University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Sir William fills the twa-arm'd Chair,
While Symon, Roger, Glaud and Mause,
Attend, and with loud Laughter hear
Daft Bauldy bluntly plead his Cause:
For now 'tis tell'd him that the Taz
Was handled by revengefu' Madge,
Because he brak good Breeding's Laws,
And with his Nonsense rais'd their Rage.

S. Will.
And was that all? Well, 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.

Baul.
Sir, I confess my Faut thro' a' the Steps,
And ne'er again shall be untrue to Neps.

Maus.
Thus far, Sir, he oblig'd me on the Score;
I kend not that they thought me sic before.

Baul.
An't like your Honour, I believ'd it well;
But trowth I was e'en doilt to seek the Deil:
Yet, with 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 Ghaist,
And the young bonny Witch, whase rosy Cheek
Sent me, without my Wit, the Deil 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! I 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?—

Glaud.
—Sir, she's my Niece;—
And yet she's not:—But I should hald my Peace.

S. Will.
This is a Contradiction: What d'ye mean?
She is, and is not! Pray thee, Glaud, explain.

Glaud.
Because I doubt, if I should make appear
What I have kept a Secret thirteen Year.

Mause.
You may reveal what I can fully clear.

S. Will.
Speak soon; I'm all Impatience!—

Pat.
—So am I!
For much I hope, and hardly yet know why.

Glaud.
Then, since my Master orders, I obey.
This Bonny Fundling, 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.
What 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 hopeless young? For she appear'd to me
Only about twa Towmands auld to be.
I took her in my Arms, the Bairnie smil'd
With sic a Look wad made a Savage mild.
I hid the Story: She has past sincesyne
As a poor Orphan, and a Niece of mine.
Nor do I rue my Care about the We'an,
For she's well worth the Pains that I have tane.
Ye see she's bonny, I can swear she's good,
And am right sure she's come of gentle Blood:
Of whom I kenna.—Nathing ken I mair,
Than what I to your Honour now declare.

S. Will.
This Tale seems strange!—

Pat.
—The Tale delights my Ear;

S. Will.
Command your Joys, young Man, till Truth appear.

Maus.
That be my Task.—Now, Sir, bid all be hush;
Peggy may smile;—thou hast nae Cause to blush.
Long have I wish'd to see this happy Day,
That I might safely to the Truth give way;
That I may now Sir William Worthy name,
The best and nearest Friend that she can claim:
He saw't at first, and with quick Eye did trace
His Sister's Beauty in her Daughter's Face.

S. Will.
Old Woman, do not rave,—prove what you say;
'Tis dangerous in Affairs like this to play.

Pat.
What Reason, Sir, can an old 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 looks like a Reason want.

Omnes.
The Story's odd! we wish we heard it out.

S. Will.
Mak haste, good Woman, and resolve each Doubt.

Mause goes forward, leading Peggy to Sir William.
Maus.
Sir, view me well: Has fifteen Years so plow'd
A wrinkled Face that you have 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 give, if you demand.

S. Will.
Ha! honest Nurse, where were my Eyes before!
I know thy Faithfulness, and need no more;
Yet, from the Lab'rinth to lead out my Mind,
Say, to expose her who was so unkind.
Sir William embraces Peggy, and makes her sit by him.
Yes, surely thou'rt my Niece; Truth must prevail:
But no more Words, till Mause relate her Tale.

Pat.
Good Nurse, go on; nae Musick's haff sae fine,
Or can give Pleasure like these Words of thine.

Maus.
Then, it was I that sav'd her Infant-life,
Her Death being threatned by an Uncle's Wife.
The Story's lang; but I the Secret knew,
How they pursu'd, with avaritious View,
Her rich Estate, of which they're now possest:
All this to me a Confident confest.
I heard with Horror, and with 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;
With whom I travel'd some few Miles e'er Day:
All Day I hid me,—when the Day was done,
I kept my Journey, lighted by the Moon,
Till Eastward fifty Miles I reach'd these Plains,
Where needful Plenty glads your chearful Swains;
Afraid of being found out, I to secure
My Charge, e'en laid her at this Shepherd's Door,
And took a neighbouring Cottage here, that I,
Whate'er should happen to her, might be by.
Here honest Glaud himsell, and Symon may
Remember well, how I that very Day
Frae Roger's Father took my little Crove.

Glaud,
with Tears of Joy happing down his Beard.
I well remember't. Lord reward your Love:
Lang have I wish'd for this; for aft I thought,
Sic Knowledge sometime should about be brought.

Pat.
'Tis now a Crime to doubt,—my Joys are full,
With due Obedience to my Parent's Will.
Sir, with paternal Love survey her Charms,
And blame me not for rushing to her Arms.
She's mine by Vows; and would, tho' still unknown,
Have been my Wife, when I my Vows durst own.

S. Will.
My Niece, my Daughter, welcome to my Care,
Sweet Image of thy Mother good and fair,
Equal with Patrick: Now my greatest Aim
Shall be, to aid your Joys, and well match'd Flame.
My Boy, receive her from your Father's Hand,
With as good Will as either would demand.

Patie and Peggy embrace, and kneel to Sir William.
Pat.
With 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.

Peg.
My Wishes are compleat,—my Joys arise,
While I'm haff dizzy with 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.

Pat.
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 take amends
Of them that sought her Life for wicked Ends.

S. Will.
The base unnatural Villain soon shall know,
That Eyes above watch the Affairs below.
I'll strip him soon of all to her pertains,
And make him reimburse his ill got Gains.

Peg.
To me the Views of Wealth and an Estate,
Seem light when put in Ballance with my Pate:
For his Sake only, I'll ay thankful bow
For such a Kindness, best of Men, to you.

Sym.
What double Blythness wakens up this Day!
I hope now, Sir, you'll no soon haste away.
Sall I unsadle your Horse, and gar prepare
A Dinner for ye of hale Country Fare?
See how much Joy unwrinkles every Brow;
Our Looks hing on the twa, and doat on you:
Even Bauldy the Bewitch'd has quite forgot
Fell Madge's Taz, and pawky Mause's Plot.

S. Will.
Kindly old Man, remain with you this Day,
I never from these Fields again will stray:
Masons and Wrights shall soon my House repair,
And bussy Gardners shall new Planting rear;
My Father's hearty Table you soon shall see
Restor'd, and my best Friends rejoyce with me.

Sym.
That's the best 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,
To enjoy their ain, and raise the Shepherds Sang.

Rog.
Wha winna dance? wha will refuse to sing?
What Shepherd's Whistle winna lilt the Spring?

Baul.
I'm Friends with Mause,—with very Madge I'm 'greed,
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.

Mad.
Lang may he live:—And, Bauldy, learn to steek
Your Gab a wee, and think before ye speak;
And never ca' her auld that wants a Man,
Else ye may yet some Witches Fingers ban.
This Day I'll wi' the youngest of ye rant,
And brag for ay, that I was ca'd the Aunt
Of our young Lady,—my dear bonny Bairn!

Peg.
No other Name I'll ever for you learn.—
And, my good Nurse, how shall I gratefu' be,
For a' thy matchless Kindness done for me?

Maus.
The flowing Pleasures of this happy Day
Does fully all I can require repay.

S. Will.
To faithful Symon, and, kind Glaud, to you,
And to your Heirs I give in endless Feu,
The Mailens ye possess, as justly due,
For acting like kind Fathers to the Pair,
Who 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.

Omnes.
The Lord of Heaven return your Honour's Love,
Confirm your Joys, and a' your Blessings roove.

Patie,
presenting Roger to Sir William.
Sir, here's my trusty Friend, that always shar'd
My Bosom-secrets, ere I was a Laird;
Glaud's Daughter Janet (Jenny, thinkna 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 wear a Face of Discontent.

S. Will.
My Son's Demand is fair,—Glaud, let me crave,
That trusty Roger may your Daughter have,
With frank Consent; and while he does remain
Upon these Fields, I make him Chamberlain.

Glaud.
You crowd your Bounties, Sir, what can we say,
But that we're Dyvours that can ne'er repay?
Whate'er your Honour wills, I shall obey.
Roger, my Daughter, with my Blessing, take,
And still our Master's Right your Business make,
Please him, be faithful, and this auld gray Head
Shall nod with Quietness down amang the Dead.

Rog.
I ne'er was good a speaking a' my Days,
Or ever loo'd to make o'er great a Fraise:
But for my Master, Father and my Wife,
I will employ the Cares of all my Life.

S. Will.
My Friends, I'm satisfied you'll all behave,
Each in his Station, as I'd wish or crave.
Be ever vertuous, soon or late you'll find
Reward, and Satisfaction to your Mind.
The Maze of Life sometimes looks dark and wild;
And oft when Hopes are highest, we're beguil'd.
Aft, when we stand on Brinks of dark Despair,
Some happy Turn with Joy dispells our Care.
Now all's at Rights, who sings best let me hear.

Peg.
Sings to the Tune of Corn-riggs are bonny.

Exeunt omnes.