University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Now turn your Eyes beyond yon spreading Lime,
And tent a Man whase Beard seems bleech'd with Time;
An Elvand fills his Hand, his Habit mean:
Nae doubt ye'll think he has a Pedlar been.
But whisht! it is the 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'news, anes delightfu' Groves.

Sir WILLIAM
solus.

Exit.

SCENE II.

'Tis Symon's House, please to step in,
And vissy't round and round;
There's nought superfluous to give Pain,
Or costly to be found.
Yet all is clean: A clear Peat-Ingle
Glances amidst the Floor;
The Green-Horn Spoons, Beech-Luggies mingle,
On Skelfs foregainst the Door.
While the young Brood sport on the Green,
The auld anes think it best,
With the Brown Cow to clear their Een,
Snuff, crack, and take their Rest.

SYMON, GLAUD and ELSPA.
Glaud.
We anes were young our sells—I like to see
The Bairns bob round with other merrilie.
Troth, Symon, Patie's grown a strapan Lad,
And better Looks than his I never bade.
Amang our Lads, he bears the Gree awa',
And tells his Tale the cleverest of them a'.

Els.
Poor Man!—he's a great Comfort to us baith:
GOD mak him good, and hide him ay frae Skaith.
He is a Bairn, I'll say't, well worth our Care,
That ga'e us ne'er Vexation late or air.

Glaud.
I trow, Goodwife, if I be not mistane,
He seems to be with Peggy's Beauty tane,
And troth, my Niece is a right dainty We'an,
As ye well ken: A bonnier needna be,
Nor better,—be't she were nae Kin to me.

Sym.
Ha! Glaud, I doubt that ne'er will be a Match;
My Patie's wild, and will be ill to catch:
And or he were, for Reasons I'll no tell,
I'd rather be mixt with the Mools my sell.

Glaud.
What Reason can ye have? There's nane, I'm sure,
Unless ye may cast up that she's but poor:
But gif the Lassie marry to my Mind,
I'll be to her as my ain Jenny kind.
Fourscore of breeding Ews of my ain Birn,
Five Ky that at ae Milking fills a Kirn,
I'll gi'e to Peggy that Day she's a Bride;
By and attour, gif my good Luck abide,
Ten Lambs at Spaining-time, as lang's I live,
And twa Quey Cawfs I'll yearly to them give.

Els.
Ye offer fair, kind Glaud; but dinna speer
What may be is not fit ye yet should here.

Sym.
Or this Day eight days likely he shall learn,
That our Denial disna slight his Bairn.

Glaud.
Well, nae mair o't,—come, gie's the other Bend;
We'll drink their Healths, whatever Way it end.

Their Healths gae round.
Sym.
But will ye tell me, Glaud,—by some 'tis said,
Your Niece is but a Fundling that was laid
Down at your Hallon-side, ae Morn in May,
Right clean row'd up, and bedded on dry Hay.

Glaud.
That clatteran Madge, my Titty, tells sic Flaws,
When e'er our Meg her cankart Humour gaws.

Enter Jenny.
Jen.
O Father! there's an auld Man 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 gie's our Brows a Look;
Syne tells the oddest Tales that e'er ye heard.
His Head is gray, and lang and gray his Beard.

Sym.
Gae bring him in; we'll hear what he can say:
Name shall gang hungry by my House to Day.
Exit Jenny.
But for his telling Fortunes, troth I fear,
He kens nae mair of that than my gray Mare.

Glaud.
Spae-men! the Truth of a' their Saws I doubt;
For greater Liars never ran there out.

Returns Jenny, bringing in Sir William; with them Patie.
Sym.
Ye're welcome, honest Carle;—here take a Seat.

S. Will.
I give ye Thanks, Goodman; I'se no be blate.

Glaud
drinks.
Come t'ye, Friend:—How far came ye the Day?

S. Will.
I pledge ye, Nibour:—E'en but little Way:
Rousted with Eild, a wee Piece Gate seems lang;
Twa Miles or three's the maist that I dow gang.

Sym.
Ye're welcome here to stay all Night with me,
And take sic Bed and Board as we can gi' ye.

S. Will.
That's kind unsought.—Well, gin ye have a Bairn
That ye like well, and wad his Fortune learn,
I shall employ the farthest of my Skill,
To spae it faithfully, be't good or ill.

Symon
pointing to Patie.
Only that Lad;—alake! I have nae mae,
Either to make me joyful now, or wae.

S. Will.
Young Man, let's see your Hand;—what gars ye sneer?

Pat.
Because your Skill's but little worth I fear.

S. Will.
Ye cut before the Point.—But, Billy, bide,
I'll wager there's a Mouse Mark on your Side.

Els.
Betooch-us-to! and well I wat that's true:
Awa, awa! the Deil's o'er grit wi' you.
Four Inch aneath his Oxter is the Mark,
Scarce ever seen since he first wore a Sark.

S. Will.
I'll tell ye mair, if this young Lad be spar'd
But a short while, he'll be a braw rich Laird.

Elsp.
A Laird!—Hear ye, Goodman! What think ye now?

Sym.
I dinna ken: Strange auld Man! What art thou?
Fair fa' your Heart; 'tis good to bode of Wealth:
Come turn the Timmer to Laird Patie's Health.

Patie's Health gaes round.
Pat.
A Laird of twa good Whistles, and a Kent,
Twa Curs, my trusty Tenants, on the Bent,
Is all my great Estate—and like to be:
Sae, cunning Carle, ne'er break your Jokes on me.

Sym.
Whisht, Patie,—let the Man look o'er your Hand,
Aftimes as broken a Ship has come to Land.

Sir William looks a little at Patie's Hand, then counterfeits falling into a Trance, while they endeavour to lay him right.
Elsp.
Preserve's! the Man's a Warlock, or possest
With 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 yont the Moon.

Elsp.
These second sighted Fowk, his Peace be here!
See things far aff, and things to come, as clear
As I can see my Thumb—Wow, can he tell
(Speer at him, soon as he comes to himsell)
How soon we'll see Sir William? Whisht, he heaves,
And speaks out broken Words like ane that raves.

Sym.
He'll soon grow better;—Elspa, haste ye, gae,
And fill him up a Tass of Usquebae.

Sir William
starts up, and speaks.
A Knight that for a LYON fought,
Against 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, shall bring
A Shepherd frae the Fauld,
And shall present him to his King,
A Subject true and bauld.
He Mr. Patrick shall be call'd:
All you that hear me now,
May well believe what I have tald;
For it shall happen true.

Sym.
Friend, may your Spaeing happen soon and weel;
But, faith, I'm redd you've bargain'd with the Deil,
To tell some Tales that Fowks wad secret keep:
Or do ye get them tald you in your Sleep?

S. Will.
Howe'er I get them, never fash your Beard;
Nor come I to redd Fortunes for Reward:
But I'll lay ten to ane with ony here,
That all I prophesy shall soon appear.

Sym.
You prophesying Fowks are odd kind Men!
They're here that ken, and here that disna ken,
The wimpled Meaning of your unco Tale,
Whilk soon will mak a Noise o'er Moor and Dale.

Glaud.
'Tis nae sma' Sport to hear how Sym believes,
And takes't for Gospel what the Spae-man gives
Of flawing Fortunes, whilk he evens to Pate:
But what we wish, we trow at ony Rate.

S. Will.
Whisht, doubtfu' Carle; for ere the Sun
Has driven twice down to the Sea,
What I have said ye shall see done
In part, or nae mair credit me.

Glaud.
Well, be't sae, Friend, I shall say nathing mair;
But I've twa sonsy Lasses young and fair,
Plump ripe for Men: I wish ye cou'd foresee
Sic Fortunes for them might prove Joy to me.

S. Will.
Nae mair thro' Secrets can I sift,
Till Darkness black the Bent:
I have but anes a day that Gift;
Sae rest a while content.

Sym.
Elspa, cast on the Claith, fetch butt some Meat,
And, of your best, gar this auld Stranger eat.

S. Will.
Delay a while your hospitable Care;
I'd rather enjoy this Evening calm and fair,
Around yon ruin'd Tower, to fetch a Walk
With you, kind Friend, to have some private Talk.

Sym.
Soon as you please I'll answer your Desire:—
And, Glaud, you'll take your Pipe beside the Fire;
We'll but gae round the 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, abeit my Locks be gray.

Exeunt.

SCENE III.

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, well hid frae sight, they meet:
See Jenny's laughing; Roger's like to greet.
Poor Shepherd!

ROGER and JENNY.
Rog.
Dear Jenny, I wad speak to ye, wad ye let;
And yet I ergh, ye're ay sae scornfu' set.

Jen.
And what would Roger say, if he could speak?
Am I oblig'd to guess what ye're to seek.

Rog.
Yes, ye may guess right eith for what I grein,
Baith by my Service, Sighs, and langing Een.
And I maun out wi't, tho' I risk your Scorn;
Ye're never frae my Thoughts baith Ev'n and Morn.
Ah! cou'd I loo ye less, I'd happy be;
But happier far, cou'd ye but fancy me.

Jen.
And wha kens, honest Lad, but that I may;
Ye canna say that e'er I said ye nay.

Rog.
Alake! my frighted Heart begins to fail,
When e'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 ly.

Jen.
I loo my Father, Cousin Meg I love;
But to this Day, nae Man my Mind could move:
Except my Kin, ilk Lad's alike to me;
And frae ye all I best had keep me free.

Rog.
How 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?

Jen.
Ye have my Pity else, to see ye set
On that whilk makes our Sweetness soon foryet.
Wow! but we're bonny, good, and every thing;
How sweet we breathe, when e'er we kiss, or sing!
But we're nae sooner Fools to give Consent,
Than we our Daffine and tint Power repent:
When prison'd in four Waws, a Wife right tame,
Altho' the first, the greatest Drudge at hame.

Rog.
That only happens, when for sake of Gear,
Ane wales a Wife, as he wad buy a Mear;
Or when dull Parents Bairns together bind
Of different Tempers, that can ne'er prove kind.
But Love, true downright Love, engages me,
Tho' thou should scorn,—still to delight in thee.

Jen.
What suggar'd Words frae Woers Lips can fa'!
But girning Marriage comes and ends them a'.
I've seen with shining Fair the Morning rise,
And soon the sleety Clouds mirk a' the Skies.
I've seen the Silver Spring a while rin clear,
And soon in Mossy Puddles disappear.
Ths Bridegroom may rejoice, the Bride may smile;
But soon Contentions a' their Joys beguile.

Rog.
I've seen the Morning rise with fairest Light,
The Day unclouded sink in calmest Night.
I've seen the Spring rin wimpling thro' the Plain,
Increase and join the Ocean without Stain.
The Bridegroom may be blyth, the Bride may smile;
Rejoice thro' Life, and all your Fears beguile.

Jen.
Were I but sure you lang wou'd Love maintain,
The fewest Words my easy Heart could gain:
For I maun own, since now at last you're free,
Altho' I jok'd, I lov'd your Company;
And ever had a Warmness in my Breast,
That made ye dearer to me than the rest.

Rog.
I'm happy now! o'er happy! had my Head!—
This Gush of Pleasure's like to be my Dead.
Come to my Arms! or strike me! I'm all fir'd
With wondring 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

Jen.
With equal Joy my easy Heart gi'es Way,
To own thy well try'd Love has won the Day.
Now by these warmest Kisses thou has tane,
Swear thus to love me, when by Vows made ane.

Rog.
I swear by Fifty thousand yet to come,
Or may the first ane strike me deaf and dumb,
There shall not be a kindlier dawted Wife,
If you agree with me to lead your Life.

Jen.
Well, I agree:—Neist, to my Parent gae,
Get his Consent;—he'll hardly say ye nay.
Ye have what will commend ye to him well,
Auld Fowks like them that wants na Milk and Meal.

Rog.
My Faulds contain twice fifteen Forrow Nowt,
As mony Newcal in my Byers 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,
With meikle 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 all; which now gi'es Joy to me,
Because I can give a', my Dear, to thee:
And had I fifty times as meikle mair,
Nane but my Jenny should the samen skair.
My Love and All is yours; now had them fast,
And guide them as ye like, to gar them last.

Jen.
I'll do my best—But see wha comes this Way,
Patie and Meg;—besides, I mauna stay:
Let's steal frae ither now, and meet the Morn;
If we be seen, we'll drie a deal of Scorn.

Rog.
To where the Saugh-trees shades the Mennin-pool,
I'll frae the Hill come down, when Day grows cool:
Keep Triste, and meet me there;—there let us meet,
To kiss, and tell our Love;—there's nought sae sweet.

SCENE IV.

Sir WILLIAM and SYMON.
S. Will.
To whom belongs this House so much decay'd?

Sym.

S. Will.
Rise, faithful Symon; in my Arms enjoy
A Place, thy Due, kind Guardian of my Boy:
I came to view thy Care in this Disguise,
And am confirm'd thy Conduct has been wise;
Since still the Secret thou'st securely seal'd,
And ne'er to him his real Birth reveal'd.

Sym.
The due Obedience to your strict Command
Was the first Lock;—neist, my ain Judgment fand
Out Reasons plenty: Since, without Estate,
A Youth, tho' sprung frae Kings, looks baugh and blate.

S. Will.
And aften vain and idly spend their Time,
'Till grown unfit for Action, past their Prime,
Hang on their Friends—which gie's their Sauls a cast,
That turns them downright Beggars at the last.

Sym.
Now well I wat, Sir, ye have 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 sornan frae Place to Place,
As scrimp of Manners, as of Sense and Grace;
Oppressing all as Punishment of their Sin,
That are within his tenth Degree of Kin:
Rins in ilk Trader's Debt, wha's sae unjust
To his ain Fam'ly, as to give him trust.

S. Will.
Such useless Branches of a Common-wealth,
Should be lopt off, to give a State mair Health.
Unworthy bare Reflection.—Symon, run
O'er all your Observations on my Son;
A Parent's Fondness easily finds Excuse:
But do not with Indulgence Truth abuse.

Sym.
To speak his Praise, the langest Simmer Day
Wad be o'er short,—cou'd I them right display.
In Word and Deed he can sae well behave,
That out of Sight he runs before the 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'll gar it stand:
Wha dares to grumble, finds his correcting Hand;
With a firm Look, and a commanding Way,
He gars the proudest of our Herds obey.

S. Will.
Your Tale much pleases;—my good Friend, proceed:
What Learning has he? Can he write and read?

Sym.
Baith wonder well; for, troth, I didna spare
To gi'e him at the School enough of Lair;
And he delites in Books:—He reads, and speaks
With Fowks that ken them, Latin Words and Greeks.

S. Will.
Where gets he Books to read?—and of what kind?
Tho' some give Light, some blindly lead the Blind.

Sym.
Whene'er he drives our Sheep to Edinburgh Port,
He buys some Books of History, Sangs or Sport:
Nor does he want of them a Rowth at will,
And carries ay a Poutchfu' to the Hill.
About ane Shakspear, and a famous Ben,
He aften speaks, and ca's them best of Men.
How sweetly Hawthrenden and Stirling sing,
And ane ca'd Cowley, loyal to his King,
He kens fu' well, and gars their Verses ring.
I sometimes thought he made o'er great a Frase,
About fine Poems, Histories and Plays.
When I reprov'd him anes,—a Book he brings,
With this, quoth he, on Braes I crack with Kings.

S. Will.
He answer'd well; and much ye glad my Ear,
When such Accounts I of my Shepherd hear.
Reading such Books can raise a Peasant's Mind
Above a Lord's that is not thus inclin'd.

Sym.
What ken we better, that sae sindle look,
Except on rainy Sundays, on a Book;
When we a Leaf or twa haff read haff spell,
Till a' the rest sleep round, as well's our sell?

S. Will.
Well jested, Symon—But one Question more
I'll only ask ye now, and then give o'er.
The Youth's arriv'd the Age when little Loves
Flighter around young Hearts like cooing Doves:
Has nae young Lassie, with inviting Mien,
And rosy Cheek, the Wonder of the Green,
Engag'd his Look, and caught his youthfu' Heart?

Sym.
I fear'd the warst, but kend the smallest Part,
Till late I saw him twa three times mair sweet,
With Glaud's fair Neice, than I thought right or meet:
I had my Fears; but now have nought to fear,
Since like your sell your Son will soon appear.
A Gentleman, enrich'd with all these Charms,
May bless the fairest best born Lady's Arms.

S. Will.
This Night must end his unambitious Fire,
When higher Views shall greater Thoughts inspire.
Go, Symon, bring him quickly here to me;
None but your self 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.

Sym.
With how much Joy I on this Errand flee!
There's nane can know, that is not downright me.

Exit Symon.
Sir William
solus.
When the Event of Hopes successfully appears,
One happy Hour cancells 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 enhanses the Delight.
These Joys I feel that Words can ill express,
I ne'er had known without my late Distress.
But from his rustick 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 shew its Light,
Till artfu' Polishing has made it shine:
Thus Education makes the Genius bright.