The Gentle Shepherd: A Pastoral Comedy Part 14

_Mause._ 'Tis like I may,--but let na on what's past 'Tween you and me, else fear a kittle cast.

_Baul._ If I ought of your secrets e'er advance, May ye ride on me ilka night to France.

[_Exit_ BAULDY.

MAUSE _her lane_.

Hard luck, alake! when poverty and eild, Weeds out of fas.h.i.+on, and a lanely beild, With a sma' cast of wiles, should in a twitch, Gi'e ane the hatefu' name a wrinkled Witch.

This fool imagines, as do mony sic, That I'm a wretch in compact with Auld Nick; Because by education I was taught To speak and act aboon their common thought.

Their gross mistake shall quickly now appear; Soon shall they ken what brought, what keeps me here; Nane kens but me,--and if the morn were come, I'll tell them tales will gar them a' sing dumb. [_Exit._

_ACT II.--SCENE IV._

Behind a tree, upon the plain, Pate and his Peggy meet; In love, without a vicious stain, The bonny la.s.s and chearfu' swain Change vows and kisses sweet.

PATIE _and_ PEGGY.

_Peggy._

O Patie, let me gang, I mauna stay, We're baith cry'd hame, and Jenny she's away.

_Pat._ I'm laith to part sae soon; now we're alane, And Roger he's awa with Jenny gane: They're as content, for ought I hear or see, To be alane themsells, I judge, as we.

Here, where primroses thickest paint the green, Hard by this little burnie let us lean.

Hark how the lavrocks chant aboon our heads!

How saft the westlin winds sough thro' the reeds.

_Peg._ The scented meadows,--birds,--and healthy breeze, For ought I ken, may mair than Peggy please.

_Pat._ Ye wrang me sair, to doubt my being kind; In speaking sae, ye ca' me dull and blind, Gif I cou'd fancy ought's sae sweet or fair As my dear Meg, or worthy of my care.

Thy breath is sweeter than the sweetest brier; Thy cheek and breast the finest flowers appear.

Thy words excel the maist delightfu' notes, That warble through the merl or mavis' throats.

With thee I tent nae flowers that busk the field, Or ripest berries that our mountains yield.

The sweetest fruits that hing upon the tree, Are far inferior to a kiss of thee.

_Peg._ But Patrick, for some wicked end, may fleech, And lambs should tremble when the foxes preach.

I dare na stay--ye joker, let me gang, } Anither la.s.s may gar ye change your sang; } Your thoughts may flit, and I may thole the wrang. }

_Pat._ 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, The gaits to clim,--the sheep to yield the fleece, Ere ought by me be either said or done, Shall skaith our love; I swear by all aboon.

_Peg._ Then keep your aith:--But mony lads will swear, And be mansworn to twa in haff a year.

Now I believe ye like me wonder well; But if a fairer face your heart shou'd steal, Your Meg forsaken, bootless might relate, How she was dauted anes by faithless Pate.

_Pat._ I'm sure I canna change, ye needna fear; Tho' we're but young, I've loo'd you mony a year.

I mind it well, when thou cou'd'st hardly gang, Or lisp out words, I choos'd ye frae the thrang Of a' the bairns, and led thee by the hand, Aft to the Tansy-know or Rashy-strand.

Thou smiling by my side,--I took delite, To pu' the rashes green, with roots sae white, Of which, as well as my young fancy cou'd, For thee I plet the flowry belt and snood.

_Peg._ When first thou gade with shepherds to the hill, And I to milk the ews first try'd my skill; To bear a leglen was nae toil to me, When at the bught at e'en I met with thee.

_Pat._ When corns grew yellow, and the hether-bells Bloom'd bonny on the moor and rising fells, Nae birns, or briers, or whins e'er troubled me, Gif I cou'd find blae berries ripe for thee.

_Peg._ When thou didst wrestle, run, or putt the stane, And wan the day, my heart was flightering fain: At all these sports thou still gave joy to me; For nane can wrestle, run, or putt with thee.

_Pat._ Jenny sings saft the _Broom of Cowden-knows_, And Rosie lilts the _Milking of the Ews_; There's nane like Nansie, _Jenny Nettles_ sings; At turns in _Maggy Lauder_ Marion dings: But when my Peggy sings, with sweeter skill, The _Boat-man_, or the _La.s.s of Patie's Mill_; It is a thousand times mair sweet to me: Tho' they sing well, they canna sing like thee.

_Peg._ How eith can la.s.ses trow what they desire!

And 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, with a small variation, was sung at the acting, as follows._

SANG X.--_Tune_, The Yellow-hair'd Laddie.

PEGGY.

_When 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 with thee._

PATIE.

_When corn-riggs wav'd yellow, and blue hether-bells Bloom'd bonny on moorland and sweet rising fells, Nae birns, briers, or breckens gave trouble to me, If I found the berries right ripen'd for thee._

PEGGY.

_When thou ran, or wrestled, 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 Broom-knows, _And_ Rosie _lilts sweetly the_ Milking the Ews; _There's few_ Jenny Nettles _like_ Nansie _can sing; At_ Throw the Wood Laddie, Bess _gars our lugs ring.

But when my dear_ Peggy _sings with better skill, The_ Boat-man, Tweed-side, _or the_ La.s.s of the Mill, _'Tis many times sweeter and pleasing to me; For tho' they sing nicely, they cannot like thee._

PEGGY.

_How easy can la.s.ses trow what they desire!

And praises sae kindly encreases love's fire: Give me still this pleasure, my study shall be, To make myself better and sweeter for thee._

_Pat._ Wert thou a giglit gawky like the lave, That little better than our nowt behave; At nought they'll ferly;--senseless tales believe; Be blyth for silly heghts, for trifles grieve:-- Sic ne'er you'd win my heart, that kenna how, Either to keep a prize, or yet prove true.

But thou, in better sense, without 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.

_Peg._ Agreed;--but harken! yon's auld aunty's cry; I ken they'll wonder what can make us stay.

_Pat._ And let them ferly.--Now, a kindly kiss, Or five score good anes wad not be amiss; And syne we'll sing the sang with tunefu' glee, That I made up last owk on you and me.

_Peg._ Sing first, syne claim your hire.--

_Pat._----Well, I agree.