sic a smile, or sic twa glancing een, And then lie speaks wi' sic a taking art. His words they tJiirlelike music thro' my heart. How hlythely can he sport, and gently rave. And jest at feckless fears that fright the lave. Ilk day that he's alane upon the hill, He reads fell books that teach him meikle skill. He is but what need I say that or this? I'd spend a month to tell you what he is ! In a' he says or does, there's sic agate, 'I'he rest seem coofs conipar'd wi' my dear Pate. His better sense will lang his love secure ; Ill-nature hefts in sauls that's weak and poor. SANG V. Tune, IIoxv can I he sad on my, &c, Hov/ sliall I be sad when a husband I hae. That has better sense tlian ony of thac Sour weak silly fidlows, that study like fools, To sink their ain joy, and mak their wives snools. The man wiio is prudent ne'er lightlies his wife. Or wi' dull reproaches encourages strife ; He pi'aises her virtues, and ne'er will abuse Her for a small failing, but find an excuse. Jenny, Hey bonny lass of Branksome ! or't be lang. Your witty ^,te wiii put you in a sang. 0 'tis a pleasant tiling to be a bride ; Syne whinging gets about your ingle side. Yelping for this and that wi' fasheous din : To mak them brats, then you maun toil and spin. Ae wean fa's sick, ane scads itself wi' broe, Ane breaks his shin, anither tines his shoe. I'he deil gaes o'er Jock Wabster ; hame grows hell ; Wien Pate misca's ye war than tongue can tell. Peggy, Yes 'tis aheartsome thing to be a wife. When round the ingle-edge young sprouts are rife, Gif I'm sac happy, I shall hae delight To hear their little plaints, and keep them right. "Wow, Jenny ! can their greater pleasure be. Than see sic wee tots toolying at your knee j 17 ^\Tien a* they ettle at — tlieir greatest wisTi> Is to be made of, and obtain a kiss ? Can tlieir be toil in tenting day and night The like o' them, when love makes care delight ? Jenny. Butpoortith, Peggy, is the warst of a' ; Gif o'er yonr heads ill chance should begg'ry draw; For little love or canty chear can come Frae duddy doublets, and a pantry toom : Your nowt may die ^the spate may bear away Fraeaff the howms your dainty rucks of hay The thick blawn wreaths of snaw, or blashy thows. May smoor yourwathers, and may rot your ews, A dyver buys your butter, woo' and cheese. But or the day of payment, breaks and flees. "Wi* glooman brow the laird seeks in his rent; ^Tis no to gie, your merchant's to tlie bent ; If is honour raauna want, he poinds your gear ; Syne driv'n frae house and hald, where will ye steer? Dear INIeg, be wise, and live a single life : Troth it's nae mows to be a married wife. Peggy. May sic ill luck befa' that silly she Wha Ms sic fears, for that was never me. I^etfowkbode well, and strive to do their best : Nae mair's required ; let heav'n mak out the rest. I've heard my honest uncle aften say, I'hatlads should a' for wives that's virtuous pray; For the maist thrifty man could never get A weel stoi*'d room, unless his wife wad let ; Wlierefore nocht shall be wanting on my part. To gather wealth to raise my shepherd's heart. "Whate'er he wins, I'll guide wi' canny care. And win the vogue at market, tron or fair. For halesome, clean, cheap, and sufficient ware. A liock of Iambs, cheese, butter, and some woo. Shall first be sauld to pay the laird his due. Syne a' behinds our ain ; — thus without fear, "Wi' love and routh we thro' the warld will steer ; And when my Pate in bairns and gear grows rife. He'll bless the day he gat me for a wife. Jenny. But what if some young giglit on the green, AVi' dimpled cheeks, and twa bewitching een, J82 J 18 ShouM giip yourPatte think his half- worn Meg, And her kend kisses hardly woilh a feg ? Peggy. Nae niair o' that — Dear Jenny to he free, Tliere's some men eonstanter in love than we ; Nor is the ferly great, when nature kind Has blest them wi' solidity of mind, ^rhcy'll reason calmly, and wi' kindness smile, AVhen our short passions wad our peace beguile ; Sac, whensoe'er they slight tbeir maiks at hame, 'Tis ten to ane their wives are maist to blame. 1'lien I'll eijiploy wi' pleasure a' my art, 'I'o keep liim ciiearfu' and secure his heart; At ec'n when he comes weary f rae the hill, 1*11 lia'e a' things made reacly to his will ; In v/ inter wlien he toils through wind and i*ain, A bleezirig ingle, and a clean heai*th-stane ; And soon as he lliags by his plaid and staflT, The seething pat's be r<3ady to tak alf. Clean hag-abagl'U spread upon his board. And serve him w i' the best we can afford. Good humour and white biggonets shall be Guards to my face, to keep his love for me. Jeuny, A dish of married love right soon grows cauld, And dose MS down to nane, as fowk grow auld. Feggy, But we'U grow auld together and ne'er fmd The loss of youth, when love grows on Hie mind. Bairns ami tlicir bairns mak sure a firmer tye, 'Ilian auglit in love tiie like of us ciin spy. See yon twa elms that grow up side by side; Suppose them some years syne bridegroom and bride; Tv" oarer an?.! nearer iika year they've prest, ''i'iliwidc their sprciwling bitiiiches are increas'd, An<l in their nkixture now are fully blest. 'I'iiis shields ih^ otlier fi-ae tlie castlin blast. That ia rclurrs dfiends it frae the wast. Sic as stand sisjgle, a state sae lik'd by you ! Beneath ilk storm fi*ae every airth maun bow. Jenny, Tvcdone^ — I yield dear lassie, I maun yield; Your better seiise has fairly won the field. With the assistance of a little fae Juiies dera'd within ray breast this many a day. IV., } ' 19 SANG VT. ^Fune, JVanci/'s to the pcem waod gane^ I yield dear lassie, ye have won, And there is nae denying. That sure as light iiows frae the sun, Frae love proceeds complying ; For a' that ws can do or say, 'Gainst love, nae thinker heeds us, They ken our hosoms lodge the fae. That hy the heart-strings leads us. Peggy. Alalie poor prisoner ! Jenny that's no fair, Thatye'U no let the wee thing tak the air: Haste, let him out, we'll tent as weel's we can, Giff he be Bauldy's, or poor Roger's man. Jenny, Anither time's as good — -for see the sua Is right far up, and wer'e not yet begun To freethe the graith ; if cankered Madge our aunt. Come up the burn, shell gie's a wicked rant ; But when we've done I'll tell ye a' my mind ; For this seems true, — nae lass can be unkind. [Exeunt* ACT II Scene 1. PROtOGUB. A snug thack house, before the door a green Hens on the midding*, ducks in dabs are seen. On this side stands a barn, on that a byre : A peet stack joins, and forms a rural square. The house is Glaud's ; there you may see him lean, And to his divot seat invite his frien*. GLAtJD AND SIMON. Glaud. Good morrow, nibour Simon, come sit down, And gie's your cracks, — ^Whats a' the news in town ? They tell me ye was in the ither day. And said your Ci^ummock and her bassen'd quey ; I'll wrtrrant ye've coiY a pound o' cut and dry 5 Lug out your box, and gie^s a pipe to try. 20 Symon. Wi' a* my heart ; — and tent me now, auld boy, I've gathered news >vill kittle your licart wi' joy : I cou'd na rest till I came o'er the burn, To tell you things ha'e taken sic a turn ; "Will gar our vile oppressors stend like ilaes. And skulk in hidlinga on the hether braes. Glaud, Fy blaw ! — ^Ah Symie ! rattling chiels ne'er stand To cleck and spread the grossest lies aff hand ; "Wliilk soon flies round like will-fire far and near : But loose your poke, be*t true or fause let's hear. Symon. Seeing's believing, Glaud, and I ha'e seen Hab, that abroad has wi' our master been ; Our brave good master, wha right wisely fled. And left a fair estate to save liis head, Because ye ken fu' weel he bi'avely chose. To shine, or set in glory w i' Montrose. Now Cromwell's gane to Nick ; and ane ca'd 3Ionk, Has play'd the Rumple a right slee begunk ; Restored King Charles, and ilka thing's in tune ; And Ilabbie says, we'll see sir William soon. SANG VJI. Tune, Cauld Kail in Merdeeu, Cauld be the rebels' east. Oppressors base and bloody, 1 liope we'll see them at the last. Strung a' up in a woody. Blest be he of worth and sense, And ever high in station. That bravely stands in the defence Of conscience, king and nation. Giaud, That makes me blythe indeed — ^but dinna 'flaw : Tell o'er your news again ! and swear till't a'. And saw ye Hab ! and what did Halbert say ? They have been e'en a dreary time away. Now God be thanked that our laird's come hame. And his estate^ say can he citlily claim ? 21 Symon. They that hag-rid us till our guts (ikV\ grane, i Like greedy bears, dare nae mair do't again, f And good sir William sail enjoy liis ain. J Glmid, And may he lang, for never did he stent Us in our thriving ^\V a racket rent ; Nor grumbled if ane grew rieh ; or shor'd to raise Our mailens when we put on Sunday's cJaiths, Symon. Nor wad he lang, wi' senseless saucy air, Allow our lyart noddles to be bare ; < Put on your bonnet Symon — tak a seat — « How's a' at hame ? How's Elspa? How does Kate ? * How seUs black cattle ? — ^Whaf gie's woo this year,' And sic like kindly questions wad he speer. SANG Vni. Tune, Mucking of Geordifs hyre. The laird, wha in riches and honour, Wad thrive, should be kindly and free ; Nor rack his poor tenants wha labour To rise aboon poverty : Else like the pack-horse, that's unfother'd And burden'd, will tumble dawn faint ^ Thus virtue by hardship is smother'd. And rackers aft tine their rent. Glaud, Then wad he gar his butler bring bedeen. The nappy bottle benn, and glasses clean, Whilk in our breast raisM sic a blythesome flame. As gart me mony a time gae dancing hame. My heart's e'en rais'd ! — Dear nibour will ye stay. And tak your dinner here wi' me the day. Well send for Els^^a too and upo* sight, I'll whistle Pate and Roger frae the height. I'll yoke my sled and send to the neist town. And bring a draught of ale baith stout and brown; And gar our cottars a', man, wife and wean, Dirink till they tine the gate to stand their lane. Symon, I wadna bank my friend his blythe design^ Gif that it hadna first of a' been mine ; For here-yestreen I brewM a bow o' maut. Yestreen I slew twa wathers prime and fat. 22 A furlel o* good cakes my Elspa beuk. And a large ham hangs rf^eslin in the neuk. I saw myscl, or I caiuc o'er the loan, Our meikle \)at that scads the wliey put on. A mutton bouk to boil ; and ane \vc*ll roast; And on the lia{^gies Elspa spares nae coast ; Sma are the sliorn ; and she can mix IV nice. The gusty i'^'ans wV a curn o' spice ; Fat are t!ie puddings, — heads and ieet we'll 8ung ; And we've invited nibours, auld and young, To pass this afternoon w i* glee and game, And drink our Master's health and welcome hame. Ye mauna then refuse to join the rest. Since ye're my nearest friend that I like best : Bring wi' you a' your family, and then. Whene'er you please I'll rant w? you again. Gland, Spoke like ye'r S'.d, auld birky, never fear, But at your banquet I shall first appear ; Faith, we shall bend the bicker, and look bauld, ' rill we forget that we are fail'd and auld. Auld, said 1 ! Troth I'm younger be a score, Wi' your good news, than what I was before. I'll dance or e'en ! hey Pvladgc, come forth d'ye hear ? Enter ]\Iadge. Madge, The man's gane gyte ! — ^Dear Symon, wel- come here : What wad ye Gland, wi' a' this haste and din ! Ye never let a body sit to spin, Glaud. Spin ! Snuif -Gae break your wheel, and bum your tow. And set the meiklest peet-stack in a low : Syne dance about the bane fire till ye die. Since now again we'll soon sir William see. Madge. Blyth news indeed ! — ^And wha was't tald you o't? Gland. What's that to you? — g*ac get my Sunday's coat ; Wale out the whitest o* my bobit bands. My white sidn hose, and mittans for my hands ; Then frae their washing ci^' the bairns in haste, 23 And mak ye'r sels as tri^g^, head, feet and waist. As ye wi^re a' to get young lads or e'en ; For we're gawn o'er to dine wi' Sym, bedeen. Symon. Do, honest Madge— — and. Gland, I'll o'er the gate. And see that a' be done as I would hae't. [Exeunt, SCENE n. PHOiOGUE. The open field. A cottage in a glen. An aulcl wife spinning at the sunny en*. At a small distance, by a blasted tree, Wi' faulded arms, and haff-rais'd looks ye see, BxVULDY his lane. JBauldy, What's this ! 1 canna bear't ! 'Tif war tlian hell To be sae burnt wi' love, yet darna tell : 0 Peggy, sweeter than the dawning day. Sweeter than gowany glens or new inawn hay Blyther than lambs that frisk out o'er the knows, Straughter than auglit that in the forest grows. Her eeu the clearest blob of dew outshines ; The lily in her breast its beauty tines ; Her legs, her arms, her cheeks, her mouth, hereea. Will be my dead tliat will be shoi tly seen \ For Pate Iocs her ! waes me ! and she loes Pate ; And I wi' jS'eps, by some unlucky fate> Made a daft vow ! — O ! J)ut ane l>e a beast. That maks rash aiths, 'till he's afore the priest. 1 dai'oa speak my mind, else a' the three, But doubt, wad prove ilk ane my enemy. *Tis sair to thole — PU try some witchcraft art. To break wi' ane and win the other^s heart. Here IVIausy lives, a witch that for sma' price, (van cast her cantraips, and gi'e me advice 5 She can o'ercast the night, and cloud tlie moon. And mak the deils obedient to lier crune. At midnight hours, o'er the kirk-yaril she raves. And howksunchiisten'd weans onto' their graves 5 24 Boils up their livers in a warlock's pow. Bins withersbins about the hemlock low, And seven times does her prayers bnckward saj, '1111 Plotcock comes wi' lumps o' Lapland clay, Mixt wi' the venom o' black taids and snakes. Of this, unsonsy pictures aft she makes, Of ony ane she hates ', and gars expire Wi' slaw and racking pains afore a fire; Stuck fu' o' prins : the de\ilish pictures melt. The pain, by foAvk they represent, is felt. And yonder's Mause ; ay, ay, she kens fu' weel. When ane like me comes rinning to the de'il ; She and her cat sit becking in her yard. To speak my errand, faith amaist I'm feard : But I niaundo't, though I should never thrive ; 'I'hey gallop fast that de'ils and lasses drive. . [ExiU SCENE in. PROLOGUE. A green kail yard, a little fount. Where water poplin springs ; There sits a wife wi' wrinkled front. And yet she spins and sings. SANG IX. Tune, Carle and the king come, Clause, PEGGY now the king's come, Peggy now the king's come. Thou may dance, and I slrall sing Peggy since the king's come. Nae mair the hawkies shall thou milk. But change thy plaiding coal for silk. And be a lady of Aat ilk. Now Peggy since the king's come. Enter Bauldt. Banldy, How does auld honest lucky o' the glen. Ye look baith hale and feir at threescore ten. Mause. E'en twining out a thread wi' little din. And becking cauld my limbs afore the sin. ^Vhat brings my bairn this gate sae air at mom ? Is tliere nae muck to lead ?— to thresh, nae corn ? 25 Baiildy. Enough of baitli — ^but sometliing that re- quires Your helping hand, employs now a' my cares. Mause. My helping hand, alake ! what can I do, Tliat underneath baith eild and poortith bow ? Bauldy. Ay, but ye're wise and wiser far than we. Or maist part o' the parish tells a lie. Mause, O' what kind wisdom think ye I'm possest. That lii'ts my character aboon the rest ? Bauldy. The word that gangs liow ye're sae wise and fell, Ye'll may be tak it ill gif I sliou'd tell. Mause. What fouk say of me, Bauldy, let me hear. Keep naething up, ye naething hae to fear. Bauldy, Well, since ye bid me, I shall tell ye a' That ilk ane talks about you, but a flaAV : W^hen last the wind made Glaud a roofless barn. When last the burn bore down my mithers' yarn; When Brawny elf-sliot never mair came lia?iie ; When Tibby kirn'd and tliere nae butter came ; When Bessy Freetock's ehuffy clieeked wean. To a fairy turn'd, and coud'oa stan its lane ; When ^^'attie wander'd ae night through the shaw. And tint liimsel amaistamang'the snaw; WhenMungo's mare stood still and swat vvi' friglit, WTien he brought east the howdy under night , "Wlien Bawsy shot to dead upon the green ; And Sara tint a snood was nae mair seen; You lucky, gat the wyte of a' fell out, And ilk a ane here dreads you roimd about : And sae they may that mean to do ye skaith ; For me to wrang ye, I'll be very laith ; But when I neist mak grotts, I'll strive to please You wi' a furlet o' them mixt wi' pease. Mause. I thank ye lad, — now tell me your demand. And if I can, I'll lend my helping liand, Bauldy. Then I like Peggy — Neps is fond o' me" Peggy likes Pate — and Patie's bauld and slee. And loes's sweet Meg. — But Neps I downa see- Cou'd ye turn Patie's love to Neps and then, Peggy's to me, — I'd be the happiest man. O )'me'j i— J 26 Manse. I'll try my art to gar the bowls row right ; Sae gang your ways and come again at night : ^Gainst that time I'll some simple things pi'epare, AVorth a' your pease and grotts, tak ye nae care. Bauldy. Wiel Mause, I'll come, gif I the road can find ; T5nt if ye raise the de'il, he'll raise the wind : Syne rain and thunder, may be wlien 'tis late, ^\ ill mak the night sae mirk, I'll tine the gate. AVe're a' to rant in Symie's at a feast, i) ! will yc come like badrans, for a jest ; And there ye can our diffrent 'haviours spy : There's nane sliall ken o't there but you and !• Manse, 'Tislike I may — ^but let na on what's past •'Twccn you and me, else fear a kittle cast. Bauldy. If I ought of your secrets e'er advance. May ye ride on me ilka night to France. [Exit Banldy. IWAUSE her lane. Hard luck, alake ! v/lien poverty and eild, ^Veeds out o' fashion, and a lanely biekl, Wi' a sma' cast o' wiles, should in a twitch, Gi'e ane the hatefu' name, a ivrmkltd witch. This fool imagines as do mony sic. That I'm a wretch in compact wi' Auld Nick^ Because by education I was taught To speak and act aboon their common tliought : I'heir gross j^istake shall quickly now appear; Soon sliall ini|l^ken what brought, what keeps me here : Nane kens but me; — and if the morn were come, I'll teli them tales will gar them a' sing dumb. [Exit. 27 (i SCENE IV- PROROGUE. ^ Behind a tree upon tlie plain. Pate and his Peggy meet. In love witliout a vicious staue. The bonny lass and chearfu' swain Change vows and kisses sweet. PATIE AND PEtiGY. Vcggy* O Pat IE let me gang, I maun a stay ; We're baiili cry'd Jianie, and Jco^y she's Jiway. Falie, Vm laiOi to part sae soon ; now we're alanr. And Roger lie's away wi' Jenny gans ; They're as coutenl, for aught I hear or see^ To be alane themselves, I judge, as we. Here, where primroses thickest paiiit the greeiij Hard by this little biirnie let us lean : liark how the lav'rocks chant aboon our heads, How saft the w^estlin winds saugh through the reeds. Feggy. The stented meadows — thirds — und healthy breeze, For aught I ken, may mair than Peggy please, Fatie. Ye wrang me sair to doubt my being kind ; In speaking sae ye ca' me dull and blind. Gif I cou'd fancy aught's sae sweet or fair As my dear Tifeg, or worthy of my care. Thy breath is sweeter than the sweetest brier, Thy cheek and breast the finest ilow'rs a]>pear : Thy words excel ti^e maist delightfu' notes, That warble thvo* the merle or mavis' thioats ; Wi* thee I tent nae flow'rs that busk the held. Or ripest berries tliat our mountains yield : The sweetest fruits that hing upon the tree. Are far inferior to a kiss of tliee. Feggy, Eut Patrick for some wicked end may fleech, And lambs shouM tremble when the foxes preach. I darena stay; — ^ye joker let me gang ; "J Anither lass may gar ye change your sang ; V Your thoughts may flit, and I may thole the wrang. J 28 Patie, Sooner a mother shall her fondness drap^ And wrang the bairn sits smiling on her lap : The sun shall change, the moon to change shall cease, Tlie gaits to dim — tlie sheep to yield the fleece, Kre ought by me be either said or done. Shall skaith our love, I swear by a' aboon. Pagpj* Then keep your aith — But mony lads will sv/ear. And be mansworn to twa in half a year; Now I believe ye like me wonder wiel ; But if a fairer face your heart shou'd steal. Your Meg forsaken, bootless might relate, flow she was dawted anes by faithless Pate. Palie, I'm sure I canna change, ye needna fear, Tho' we're but young, I've loo'd you mony a year : 1 [nind it wiel, when thou couldst hardly gang. Op lisp out words, I chus'd ye frae the thi^ng Ui a' the bairns, and led thee by the hand. Aft to the tansy know or rasliy strand; Thou smiling by my side — I took delight To pou the rashes green, >vi' roots sae wliite. Of which, as v/icl as my young fancy cou'd, WiV thee I plet the flow'ry belt and snood. Feggy. When first thou gade wi* shepherds to the hUl, And I to milk the ew es first try'd my skill, 'Vo bear the Icglcn was nae toil to me, When at the bught at ev'n T met wi' thee. Patie, When corns gi'ew yellow, and the hether- beils Bloom'd bonny on the muir and rising fells, Nae birns, or briers, or whins e'er troubled me, Gil' I cou'd find blae berries ripe for thee. Peggy. When tliou didst wrestle, run, or putt the stane. And wan the day, my heart w as flightering fain : At a' these sports thou still gave joy to me ; I'or nane can wrestle, run, or putt wi' thee. Patie. Jenny sings saft the Broom of Cowden- knows n 29 And Rosie lilts the Milking of the ews ; Tliere^s nane, like Nancy, Jennn J^etties sings j At turns in Maggy Lauder Marion dings : But when my Peggy sings wi' sweeter skill. The Boatmaiif or the Lass of Patie*s mill, It is a thousand times mair sweet to me ; Tho' they sing wiel, they canna sing like thee. Peggy, How eitli can lasses trow what they desire ! An€l roos'd by them we love, blaws up that fire : But wha loves best, let time and carriage try ; Be constant, and my love shall time defy. Be still as now, and a' my care shall be. How to contrive what pleasant is for thee. The foregoing, imth a small variation, was sung at the acting as follows. SANG X. Tune, TJie rellow-hair'd laddie, Peggy. Wlien first my dear laddie gade to the green hill. And I at ew-milking first sey'd my young skill. To bear the milk bowie nae pain was to me. When I at the bughting forgather'd wi' thee. Patie. When eoTn riggs wav'd yellow, and blue hether-bells Bloom'd bonny on muirland and sweet rising fells, Nae birns, briers, or breekens ga'e trouble to me. If I found the berries right ripened for thee. When thou ran, or Avrestled, or putted the stane. And came aff the victor, my heart was ay fain ; Thy ilka sport manly gave pleasure to me ; For nane can putt, wrestle, or run swift as thee. Patie. Our Jenny sings saftly the Cowden-hroom-linoivs, And Rosie lilts sweetly the Milking the ews ; TJiere's few Jenny ^""ettles like Nancy can sing ; At T/iro' the woody laddie, Bess gars our lugs ring. c 2 30 But when my dear Pcj»gy sings wi' better skill, The Boatman^ Tweedside, or the Lass of the Millf ''Vis mony times sweeter and pleasing to nie ; For tho* they sing nicely, they cannot like thee. Peggij. How easy can lasses trow what they desire ? And praises sae kindly increases love's fire: Gi'e Die still this pleasure, my study shall be. To make mysel better and sweeter for thee. Patico Wert thou a giglet gawky like the lave, Tiiat little better than our nout behave. At nausrht they'll ferly; senseless tales believe. Be blytlie for silly heights, for trifles grieve — Bic ne'er eou'd win my heart, that kenna how Either to keep a prize, or yet prove true : But thou in better sense witliout a flaw. As in thy beauty, far excels them a'. Continue kind, and a' my care shall be, How to contrive what pleasing is for thee. Peggy, Agreed 5— »but hearken, yon's auld aunty's cry^ I ken they'll wonder what can mak us stay. Patie, And let them ferly — Now a kindly Idss, Or five- score good anes wadna be amiss ; And syne we'll sing the saijg wi' tunefu' glee. That I made up last owk on you and me. Peggif, Sing first, syne claim your hire — Paiie, ^ Wiel, I agree. SANG XI. To its ane tune. Palie. By ilic delicious warmness of thy mouth. And rowing eyes, that smiling tell the trutii, I guess, my lassie, that as wiel as I, You're made for love, and why should ye deny ? Pc^gglh But ken ye, lad, gif we confess o'er soon, Ye tliink us cheap, and syne the wooing's done : "^^rhe maiden that o'er quickly tines her pow'r, liike unripe fruit, will taste but hard and sour. 31 Patie, But gin they liing o'er lang upon the tree. Their sweetness they may tine ; and sae may ye. Red-cheeked ye completely ripe appear. And I have thoPd and woo'd a lang half year. Feggy singing, falls into Patie- s arms. Then dimia pou me, gently thus I fa* Into my Patie' s arms, for good and a' ; But stint your wishes to this kind embi^ace. And mint nae farer till we've got the grace. Patie, with his left hand about her waist, O charming armfu' ! hence ye cares away, I'll kiss my treasure a' the live-lang dayi A' night I'll dream my kisses o'er again, Till that day come that ye'll be a' my ain. Sung hy both. Sun, gallop down the westlin skies. Gang soon to bed, and quickly rise ; O lash your steeds, post time away. And haste about our bridal day ; And if ye're weary *d, honest light. Sleep, gin ye like, a week that niglit. 5^ ACT IIL...SCENE L PROLOGUE. Ko\r turn your eyes beyond yon spreading* lime. An tent a man whose beai'd seems bleach'd wi' time An elwand fills his hand, his habit mean, "NTae doubt ye'll think he has a pedlar been. But whisht ! it is tlie Knight in masquerade. That comes hid in this cloud to see his lad. Observe how pleas'd the loyal sufferer moves Thro' his auld av*nues, anes delightfu' groves. Sir WILLIAM, Solus. THE gentleman, thus hid in low disguise, I'll for a space, unknown, delight mine eyes "With a full view of ev'ry fertile plain, \Vhich once I loslr— .which now are mine again. Yet, 'midst my joy, some prospects pain renew. Whilst I my once fair seat in ruins view. Yonder ! ah me, it desolately stands. Without a roof, the gates faU'n from their hands ; The casements all hroke down, no chimney left. The naked walls of tap'stry all bereft. My stables and pavilions, broken walls ! That with each rainy blast decaying falls : IMy gardens once adorn'd the most complete. With all that nature, all that art makes sweet ; Where round the figur*d green and pebble walks, The dewy Aowt's hung nodding on their stalks ; But overgrown with nettles, docks, and brier, 'No jaccacinths or eglantines appear. How do those ample walls to ruin yield. Where peach and nect'rine branches found a bield. And bask'd in rays, which early did produce Fruit fair to view, delightful in the use ; All round in gaps, the walls in ruin lie. And from wliat stands the witlier'd branches fly. These soon shall be repair'd ; — and now my joy Forbids all grief — when I'm to see my boy, ]V1y only pi'op and object of my cai'e. Since heav'n too soon call'd home his mother fair : 33 Him, ere the rays of reason clear'd his thought, 1 secretly to faithful Syniori brought. And chargM him strictly to co5iceal his birth. Till we shou'd see what cliaiigiiig time brought forth. Hid from himself he starts up by the dawn. And ranges careless o*er the height and lawn. After liis lieecy charge serenely gay, With other shepherds whistling o*er the day. Thrice happy life ! that's from ambition free, Remov'd from crowns and courts, how cheerfully A cairn contented mortal spends his time In hearty health, his soul unstain'd with crime. Or sung as follows. SANG Xn. Tune, Happy Clown. Hid from himself, now hy the dawn He starts as fresh as roses blawn, And ranges o'er the heights and lawn^ After his Meeting flocks. Healthful and innocently gay. He chants and whistles out the day | Untaught to smile, and then betray. Like courtly weather-cocks. Life happy from ambition free. Envy and vile hj'pocrisy, Wlien truth and love with joy agree, UnsuUy'd with a crime : UnmovM with what disturbs the great. In propping of their pride and state, He lives, and unafraid of fate. Contented spends his time. Now tow'rds good Symon's house Til bend my way, And see what makes yon gamboling to-day ; All on the green, in a fair wanton Ting, My youthful tenants gaily dance and sing. [Ecdt Sir William, S4 SCENE n. PR0I.0Gt7B. Tis Symon*s house, please to step in. And visy*t round and round ; There's nought super fl'ous to give pain. Or costly to be found. Yet all is clean ; a clear peal ingle Glances amidst the floor : The green horn spoons , beech laggles min^lt On skelfs forgainst the door. While the young brood sport on the green. The auld anes think it best, "Wi' the brown cow to clear their een, Snuff, crack, and tak* tlieir rest. SYMON, GL.AUD, and ELSPA. Gland, We anes were young oupsells — I like to se-9 The bairns lob round wi* other merrylie : Troth, Symon, Patic's .^rown a sirappan lad, And better looks than his I never bade ; Amang our lads he bears the gree awa* : And tells his tale the cleverest o* them a*. Elspa. Poor man ! — ^he's a great comfort to us bailh ; God mak' him good, and hide him aj frae skaith. He is a bairn, I'll say't, wiel worth our care. That ga'e us ne'er vexation late or air. Gland. I trow, good wife, if I be not mista'en, He seems to be wi' Peggy's beauty ta'en, And troth, my niece is a right dainty wean. As ye wiel ken; a bonnier needna be, !Nor better — ^l)e*t she were nae kin to me. Symon. Ha, Glaud ! I doubt that ne*ep will be a match. My Patie*s wild and will be ill to catch ; And or he were, for reasons Pll no tell, I'd rather be mixt y\\* the mools my sell, Glaud. AVhat reasons can ye hae ? There's nan& I'm sure. Unless you may east up that she's but poor ; } 35 But gif the lassie marry to my mind, I'll be to her as my airi Jenny kind ; Four score of breeding ews of my ain bim^ Five ky that at ae milldng fills a kirn, 1*11 gi'e to Peggy that day she's a bride ; By and attour, if my good luck abide. Ten lambs, at spaining time, as lang's 1 live. And t>ya quey cawfs I'll yearly to them give. Elspa. Ye offer fair, kind Glaud, but dinna speer What may be is not fit ye yet shoidd hear. Symon, Or this day eight-days, likely he shall learn. That our denial disna slight his bairn. Gland. We'll nae mair o't; — come gie's the other bend. We'll drink their heal<ks, whatever way it end, [Their healths gae round. Symon. But will ye tell me, Glaud ? By some 'tis said. Your niece is but afundlingy that was laid 13own at your hallen-side, ae morn in May, Right clean row'd up, and bedded on dry hay. ixlaud. That clatteran Madge, my titty, tells sie flav/s. Whene'er our Meg her cankart humour gaws. Enter Jenny. Jenmji O fvither, there's an aidd n«an on the green. The fellest fortune-teller e'er was seen ^ He tents our loofs, and syne whops out a book, Turns o'er the leaves, and gies our brows a look : Syne tells the oddest tales that e'er ye heai^d : ifis head is gray, and lang and gray his beai'd. Symon. Gae bring him in, we'll hear what he can say, Nane shall gang hungry by my house to day. [Exit Jenny. put for Ills telling fortunes, troth I fear. He kens nae mak* o' that than my gray mare. Gland, Spae-menllheirulh of a' their fa ws I doubt. For greater liars Eiever ran tl^ereout. 36 Metuims Jenny, hnnging in Sir fTillwitn; with them Fatie. Symon. Ye 're welcome, honest carle, here tak' a seat. Sir Will. I give ye thanks, good-man, I'se no b© blate. Glaud. [drinks.] Come, t'ye, friend — How far came ye the day ? Sir Will. I pledge ye, nibour, e'en but little way ; Rousted wi' eild, a wee piece gate seems lang, Twa miles or three's the maist that I do gang. Symon. Ye're welcome liere to stay a' night wi' me. And tak' sic bed and boax*d as we can gi'e. Sir Will. That's kind unsought. — Wiel, gin ye ha'e a bairn Tliat ye like wiel, and wad his fortime learn, I shall employ the farthest of my skill To spay it faithfully, be't good or ill. Symon. ['pointing to Patie.] Only that lad — alake ! I have nae mae, Either to mak' me joyfu' now or wae. Sir Will. Young man, let's see your hand ; what gars ye sneer ? Prt fie. Because your skill's but little worth I fear. Sir Will. Ye cut before the point; but, Billy, bide, I'll Avager there's a mouse-mark on your side. Elspa. Betooch-us-to ! and wiel I wat tliat's true; Awa, awa, the de'il's o'er grit Mi' you; Four inch anieth his oxter is the mark, Scarce ever seen since he first wore a sark. Sir Will. I'll tell ye mair, if this ^oung lad be spar'd But a shoH: ^hilc, he'll be a brae rich laird. Elspa. A laird ! Hear ye goodman — wiiat tliink ye now? Symon. I dinna ken ! Strange auld man, what art thou ? Fair fa' your heart, 'tis good to bode of wealth; Come, turn tlie timmer to laird Patic's health. \_Pati€*8 health gaes round. 37 Patie, A laird of twa good whistles and a kent^ Twa curs, my trusty tenants on the dent, Is a* Diy great estate — and like to be : Sae cunning carle, ne'er break your jokes on me. Symon. Whisht, Patie — let the man look o'eryouP liand, Aftimes as broken a ship has come to land. [Sir William looks a little at Patie' s handf then counterfeits falling into a' trance, while tlieij endeavour to lay him right,] Mlspa. Preserve's !— the man's a warlock, or pos- se st \Vi' some nae good, or second-sight at least : Where is he now ? Glaud,- He's seeing a' that's done In ilka place, beneath or yoiit the moon. Elspa. These second-siglited Ibuli, his peace be here ! See things far ail', and things to come as clear As I can see my thumb — Wow ! can lie toll (Speer at him, soon as lie comes to himsel!) How soon we'll see Sir William ? Whisht, he heaves, And speaks out broken words like ane that raves. Symon. He'll soon grow better ; — Elspa, haste ye, gae And fill him up a tass of usqueb^. Sir William staMs up and speaks, A Knight that for a Lyon fought Agaiiist a herd of bears. Was to lang toil and trouble brought. In which some thousands shares : But now again the Lyon rares. And joy spreads o er the plain : The Lyon has defeat the bears. The Knight returns again. That Knight in a few days shaU brinu A shepherd frae the fauld. And shall present him to his Kiag, D 38 A subject <rue and bauld ; He Mr. Patrick sliall be call'd — A}\ you that liear mc now Hay Aviel believe >vliat I have tauld^ For it shall happen true. iSymon. Friend, may your spacing happen soon and wiel ; But, faith, I'm redd you've bargain'd wi' the de'il. To tell some tales, that fouks Avad secret keep ; Or do you get them tald you in your sleep ? Sir Willicim, Hovve'er 1 get them, never fash your beard, ]\or come 1 to read fortunes for reward ; liut I'll lay ten to ane wi' ony here. That all i prophesy sliall soon appear. Symon, You prophesying fouks are odd kind men ! They're here that ken and here that disna ken, The wimpled meaning of your unco tale, ^Vhilk soon will mak a noise o'er muir and dale. Glaud, 'Tis nae sma' sport to hear how Sym be- lieves. And taks't for gospel what the spaeman gives Of flawing fortunes, whilk ho evens to Pate : But what we wish we trow at cny rate. Sir Willktm. \V hislit ! doubtfu' carle ; for e'er the sun Has driven twice down to the sea. What 1 have said, ye shall see done In part, or rae mair credit me. GluuiL Wiel, bc't sac, friend ; 1 shall say nacthing mair ; But Pve twa sonsy lasses, young and fair, Plump ripe for men ; I >\ ish ye cou'd ibresee Sic fortunes for them, might prove joy to me. Sir WiUiam, Nae mair thro' secrets can I hift^ Till darkness black the bent ; I have but anes a day that gift, Sae rest a while content. ^ymon. Klspa, cast on the claith^ fetch but som« meat^ 39 And of your best gar this auld stranger eat. Sir Willimn. Delay a while your hospitable care ; I*d rather eiijoy tliis ev'niiig calm and fair, Aroiiml yon ruin'd tower, to fetch a walk With you, kind friend, to have some private talk. Symon, Soon as yon please I'll answer your de- sire— And, Glaud, you'll tak' your pipe beside iliQ fire ; — We'll but gae round tlie place, and soon be back. Syne sup together, and tak our pint and crack. Glaud, I'll out a while, and see the young anes play ; My heart's still light, albeit my locks be gray. [Exeunt, SCENE III. PROROGUE. Jenny pretends an errand hame. Young- Roger draps the rest. To whisper out his melting flame, And thow his lassie's breast. Behind a bush, wiel hid frae sight, they meet ; See, Jenny's laughing, Roger's like to greet. Poor Shepherd ! ROGER AND JENNY. Moger, Dear Jenny, I wad speak t'ye wad ye let. And yet I ergh, ye 're ay say scornfu' set. Jemiy, And what wad Roger say, if he cou'd speak ? Am I obljg'd to guess what ye're to seek ? Roger, Yes, ye may guess right eith for what 1 grein, Baith by my service, sighs, and langing een : An I maun out wi't, tho' I risk your scorn, Ye're never frae my thouglit-, baith ev'n and mot^U. Ah ! cou'd I looe ye less, I'd happy be. But happier far ! cou'd ye but fancy me. Jenny, And wlia kens, honest lad, but that I may ? Y^e canna say that e'er 1 said ye nay, Jloger, Alake ! my frighted heart begins to fail^ 40. Whene'er I mint to tell ye out my tale, For fear some tighter lad, mair rich than I, Has win your love, and near your heart may lie. Jenny. I looe my lather, cousin Meg I love | But to this day nae man my mind eou'd move 5 Except my kin, ilk lad's alike to me ; And li*ae ye a' I best had keep me fr^e. Kogev. JIow lang, dear Jenny ? — sayna that again, What pleasure can ye tak' in giving pain ? I'm glad however that ye yet stand free ; Wha kens but ye may rue, and pity me ! Jenny. Ye ha'e my pity else, to see you set On that wliilk makes our sweetness soon forget : Wow ! but we're bonny, good, and every thing ! How sweet we breathe whene'er we kiss or sing ! But we*re nae sooner fools to gi'e consent, '.nian we our dalfin, and tint power repent : When prison'd in four wa's, a wife right tame, Altho' the ilrst, the greatest drudge at hame. IbGgci'. That only happens, when, for sake o' gear, Ane wales a wife as he wad buy a mare; Or when dull parents bairns together bind Of different tempers, that can ne'er prove kind : But love, true downright love, engages me, (ITio' thou should scorn) still to delight in thee. Jenny. What sugar'd words frae wooers lips can fa' ! But girning m.arriage comes and ends them a*. I've seen ^^i' shining fail* the morning rise, Asd soon the sleety clouds mirk a' the skies ; I've seen the silver spring a wliile rin clear. And soon in mossy puddles disappear ; Tlie bridegroom may rejoice, the bride may smile ; But soon contentions a' tJieir joys beguile. lioger. I've seen the morning rise »i' fairest light. The day, unclouded, sink in calmest night : I've seen the spring rin wimpling thro' the plain. Increase and join tlie ocean without stain : The bridegroom may be blyth, the bride may smile ; Rejoice thro' life, and a' your fears beguile. Jinny. Were I but sure ye lang would love main- tain. 41 The fewest words my easy heart could gain 5 For I maun own, since now at last you're free, Altho' I jokM, I lov'd your company : And ever had a warmness in my breast. That made ye dearer to me than the rest. Roger. I'm happy now ! o'er happy ! had my head ! This gush of pleasure's like to he my dead. Come to my arms ! or strike me ! I'm a' iir'd Wi' wond'ring love ! let's kiss till we be tir'd. Kiss, kiss ! we'll kiss the sun and starns away, And ferly at the quick return of day ! O Jenny ! let my arms about thee twine, And briss thy bonny breasts and lips to mine. Tfliich may he sung as follows, SANG Xin. Tune, Leitli Wynd. Jenny. Were I assur'd you'll constant prove. You should nae mair complain j The easy maid, beset wi' love. Few words will quickly gain: For I must own, now since you're free. This too fond heart of mine Has lang, a black-sole true to thee, Wish'd to be pair'd wi' thine. Roger, I'm happy now, ah ! let my head Upon thy breast recline ! The pleasure strikes me near-hand dead. Is Jenny then sae kind ? O let me briss thee to my heart ! And round my arms entwine : Delightfu' thought, we'll never part ! Come, press thy lips to mine. Jenny. Wi' equal joy my easy heart gives way, To own thy wiel try'd love has won the day. Now by these warmest kisses thou has tane. Swear thus to love me, when by vows made anc. Roger. I swear by fifty thousand yet to come, D 2 42 Op may the first aue strike me deaf and dumb* There shall not be a kindlier dawted wife If jou agree wi' me to lead your life. Jenny. Wicl, I agree — niest to my parent ga«, Get his consent, he'll hardly say ye nae : Ye ha'e what Avill commend ye to him wiel, Auld foulvs, like them, that wants na milk and meal. SANG XIY. Tune, O'er Bogie. Wiel, I agree, your sure of me, Next to my father gae ; Make him content to gi*e consent. He'll hardly say you nae : For ye ha'e what he wad be at. And v/ill commend vou wiel, Since parents auld, think love grows cauld "Wliere bairns want milk and meal. Sliould he deny, I care na by. He'd contradict in vain ; Tho' a' my kin had said and sworn. But thee I will ha'e nane. I'hen never range, nor learn to change. Like tliese in high degree ; And if you prove faithfu' in love, You'll find nae fault in me, Moger. My faulds contain twice fifteen forrcw nowt. As mony newcal in my byres rowt; Five pack of woo I can at Lammas sell. Shorn frae my bob-tail'd bleeters on the fell. Good twenty pair of blankets for our bed, "Wi' meilde care, my thrifty mither made ; Ilk thing that makes a heartsome house and tight Was still her care, my father's great delight. They left me a', whicli now gie's joy to me. Because I can gi'e a', my dear, to thee : And had I fifty times as meikle mair, Nane but my Jenny shou'd the samen skair : My love and a' is yours ; now had them fast^ And guide them as ye like, to gar them last- 43 Jenny, I'll do my best ; but see wha comes this way, Patie and Meg — ^besides, I mauna stay ; Let's steal frae itlier now, and meet the morn ; If we be seen, well dree a deal of scorn. Roger. To where the saugh tree shades the men- ninpool, I'll frae the hill come down, when day grows cool : Keep tryst and meet me tliere ; there let us meet. To kiss and tell our love; there's nought sae sweet. SCENE IV. PROLOGUE. This scene presents the Knig-ht and Syi% Witliin a gallery of the place. Where a' looks ruinous and grim ; Nor has tlie Baron shown his face. But joking wi' his shepherd leel. Aft speers tlie gate he kens fu* wiel. Sir WIIJ.IAM AND SYMON. Sir William, To whom belongs this house so much decay'd ? Symon, To aoe that lost it, lending gen'rous aid. To bear the head up, when rebellious Tail Against the laws of nature did prevail. Sir William Worthy is our master's name, Whilk fills us a' wi' joy, now /le's come hame, (Sir William draps his masking beard ; Symon transported sees The welcome knight, wi' fond regard. And grasps him round the knees.) Mv Master ! my dear master ! — do I breathe To see him healthy, strong and free frae skaith! Return'd to cheer liis wishing tenants' siglit ! To bless his son, my charge, the world's delight. Sir William, Rise, faitliful Symon, in my arms enjoy A place, thy due, kind guardian of my boy ; I came to view thy care in this disguise, 44 And am confirmM thy conduct has heen wise ; Since still the secret thou'st securely seaPd, And ne'er to him his real hirth reveal'd. Symon. The due obedience to your strict com- mand "Was the first lock neist, my ane judgment fand Out reasons plenty since, without estate, A youth, though sprung frae kings, looks baugh and blate : Sir William. And aften vain and idly spend their time, 'Till grown unfit for action, past their prime. Hang on their friends — which gi'es their saids a cast. That turns them downright beggars at tlie last. Symon. Now, wiel I wat. Sir, you ha'e spoken true ; For there's laird Kytie's son that's loo'd by few ^ His father steght his fortune in his wame. And left his heir nought but a gentle name. He gangs about soman frae place to place. As scrimpt of manners as of sense and grace. Oppressing a' as punishment o' their sin That are within his tenth degree of kin : Rins in ilk trader's debt, wha's sae unjust To his ain family as to gie him trust. Sir William, Such useless branches of a common- wealth, Shou'd be lopt ofi", to gi'e a state mair health : Unworthy bear reflection Symon, run O'er a' your observations on my son ; A parent's fondness easily finds excuse. But do not wi' indulgence truth abuse. Symon. To speak his praise the langest simmer "Wad be o'er short — cou'd I them right display. In word and deed iie can sae wiel behave. That out of sight he runs befoi^ tlie lave : And when there's e'er a quarrel or contest, Patrick's made judge, to tell whase cause is best; And his decreet stands good — ^he'U gar it stand ; "Wha dares to grumble, finds his correcting hand ; 45 WV a firm look, and a eommamling waj", He gars the proudest of our herds obey. Sir William, Your tale much pleases — my good friend proceed : What learning has he ? can he write and read ? Symon, Baith wonder wiel; for troth? I didna spare To gi'c him at the school enough of lai? : And he delights in books— He reads and speaks, -Wi' foiik tliat ken them, Ijatin words and Greeks. Sir Willia7n. Where gets he books to read-— -and of what kind ? Tho' some give light, some blindly lead the blind. Symon. Whene'er he drives our sheep to Edin- burgli port, He buys some books of history, sangs, or sport : Nor does he want of them a routh at will. And carries ay a poutchfu' to the hill. About ane Shakspear and a famous Ben He aften speaksj and ca's them best of men. How sweetly Hawthornden and Stirling sing. And ane ca'd Cowley, loyal to his king. He kens fu* wiel, and gars their verses ring. I sometimes tl lought he made o'er great a phrase About line poems, histories and plays. When I rcprov'd him anes, — a book lie brings, Wi' this quoth he, on braes I crack wi' kings. Sir William. He ansAver'd wiel 5 and much ye glad my ear, Wlien such accounts I of my Shepherd hear ; Beading such books can raise a peasant's mind Above a lord's that is not thus inclin'd. Symon. What ken we better, that sae sindle look, 3Except on rainy Sundays, on a book ? When we a leaf or twa half read half spell, •Till a* the rest sleep round as wiei's oursell. Sir William. Wiel jested, Symon ; but one ques- tion more I'll only ask ye now, and then gi'e o'er. The youth's arriv'd the age when little loves Flighter around young hearts like cooing doves: } 4G Has nae yonng la«;sie tvI' inviting inif^fi And rosy cheek, the wonder of the tureen, Engag'd his look, and cai!,£^ht his vouthfu' heart ? Symou. I fearM the waist, but keud the sma'esi part, 'Till late I saw him twa three linnes mair sweet Wi' Glaud's fair niece than I thought right or meet. I had iny fears ; but now ha'e nought to fear, Since like jourseli your son will soon appear ; A gentleman enrick'd wi' a these charms. Way bless tlic fairest best-born lady's arms. Sir William. This night must end his unambitious iirc. When higher views shall greater thoughts inspire. Go, SyiooD, bring him quickly here to me ; ^'one but yoursell shall our first meeting see. Yonder *s my horse and servants nigh at hand; They come just at the time I gave command : Straight in my own apparel I'll go dress, Now ye the secret may to all confess. Symon. Wi' how mud* joy I on this errand flee. There's nane can know that is not downright me. [Eiidt Symon, Sir WILLLilM, solus. \^lien the event of hopes successfully appears. One happy hour cancels the toil of years: A thousand toils are lost in Lethe's stream. And cares evanish like a morning dream ; When wish'd for pleasures rise like morning light. The pain that's past enhances the delight. These joys I feel, that woitls can ill express, I ne'er had known, v, itliout my late distress. But from his rustic business and love I must, in haste, my Patrick soon remove, To courts and camps that may his soul improve. Like the rough diamond, as it leaves the mine. Only in little breakings sIicavs its light, 'Till artfnl polishing has made it sliine ; Thus education makes the genius bright. [Exit. ..} 47 Or sung as fallows, SANG XV. Tune, Wat ye wha I met yestreen. Now from rusticitj' and love, Whose flames l>i!t over lowly burn. My gentle slieplierd mast be di'ove. His soul must take another turn ^ As the rough diamond from tlie mine. In breakings only shews its light, 'Till polishing has made it shine. Thus learning makes tlie genius bright. ACT 1V....SCENE I. PROLOGUE. The scene describ'd in former page, Claud's onset — Enter Maijse and Madge. Manse, OUR laird's come liame ! and owns young Pate his heir ! That's new s indeed ! Madge, As true as ye stand there. As they were daneing a' in Symon's yard. Sir Wfiliam, like a warlock, wi* a beard Five nives in length, and white as driven sna% Amang us came, cry'd, « Had ye mevry a',' We ferly'd meikle at his unco look, While frae h.h pouch he wliirled forth a book. As we stood round al>jut him on the green. He view'd us a% but fix'd on Pate his een ; Then pawkily pretended he couM spac. Yet for his pains and skill wad naithing liae. Jflatise, Then sure the lasses, and ilk gaping cooi^ Wad rin about him, and had out their loof. Maige. As fast cs fleas skip to the tate of woo, Whilk slee tod Lowrie hads without his mow, When he to drown them, and his hips to cool^ In summer days slides backward in a pool. In short be did for Pate bra' things foretell 48 Without tlie help of conjuring or spell ; At last when wiel diverted, he withdrew, Pou'd aff his beard io Symon : Symon knew His welcome master; — ^round his knee^ he gat. Hang at his coat, and syne for blythness grat. Patrick was sent for — happy lad is he ! Symon taid Elspa, Elspa tald it me. Ye'Jl hear out a' the secret story soon : And troth 'tis e'en right odd, when a' is done. To think how Symon ne'er afore wad tell, Na, no sae meikle as to Pate himsell. Our Meg, poor thing, alake ! has lost her jo. Mause. It may be sae, wha kens, and may be no : To lift a love tliat's rooted is great pain ; "J Ev*n kings ha'e tane a queen out of the plain ; v And what has been before may be again. J Madge. Sic nonsense ! love tak' root, but tochev good, 'Tween a herd's bairn, and ane of gentle blood ! Sic fashions in King Bruce' s days might be ; But siccan ferlies now we never see. Mause, Gif Pate forsakes her, Bauldy she may'^ gain : ' Yonder he comes, and wow ! but he looks fain ; j Nae doubt he thinks that Peggy' s now his ain. J Madge, He get her ! slavcrin doof ; it sets him wiel To yoke a plough where Patrick thought to till. Gif I were Meg, I'd let young master see — Mause. YeM be as dorty in your choice as he ; And so wad I. But whisht ! here Bauldy comes. Enter BAULDY, singmg. Jenny said to Jocky, gin ye winna tell. Ye sail be the lad, I'll be the lass mysell; Yc're a bonny lad, and I'm a lassie free ^ Ye're welcoiiier to tak' me than to let me be. I irow sae. — Lasses will come to at last, Tho* for a while they maun their sna'-ba's cast. Mause, Wiel, Bauldy, how gaes a' ? Bauldy, Faith, unco right : I hope we'U a' sleep sound but ane this night. 49 Mad^. And wha's tlie unlucky ane if we may ask ? JSauldy, To find out tli^t is nae difficult task : Poor bonny Peggy, wha maun think nae mair On Pate turn'd Patrick and Sir William's heir. Now, now, good Madge, and honest Mause, stand be ; While Meg's in dumps put in a word for me: I'll be as kind as ever Pate could prove. Less wilfu% and ay constant in my love. Madge. As Neps can witness and the bushy thorn. Where mony a time to her your heart was sworn j Fy ! Bauldy, blush, and vows of love regard ; What other lass will trow a mansworn herd : The curse of heav'n hings ay aboon their heads. That's ever guilty of sic sinfu' deeds. PU nei'er advise my niece sae gray a gate ; JNor will she be advis'd, fu' wiel I wat. Bauldy. Sae gray a gate ! mansworn ! and a' the rest: Ye lied, auld Roudes, — and, in faith, y' had best Eat in yOur words, else I sliall gar you stand, W i* a het face afore the haly baud. Madge, Ye*Jl gar me stand ! ye sheveling gabbit brock ; Speak that again, and trembling, dread my rock. And ten sharp nails, that when my hands are in. Can slyp the skin o* ye'r cheeks out o'er your chin. Bauldy, 1 tak* ye witness, Mause, ye heard her say That I'm mansworn^ — I winna let it gae. Madge. Ye're witness too he ca'd me bonny names. And shou'd be serv'd as his good breeding claims : Ye filthy dog ! [Flees to Im hair like a fury — a stout hattl^-^ Mause endeavours to redd them. Mause, Let gang your grips 5 fy, Madge ! howt Bauldy, leen ; I wadna wish this tulzie had been seeiu '^ns sae daft like— E 50 [Bimldy gets out of Madge^s clutches ivith a hkeding nose. Madge, 'lis dafter like to thole All ethcr-eap like liiiu to blaw the coal. It sets liim wiel, wi' vile iniscrapit tongue, To cast up whether I be auld or young ; They're aulder yet than I ha*c married been. And, ov they died, their bairns' bairns hae seen. Mause, That's true ; and, Bauldy, ye was far to"^ blame, | To ca' Madge ought but her ain ehristen'd name. ^ Bauldy. My lugs, my nose, and noddle find the I same. J JIadge. Auld Roudes ! filthy fallow, I sliall auld \e. Mause. Howt, no ; — ye'U e'en be friends wi' hon- est Bauldy. Come, come, sliake hands ; this maun nae farder gae ; Ye maun forgi'e 'm ; I sec the lad looks m ae. Bauldy. In troth now, Mause, I hae at Madge nae spite ; For she abusing first was a' the ^yyte Of what lias happen'd, ami should therefore crave My pardon first, and shall ae quittance have. Madge. I crave your pardon ! Gallo\vs face gae greet. And own your faut till her that ye wad elieat ; Gae, or be blasted in your health and gear, 'Till ye learn to perform as wiel as swear. Tow, and lowT) back ! — vrns e'er the like heard tell ? Swith, tak him de'il^ he's o'er lang out of hell. Bauldy. [running off.] His presence be about us ! Curst were he That were condemn'd for life to live wi' thee. [Exit Bajildy. Madge, [laughing.] I think I've towzl'd his ha- rigalds a wee ; He'll no soon gTein to tell his love to me. He's but a rascal, that would mint to serve A lassie sae, lie does but ill deserve. Mause. Ye towin'd him tightly— ^I commend ve for't ,• 51 His bleeding snout ga*e me nae little sport : For this forenoon lie had that scant of grace. And breeding baitli — ^to tell me to my face, He hop'd I was a witch and wadiia stand To lend him in this ease my helping liand. Madge, A witch ! how had ye patience this lo bear, And leave him een to see, or lugs to hear. Mause, Auld wither'd hands, and feeble joints lik« mine, Obliges fouk resentment to decline, 'Till aft 'tis seeo, when vigour fails, then we Wi' cunning can the lack of pith supply : Thus I pat aif revenge 'till it was dark. Syne bade him come, and we should gang to wark : I'm sure he'll keep his tryst ,* and I came here To seek your help, that we tJie fool may fear. Madge. And special sport we'll ha'e, as I pro- test : Ye'll be the witch, and I shall play tlie ghaist. A linen sheet wound round me like ane dead, I'll eawk my face, and grane, and shake ray head : We'll fleg him sae, he'll mint nae mair to gang A conjuring to do a lassie wrang. Mause. Then let us gae ; for see, 'tis hard on night. The westlin clouds shine red wi' setting light, [Exeunt. 52 SCENE II. PROIOGIJE. When birds begin lo nod upon the boug-h. And the green swaird grows damp wi' falling dew, Wliile good Sir William is to rest retir'd. The Gentle Shepherd, tenderly inspired, Walks tliro' the br-oom wi' Roger, ever leel, To meet, to comfort Meg, and tak' farewiel. PATIE AND ROGER. Roger, Y/ow ! but Pm cadgie, and my heart lowps liglit : O, Itlr. Patrick ! ay your thouglits were right ; Sure gentle fouk are farer seen than we, That Kaething hae to brag of pedigree. My Jenny now, Avha brak my heart this mom. Is perfect yielding — sweet — and nae mair seorn : I s]>ake my mind — she heard — I spake again — She smil'd — I kiss*d — I wooM, nor woo'd in vain. ratie, I'm glad to hear't — But O ! my change thip day Heaves up my joy, and yet I'm sometimes wae. I've iound a father, gently kind as brave. And an estate that lifts me 'boon4he lave. ■\\i' looks a' kindness, Avords that love confest. He a' the father to my soul exprcst, AVhile close he held me to his manly breast. Such were the eyes, he said, thus sniilM the mouth Of thy lov'd mother, blessing of my youth ! "Wlio set too soon ! and while he praise ])estow'd, Adown his gracefu' cheeks a torrent tlow'd. My new-born joys, and this his tender tale. Did, mingled thus, o'er a' my thoughts prevail : That speechless lang, my late kend sire I view'd. While gushing tears my panting breast bedew'd. Unusual ti*ansports made my head turn round, "Whilst I myself wi' rising raptures found. The happy son of ane sae much renown'd. But he has heard ! — Too faithful Svmon's fear } } 53 Has brouglit my love for Peggy to his ear. Which he forbids; — ^ah! this confounds my peace, Wliile tlms to beat, my heart shall sooner cease. Moger, How to advise ye, troth I'm at a stand : But wer*t my case, ye'd clear it up aft' hand ? Paiie, Duty, and hailen reason plead his cause ; But wliat cares love, for reason, rules and laws ? Still in my heart my shepherdess excels. And part of my new happiness repels. Or Sling as follows. SANG XYI. Tune, Kirk wad let be. Duty and part of reason. Plead strong on the parent's side. Which love so superior calls treason The strongest must be obeyM ; For now, tlio' I'm ane of the gentry. My constancy falsehood repels ; For change in my heart has no entry. Still there my dear Peggy excels. . Eager. Enjoy them baith — Sir William will be won : Your Peggy's bonny — you're his only son. Patfe. She's mine by vows, and stronger ties of love. And frae these bands nae change my mind shall move. I'll wed nane else, thro' life I will be true; But stiU obedience is a pjy^ent's due. Roger. Is not our master and yoursell to stay Amang us here — or are ye gawn away To London court, or ither far aff parts. To leave your ain poor us wi' broken hearts ? Patie. To Edinburgh straight to-morrow we ad-"^ vance, I To London neist, and afterwards to France, j Where I must stay some years and fearn to dance, J And twa three other monkey tricks :— That done, I come hame strutting in my red-heel'd shoon. Then 'tis design'd when I can wiel behave. That I maun foe some petted thing's dull slave, E 2 54 Kor some few bags of cash, that, I wat wiel, 1 Hue majr need nor carts ilo a third wlieel : But PejOjfJjy, dearer to me than my breath. Sooner than hear sic news shall hear my death. Roger, llieij wha ha-e just enough can soundly sleep, The overcome only fashes fouk to keep Good Master Patrick, tak' your ane tale hame. '^ Patie. What was my morning thought, at night's ! the same ; j The poor and rich but differ in the name. J Content's the greatest bliss we can procure Frae 'boon the lift — without it kings are poor. Roger, But an estate like your's yields bra' con- tent, When we but pick it scantly on the bent : Fine claiths, saft beds, sweet houses, and red wine. Good cheer and witty friends, whene'er you dine^ Obeysant servants, honour, wealth and ease, Wha's no content wi' these are ill to please. Patie. Sae Roger thinks, and thinks not far amisq. But mony a cloud hings hovering o'er the bliss : The passions rule the roast — and if they're sour, liike tlie lean ky will soon the fat devour : The spleen, tint honour, and affronted pride, Stang like the sharpest goads in gentry's side. The gouts and gravels, and tlie ill disease. Are frequentest wi' fouk o'erlaid wi' ease : While o'er the muir the shepherd wi' less care. Enjoys his sober wish, and haiesome air. Roger. Lord man ! I wonder ay, and it delights My heart, whene'er I hearken to your flights ; How gat ye a' that sense, I fain wad lear. That I may easier disappointments bear ? Patie. Frae books, the ^ale o' books, I gat some skill, These best can teach what's real gowl and ill : ^e*er grudge ilk year to \vcar some stanes of cheese, To gain tliese silent friends that ever please. Roger. I'll do't, and ye shall tell me which to buy : Faith I'sc ha'e books tho' 1 should sell my ky : ] 55' But now let's liear how you're designVl to more Between Sir William's will, and Peggy's love. Fatk, Then here it lies — his will maun be ^ obey'd, I !> My vows I'll keep, and slie shall be my bride ,• But I some time this last design maun hide. J Keep you the secret close, and leave me here ; 1 sent for Peggy, Yonder comes my dear. Roger. Pleas d that ye trust me wi' the secret I, To wyle it frae me, a' the diels defy. [Ex^it Roger. Patie, [solas.] Wi* what a struggle must I now impart My father's will to lier that liads my heart ; I ken she loves, and her saft saul will sink. While it stands trembling on the hated brink Of disappointment — Heav'n support my fair. And let her comiort claim your tender care : Her eyes are red ! Enter PEGGY. -My Peggy why in tears Smile as ye wont, allow nae room for fears : Tho' I'm nae mair a shepherd, yet I'm tliine. Feggy. I dare not think sae liigli — I now rejxiiie At the unhappy chance, that made not me A gentle match, or still a herd kept thee. Wha can withoutten pain see frjie the coast Tiie ship that bears his ail like to be lost ? Like to be carried hy some rever's hand, Far fi-ae his wishes to some distant land. Paiie. Ne'er quarrel fate, whilst it wi' me remains To raise thee up, or still attend these plains. My father has forbid our loves, I own ; But love's superior to a parent's frown ; I falsehood hate ; come kiss thy cares away : I ken to love as wiel as to obey. Sir William's generous ; leave the task to me To make strict duty and true love agree. Peggy, Speak on ! tpeak ever thus, and still tny grief; But short I dare to hope the fond relief. 56 New thoughts a gentler face will soon inspire, Tliat wi' nice air swims round in silk attire ; Then I ! poor me ! — wi' sighs may ban my fate, Wlien tlie young laird's nae mair my heartsomc Patei Nae mair again to hear sweet tales exprest, By the blyth sheplierd that excelPd the rest : Nae mair be envied by the tattling gang, When Patie kiss'd me when I danc'd or sang ; Nae mair, alake ! we'll on the meadow play, And rin half breatliless round the rucks of hay. As aftimes I ha'e fled from thee right fain. And fawn on purpose that I miglit be tane : Nae mair around the foggy know I'll creep. To watch and stare upon thee while asleep. But hear my vow — 't^vill help to gi'e me ease ; May sudden death or deadly sair disease, And warst of ills attend my w retelied life. If e'er to ane but you I be a wife ! Or sung as follows. SANG XVIL Tune, Wae^s mij heart that ive should sunder. Speak on, speak thus, and still my grief. Hold up a heart that's sinking under Tliese fears, that soon will want relief, When Pate must from his Peggy sunder. A gentler face and silk attire, A lady rich in beauty's blossom, Alake, poor me ! will now conspire, To steal thee from thy Peggy's bosom. No more the shepherd who excelPd The rest, whose wit made them to wonder. Shall now liis Peggy's praises tell; Ah ! I can die, but never sunder. Ye meadows where we often stray'd. Ye banks where we were want to Avander ; Sweet scented rucks round which we play'd, You'll lose your sweets when we're asunder. 57 Again, all ! shall I never creep Around the know with silent duty. Kindly to watch thee while asleep. And wonder at thy manly beauty ? Ht^ar, Heav'n, while solemnly I vow, Thi/ thou shoiild'st prove a wand'ring lover, Thro* life to thee I shall prove true. Nor be a wife to any other. Patlc, Sure, Heaven approves — and be assured of me, I'll neVr gan^ back o' what I've sworn to thee : And tiirie, tho' time may interpose a while, And 1 maun leave my Peggy and this isle, Yet time, nor distanee, nor the fairest face. If there's a fairer, e'er shall fill thy place. I'd hate my rising fortune should it move The fair foundation of our faithfu' love. If at my feet were crowns and sceptres laid. To bribe my soul frae thee, delightfu' maid, ^'or thee I'd soon leave these inferior things To sic as hae the patience to be kings. Wherefore that tear ; believe and calm thy mind. Fe^gij, I greet for joy, to hear thy words sae kind ; "When hopes were sunk, and nought but mirk des- pair Made me think life was little worth my care : My heart was like to burst ; but now I see Thy gen'rous thou.^hts will save thy love for me : Wi' patience then 1*11 wait each wheeling year, Hope time away, till thou wi' joy appear ; And all tlie while FU study gentler charms To make me fitter for my traveler's arms I'll gain on uncle Glaud — he's far frae fool, And^ will not grudge to put me thro' ilk school. Where I may manners learn SANG XYIIl. Tune, Ttveed-side. When hope was quite s\mk in despair. My heart it was going to break ; My life appeav'd worthless my care. But now I will sav*t for thy sake. 58 Where'er my love travels by day, Wherever he lodges by night, WV me his dear image shall stay. And my soul keep him ever in sight. \Vi' patience I'll wait the lang year. And study the gentlest charms ; Hope time away till thou appear, To lock thee for ay in these arms. Whilst thou wast a shepherd, I priz'd No higher degree in this life ; But now I'll endeavour to lise To a height that's becoming thy wife | I or beauty that's only skin deep, ^lust fade like the gow ans in May, But inw ardly rooted, will keep For ever, without a decay. Nor age, nor the changes of life. Can qnench the fair iire of love. If virtue's ingrainM in the mie. And the husband ha'e sense to approve, Patie, That's wisely said. And what he Avares that way shall be well paid. Tlio' without a' the little helps of art, Tliy native sweets might gain a prince's heart 5 Yet now, lest in our station we offend. We must learn modes to innocence uakend 5 Affect at times to like tlie thing we hate. And drap serenity to keep up slate ; Laugh when we're sad, speak when we've nought to say. And, for the fashion, when w e're blyth seem wae ; Vaj compliments to them we aft ha'e scorn'd. Then scandalize them when their backs are turn'd. Peggy, If this is gentry, 1 liad rather be What I am still — ^but I'll be ought wi' thee. Patie. Na, na, my Peggy, I but only jest WT gentry's apes : for still amangst the best. Good manners gi'e integrity a bleeze. When native virtues join the arts to please. 59 Peggy, Since ^vi' nae bazzanl and sae sma* ex- pence. My lad frae books can gather siccan sense I'hen why, ah ! why should the tempestuous sea Endanger thy dear life and frighten me? Sir William's cruel, that wad force his son. For watna-Avhats sae great a risk to run. Patie. There is nae douht but travelling does im- prove ; Yet I wou'd shun it for thy sake, my love : But soon as I've shook off my landwart cast In foreign cities, hame to thee I'll haste. Peggy, Wi' every setting day, and rising morn, I'll kneel to Heav'n and ask thy safe return. Under that tree, and on the sueklerbrae, "Where aft we wont, wJien bairns, to rin and play ; And to the hissel-shaw, where first ye vow'd Ye wad be mine and I as eitlily trow'd, I'll aften gang and tell the trees and flow'rs W i' joy, that they'll bear witness I am your's. Or sung as follows, SANG XIX. Tune, Bush ahoon Traquair, At setting day and rising morn, Wi' soul tliat still shall Ioyq 'hce, I'll ask of Meav'n thy safe return, IrYi' a' that can improve thee. I'll visit aft the liirkin bush, Wbere first thou kindly tald me Sweet tales of love, and hid ray blusli. Whilst round thou didst enfold mc. To a' your liaunts I will repair. By greenwood shaw or fountain ; Or where the simmer day I'd share Wi* thee upon yon momi tain. Tliere will I tell the trees and iiow'rs From thougiits unfeian'd and tender. By vov^^s you're mine, "by love is your's, A heart wliich cannot wander. 60 Tatie, My dear, allow me frae thy temples fair Jk shining ringlet of thy tlomng hair, "Wliich, as a sample of each lovely charm, I'll aften kiss, and wear ahoiit my arm. Pegpj. Wer't In my pow'r wi' better boons t# ])lease, I'd gie the best I could wi' the same ease ; Kor wad 1, if thy luck had fallen to me, Bt^en in ae jot less generous to thee. Patie. I doubt it not ; but since we've little time. To ware't on words wad border on a crime, Loves safter meaning better is exprest, Wien 'tis wi' kisses on the heart imprest. [ExeunU ACT V....SCENE I. PROLOGUE. SiBC bow poor Bauldy stares like ane posjest. And roars up Symon frae his kindly rest, Bare-leg^d, wi' night cap, and unbutton'd coat. See the Jiuld man comes forward to the sot. SYISION AND BAULDY. Symon. WHAT want ye, Bauldy, at this early hour, Mliile drowsy sleep keeps a' beneath its pow'r ? Far to the north the scant approaching light Stands equal twixt the morning and the night. What gars ye shake, and glowr, and look sae wan? Your teeth they chitter, hair like bristles staii*. Bauldy, O len me soon some water, milk or ale. My head's grow n giddy— legs wi' shaking fail : I'll ne'er dare venture forth at night my lane ; Alake ! I'll never be mysell again, ril ne'er o'erput it ! Symon ! O Symon ! O ! [Symon gives him a drink. Symon. Wliat ails thee, gowk ! to mat* so loud ado^ V 61 You've wak'd Sir William, he has left his bed ; He comes, I fear, ill pleas'd ; I hear his tred. Enter Sir WILLIAM. Sir William, How gaes the night ? does day-light yet appear ? Symon, you're very timeously asteer. Symon, I'm sorry. Sir, that we've disturh'd your"^ rest, * But some strange thing has Bauldy's sp'rit opprest, [ He's seen some witch or wrestled wi' a ghaist. J Bauldy. O ay,— dear Sir, in troth 'tis very true. And I am come to mak* my plaint to you. Sir William [smiling,'] I lang to hear't- Baulily, Ah ! Sir, the witch ca'd Mause, That wins aboon the mill aniang the haws. First promis'd that she'd help me wi' her art. To gain a bonny thrawai-t lassie's heart : As she had trvsted, I met wi'er this night. But may nae friend of mine get sic a fi ' hi ! Ir'or the curst hag, instead of doing me !, (The very tliought o't's like to freeze 'l.j oiood !) Rais'd up a ghaist or de'il, I kenna whilkj Like a dead corse in sheet as white as milk; Black hands it had, and fa<'e as wan as death, Lpon me fast the witcli and it fell baith. And gat me down ; while I like a great fool, Was laboured as I wont to be at scliool. My heart out of its liool was like to loup, I pitldess grew wi' fear, and had nae hope. Till, wi' an eMtch laugh, they vaiiish'd quite : Syne I, half dead wi' anger, fear, and spite. Crap up, and fled straught frae them, sir, to you. Hoping your help to gi'e the de'il his due. I'm sure my heart will near gi'e o'er to dunt. Till in a fat tar barrel Mause be brunt. Sir William. Wiel, Bauldy, whate'er's just shall granted be ; Let Mause be brought this morning down to me. Bauldy, Thanks to your honour, soon shall I obey; But first I'll Roger raise, and twa three ujae, F 62 To catcJi lier fast, e er she gel leave to squeel. And east her cantraips that bring up tlie de'il. [Eccit. Sir William, Troth, Symon, Bauldy's more afraid than hurt, (sport. The >vitch and ghaist liave made themselves good What silly notions crowd the clouded mind. That is through want of education blind ! [thing, Symon. But does your honour think there's nae sic As witches raising de'ils up thro' a ring. Syne playing tricks ; a thousand I eou'd tell, Cou'd never be contriv'd on this side hell, -Sir William. Such as the devil's dancing in a muir. Amongst a few old women, craz'd and poor, Wlio are rejoic'd to see him frisk and lowp O'er braes and bogs, wi' candles in his dowp ; Appearing sometimes like a black horn'd cow, Aftimes like bawty, badrans, or a sow ; Then wi' his train thro' airy paths to glide, Wliile they on cats, or clowns, or broomstaifs ride. Or in the egg-shell skim out o'er the main. To drink their leader's health in France or Spaing Then, aft by night bombaze hare-hearled fools. By tumbling down their cupboard, chairs and stools, Whate'er's in spells, or if there witches be. Such whimsies seem the most absurd to me. Sumon. 'Tis true enough, we ne'er heard tliat >i witch Had eitlier meikle sense, or yet was rich : But Mause, tho' poor, is a sagacious wife : And lives a quiet and very honest life. That gars me think this hobleshew that's past Will land in naething but a joke at last. Sir Will I'm sure it will ; but see encreasing ligM Commands the imps of darkness down to night ; Bid raise my servants, and my horse prepai'e. Whilst I walk out to take the morning air. SANG XX. Tune, Bonny grey-ey^d mom. The bonny grey-ey'd morning begins to peep. And darkness flies before the rising ray. 63 l%e hearty hind starts from his lazy sleep. To follow healthful labours of the day. Without a guilty stiug to wrinkle his hrow. The lark and the linnet 'tend his levee, And he Joins their coneert, driving the plow. From toil of grimaee and pageantry free. While fluster'd with wine, or madden'd with loss Of half an estate, the prey of a main, The drunkard and gamester tumble and toss, Wishing for calmness and slumber in vain. Be my portion, health and quietness of mind, Plac'd at a due distance from parties and state. Where neither ambition nor avarice blind, Reach him who has happiness link'd lo his fate. [Exeunt, SCEOT^: II. PHOLOGUK. While Peg'gy laces up her bosom fair, Wi' a blue snood, Jenny binds up her hair ; Glaud by his morning ingie taks a beek. The rising" sun shines motty thro' the reek ; A pipe his mouth, the lasses please his een. And now and then his joke maun interveen. GLAUD, JENNY and PEGGY. Glaud, I wish, my bairns, it may keep fair till night. Ye dinna use sac soon to see the liglit ; Nae doubt now ye intend to mix the thrang. To tak^ your leave of Patrick or he gang : But do you think that now when he's a laird. That he poor landwart lasses will regard ? Jenny, Tho' he's young master now, I'm very sure, He has mair sense than slight auld friends, tho' poor : But yesterday he ga*e us mony a tug. And kiss'd my cousin there frae lug to lug. Glaud, Ay, ay, nae doubt o't, and he'll do't again 5 But be advis'd, his company refrain : Before, he, as a shepherd, sought a wife. 64 "Wi' her to live a chaste and ft* usjal life ; But now grown g;entle5 sooh he >vill forsake Sic j^odly thoughts, and hrag of heing a rake. Feggy, A rake ! what's that ? — Sure if it means ought ill. He'll never he't, else I ha'e tint my skill. Glaud, Daft lassie, ye ken nought of the aftair, Ane young and good and gentle's unco rare : A rake's a graceless spark, that thinks nae shame To do what like of us thinks sin to name ; Sic are sae void of shame, they'll never stap To hrag how aften tliey ha'e had the clap : They'll tempt young things like you, wi' youdith fiush'd, Syne mak' ye a' their jest when ye're dchauch'd. Be wary then I say, and never gi'e Encouragement, or bourd wi* sic as he. Peggif, Sir William's virtuous, and of gentle blood ; And may not Patrick too, like him, be good ? Glmid. That's true, and mony gentry mae than he, As they are wiser, better are than we. But thinner sawn ; they're sae puft up wi' pride, 'J 'here's mony of them mocks ilk haly guide That shaws tlie gate to heav'n ; — I've heai^d mysell. Some o' them laugh at doomsday, sin, and hell. Jenny. Watch 6'er us father ! heh ! that's very odd. Sure him that doubts a doomsday, doubts a God. Gland, Doubt ! why they neitlier doubt, nor judge, nor think, ^ Nor hope, nor fear: but curse, debauch, and drink : But I'm no saying this, as if I thought That Patrick to sic gates will e'er be brought. Peggtj, The IiOi*d forbid ! Na, he kens better things; But here comes aunt, her face some ferly brings. Enter MADGE. Madge. IFaste, haste ye, we're a* sent for o'er the gate. To hear, and help to red some odd debate 'Tween Mause and Bauldy, 'bout some witchcraft spell, 65 At Symon's house, the knight sits judge himsell. GlauiL Lend me my staff; — Madge, lock tlie outer door. And hring the lasses wi' ye ; I'll step hefore. [EodL Madge, Poor Meg ! — Look, Jenny, was the like e'er seen ? How bleer'd and red wi' greeting look her een ! This day her hrankan wooer takes his horse. To strut a gentle spark at Edinburgh cross : To change his kent cut frae the branchy plain^ For a nice sword and glancing headed cane ; To lea^e his ram-horn spoons, and kitted whey. For gentler tea, that smells lilve new-won hay ; 1^0 leave the green-swaird dance when we gae milk^ To rustle 'mang the beauties clad in silk. But Meg, poor Meg ! maun wi' the shepherd stay. And tak' what God will send in hodden-gray. Feggy. Dear aunt, what needs ye fash us wi* your scorn ; It's no my faut that I'm nae gentler born. Gif I the daughter of some laird had been, I ne'er had notic'd Patie on the green : Now since he rises, why should I repine ? If he's made for another, he'll ne'er be mine. And then, the like has been, if the decree Designs him mine, I yet his wife may be. Madge, A bonny story, troth ! — ^But we delay 5 Prin up your aprons balth, and come away. [Exeunt* T% 66 SCENE in. FBOLOGUE. Sir William fills tlie twa arm'd chair. While Symon, Rog-er, Glaud, and Mause Attend, and wi' loud laug-hter hear Daft Bauldy bluntly plead his cause : For now 'tis teli'd him that the taz Was handled by revengefu' Madge, Because he brak' good breeding's laws, And wi' his nonsense r^s'd their rage. Sir \VILLIA31, PATIE, ROGER, SYMON, GLAUD, BAULDY and MAUSE. Sir William, And Avas that all ? — Wiel, Bauldy, ye was serv'd No otherwise than what ye well deserv'd. Was it so small a matter to defame, And thus abuse an honest woman's name? Besides your going about to have betray'd By perjury, an innocent young maid. Bimldy. Sir, I confess my faut thro' a' the steps. And ne'er again shall be untrue to Neps. Maiise, aIius far, Sir, lie oblig'd me on the score, I kend na that they thought me sic before. Bauldij, An't like your honour, I believ'd it wiel ; But troth I was een doilt to seek the de'il ; Yet wi' your honour's leave tho' she's nae witch. She's baith a slee and a revengefu'— And that my some place finds ; — ^but I had best Had in my tongue for yonder comes the ghaisU And the young bonny witch, whase rosy cheek Sent me, without my wit, the de'il to seek. Enter MADGE, PEGGY, and JENNY. Sir William, [looking at Peggy,] Whose daughter's she that wears th' Aurora gown. With face so fair and locks a lovely brown ? How sparkling are her eyes ! what's this ! 1 find The girl brings all my sister to my mind. Such were the features once adorn'd a face. Which death too soon depriv'd of sweetest grace. Is this your daughter, Glaud ?— 67 Glaud. Sir, she's my nieee— And yet slie's not — but 1 shoiiM had my peace. Sir William. This is a contradiction ; what d'^c mean ? She is, and is not ! pray thee Gland, explain. Gland, Because I doubt, if I shou'd mak' appear'} What I have kept a secret thirteen year— i Mause, You may reveal what I can fully clear. J Sir William, Speak soon ; I'm all impatience ! — Fatie, So am I ! For much I liope and hardly yet know why. Gland, — Then, since my master orders, I obey — » This honny foundling ae clear morn of May, Close by the lee side of my door I found. All sweet and clean and carefully hapt round, In infant weeds, of rich and gentle make. ^V^hat cou'd they be, thought I, did thee forsake ? Wha, warse than brutes, cou'd leave expos'd to air Sae much of innocence, sae sweetly fair, Sae helpless young ? for she appear'd to me Only about twa towmands auld to be. I took her in my arms, the bairnie smil'd "Wi' sic a look wad made a savage mild. I hid the story, she had pass*d since syne As a poor orphan, and a niece of mine : Nor do I rue my care about the wean. For she's Aviel worth the jmins that I ha'e tane. Ye see she's bonny i I cati swear she's good. And I am right shure she's come of gentle blood ; Of whom I kenna — naithing ken I mair. Than what I to your honour now declare. Sir William, Tiiis tale seems strange ! — Fatie,"-' — The tale delights my ear ! Sir William, Command your joys^ young man, till truth appear. {hush, Mause, lliat be my task.— Now, Sir, bid a' bo Peggy may smile — Thou hast nae cause to blush, Lang ha'e I wish'd to see this happy day. That I might safely to the truth gi'e way ,• That I may now Sir William Worthy name The best fmd nearest friend that she can claim. He saw't at first ainl wi' quick eye did trace '} 68 His sistep*s l>eaiity in her daughter's face. Sir William. Old woman, do not rave, prove what you say ; 'Tis dang'rous in affairs like this to play. Patie, What reason. Sir, can an aidd woman have To tell a lie, when she's sae near her grave ? But how, or why, it should be truth, I grant, I every thing look's like a reason want. Omnes. The story's odd ! we wish to hear it out. Sir William. Make haste, good woman, andresolv* each doubt. [Mause goes forward^ leading Peggy to Sir IVilliam. Mause. Sir, view me wiel ; has fifteen years so plow'd A wrinkled face that you hae often view'd. That here I as an unknown stranger stand, Who nurs'd her mother that now holds my hand Yet stronger proofs I'll gi'e if you demand. Sir William. Ha ! honest nurse, where were my eyes before ? I know thy faithfulness, I need no more ; Yet from the lab'rinth to lead out my mind^ Say, to expose her, who was so unkind ? [Sir Will, embraces Peggy, and makes liersit hyhim.'] Yes, surely thou'rt my necie ; truth must prevail : But no more words ill Mause relate her tale. Patie, Good nurse gae on ; no music's haff sae fine. Or can gi'e pleasure like these words of thiue. Manse. Then it was I that sav'd her infant life. Her death being threaten'd by an uncle's wife. The story's lang ; but I the secret knew. How they pursu'd m' avaricious view Her rich estate, of which they're now possest; All this to me a confident confest. I heard wi' horror and >vi* trembling dread. They'd smoor the sakeless orphan in her bed. That very night, when all were sunk in rest. At midnight hour the floor I saftly prest. And staw the sleeping innocent away, Wi' whom I travell'd some few miles e'er day. A' day I hid me ; — ^when the day was done, I kept my journey lighted by the moon, 69 'Till eastward fifty miles I reaeltM these plains, Where needfu' plenty glads your eheerful swains. Afraid of being found out, and, to secure My charge, 1 laid her at this sbepher,i*s door ; And took a neiji^hbouring cottage here, that i. What e'er shouM happen to her, might be by. Here, honest Glaud him sell, and Symon may llemeniber wiel how I that very day Frae Roger's father took my little cruve. Glaud, [with tears of joy happing down his heard.] I wiel remember't : Lord reward your love ! Jiang ha'e I wish'd for this ; for aft 1 thought Sic knowledge sometime shou'd about be brought, Patie, 'Tis now a crime to doubt — my joys are full, Wi' due obedience to a parent's will. Sir, wi' paternal love survey hei? charms, And blame me not for rushing to her arms ; She's mine by vows, and would, tho* still unknown, Ha'e been my wife, when I my vows durst own. Sir William, ^ly niece, my daughter, welcome to my care, Sweet image of thy mother good and fair. Equal with l*atrick ; now my greatest aim Shall be to aid your joys, and well-matoh'd flame. My boy, receive her fi om your father's hand, With as good will as either would demand. [Patk and Peggy embrace^ and kneel to Sir William,] Patie. Wi' as much joy this blessing I receive. As ane wad life that's sinking in a wave. Sir William, [raises them.] I give you both my blessing, may your love Produce a happy race, and still improve. Peggy. My wishes are complete — my joys arise. While I'm haff dizzy wi' the blest surprise. And am I then a match for my ain lad. That for me so much generous kindness had ? Lang may Sir William bless these happy plains, Happy while Heaven grant he on them remains. Patie. Be lang our guardian, still our master be; We'll only crave what you shall please to gi'e : The estate be your's, my Peggy's ane to me. Glaud. I hope your honour now will tak' amends ] 70 Of them that soiiarht her life for wicked ends. Sir William, The base unnatural villain soon shall know. That eyes ahove watch the affairs below, lil strip him soon of ail to her pertains, Aiid make him reimburse his ill-got gains. Peggy. To me ihc views of wealth and an estate, Seem Tight when put in balance with my Pate : For his sake only, I'll ay thankful how For sucii a kindness, hest of men, to yon. [day ! Symon, What double hlythness wakens up thi<s I hope now. Sir, you'll no soon haste away. Shall I unsaddle your horse, and gar prepare A dinner for ye of hale country fare ? See how much joy un wrinkles every brow : Our looks hing on the twa and doat on you : Even Bauldy the bewitch'd has quite forgot i^'ell Madge's taz, and pawky Manse's plot. [day ! Sir William, Kindly old man, remain with yon this 1 never from these lields again will stray : Mason* and wrights my house shall soon repair, And busy gard'ners shall new planting rear : My father's hearty table you soon shall see Restored, and, my best friends rejoice with me. Symon. That's the hest news I heard this twenty year ! New day breaks up, rough times begin to clear. Glaud. God save the king and save sir William lang, T' enjoy their ain, and raise the shepherd's sang. J{oge}\ Whawimia dance, wha will refuse to sing? What shepherd's whistle winna lilt the spring ? Bauldy. I'm friends wi' Mause — wi' very Madge I'm gree'd, Altho* they skelpit me when woodly fleid^ I'm now fu' blyth, and frankly can forgive. To join and sing, <* Lang may Sir William live." Madge. Lang may he live — and, Baiddy, learn to steek Your gab a wee, and think before you speak ; And never ca' her auld that wants a man, Flse ye may yet some witch's fingers ban. This day I'll wi' the youngest of you rant. 71 And brag for ay tliat I was ca'd the aunt Of our young lady, — my dear bonny bairn ! Pe^gy. 'Niie other name I'll ever for you learn: And, my good nurse how shall 1 grateful be For a' thy matchless kindness done for me ? Mause. The flo^ving pleasures of this happy day Does fully a' I can require repay. Sir William. To faithful Symon, and, kind"^ Glaud, to you, ! And to your heirs, I give in endless feu, T The mailens ye possess, as justly due, J For acting as kind fatiiers to the pair, >V ho have enough besides, and these can spare. Mause in my house in calmness, close your days, "With nought to do but sing your Maker's praise. Omnts. The Lord of Heaven return your honour's love. Confirm your joys, and a' your blessings roove. Paiic presenting JS^oger to Sir William. Sir, here's my trusty friend, tliat always shar*d ISly bosom secrets, ere I was a laird : Gland's daughter, Janet, (Jenny, think nae shame,) Rais'd and maintains in him a lover's flame : Lang was he dumb, at last he spake and won. And hopes to be our honest uncle's son ; Be pleas'd to speak to Glaud for his consent, That nane may >vear a face of discontent, [me crave. Sir William', My son's demand is fair — Glaud, let Tliat trusty Roger may your daughter have With frank consent; and while he does remain Upon these iields, I make him chamberlain. Glaud. You crowd your bounties. Sir ; what can~1 we say, ! But that we're dyvours that can ne'er repay ? \ Whate'er your honour wills, I shall obey. J Roger, my daughter wi' my blessing take. And still our master's right your business make : Please him, be faithful, and this auld gray head Shall nod wi' quietness down amangtlie dead. Boger. I ne'er was good at speaking a* my days, Or ever loo'd to mak' o'er great a fraise ; Zliit for my master, fatlier and njy wife. J J72 I Mill employ the cares of a* my liiRe. Sir Williom. My friends, I'm satisly*d you'll all be- have. Each in his station, as Vi\ wish to crave. Be ever via tuous, soon or late you'll find Reward and satisfaction to your mhid. The maze of life sometimes looks dark and wild ; And oft, when hopes are highest, we're beguii'il. Aft when we stand on brinks of dark despair. Some happy turn with joy dispels our caje. Now all's at rights, who sings best let me hear. Peggy. AVhen you demand, 1 readiest should obey; I'll sing you ane, the newest tliat I lia*e. SANG XXI. Tune, Corn riggs are bonny. My Patie is a lover gay, His mind is never muddy ; His breath is sweeter than new hay, His face is fair and ruddy ; His shape is handsome, middle size ; He's comly in his wauking : The shining of his een surprise ; 'Tis heav'n to hear him tanking. JLast night I met him on a bauk, Where yellow corn was growing, There mony a kindly word he spak' That set my heart a glowing. He kiss'd, and vow'd he wad be mine. And loo'd me best of ony, That gars me like to sing sinsyne, O corn riggs are bonny. Let lasses of a silly mind Refuse what maist they're wanting ! Since we for yielding were design'd, We chastely should be granting. Then I'll comply anid marry Pate, And syne my cockemony He's free to tousle air or late, While corn riggs are bonny. [JBa?eimf omnes. ^^^j I ^ / \