 | The Phantom |  |
SCENE III.
A lobby or entrance-room, with fire-arms, swords, and fishing-tackle hung on the walls. Servants are seen passing to and fro with plaids and bundles of heath in their hands.Enter Housekeeper.
House.
Make all the speed ye may: in the long chamber
There must be twenty bed-frames quickly set,
And stuff'd with heather for the tacksmen; ay,
And for their women, in the further room,
Fourteen besides, with plaidings for them all.
The wedding folks have broken up their sport,
And will be here before we are prepared.
Enter the Butler.
Butler.
And what are twenty beds, when all the drovers,
And all the shieling herdsmen from Bengorach,
Must have a lair provided for the night.
House.
And who says so?
Butler.
E'en the young laird himself.
House.
'Tis always so; Dunarden's courtesy,
With all his honied words, costs far less trouble
Than young Dunarden's thoughtless kindness doth.
The foul fiend take them all! Have we got plaids
For loons like them!
Butler.
Faith, we at least must try to find them bedding.
House.
Let each of them find on the green hill sward
The breadth of his own back, and that, I trow,
Is bed enough for them. Herdsmen, indeed!
[Several servants coming all about together.
More plaids! more plaids! we have not yet enow.
Another servant.
An Elspy says the gentlefolks must have
Pillows and other gear.
House.
Out on you! clamouring round me with your wants,
Like daws about the ruin'd turret! think ye
That I—I am distracted with you all!
Butler
(aside).
And with some cups of good Ferntosh besides.
House.
Howe'er the shieling herdsmen may be lodged,
I have provided for the Lowland strangers
Right handsomely.
Butler.
The bed of state, no doubt, is for the lady,
And for the gentleman the arras chamber.
House.
Thou art all wrong: the arras is so ragged,
And bat holes in the cornice are so rife,
That Lady Achinmore bade me prepare
His lodging in the north side of the tower,
Beside Dunarden's chamber.
Butler.
They leave the house to-morrow, waiting only
To take a social breakfast. My best wine
And good Ferntosh must be upon the table,
To which the beef, and fish, and old ewe cheese
Will give a relish. And your pretty playthings
Of china saucers, with their fairy cups,
In which a wren could scarcely lay her egg,—
Your tea-pot, pouring from its slender beak
Hot water, as it were some precious drug,
Must be, for fashion's sake, set in array
To please the Lowland lady.
House.
Mind thy concerns, and I will look to mine.
My pretty playthings are in daily use,
As I hear say, in the great town of Edinburgh;
And 'tis a delicate and wholesome beverage
Which they are filled withal. I like, myself,
To sip a little of it.
Butler.
Dainty dear!
No doubt thou dost; aught stronger would offend thee.
Thou wouldst, I think, call rue or wormwood sweet,
Were it the fashion in your town of Edinburgh.
But, hark! the bridal folks are at the door;
We must not parley longer.
[Music without.
I hear their piper playing the “Good-night.”
577
Butler.
They are at hand, I hear: and have ye had
A merry evening, Allen?
Allen.
That we have.
Dunarden danced with that sweet Lowland lady,
As though it made him twenty years the younger.
House.
Dunarden! Danced she not with young Dunarden,
Who is, so says report, her destined husband?
Allen.
Yes; at the end, for one dull reel or two
They footed it together. But, believe me,
If this rich Provost's daughter be not satisfied
With being woo'd by substitute, which homage
The old laird offers her abundantly,
She'll ne'er be lady of this mansion; no,
Nor of her many, many thousand marks,
One golden piece enrich Dunarden's house.
House.
Woe's me! our Malcolm is a wilful youth!
And Lady Achinmore would dance with Claude?
Allen.
She danced with him, and with the bridegroom also.
House.
That, too, would be a match of furtherance
To the prosperity of our old house.
Butler.
But that she is a widow, and, I reckon,
Some years his elder, it might likely be.
House.
And why should that be such a mighty hindrance?
Allen.
Fie, butler! dost thou utter, in such presence,
Disqualifying words of age and widowhood?
House.
You are mislearn'd and saucy, both of you.—
But now they are at hand.
SONG without, of several voices.
The sun is down, and time gone by,
The stars are twinkling in the sky,
Nor torch nor taper longer may
Eke out a blithe but stinted day;
The hours have pass'd with stealthy flight,
We needs must part: good night, good night!
The stars are twinkling in the sky,
Nor torch nor taper longer may
Eke out a blithe but stinted day;
The hours have pass'd with stealthy flight,
We needs must part: good night, good night!
The bride unto her bower is sent,
And ribald song and jesting spent;
The lover's whisper'd words and few
Have bid the bashful maid adieu;
The dancing floor is silent quite,
No foot bounds there: good night, good night!
And ribald song and jesting spent;
The lover's whisper'd words and few
Have bid the bashful maid adieu;
The dancing floor is silent quite,
No foot bounds there: good night, good night!
The lady in her curtain'd bed,
The herdsman in his wattled shed,
The clansmen in the heather'd hall,
Sweet sleep be with you, one and all!
We part in hopes of days as bright
As this gone by: good night, good night!
The herdsman in his wattled shed,
The clansmen in the heather'd hall,
Sweet sleep be with you, one and all!
We part in hopes of days as bright
As this gone by: good night, good night!
Sweet sleep be with us, one and all!
And if upon its stillness fall
The visions of a busy brain,
We'll have our pleasure o'er again,
To warm the heart, to charm the sight,
Gay dreams to all! good night, good night!
And if upon its stillness fall
The visions of a busy brain,
We'll have our pleasure o'er again,
To warm the heart, to charm the sight,
Gay dreams to all! good night, good night!
House.
We've listened here too long: go all of you
And get the rooms prepared! My head's distracted!
[Exeunt all, different ways.
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