THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES x y/ * s ., L THE A SCOTCH PASTORAL. V ALLAN tf^M ATTEMPTED IN ENGLISH By MARGARET TURNER, LONDON: PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, BY T. BENSLEY; AND SOLD BY G. MCOL, BOOKSELLER TO HIS MAJESTY, IN PALL-MALLJ AND BY MRS. TURNER, NO. 56, UPPER NORTON STREET, PORTLAND ROAD. M,DCC,XC<> PR TO HIS ROTAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE OF WALES. TRULY feniible of your ROYAL HIGHNESS'S goodnefs and condefcenfion, in permitting me to introduce to the public, under your ROYAL HIGHNESS'S aufpices and protection, this Englifh verfion of Mr. Ramfay's GENTLE SHEPHERD, I humbly entreat your ROYAL HIGHNESS'S acceptance of my moft grateful and refpectful acknowledgments; and that Heaven may confer on your ROYAL HIGHNESS every blefnng that can make a Prince as great and happy as he is good is the moft devout prayer of your ROYAL HIGHNESS'S Moft refpedful, And devoted fervant, MARGARET TURNER. GOG5G2 ADDRESS TO THE PUBLIC. JNo one ever committed a Performance to the eye of the Public with more anxi- ous diffidence than I do an Englifh verfion of the Gentle Shepherd. Confcious of the merits of the original, and the irnpoffibility of doing it juftice in any other dialect than that in which it was originally written, I blum at my own temerity in attempting it ; but, as moft fcribblers introduce themfelves to the world with an apology, I alfo have mine which would gain me the indulgence of every feeling heart : and, while I fhrink from the A eve eye of criticifm, yet I hope judgment will be foftened by mercy : and, when it is ob- ferved with what fcrupulous attention I have adhered to the original, I alfo hope that my errors will be treated with lenity. With thofe who underftand the Scotch dialed, this Paftoral needs no panegyric ; and with thofe who do not, I have not the vanity to think that my opinion would be of any confequence ; but I {hall give that of a gentle- man who is acknowledged by the world as an able critic and an elegant writer. " I muft not omit the mention of another " Paftoral Drama, which will bear being o " brought into comparifon with any compo- " fition of this kind in any language; that is, " Allan Ramfay's Gentle Shepherd. It is a " great difadvantage to this beautiful Poem, o o * " that it is written in the old ruftic dialed: of " Scotland, which, in a fhort time, will *' probably be entirely obfolete, and not in- " telligible; " telligible; and it is a farther difadvantage, " that it is fo entirely formed on the rural " manners of Scotland, that none but a na- " tive of that country can thoroughly un- " derftand or relifh it. But, though fubject " to thefe local difadvantages, which confine " its reputation within narrow limits, it is " full of fo much natural defcription, and " tender fentiment, as would do honour to " any Poet. The characters are well drawn, " the incidents affe&ing, the fcenery and " manners lively and juft. It affords a ftrong proof both of the power which Nature and Simplicity poflefs to reach the heart in every fort of writing ; and of the variety of pleafmg Characters and Subjects with which Paftoral Poetry, when properly managed, is capable of being enlivened." Dr. BLAIR'S Leftures on Rhetoric andBelks Letters A 2 ADDRESS ( viii ) ADDRESS TO THE SUBSCRIBERS. JLHE encouragement 1 have met with from the Public in general, in enabling me to print fo honourable and numerous a Lift of Subfcribers, merits my mojlfincere acknowledgments. 'To thofe particular friends, whofe exertions in my behalf have done me fo much honour, and to thofe whofe generous attentions havefo effen- tiallyferved me, I cannot fay what I fee I, but I hope that they will accept the grateful thanks of a heart truly fenjible of their goodnefs. SUBSCRIBERS. SUBSCRIBERS. . B. The Figures denote the number of copies fubfcribedfor Her Royal Highnefs the Dutchefs of GLOUCESTER, 4 copies. COUNTESS of Albemarle, 8 Colonel Averne, Marines Edward Addifon, Efq. a Alexander Anderfon, Efq. . Anderfon, Efq. Zimbert Amfmk, Efq. Edmund Antrobus, Efq. Wit. Annand, Efq. Aiken, Efq. Dutchefs of Beaufort Countefs of Buchan Lord Belgrave Hon. Vice Adm. Barrington, 42 Lady Boyd A. S. Ancrum, Efq. Thomas Atkinfon, Efq. Robert Atkinfon, Efq. Mr. George Aytou, 2, Mr. F. Aberdein Mr. F. Aberdein, jun. Mr. R. Aberdein Mr. P. Agnew Mr. Allday B. Hon. Colonel De Burgh Sir Edward Blackett, 4 Lady Blackett, 4 Edward Blackett, Efq. 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Edward Selley, Efq. * Mr. John Smith Mr. William. Smith Mr. James Smith Mr. William Smith Mr. Donald Smith - Storey, Efq. Mr. Solly Mr. Robert Strong Mr. James Scouler Mr. Daniel Henry Smith Mr. William Somerville Mr. Peter Shaw T. Col. Turner, Efq. 6 Mifs Turner, 4 Thomas Tod, Efq. John Tod, Efq. Mrs. Thomfon Mifs Thomfon James Tyler, Efq. William Tyler, Efq. Mr. C. Trelawney George Theakfton, Efq. - Trotter, Efq. William Trotter, Efq. x i Tod, Efq. Mr. Pat. Thomfon Mr. James Thomfon Mr. George Turnbull U. Mr. Urquhart V. Sir Francis Vincent, Bart. His Britannic Majefty's Refident at Venice, Lady Vincent. Henry Dormer Vincent, Efq. z Veitch, Efq. 4 W, Her Excellency the Countefs of Weftmoreland The Countefs of Waldegrave Lord Vifcount Weymouth, z Mrs. Wilkiefon, Mifs Wilkiefon Mifs F. Wilkiefon Mifs S. Wilkiefon Mifs E. Wilkiefon Charles Wilkiefon, Efq. 4* Thomas Wilkiefon, Efq. 21 Mrs. Wauchope, 4. William Williams, Efq. Henry C. Wife, Efq. Mrs. Wowen Mrs. Williamfon Dr. James Watfon Lieut. Walker Dr. Wilfon Thomas Wilfon, Efq. Mrs. Williams, 4 Mrs. Watfon W Wingate, Efq. Mifs Wingate Mrs. Warner Mrs. Williamfon Mifs Wood Robert Wynne, Efq. John Warre, Efq. Ifaac Whieldon, Efq. William Webb, Efq. William Webfter, Efq. Mr. Charles Waldie Mifs Waldie Robert Walker, Efq. Mr. John Walker Caleb Whitefoord, Efq. Mr. Ralph Wedgewood Mr. Mark Walklate Mr. John Wood Mr. Archibald Wight Mr. John Wight Mr. Wardrope Mr. YuilHe Mifs YuilHe Mr. William Yates. The Rejidences of Subfcribers are not inferted, as they "would have increased tbeJtKC of the Li/1 too much. DRAMATIS PERSONS. MEN. SIR WILLIAM WORTHY. PATIE, the Gentle Shepherd, in love with Peggy. ROGER, a rich young (hepherd, in love with Jenny. SYMON, ~) p > two old fhepherds, tenants to Sir William. BAULDY, a hynd engaged with Neps. WOMEN. PEGGY, thought to be Claud's niece. JENNY, Glaud's only daughter. ' MAUSE, an old woman, fuppofed to be a witch. ELSPA, Symon's wife. MADGE, Glaud's fifter. SCENE, A Jhepherd's village and fields fame few miles from Edinburgh. TIME OF ACTION within twenty-four hours. Firft Aft begins at eight in the morning. Second Aft begins at eleven in the forenoon. Third Aft begins at four in the afternoon. Fourth Aft begins at nine o'clock at night. Fifth Aft begins by day-light next morning. B THE THE GENTLE SHEPHERD SCOTCH. ACT I. SCENE I. PROLOGUE TO THE SCENE. Beneath the fouth-fide of a craigy bield, Where cryftal fprings the haleforae waters yield, Twa youthfu' (hepherds on the gowans lay, Tenting their flocks ae bonny morn of May. Poor Roger granes, till hollow echoes ring ; But blyther Patie likes to laugh and fing. PATIE AND ROGER. SANG. Tune, The wawking of the faulds. PATIE. Al Y Peggy is a young thing, Juft enter'd in her teens, Fair as the day, and fweet as May, Fair as the day, and always gay. My Peggy is a young thing, And I'm not very auld, Yet well I like to meet her at The wawking of the fauld. My THE GENTLE SHEPHERD; ENGLISH. ACT 1. S C E N E I. DESCRIPTION OF THE SCENE. Beneath a rocky flicker's fouthern fide, Where fountains clear in healthful ftreamlets glide, Two youthful fliepherds on the daifies lay, Tending their nocks one lovely morn of May. Poor Roger groans, till hollow echoes ring j But blither Patie likes to laugh and fing. PATIE AND ROGER SONG. PATIE. jVd Y Peggy is a young thing, Juft enter'd in her teens ; Fair as the day, and fweet as May, Fair as the day, and always gay. My Peggy is a young thing, And I'm not very old, Yet well I like to meet her at The watching of the fold b . B 2 2 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. My Peggy fpeaks fae fweetly, Whene'er we meet alane, I wifli nae mair to lay my care, I wifli nae mair of a' that's rare ; My Peggy fpeaks fae fweetly, To a' the lave I'm cauld : But (he gars a' my fpirits glow At wawking of the fauld. My Peggy fmiles fae kindly, Whene'er I whifper love, That I look down on a' the town. That I look down upon a crown. My Peggy fmiles fae kindly, It makes me blyth and bauld, And nathing gi'es me fie delight, As wawking of the fauld. My Peggy fings fae faftly, When on my pipe I play ; By a' the reft it is confeft, By a' the reft, that flie fings beft. My Peggy fings ike faftly, And in her fangs are tald, With innocence, the wale of fenfe, At wawking of the fauld. This funny morning, Roger, chears my blood, And puts all nature in a jovial mood. How hartfom is't to fee the rifing plants, To hear the birds chirm o'er their pleating rants ; How halefome is't to {huff the cawler air, And a' the fweets it bears, when void of care. What THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. My Peggy fpeaks fo fweetly, Whene'er we meet alone, O ! flic's the fair can banifli care, O ! file's the fair without compare. My Peggy fpeaks fo fweetly, To other maids I'm cold : But flic makes all my fpirits glow, When watching of the fold. My Peggy fmiles fo kindly, Whene'er I whifper love, That I look down on all the town, That I look down upon a crown. My Peggy fmiles fo kindly, It makes me blithe and bold, And nothing gives me fuch delight, As watching of the fold. My Peggy fings fo foftly, When on my pipe I play, By all the reft it is confeft, By all the reft, that fhe fings beft. My Peggy fings fo foftly, And in her fongs are told, With innocence, the beft of fenfe, At watching of the fold. This funny morning, Roger, cheers my blood, And puts all nature in a joyous mood. How blithfome 'tis to fee the rifing plants, To hear the birds chirp o'er their pleafing chants; How healthy 'tis to fcent the morning air, And all the fweets it bears, when void of care. B 3 What 3 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. What ails thee, Roger, then ? what gars thee grane? TcJl me the caufe of thy ill-feafon'd pain ? ROG ER. I'm born, O Patie, to a thrawart fate ! I'm born to ftrive with hardfhips fad and great. Tempefts may ceafe to jaw the rowan flood, Corbies and tods to grien for lambkins blood : But I, oppreft with never-ending grief, Maun ay defpair of lighting on relief. PATIE. The bees (hall loath the flow'r, and quit the hive, The faugh s on boggie ground fhall ceafe to thrive, Ere fcornfu' queans, or lofs of warldly gear, Shall fpill my reft, or ever force a tear. ROGER. Sae might I fay; but it's no eafy done By ane whale faul's fae fadly out of tune. You ha* fae faft a voice, and flid a tongue, You are the darling baith of auld and young. If I but ettle at a fang, or fpeak, They dit their lugs, fyne up their leglens cleek, And jeer me hameward frae the loan or bught, While I'm confus'd with mony a vexing thought : Yet I am tall, and as well built as thee, Nor mair unlikely to a lafs's eye. For ilk a fheep ye have, I'll number ten, And mould, as ane may think, come farer ben. PATIE. But ablins, nibour, ye have not a heart, And downa eithly \vi* your cunzie part : If THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 3 What ails thee, Roger, then ? why figh you fo ? Tell me the caufe of thy ill-feafon'd woe ? ROGER. I'm born, O Patie, to an adverfe fate ! I'm born to ft rive with hardlhips fad and great. Tempefts may ceafe to dafh the rolling flood, The rav'n and fox to long for lambkin's blood : But I, oppreft with never-ending grief, Muft ftill defpair of lighting on relief. PATIE. The bees mall loath the flow'r, and quit the hive, Willows on marmy ground mall ceafe to thrive, Ere fcornful maids, or lofs of worldly ftore, Shall make me drop a tear, or wake an hour. ROGER. So might I fay ; but 'tis not eas'ly done By one whofe foul's fo fadly out of tune. You have fo foft a voice, and fmooth a tongue, That you're the darling of both old and young. If I attempt to fing, or but to fpeak, They flop their ears, and up their milk-pails take, And jeer me as they home from milking go; Confus'd and vex'd, I know not what to do : Yet I'm as tall as thou as well made too, Why mould I pleafe the lafles lefs than you ? For every Iheep thou haft, ten I can mow, And mould, as one may think, before thee go. PATI E. Perhaps, my neighbour, you've a niggard's heart, So with the coin you cannot freely part. B 4 What 4 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. If that be true, what fignifies your gear ? A mind that's fcrimpit never wants fome care. ROGER. My byar tumbled, nine braw nowt were fmoor'd, Three elf-ftiot were, yet I thefe ills endur'd : In winter laft my cares were very fma', Tho' fcores of wathers perim'd in the fnaw. PAT IE. Were your bien rooms as thinly ftock'd as mine, Lefs you wad lofs, and lefs ye wad repine. He that has juft enough can foundly fleep : The o'ercome only fames fowk to keep. ROGER. May plenty flow upon thee for a crofs, That thou may'ft thole the pangs of mony a lofs : O may'ft thou doat on fome fair paughty wench, That ne'er will lout thy lowan drowth to quench : 'Till bris'd beneath the burden, thou cry dool ! And awn that ane may fret that is nae fool. PATIE. Sax good fat lambs, I fauld them ilka clute At the Weft Port, and bought a winfome flute, Of plum-tree made, with iv'ry virles round : A dainty whittle, with a pleafant found : I'll be mair canty w'it, and ne'er cry dool ! Than you with a* your cafh, ye dowie fool. ROGER. Na, Patie, na ! I'm nae fie churlifh beaft, Some other thing lies heavier at my breaft : I dream'd THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. What fignifies your wealth, if that's the cafe ? A fordid foul ftill wears a careful face. ROGER. My cow-houfe falls, nine head of cattle kills, Three elf-mot c were, yet I endur'd thefe ills : Few cares in winter laft my heart did know, Though fcores of wethers perifh'd in the fnow, Were your rich farms as poorly ftock'd as mine, Lefs you would lofe, and lefs you would repine. He that has juft enough can foundly fleep : Overflowing wealth but troubles us to keep. ROGER. May plenty flow upon thee for a crofs, That thou may 'ft feel the pangs of many a lofs ! O may'ft thou doat on fome fair haughty wench, Who ne'er will ftoop thy fcorching thiril to quench ! 'Till prefs'd beneath the load, Alas ! you fay, And own, tho* one's no fool, yet fret he may. PATIE. Six good fat lambs I fold them out and out At the Weft Port d and bought a winning flute, Of plum-tree made, the joints with iv'ry bound : A handfome pipe, and of a pleaiing found With it I'll blither be, and ne'er look dull, Than you with all your cam, ye doleful fool. ROGER. I'm no fuch churlifh afs ; no, Patie, no 'Tis other cares that fill my heart with woe : I dreamt 5 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. I dream'd a dreary dream this hinder night, That gars my flefh a creep yet with the fright. PATI E. Now, to a friend, how filly's this pretence, To ane wha you and a* your fecrets kens ; Daft are your dreams, as daftly wad ye hide Your well feen love, and dorty Jenny's pride : Take courage, Roger, me your forrows tell, And fafely think nane kens them but your fell. ROGER. Indeed now, Patie, ye have guefs'd o'er true, And there is nathing I'll keep up frae you. Me dorty Jenny looks upon afquint ; To fpeak but till her I dare hardly mint : In ilka place ftie jeers me air and late, And gars me look bombaz'd, and unko blate ; But yefterday I met her yont a know, She fled as frae a Ihelly-coated kow. She Bauldy looes, Bauldy that drives the car, But geeks at me, and fays I fmell of tar. PATIE. But Bauldy looes not her, right well I wat, He fighs for Neps ; fae that may ftand for that. ROGER. I wifli I cou'dna looe her but in vain, I ftill maunt doat, and throle her proud difdain. My Bawty is a cur I dearly like, 'Till he yowl'd fair flie ftrak the poor dumb tyke; If I had fill'd a nook within her breaft, She wad have fhawn mair kindnefs to my beaft. When THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 5 I dreamt a dreary dream the other night, That makes me ftill to fhudder with the fright. PAT I E. Now, to a friend, how filly is this art, To one who knows each fecret of your heart Feign'd are your dreams, and weakly do you hide Your well-feen love, and fcornful Jenny's pride : Take courage, Roger, tell me all your woe, And fafely think none but yourfelf doth know. ROGER. Indeed now, Patie, you have guefs'd too true, And there is nothing I'll conceal from you Me fcornful Jenny looks on with defpite ; To fpeak but to her puts me in a fright : She jeers me morn and night in every place, Whilft I, confounded, look with bafhful face. Beyond yon hillock green we met lad night ; Away fhe fled as I had been a fprite. She Bauldy loves Bauldy that drives the car 6 ; But me Ihe jibes, and fays I fmell of tar. PATIE. But Bauldy loves not her well I know that He iighs for Neps fo there is tit for tat. ROGER. I wifli I could not love her, but in vain I ftill muft doat, and bear her proud difdain. My Bawty is a dog 1 dearly like ; E'en till he howl, the poor dumb thing fhe'll ftrike. Since " Love me, love my dog," the proverb goes, Her cruelty to mine her hatred fhews. When 6 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. When I begin to tune my flock and horn, With a* her face fhe (haws a caulrife fcorn. Laft night 1 play'd, ye never heard fie fpite; OVr Bogie was the fpring, and her delyte : Yet tauntingly fhe at her coufin fpear'd, Gif (he could tell what tune I play'd, and fneer'd. Flocks, wander where ye like, I dinna care, I'll break my reed, and never whittle mair. PATI E. E'en do fae, Roger, wha can help mifluck ? Saebins fhe be fie a thrawin gabbit chuck, Yonders a craig, fince ye have tint all hope Gae till't your ways, and take the lover's lowp.x ROGER. I needna mak fie fpeed my blood to fpill, Til warrant death come foon enough a-will. PATIE. Daft gowk ! leave off that filly whinging way; Seem carelefs there's my hand ye'll win the day. Hear how I ferv'd my lafs I love as weel As ye do Jenny, and with heart as leel. Laft morning I was gay and early out, Upon a dyke I lean'd, glowring about ; I faw my Meg come linkan o'er the lee ; 1 faw my Meg, but Peggy faw na me : For yet the fun was wading thro' the mitt, And me was clofe upon me e'er fhe wift. Her coats were kiltit, and did fweetly (haw Her flraight bare legs, that whiter were than fnaw. Her THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 6 When I begin to tune my fhepherd's horn, In all her face (he (hews a chilling fcorn. Laft night I play'd, you never heard fuch fpite, " O'er Bogie" was the tune, and her delight : Yet tauntingly fhe to her coufin faid, With fuch a fneer, " What tune has Roger play'd?" Flocks, wander where you will, my heart's fo fore, I'll break my reed, and never whittle more. PATI E. E'en do fo, Roger, who can help mifchance ? Since wayward woman leads you fuch a dance, Now that you've loft all hope yon cliff is fteep E'en go your way, and take the lover's leap. ROGER. To fpill my blood I need not make fuch hafle, I'll warrant death come foon enough at laft. PAT IE. Great goofe ! leave off that filly whining way; Seem carelefs there's my hand you'll win the day. Hear how I ferv'd my lafs I love as true As ever Jenny can be lov'd by you. Laft morning I was rather early out, Upon a wall f I leant, looking about ; I faw my Peg come frifking o'er the lea ; I faw my Peg, but Peggy faw not me : or yet the fun was wading thro' the mift, And (he was clofe upon me ere fhe wift. Her petticoat tuck'd up did fvveetly (how Her tight-made legs, that whiter were than fnow. Her 7 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. Her cockernony fnooded up fou ileek, Her haffet locks hang waving on her cheek ; Her cheeks fae ruddy, and her een fae clear ; And O ! her mouth's like ony hinny pear. Neat, neat me was, in buftine waiftcoat clean, As (he came fkiffing o'er the dewy green : Blythfome, I cry'd, My bonny Meg, come here, I ferly wherefore ye're fo foon afteer ? But I can guefs, ye're gone to gather dew : She fcour'd awa', and faid, What's that to you ? Then fare ye weel, Meg-Dorts, and e'en's ye like, I carelefs cry'd, and lap in o'er the dyke. I trow, when that (lie faw, within a crack, She came with a right thievelefs errand back : Mifcaw'd me firft then bad me hund my dog, To wear up three waff ews ftray'd on the bog. I leugh, and fae did me ; then with great hafte I clafp'd my arms about her neck and waift -, About her yielding waift ; and took a fouth Of fweeteft kifles frae her glowing mouth. While hard and faft I held her in my grips, My very faul came lowping to my lips. Saif, fair me flet wi' me 'tween ilke fmack, But weel I kend flie meant nae as (he fpak. Dear Roger, when your jo puts on her gloom, Do ye fae too, and never fafh your thumb. Seem to forfake her, foon fhe'll change her mood : Gae woo anither, and lhe'11 gang clean wood. > SANG. THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 7 Her hair bound oack, fo glofly and fo fleek, Whilft flowing locks hung waving on her cheek; Her cheeks fo ruddy, and her eyes fo clear ; And O ! her lips like ripeft fruit appear. Neat, neat Ihe was, in fnow-white jacket clean, As Ihe tript lightly o'er the dewy green ; BHthefome, I cried, " My pretty Peg, come here ; te I wonder what makes you fo foon appear ! " But I can guefs you come to gather dew :" Away (he fcour'd, faying, " What's that to you ?" " Then fare you well," (aid I, et juft as you pleafe," And leap'd the wall with gay indifferent eafe. But when me faw with how much eafe I fpake, She came with a right trifling errand back : Abus'd me firft then bade me fend my dog, To bring three ewes which ftray'd upon the bog. I fmil'd, and fo did me ; then with great hafle I clafp'd my arms about her neck and waift ; About her yielding waift and took in truth A ftore of kifles from her glowing mouth. While hard and faft her to my heart I preft, I thought my foul would leap out of my breaft. Between each kifs flie often tried to fcold, But by her eyes another tale was told. Dear Roger, when your Jenny tries fuch tricks, Do you fo too, and never mind her freaks. Indiif'rent feem, (he'll change her mood, my lad ; Go woo another, and (he'll run half mad. SONG. THE GENTLE SHEPHERB. SANG. Tune, Fy gar rub her o'er witbjlrae* Dear Roger, if your Jenny geek, And anfwer kindnefs with a flight, Seem unconcern'd at her negle&, For women in a man delight : But them defpife who're foon defeat And with a fimple face give way To a repulfe then be not blate, Pufli 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 thefe agree, and fhe perfift To anfwer all your love with hate, Seek elfe where to be better bleft, And let her figh when 'tis too late. ROGER. Kind Patie, now fair-fa your honeft heart, Ye're ay fae cadgy, and have fie an art To hearten ane : for now as clean's a leek, Ye've cherim'd me, fince ye began to fpeak. Sae, for your pains, I'll mak ye a propine, (My mother, reft her faul ! me made it fine ;) A tartan plaid, fpun of good hawilock woo, Scarlet and green the fets, the borders blue : With fpraings likegowd, and filler crofs'd with black, I never had it yet upon my back. Weel THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. SONG. Dear Roger, when me plays fuch tricks, And anfwers kindnefs with a flight, Seem unconcern'd at her neglects, For women ftill in love delight : Defpifing men who quickly yield, And with a fimple face give way To a repulfe then keep the field, And ftill advance, you'll win the day. When majdens, innocently young, Say often what they never mean ; Ne'er mind their pretty lying tongue, 'Tis by their eyes the truth is feen : If thefe agree, and fhe perfift To anfwer all your love with hatr, Seek elfe where to be better bleft, And let her fish when 'tis too late. ROGER. Kind Patie ! now Heav'n blefs your honeft heart ! You're ftill fo merry, and have fuch an art One's heart to cheer, e'en when 'tis like to break, As mine was now, ere you began to fpeak. So, for your pains, a prefent I defign, (My mother, reft her foul ! (he made it fine ,) Spun from the fofteft wool fuch plaids but few Scarlet and green the checks, the borders blue : With ftreaks like gold, and filver crofs'd with black, I never had it yet upon my back, C You 9 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. i Weel are ye wordy o't, who have fae kind Red up my revel'd doubts, and clear'd my mind. PAT IE. Weel, hald ye there : and fince ye've frankly made To me a prefent of your braw new plaid, My flute's be yours ; and (he too that's fae nice, Shall come a-will, gif* ye'll tak my advice. ROGER. As ye advife, I'll promife to obferv't; But ye maun keep the flute, ye beft deferv't. Now tak it out, and gie's a bonny fpring ; For I'm in tift to hear you play and ling. PAT I E. But firft we'll tak a turn up to the height, And fee gif a' our flocks be feeding right ; By that time bannocks, and a lhave of cheefe, Will make a breakfaft that a laird might pleafe ; Might pleafe the daintieft gabs, were they fae wife To feafon meat wi' health inftead of fpice. When we hii'e ta'n the grace- drink at this well, I'll whittle fine, and fing t' ye like myfell. \JLxeunt. . SCENE THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 9 You well deferve it, who have been fo kind T' untwift my ravel'd doubts, and clear my mind. PATIE. Well, be it fo iince you have frankly made To me a prefent of your fine new plaid, My flute is yours ; and (he too, now fo nice, Will foon be kind, if you take my advice. ROGER. All you advife I promife to obferve ; But keep the flute, which you fo well deferve. Now take it out, let's have fome clever thing, For I'm in trim to hear you play and fing. PATI E. But firft we'll take a turn up to the height, And fee if all our flocks be feeding right ; Then by that time our homely bread and cheefe Will make a breakfafl that a fquire might pleafe ; Might pleafe the niceft taftes, had they the wit, Inftead of fpice, with health to feafon meat. When we have had the grace-cup from that fpring, Then I mail do my beft to play and fing. [Exeunt. C 2 SCENE IO THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. SCENE II. PROLOGUE. A flowrie howm, between twa verdant braes, Where lafles ufe to wafli and fpread their claes ; A trotting burnie wimpling thro' the ground, Its channel peebles {hining fmooth and round : Here view twa barefoot beauties, clean and clear Firft pleafe your eye, next gratify your ear j While Jenny what fhe wifhes difcommends, And Meg, with better fenfe, true love defends. PEGGY AND JENNY. JENNY. d o M E, Meg, let's fa' to wark upon this green, The filming day will bleach our linen clean ; The waters clear, the lift unclouded blew, Will make them like a lily wet wi' dew. PEGGY. / Gae farer up the burn to Habbie r s How, Where a' the fweets of fpring and fimmer grow. Between twa birks, out o'er a little lin, The water fa's and maks a fingan din ; A pool bread-deep, beneath as clear as glafs, Kiffes wi' eafy whirls the bord'ring grafs : We'll end our warning while the morning's cool ; And when the day grows het, we'll to the pool, There THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 10 SCENE II. DESCRIPTION. A flow'ry vale, two verdant banks between, Where lafles wafli, and bleach their linen clean ; A purling brook runs winding thro' the ground, Its channel pebbles fhining fmooth and round : Here view two barefoot beauties, clean and clear j Firft pleafe your eye, then gratify your ear j Whilft Jenny what {he wifties difcommends, And Peg, with better fenfe, true love defends. PEGGY AND JENNY. JENNY. \^i o M E, Peg, let's fall to work upon this green, This Ihining day will bleach our linen clean ; The water clear, the iky unclouded blue, Will make them like a lily wet with dew. PEGGY. Go farther up the ftream to Habbie's How h , Where all the fweets of fpring and fummer grow : There, o'er a little cliff, 'tween two birch trees, The water falls, and murmurs to the breeze ; A pool breaft-deep, beneath as clear as glafs, Kifles with eafy whirls the bordering grafs : We'll end our walhing while the morning's cool, And, when the day grows hot, we'll to the pool, C 3 There II THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. There wafh ourfells. It's heakhfou now in May, And fvveetly cauler on fae warm a day. JENNY, Daft lafiie, when we're naked, what'll ye fay, Gif our two herds come brattling down the brae, And fee us fae ? That jeering fallow Pate Wad taunting fay, Haith, lafies, ye're no blate. PEGGY. We're far frae ony road, and out o' fight ; The lads they're feeding far beyont the height. But tell me now, dear Jenny, (we're our lane) What gars ye plague your wooer wi' difdain ? The nibours a* tent this as well as I, That Roger loo's ye, yet ye carena by. What ails ye aj: him ? Troth, between us twa, He's wordy you the beft day e'er ye faw. JENNY. I dinna like him, Peggy, there's an end ; A herd mair iheepifh yet I never kend. He kames his hair indeed, and gaes right fnug, With ribbon-knots at his blue bonnet lug;. Whilk penfylie he wears a-thought a-jee, And fpreads his garters dic'd beneath his knee, He falds his owrelay down his breaft with care, And few gangs trigger to the kirk or fair ; For a' that, he can neither fing nor fay, Except, " How d'ye ?" or, " There's a bony day." PEGGY. Ye dafh the lad with conftant flighting pride ; Hatred for love is unco fair to bide : But THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. II There bathe ourfelves. 'Tis healthful now in May, And fweetly cooling on fo warm a day. JENNY. Mad girl ! when we're undreft, what will you fay, If our two (hepherd lads fhould come that way ? That jeering fellow Pate would cry in hade, " Faith, lafles, I muft fay, you're not fhame-fac'd." PEGGY. We're far from any road, and out of fight, Our fhepherds feed their flocks beyond the height. Now we're alone, dear Jenny, let me know, Why with neglect yoi> plague your lover fo ? By all the neighbours it is clearly feen, That Roger loves, that you his love difdain. What faults d'ye find ? In truth, between us two, The beft day in the year he's worthy you. JENNY. I do not like him, Peggy, fo have done ; A lad more fheepifh I have never known. Full nice he combs his hair, and trim he goes, And decks his bonnet blue with ribbon-bows ; Which with conceited air he wears afide, While garters fine below his knees are tied. His cravat too's put on with niceft care, And few go neater to the church or fair ; But what of that ? He ne'er has more to fay, Than, " How d'ye do ?" or, " Here's a charming day," PEGGY. You dafh the lad with pride and flighting fcorn, Hatred for love ! it is not to be borne : C 4 But 12 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. But ye'll repent ye, if his love grow cauld. What like's a dorty maiden, when Ihe's auld ? Like dawted wean, that tarrows at its meat, That for fome fecklefs whim will orp and greet The lave laugh at it, till the dinner's paft, And fyne the fool thing is oblig'd to faft, Or fc.irt anither's leavings at the laft. Fy, Jenny, think, and dinna fit your time. SANG. Tune, Polwart on the Green. The dorty will repent, If lover's heart grow cauld ; And nane her (miles 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. Theyjeft it till the dinner's paft: Thus by it fell abus'd, The fool thing is oblig'd to faft, Or eat what they've refus'd. JENNY. I never thought a {ingle life a crime. PEGGY. Nor I but love in whifpers lets us ken, That men were made for us, and we for men. JENNY. I THE GfcNTLE SHEPHERD. But you'll repent, foon as his love grows cold. What is a haughty maid like when (he's old ? Like a fpoil'd child, who quarrels with its meat, And frets and cries for whims, and will not eat : J Tis laugh'd at by the reft till dinner's paft, And then the little fool's oblig'd to faft, Or take another's leavings at the laft. Pear Jenny, think, and do not lofe your time, SONG. You'll wifh you had been kind, If lover's heart grows cold j For none your fmiles will mind, Soon as your face looks old. The fondled child, who will not eat, Although by hunger preft, And, whimpering, quarrels with its meat, Is laugh'd at by the reft. They jeft it till the dinner's paft : Thus by itfelf abus'd, The foolifh thing's oblig'd to faft, Or eat what they've refus'd. JENNY. I never thought a fingle life a crime. PEGGY. Nor I but love in whifpers flill has faid, That men and we were for each other made. JENNY. J3 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. JENNY. If Roger is my jo, he kens himfell, For fie a tale I never heard him tell. He glowrs and fighs, and I can guefs the caufe; But wha's oblig'd to fpell his hums and haws? Whene'er he likes to tell his mind mair plain, ITe tell him frankly ne'er to do't again. They're fools that flav'ry like, and may be free ; The chiels may a' knit up themfelves for me. PEGGY. Be doing your ways ; for me I have a mind To be as yielding as my Patie's kind. JENNY. Heh, lafs! how can ye loo that rattle fkull? A very deel, that ay maun have his will. We'll foon hear tell what a poor feightan life You tvva will lead, fae foon's ye're man and wife. PEGGY. I'll rin the riik, nor have I ony fear, But rather think ilk langfome day a year Till I with pleafure mount my bridal-bed, Where on my Patie's breaft I'll lean my head : There he may kifs as lang as killing's good, And what we do, there's none dare call it rude. He's get his will : why no! 'tis good my part To give him that, an he'll give me his heart. JENNY. He may indeed for ten or fifteen days Mak meikle o'ye, with an unco frafe, And THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. JJ JENNY. If Roger is my love, how (hould I know ? For fure I am he never told me fo. He looks and fighs, and I can guefs the caufe ; But who's oblig'd to fpell his hums and ha's ? Whene'er he likes to fpeak his mind more plain, I'll tell him frankly ne'er to do't again. They're fools who flav'ry love, and may be free ; The fellows may go hang themfelves for me. PEGGY. E'en take your way ; for me, I have a mind, To be as yielding as my Patie's kind. JENNY. How can you love that helter-ikelter blade ? A very devil, that mull be obey'd. We Toon mail hear what a poor wrangling life You two will lead, when once you're man and wife. PEGGY. I'll run the rifk, nor have I any fear, But rather think each tedious day a year, Till I with pleafure and with pride (hall fay, How much I love, how willingly obey : When I mail lay afide my maiden art, And give him love for love with all my heart ; And by the tendereft kindnefs ever mow That I deferv'd the heart he did beftow. JENNY. He may indeed for ten or fifteen days Make a great fufs with fondnefs and with praife, Fondling 14 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. And daut ye baith afore fowk, and your lane : But foon as his newfanglenefs is gane, He'll look upon you as his tether-ftake, And think he's tint his freedom for your fake. Inftead then of lang days of fweet delyte, Ae day be dumb, and a' the nieft he'll flyte ; And may be, in his barlichoods ne'er ftick To lend his loving wife a loundering lick. SANG. Tune, 0, dear mother, wbatjball I do? O, dear Peggy, love's beguiling, We ought not to truft his fmiling ; Better far to do as I do, Left a harder luck betide you. LafTes, when their fancy's carry'd, Think of nought but to be marry'd. Running to a life deftroys Heartfome, free, and youthfu' joys. PEGGY. Sic coarfe fpun thoughts as that want pith to move My fettl'd mind ; I'm o'er far gane in love. Patie to me is dearer than my breath, But want of him I dread nae other fkaith. There's nane of a' the herds that tread the green Has (ic a fmile, or fie twa glancing ecn : And then he fpeaks with fie a taking art, His words they thirle like mufic throw my heart. How blythly can he fport, and gently rave, And jeft at little fears that fright the lave. Ilk THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 14 Fondling you both in public and alone: But foon as e'er the novelty is gone, He'll view you as the captive does his chain, And think he loft his freedom you to gain. Inflead then of long days of fvveet delight, One he'll be dumb, next fcold from morn to night ; And, may be, in his wrangling moods beftow Upon his loving wife a hearty blow. SONG. O, dear Peggy, love's beguiling, We ought not to truft his fmiling ; Better far to do as I do, Left a harder fate betide you. Lafles, when their fancy's carried, Think on nought but being married ; And running to that ftate deftroys Both cheerful peace, and youthful joys. PEGGY. Such vulgar thoughts as thefe want pow'r to move My fettled mind I'm too far gone in love. Patie to me is than my life more dear ; The lofs of him, the only ill I fear. There's not a fhepherd lad in many a mile Has two fuch fparkling eyes, or fuch a fmile : And then he fpeaks with fuch a winning art, His words they thrill like mufic thro' my heart. How gently can he fport, and gaily jeft, At idle fears, that frighten all the reft. Each 15 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. Ilk day that he's alane upon the hill, He reads fell books, that teach him meikel ikill : He is but what need I fay that or this ? I'd fpend a month to tell you what he is. In a' he fays or does, there's fie a gate, The reft feem coofs compar'd with my dear Pate. His better fenfe will lang his love fecure : 111 nature heffs in fauls are weak and poor. SANG. Tune, How can I be fad on my y &c. How (hall I be fad when a hufband I hae, That has better fenfe than ony of thae Sour, weak, filly fellows, that ftudy like fools, To fink their ain joy, and make their wives fnools. The man who is prudent ne'er lightlies his wife, Or with dull reproaches encourages ftrife ; He praifes her virtue, and ne'er will abufe Her for a fmall failing, but -find an excufe. JENNY. Hey " Bonny Lafs of Brankfome," or't be lang, Your witty Patie will put you in a fang. O 'tis a pleafant thing to be a bride ; Syne whindging getts about your ingle-fide, Yelping for this or that with fameous din : To make them brats then ye maun toil and fpin. Ae wean fa's fick, ane fcads itfell wi' broe, Ane breaks his ihin, anither tines his (hoe. The "Deel ga'eso'erJohnWabfter :"hame grows hell; When Pate mifcaws ye war than tongue can tell. PEGGY. THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 15 Each day that he's alone upon the hill, He reads wife books, that teach him wit and fkill : He is but what need I fay that or this ? I'd take a month to tell you what he is. In all he fays or does there's fuch an air ; Compar'd with him, the reft but dolts appear. His better fenfe will long his love fecure : 111 nature haunts the foul that's weak and poor. SONG. How fhall I be fad when a hufband I've chofe, That has better fenfe than any of thofe Sour, weak, filly fellows, like fools and like knaves, Who fink their own joys by making us flaves. The man who is prudent ne'er flights his own wife, Nor with dull reproaches encourages ftrife : He praifes her virtues, and ne'er will abufe Her for a fmall failing, but find an excufe. JENNY. Ha, " Bonny Lafs of Brankfome ! ," ere 'tis long, Your witty Pate will put you in a fong. O 'tis a pleafant thing a bride to be ; Then round your fire the whimpering brats you fee, Squalling for this, for that, with teafing din : To make them rags then you muft toil and fpin. One fcalds itfelf with broth, and one falls fick, One lofes (hoes, and one its head doth break. The devil rules the roaft, and home grows hell ; Abus'd by Patrick worfe than tongue can tell. PEGGY. l6 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. PEGGY. Yes, it's a hartfome thing to be a wife, When round the ingle-edge young fprouts are rife. Gif I'm fae happy, I fhall have delight To hear their little plaints, and keep them tight. Wow, Jenny ! can there greater pleafure be Than fee fie wee tots toolying at your knee ; When a* they ettle at their greatefl wifli, Is to be made of, and obtain a kifs ? Can there be toil in tenting day and night The like of them, when love makes care delight. JENNY. But poortith, Peggy, is the worft of a', Gif o'er your heads ill chance mould begg'ry draw : There little love or canty chear can come . Frae duddy doublets, and a pantry toom. Your nowt may die the fpate may bear away Frae aff the howms your dainty rucks of hay The thick blawn wreaths of fnaw, or blafhy thows, May fmoor your wathers, and may rot your ews A dyver buys your butter, woo, and cheefe, But or the day of payment breaks and flees. With glooman brow the laird feeks in his rent : *Tis no to gie ; your merchant's to the bent : His honour maunna want ; he poinds your gear : Syne driven frae houfe and hald, where will ye fteer? Dear Meg, be wife, and lead a ilngle life ; Troth, it's nae mows to be a married wife. PEGGY. THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. l6 PEGGY. To be a wife yes, that's a happy ftate, When round the fire flie fees fweet children fet. If I'm fo happy, I fhall take delight To hear their little plaints, and keep them right. O, Jenny ! can there greater pleafure be Than feeing playful infants at your knee ; When their firft with, and all they aim at, is But to be fondled, and obtain a kifs ? Can there be toil in tending day and night The like of them, when love makes care delight ? JENNY. But pen'ry, Peggy, is the worfl of all, If to your lot ill chance make begg'ry fall : Your clothes all ragged, and your dinner fcant There's little love or mirth where there is want. Your cattle die, and floods may bear away From off the meadows your fine ricks of hay Smother'd in wreaths of fnow your wethers lie, Rotten by plafhy thaws your ewes may die : Your butter, wool, and cheefe, a dealer buys, But ere the day of payment breaks and flies. With threat'ning look the fquire his rent demands : You've none to give ; 'tis in a bankrupt's hands : He muft be paid, and feizes what is left : Where will you go, of houfe and home bereft? Dear Peg, be wife, and live a fingle life j Believe me, 'tis no jeft to be a wife. D PEGGY. 17 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. PEGGY. May fie ill luck befa' that filly (he Wha has fie fears, for that was never me. Let fowk(bode weel, and ftrive to do their beft; Nae mair's requir'd ; let heaven make out the reft. I've heard my honeft uncle aften fay, That lads mould a' for wives that's vertuous pray ; For the maift thrifty man could never get A well ftor'd room, unlefs his wife wad let . Wherefore nocht fhall be wanting on my part To gather wealth to raife my fhepherd's heart. Whatever he wins, I'll guide with canny care, } And win the vogue, at market, tron, or fair, > For healfome, clean, cheap, and fufficient ware. J A flock of lambs, cheefe, butter, and fome woo, Shall firft be fald to pay the laird his due : Syne a' behind's our ain thus without fear, With love and rowth we throw the warld will fteer : And when my Pate in bairns and gear grows rife, He'll blefs the day he gat me for his wife. JENNY. But what if fome young giglit on the green, With dimpled cheeks, and twa bewitching een, Shou'd gar your Patie think his half worn Meg, And her kend kifles, hardly worth a feg ? PEGGY. Nae mair of that Dear Jenny, to be free, There's fome men conftanter in love than we ; Nor is the ferly great, when nature kind Has bleft them with folidity of mind : They'll J THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 1 PEGGY. May fuch ill luck befal that filly fhe Who has fuch fears ; they never troubled me. Let's cherilh hope, and ftrive to do our beft ; No more's requir'd ; truft heaven for the reft. I've heard my honeft uncle oft-times fay, That lads, for wives that virtuous, all ihould pray; As the moft careful man could never get A well-ftor'd farm, unlefs his wife would let. Then nothing (hall be wanting on my part To gather wealth to cheer my (hepherd's heart. Whatever he gains, I'll guide with prudent care, And win a name at market, tron k , and fair, For wholefome, clean, and cheap fufficient ware. A flock of lambs, cheefe, butter, and fome wool, Shall firft be fold to pay the fquire in full : Then all behind's our own thus, without fear, In love and plenty we thro* life mail fteer : And when our children and our (lores increafe, The day I was his wife my Pate will blefs. JENNY. But what if fome young giglet on the green, With dimpled cheeks, bewitching eyes, be feen, Will make your Patie think his half-worn Peg, And her accuflom'd kifs, fcarce worth a fig. PEGGY. No more of that Dear Jenny, to be free, Some men more conftant are in love than we ; Nor is the wonder great, when nature kind Has blefl them with folidity of mind : D 2 They'll l8 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. They'll reafon caumly, and with kindnefs fmile, When our fhort paffions wad our peace beguile ; Sae, whenfoe'er they flight their maiks at hame, 'Tis ten to ane their wives are maift to blame. Then I'll employ with pleafure a* my art To keep him cheerfu', and fecure his heart : At e'en, when he comes weary frae the hill, I'll have a' things made ready to his will : In winter, when he toils throw wind and rain, A bleezing ingle, and a clean hearth-ftane ; And foon as he flings by his plaid and ftaff, The feething pot's be ready to tak aff; Clean hag-abag I'll fpread upon his board, And ferve him with the beft we can afford : Good humour and white bigonets (hall be Guards to my face, to keep his love for me. JENNY. A dim of married love right foon grows cauld, And dozens down to nane, as fowk grow auld. PEGGY. But we'll grow auld togither, and ne'er find The lofs of youth, when love grows on the mind. Bairns and their bairns make fure a firmer tye, Than aught in love the like of us can fpy. See yon twa elms that grow up fide by fide, Suppofe them fome years fyne bridegroom and bride ; Nearer and nearer ilka year they've preft, ~\ 'Till wide their fpreading branches are increas'd, > And in their mixture now are fully bleft : ) This THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. l8 They'll reafon calmly, and with kindnefs fmile, When our quick paflions would our peace beguile ; So, when the wife at home meets with neglect, That flic's in fault I'm ready to fufpeft. But I'll employ with pleafure all my art To keep him cheerful, and fecure his heart : At night, when he comes weary from the hill, I'll have all things made ready to his will : In winter, when he toils thro' rain and wind, A blazing fire and clean hearth-ftone he'll find ; And foon as he throws by his plaid and flick, The boiling pot from off the fire we'll take ; Clean huckaback I'll fpread upon his board, And ferve him with the beft we can afford : Good humour and the niceft mobs mall be Guards to my face, to keep his love for me. JENNY. A dim of married love right foon turns cold, And dwindles down to none, as folk grow old. PEGGY. But we'll grow old together, and ne'er find The lofs of youth, when love grows on the mind. Our children, and their children, form a tie, Stronger in love than aught that we can fpy. See yon two elms, that grow up fide by fide, Suppofe them fome years fince bridegroom and bride ; Nearer and nearer every year they've preft, > Till wide their fpreading branches are increas'd, r And in their union now completely bleft : x D 3 This 19 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. This fhields the other frae the eafllin blaft ; That, in return, defends it frae the weft. Sic as ftand fingle (a ftate fae lik'd by you !) Beneath ilk ftorm frae every airth maun bow. JENNY. I've done I yield, dear laffie, I maun yield ; Your better fenfe has fairly won the field, With the affiftance of a little fae Lies dern'd within my breaft this mony a day. SANG. Tune, Nanfy's to the green-wood gone* I yield, dear laffie, ye have won, And there is nae denying, That fure as light flows frae the fun, Frae love proceeds complying ; For a' that we can do or fay 'Gainft love nae thinker heeds us, They ken our bofoms lodge the fae, That by the heartftrings leads us. PEGGY. Alake, poor pris'ner ! Jenny, that's no fair, That ye'll no let the wie thing take the air : Hafte, let him out ; we'll tent as well's we can, Gif he be Bauldy's or poor Roger's man. JENNY. THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. This fhields the other from the eaftern blaft ; That, in return, defends it from the weft. Such as ftand fmgle (a date fo lik'd by you !) Beneath each ftorm from ev'ry point muft bow. JENNY. I've done I yield ; dear Peggy, I muft yield ; Your better fenfe has fairly won the field, With the afliftance of a little foe That neftled in my breaft long, long ago. SONG. I yield, dear Peggy, you have won, And there is no denying, That, fure as light flows from the fun, From love proceeds complying ; For all that we can fay or do 'Gainft love, the wife ne'er heed us; They know our bofoms lodge the foe, That by the heart-ftrings leads us. PEGGY. Alas, poor pris'ner ! Jenny, that's not fair, That you'll not let the urchin take the air : Hafte, let him out, and I fhall well obferve If he does Bauldy or poor Roger ferve. D 4 JENNY. 20 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. JENNY. Anither time's as good for fee the fun Is right far up, and we're not yet begun To freath the graith ; if canker'd Madge, our aunt, Come up the burn, (he'll gie's a wicked rant ; But when we've done, I'll tell ye a' my mind ; for this feems true, nae lafs can be unkind. [Exeunt, END OF THE FIRST ACT. ACT THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 2O JENNY. Another time's as good for fee the fun Is very high, and we're not yet begun To froth our fope ; and come our aunt this way, A wicked fcold we'll have for our delay; But when we've done, I'll tell you all my mind ; For this feems true, no lafs can be unkind. [Exeunt. END OF JHE FIRST ACT. ACT 21 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. SCOTCH. ACT II, SCENE I. PROLOGUE. A fnug thack houfe, before the door a green j Hens on the midding, ducks in dubs are feen. On this fide ftands a barn, on that a byer ; A peet flack joins, and forms a rural fquare. The houfe is Glaud's there you may fee him lean, And to his divet feat invite his frien. GLAUD AND SYMON. GLAUD. CjrooD morrow, nibour Symon come, fit down, And gie's your cracks What's a' the news in town? They tell me ye was in the ither day, And fald your crummock, and her baflend quey. I'll warrant ye've coft a pund of cut and dry : Lug out your box, and gie's a pipe to try. SYMON. With a' my heart and tent me now, auld boy, I've gather'd news will kittle your mind with joy. I cou'dna reft till I came o'er the burn, To tell ye things have taken fie a turn, Will THE GENTLE SHEPHERD, 21 ENGLISH. ACT II. SCENE I. DESCRIPTION. A dug thatch'd houfe, before the door a green j Fowls on the dunghill, ducks in pools are feen. On this fide ftands a barn, a cow-houfe there j A peat-ftack joins, and forms a rural fquare. The houfe is Claud's there by the door he fits, And to his feat of turf his friend invites. GLAUD AND SYMON. CLAUD. CJOOD morrow, neighbour Symon come, fit down, Let's have fome talk What's all the news in town ? You've fold at market, as I've heard juft now, The white-fac'd heifer, and her mother too ; And bought, no doubt, tobacco cut and dry : Out with your box ; let's have a pipe to try. SYMON. With all my heart but mark me now, old bov, I've gotten news will tickle your heart with joy. I could not reft till I came here this morn, To tell you things have taken fuch a turn, Our 22 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. Will gar our vile opprefibrs ftend like flaes, And fkulk in hidlings on the hether braes. CLAUD. Fy blaw ! Ah, Symmie ! rattling chiels ne'er ftand To deck and fpread the grofleft lies aff hand, Whilk foon flies round like will-fire far and near ; Bui loofe your poke, be't true or faufe let's hear. SYMON. Seeing's believing, Glaud, and I have feen Hab, that abroad hath with our Matter been ; Our brave good Matter, wha right wifely fled, And left a fair eftate to fave his head, Becaufe ye ken fou well he bravely chofe To Ihine or fet in glory with Montrofe : Now Cromwell's gane to Nick ; and ane ca'd Monk Has play'd the Rumple a right flee begunk, Reftor'd king Charles ; and ilka thing's in tune : And Habby fays, we'll fee Sir William foon. GLAUD. That makes me blyth indeed but dinna flaw, Tell o'er your news again ! and fwear til't a'. And faw ye Hab ! and what did Halbert fay ? They have been e'en a dreary time away. Now God be thanked that our laird's come hame; And his eftate, fay, can he eithly claim ? SYMON. They that hag-rid us 'till our guts did grane, -\ Like greedy bairs, dare nae mair do't again, > And good Sir William lhall enjoy his ain. s SANG. THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 22 Our tyrants bafe trembling for deeds they've done, Like vermin* vile, to defarts now muft run. GLAUD. Fine talk ! Oh, Symon ! wags will never ftand To hatch and fpread the biggeft lies off-hand ; Which foon fly round like wild-fire, far and near : But loofe your budget ; true or falfe, let's hear. SYMON. Seeing's believing, Glaud, and I have feen Hab, that abroad hath with our Matter been ; Our brave good Mafter ! who right wifely fled, And left a fair eftate to fave his head, Becaufe, you know full well, he bravely chofe To fhine, or fet in glory, with Montrofe : Now one call'd Monk, fince Cromwell's with Old Nick, Has fhew'd the Parliament a right fly trick, Reftor'd king Charles ; and ev'ry thing's in tune : And Halbert fays, we'll fee Sir William foon. CLAUD. That makes me blithe indeed but jeft not you Tell o'er your news again, then fwear 'tis true. And faw you Hab ! and what did Halbert fay ? They've been indeed a dreary time away. Now God be prais'd ! our knight's come home again ; Say, his eftates can he with eafe obtain ? SYMON. Thofe imps,who hagg'd us, till our hearts did groan ! Thofe greedy bears, now all their powers are gone, And good Sir William fhall enjoy his own. SONG. 23 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. SANG. Tune, CauU Kale in Aberdeen. Cauld be the rebels caft, OpprefTors bafe and bloody ; I hope we'll fee them at the laft Strung a' up in a woody. Bleft be he of worth and fenfe, And ever high in ftation, That bravely ftands in the defence Of confcience, king, and nation, CLAUD. And may he lang, for never did he flent Us in our thriving with a racket rent ; Nor grumbled if ane grew rich, or fhor'd to raife Our mailens, when we pat on Sunday's claiths. SYMON. Nor wad he lang, with fenfelefs faucy air, Allow our lyart noddles to be bare : ' Put on your bonnet, Symon tak a feat ' How's all at hame ? how's Elfpa ? how does Kate ? * How fells black cattle ? What gies woo this year ?' And fie like kindly queftions wad he fpear. SANG. THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 2J SONG. Cold be the rebels caft, Thofe bloody, bafe oppreflbrs ; I hope we'll fee them at the laft Hung up like vile tranfgreflbrs. Bleft be he of worth and fenfe, And ever high in ftation, That bravely ftands in the defence Of confcience, king, and nation. CLAUD. And may he long ! for never did he flint Us in our thriving with a racking rent ; Nor grudg'd when one got rich ; nor faid he'd raife Our farms, for looking fmart and fine, on holidays. SYMON. Nor would he long, with fenfelefs, fauey air, E'er fee, our old white heads, ftand by him bare : * Put on your bonnet, Symon take a feat ' How're all at home ? how's Elfpa ? how does Kate ? How fell black cattle ? how goes wool this year ?* So kind did all his queftions dill appear. SONG, 24 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. SANG. Tune, Mucking of Geordy's byar. The laird, who in riches and honour Wad thrive, fhould be kindly and free, Nor rack the poor tenants who labour To rife aboon poverty ; Elfe, like the pack-horfe that's unfother'd And burthen'd, will tumble down faint : Thus virtue by hardfhip is fmother'd, And rackers aft tine their rent. GlAUD. Then wad he gar his butler bring bedeen The nappy bottle ben, and glafies clean, Whilk in our bread rais'd lie a blythfome flame, As gait me mony a time gae dancing hame. My heart's e'en rais'd ! Dear nibour, will ye flay, And tak your dinner here with me the day : We'll fend for Elfpith too and, upo' fight, I'll whittle Pate and Roger frae the height. I'll yoke my fled, and fend to the neift town, And bring a draught of ale, baith flout and brown And gar our cottars a man, wife, and wean, Drink 'till they tine the gate to ftand their lane. S YMON. I wadna bank my friend his blyth defign, Gif that it hadna firft of a' been mine : For THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 24 SONG. The fquire who his wifdom would prove, Be lov'd, and be honour'd, and rich, Should encourage his tenants with love, Not greedily try to o'erreach. As the horfe that we ftarve and opprefs, Drops down in the rhidft of the road, Thus hardfliips do virtue deprefs Till (he fainting finks under the load. GLAUO. Then quick his butler he would make appear, With cheering bottles, and the glafles clear, Which in our breafts rais'd fuch a pleafing flame That, when we left him, dancing home we came : So joyful is my heart, dear neighbour, ftay, And take your dinner here with me to day We'll fend for Elfpa too and, upon fight, I'll whiftle Pate and Roger from the height; I'll yoke my fled, and fend to the next town, And bring a load of ale, that's flout and brown ; And make our cottagers, both young and old, Drink till they've loft the way their feet to hold. s Y M o N. I would not baulk my friend, his blithe defign, If that it had not mil of all been mine : E With 25 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. For here yeftreen I brewM a bow of maut, Yeftreen I flew twa wathers prime and fat ; A furlet of good cakes my Elfpa beuk, And a large ham hangs reefting in the nook : I faw myfell, or I came o'er the loan, Our meikle pot, that fcads the whey, put on, A mutton bouk to boil and ane we'll roaft ; And on the haggles Elfpa fpares nae cofl ; Small are they (horn, and Ihe can mix fou nice The gufty ingans with a curn of fpice : Fat are the puddings heads and feet well fung : And we've invited nibours auld and young, To pafs this afternoon with glee and game, And drink our Matter's health and welcome hame: Ye maunna then refufe to join the reft, Since ye're my neareft friend that I like beft : Bring wi'ye all your family; and then, Whene'er you pleafe, I'll rant wi' you again. CLAUD. Spoke like ye'r fell, auld birky, never fear But at your banquet I fhall firft appear : Faith, we {hall bend the bicker, and look bauld, 'Till we forget that we are fail'd or auld : Auld, faid I ! Troth, I'm younger by a fcore, With this good news, than what I was before : I'll dance or een! hey, Madge, come forth, d'ye hear ? ENTER THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 25 With plenty of ftrong ale my cafks are fill'd, Two good fat wethers I have lately kill'd; Three pecks of niceft cakes bak'd by our dame, And, hanging by the fire, a large fat ham. I faw myfelf, ere I the lane came down, Our largeft pot that makes the whey put on, One of the meep to boil and one we'll roaft, And on the minc'd meat Elfpa fpares no coft Small is it chopt, and me can mix full nice The fav'ry onion with the fav'ry fpice : Rich are the puddings, nice the head and feet, And neighbours old and young we do invite To drink Sir William's health and welcome home, And pafs in mirth and glee the hours to come : You muft not then refufe to join the reft, Since you're my neareft friend that I like beft. Bring with you all your family; and then, Whene'er you pleafe, I'll feaft with you again. GLAUD. Spoke like yourfelf, old boy ! and never fear But at your banquet I mail firft appear. Faith we mail fend it round, till we look bold- Till we forget we're either fail'd or old. Old, faid I ! Faith I'm younger by a fcore With this good news, than what I was before I'll dance ere night-ho! Madge, come forth, d'ye hear? E 2 ENTER 26 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. ENTER MADGE. MADGE. The man's gane gyte! DearSymon, welcome here- What wad ye, Glaud, with a* this hafte and din ? Ye never let a body fit to fpin. GLAUD. Spin! fnuff! gae break your wheel and burn your tow, And fet the meikleft peet-ftack in a low; Syne dance about the bane-fire 'till ye die, Since now again we'll foon Sir William fee. MADGE. Blyth news indeed ! And wha was't tald you o't ? CLAUD. What's that to you ? Gae get my Sunday's coat j Wale out the whiteft of my bobit bands, My whyt-ikin hofe, and mittans for my hands ; Then frae their walhing cry the bairns in hafte, And mak ye'r fells as trig, head, feet, and waift, As ye were a* to get young lads or een ; For we're gawn o'er to dine with Sym bedeen. s Y M o N. Do, honeft Madge and, Glaud, I'll o'er the gate. And fee that a* be done as I wad hae't. \Exemt. SCENE THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 26 ENTER MADGE. MADGE. The man's gone wild! DearSymon, welcome here; What would you, Glaud, with all this noife and hafte ? To fpin a thread, you never let one reft. CLAUD. Spin! burn your tow: your wheel you next may break, And in a flame go fet the great peat-flack Then round the bonfire dance till you drop down, Since we mall fee the good Sir William foon. MADGE. Glad news indeed ! but by whom were they brought ? GLAUD. What's that to you ? go get my Sunday's coat- Look out the whiteft of my nice fring'd bands, My milk-white (lockings, gloves too for my hands- Then from the warning call the girls in hafte, And make yourfelves as neat, head, feet, and waift, As you were all to wed young men to day We dine with Symon quick make no delay . SYMON. Do, honefl Madge! and, Glaud, I'll haften home, To fee that all's in order when you come. [Exeunt. E 3 SCENE 27 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. SCENE II. PROLOGUE. The open field A cottage in a glen, An auld wife fpinning at the funny end. At a finall diftance by a blafted tree, With falded arras and haff-rais'd look ye fee Bauldy his lane. BAULDY. Vv HAT'S this! I canna bear't! J Tis war than hell, To be fae burnt with love, yet dar na tell ! Peggy, fweeter than the dawning day, Sweeter than gowany glens or new-mawn hay ; Blyther than lambs that frilk out o'er the knows ; Straighter than aught that in the foreft grows. Her een the cleareft blob of dew out-mines ; The lily in her bread its beauty tines : Her legs, her arms, her cheeks, her mouth, her een, Will be my deid, that will be Ihortly feen! For Pate loes her ! waes me ! and (he Iocs Pate ; And I with Neps, by fome unlucky fate, Made a daft vow ! O ! but ane be a beaft, That makes rafh.aiths 'till he's afore the prieft. 1 dar na fpeak my mind, elfe a' the three, But doubt, wad prove ilk ane my enemy : 'Tis THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 2J SCENE II. DESCRIPTION. The open field, and deep down in a dale, A little hut, where turning round her wheel An aged woman in the fun is fet Warming her chilly limbs before his heat : At a fmall diftance by a blafted tree, With folded arms and looks half wild you fee Bauldy alone. B A U L D Y. Vv HAT'S this ! I cannot bear't 'Tis worfe than hell, To be burnt up with love, yet dare not tell! Peggy ! fweeter than the dawning day, Sweeter than daify'd dales, or new-mown hay; Blither than lambs that frifk o'er hillocks green, In all the forefl nought fo ftraight is feen. Her eyes like dew-drops fparkling on a rofe; And lilies in her breaft their beauties lofe ; Her legs, her arms, her cheeks, her eyes, her mouth, Will bring me to my grave in early youth For Pate loves her woes me ! and me loves Pate And I with Neps, by fome unlucky fate, Made a ralh vow Oh ! but one be an afs That makes ram oaths before the prieft fay grace. 1 dare not fpeak my mind, elfe all the three Doubtlefs would prove each one my enemy E 4 Tis 28 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 'Tis fair to thole I'll try fome witchcraft art, To break with ane and win the other's heart. Here Maufy lives, a witch, that for fma' price, Can caft her cantraips, and give me advice : She can o'ercaft the night, and cloud the moon, And mak the deils obedient to her crime : At midnight hours, o'er the kirkyard fhe raves, And howks unchriften'd weans out of their graves ; Boils up their livers in a warlock's pow : Rins witherfhins about the hemlock low, And feven times does her prayers backwards pray, 'Till Plotcock comes with lumps of Lapland clay, Mixt with the venom of black taids and fnakes : Of this unfonfy pictures aft (he makes Of any ane me hates and gars expire With flaw and racking pains afore a fire, Stuck fou of prins; the devilifh pictures melt; The pain by fowk they reprefent is felt. And yonder's Maufe ; ay, ay, me kens fou weil, When ane like me comes rinning to the deil : She and her cat fit becking in her yard ; To fpeak my errand, faith amaift I'm fear'd : But I maun do't, tho' I mould never thrive; They gallop faft, that deils and lafles drive. [Exit. SCENE THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 28 'Tis hard to bear I'll try fome witchcraft art To break with one, and win the other's heart Now here lives Maufe a witch that for fmall price, By magic arts, can give me wife advice She can o'ercaft the night, o'er cloud the moon, And call up devils ! her errands black to run At midnight hours the churchyard o'er fhe raves, And digs unchriflen'd infants from their graves ; Then, in a wizard's fcull, their livers boils, While backward round the hemlock flame (he toils ; Then fhe her prayers revers'd will feven times fay, Till Satan comes with lumps of Lapland clay, Mixt with the venom, of black toads, and makes- Of this her baneful images (he makes Of thofe fhe hates then caufes them t' expire With flow and racking pains before the fire- Stuck full of pins the devilifh pictures melt The pains by thofe they reprefent are felt. Yonder fits Maufe full well by her 'tis known, When fuch as I unto the devil run She and her cat fit in the yard to bafk Faith ! I'm afraid to name what I'm to afk But fpeak I muft, though I mould never thrive They gallop faft whom maids and devils drive [Exit. SCENE 29 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. SCENE III. PROLOGUE. A green kail-yard, a little fount, Where water poplin fprings, There fits a wife with wrinkled front, And yet flie fpins and fings. SANG. Tune, Carle and the King come. M A u s E. Peggy, now the king's come, Peggy, now the king's come, Thou may dance, and I {hall fmg, Peggy, fmce the king's come : Nae mair the hawkeys fhalt thou millc, But change thy plaiding-coat for filk, And be a lady of that ilk, Now, Peggy, fince the king's come. ENTER BAULDY. BAULDY. How does auld honeft lucky of the glen ? Ye look baith hale and feir at threefcore ten. M A u s E. E'en twining out a thread with little din, And beeking my cauld limbs afore the fun. What brings my bairn this gate fae air at morn ? Is there nae muck to lead to threth, nae corn ? BAULDY. THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. SCENE III. DESCRIPTION. A cottage garden, fountain cold, Where bubbling water fprings There fits a woman wrinkled old, And yet Ihe fpins and fings. SONG. \ M A U S E. Peggy, now the king's come, Peggy, now the king's come, Thou may'ft dance, and I fhall fing, Peggy, fmce the king's come. No more the cows (halt thou go milk, But change thy coat of plaid for filk, And be a lady of that ilk ', Peggy, fmce the king's come. ENTER BAULDY. B A U L D Y. How does old honeft goody of the dale ? At threefcore ten you look both brifk and hale. M AU S E. E'en twining out a thread with little din, And balking my cold limbs before the fun. What brings my child this way fo foon at morn ? Is there no field to dung? to threfli no corn? BAULDY. 30 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. B A ULD Y. Enough of baith But fomething that requires Your helping hand, employs now all my cares. M A u s E. My helping hand, alake ! What can I do, That underneath baith eild and poortith bow ? B A u L D Y. Ay, but you're wife, and wifer far than we, Or maift part of the parifh tells a lie. M A U S E. Of what kind wifdom think ye I'm pofieft, That lifts my character aboon the reft ? B AU LD Y. Well vers'd in herbs, and feafons of the moon, By fkilfu* charms 'tis kend what ye ha' done. M A u s E. What fowk fay of me, Bauldy, let me hear; Keep naithing up, ye naithing have to fear. BAULDY. Well, fince ye bid me, I mall tell ye a' That ilk ane talks about you, but a flaw. When laft the wind made Glaud a rooflefs barn ; When laft the burn bore down my mither's yarn ; When Brawny elf-ihot never mair came hame ; When Tibby kirn'd and there nae butter came; When Befly Freetock's chuffy-cheeked wean To a fairy turn'd, and cou'dna ftand its lane; When Wattie wander'd ae night thro' the fliaw, And tint himfel amaift amang the fnaw ; When Mungo's mare flood ftill, and fwat wi' fright, When he brought eaft the Howdy under night; When THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 30 B A U L D Y. Enough of both but fomething that requires Your helping hand, employs all my defires. M A u s E. My helping hand ! alas ! what can I do, That underneath both age and pen'ry bow ? B A U L D Y. But you are wife above us all you're wife, Or moft part of the parifti muft tell lies. M A U S E. Of what kind wifdom think you I'm poffefr, That lifts my character above the reft? B A U L D Y. Well vers'd in herbs, and feafons of the moon, By fkilful charms 'tis known what you have done. M A u s E. What folks fay of me, Bauldy, let me hear, Keep nothing from me, nought you have to fear. BAULDY. Well fmce that you have bid me I'll obey, And tell you truly what the neighbours fay When laft the wind made Gland a rooflefs barn ; When laft the brook bore down my mother's yarn ; When Brawny elf-fhot never more came home; When Tibby churn 'd, and butter never came; When BeiTy Freetock's chopping little one A fairy turn'd, and could not ftand alone ; When Wattie wander'd all night in the wood, And fnow and fear had almoft froze his blood ; When Mungo's mare flood ftill, and fvveat for fright, As he the midwife brought on a dark night; When 31 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. When Bawfy (hot to dead upon the green ; And Sara tint a fnood was nae mair feen ; You, Lucky, gat the wyte of a' fell out : And ilka ane here dreads ye round about; And fae they may that mean to do do ye fkaith ; For me to wrang ye, I'll be very laith : But when I neift make groats, I'll ftrive to pleafe You with a furlet of them mixt with peafe. M A U S E. I thank ye, lad, now tell me your demand, And, if I can, I'll lend my helping hand. B AULD Y. Then, I like Peggy, Neps is fond of me -\ Peggy likes Pate; and Patie's bauld and flee, > And looes fweet Meg But Neps I downa fee ) Cou'd ye turn Patie's love to Neps, and then Peggy's to me, I'd be the happieft man. M A u s E. I'll try my art to gar the bowls row right, Sae gang your ways and come again at night ; 'Gainft that time I'll fome fimple things prepare, Worth all your peafe and groats, take ye na care. B A U L D Y. Well, Maufe, I'll come, gif I the road can find; But if ye raife the deil, he'll raife the wind ; Syne rain and thunder, may be, when 'tis late, Will make the night fae mirk, I'll tine the gate. We're a' to rant in Symmie's at a feaft, O will ye come like badrans for a jeft ; And THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 3! When Bawfy dropt down dead upon the green, And Sarah loft a fillet ne'er more feen ; Yon, Goody, got the blame of all fell out m , .And every neighbour dreads you all about; And fo they may, that mean to do you ill; For me, I ne'er lhall wrong you with my will : But when I next make groats, I'll flrive to pleafe You with three pecks of them, well mixt with peafe. M A U S E. Thank you, my lad ! now tell me your demand, And, if I can, I'll lend my helping hand. B A U L D Y. Then I love Peggy Neps is fond of me Peggy loves Patie brave and fly And loves Sweet Peg but Neps Could you turn Patie's love to Neps and then Peggy's to me I'd be the happieft man! M A u s E. I'll try my art to make the bowls run right So go away and come again at night; By that time I'll fome fimple things prepare, Worth all your peafe and groats fo banifh care. B A U L D Y. Well, Maufe, I'll come, if I the road can find; But if you raife the devil, he'll raife the wind ; Then, when 'tis late, the rain and thunder may So difmal make the night, I'll lofe my way. We're all to meet at Symon's at a feaft, O! come you like a cat, juft for a jeil! And d of me % r is he > I hate to fee. ) 32 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. And there ye can our different haviours fpy ; There's nane fhall ken o't there but you and I. M A U S E. 'Tis like I may but let na on what's paft 'Tween you and me, elfe fear a kittle caft. B A U L D Y. If I aught of your fecrets e'er advance, May ye ride on me ilka night to France. [Exit BAULDY. MAUSE HER LANE. This fool imagines, as do mony fie, That I'm a witch in compact with Auld Nick, Becaufe by education I was taught To fpeak and aft aboon their common thought : Their grofs miftake mail quickly now appear ; Soon mall they ken what brought, what keeps me here, Now fince the royal Charles, and right's reftor'd, A mepherdefs is daughter to a lord. The bonny foundling that's brought up by Glaud, Wha has an uncle's care on her beftow'd, Her infant life I fav'd, when a falfe friend Bow'd to th* Ufurper, and her death defign'd, To eftablifli him and his in all thefe plains That by right heritage to her pertains : She's now in her fweet bloom, has blood and charms Of too much value for a mepherd's arms : Nane kens't but me ; and if the morn were come, I'll tell them tales will gar them a j fmg dumb. SCENE THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 32 And then you can our different manners fpy ; There's none mall know that's there, fave you and I. M A u s E. Moft like I may but tell not you what's paft 'Tween you and me or dread fome woful caft. . B A U L D Y. If I aught of your fecrets e'er advance, May you ride on me every night to France. [Exit BAULDY. MAUSE ALONE. This fool imagines, as do many fuch, I've bargain'd with the Devil, and am a witch Becaufe by education I've been taught To fpeak and aft above their common thought- Their grofs miflakes mall quickly now appear; Soon fhall they know what brought,what keeps me here, Now lince the royal Charles and right's reftor'd, A mepherdefs is daughter to a lord. This pretty foundling that's brought up by Glaud, Who has an uncle's care on her beilow'd, Her infant life I fav'd, when a falfe friend Bow'd to the Ufurper, and her death defign'd, To give him and his heirs right to thofe plains That by inheritance are Jier domains : She's now in life's fweet bloom, has blood and charms Of too much value for a fhepherd's arms : None knows but I ; and if the morn were come, I'll tell them tales will make them all lit dumb. F SCENE 33 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. SCENE IV. PROLOGUE. Behind a tree upon the plain Pate and his Peggy meet, In love without a vicious ftain, The bonny lafs and chearfu' fwain Change vows and kifies fweet. PATIE AND PEGGY. PEGGY. O PATIE, let me gang, I maunna flay; We're baith cry'd hame, and Jenny fhe's away. PATIE. I'm lakh to part fae foon now we're alane, And Roger he's away with Jenny gane; They're as content, for aught I hear or fee, To be alane themfelves, I judge, as we. Here, where primrofes thickeft paint the green, Hard by this little burnie let us lean : Hark ! how the lav'rocks chant aboon our heads, How faft the wefllin winds fough through the reeds ! PEGGY. The fcented meadows' birds and healthy breeze, For aught I ken, may mair than Peggy pleafe. PATIE. Ye wrang me fair, to doubt my being kind ; In fpeaking fae, ye ca' me dull and blind, Gif THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 33 SCENE IV. DESCRIPTION. Behind a tree upon the plain Pate and his Peggy meet, In love which not one thought doth ftain, The pretty lafs and cheerful fwain Change vows and kifles fweet. PATIE AND PEGGY. PEGGY. O PATIE, let me go I muft not flay, We're both call'd home, and Jenny {he's away. PATIE. I'm loth to part fo foon now we're alone, And Roger he is off with Jenny gone ; If I may judge from what I hear or fee They're as content to be alone as we. Here, where primrofes thickeft paint the green, Near by this little riv'let let us lean : Hark ! how the larks are chanting o'er our heads I- How foft the weftern winds iigh through the reeds! PEGGY. The fcented meadows birds and healthy breeze, For aught I know, may more than Peggy pleafe. PATIE. You wrong me much, to doubt my being kind ; In fpeaking fo, you call me dull and blind, F 2 If 34 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. Gif I could fancy aught's fae fweet or fair As my fweet Meg, or worthy of my care. Thy breath is fweeter than the fweeteft brier, Thy cheek and breaft the fineft flow'rs appear: Thy words excel the maift delightfu' notes That warble through the merle or mavis' throats : With thee I tent nae flowers that bnfk the field, Or ripeft berries that our mountains yield : The fweeteft fruits that hing upon the tree Are far inferior to a kifs of thee. PEGGY. But Patrick for fome wicked end may fleech, And lambs fliould tremble when the foxes preach. I darna flay, ye joker, let me gang, Or fwear ye'll never tempt to do me wrang. P A T I E. Sooner a mother fliall her fondnefs drap, And wrank the bairn fits fmiling on her lap : The fun {hall change, the moon to change mall ceafe, The gaits to clim, the meep to yield the fleece, Ere ought by me be either faid or doon, Shall do thee wrang, I fwear by all aboon. PEGGY. Then keep your aith but mony lads will fwear, And be manfworn to twa in half a year : Now I believe ye like me wonder weel ; But if anither lafs your heart fliou'd fteal, Your Meg, forfaken, bootlefs might relate How (he was dauted anes by faithlefs Pate. FATIE THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 34 If I could fancy aught fo fvveet or fair As my dear Peg, or worthy of my care. Thy breath excels fweet-brier that fcents the gale, Thy cheeks and breaft the flowers that paint the vale: Thy words excel the moft delightful note That warbles through the thrum or blackbird's throat: With thee I heed no flower that decks the field, Or ripeft berries that our mountains yield : The fweetell fruits that hang upon the tree Are far inferior to one kifs of thee. PEGGY. To footh and then deceive, you may difTemble, And when the foxes preach the lambs mould tremble. You fly one, let me go I dare not ftay, Or fwear my innocence you'll ne'er betray. PATIE. Sooner unnatural mall a mother be, And wrong the babe that fmiles upon her knee : The fun fliall change, the moon to change (hall ceafe, The goats to climb, the fheep to yield the fleece, Ere word or thought of mine (hall wrong my love, I fwear by yon bright fun by all above. PEGGY. Then keep your oath but many lads will fwear, And perjur'd be to two in one half year : Now that you like me wond'rous well I fee, But mould another fteal your heart from me, Forfaken Peg might unredrefs'd relate How ihe was once belov'd by faithlefs Pate. F 3 PATIE. 35 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. PATIE. I'm fure 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'dft hardly gang, Or lifp out words, I choos'd ye frae the thrang Of a* the bairns, and led thee by the hand, Aft to the tanfy know or rafhy ftrand ; Thou fmiling by my fide, I took delight To pou the rafhes green with roots fae white, Of which, as well as my young fancy cou'd, For thee I plet the flow'ry belt and fnood. PEGGY. When firft thou gade with fliepherds to the hill, And I to milk the ews firft try'd my fkill, To bear a leglen was nae toil to me, When at the bught at ev'n I met with thee. S ANG . Tune, JPinter was cauld^ and my Ckatbing was thin. PEGGY. When firft my dear laddie gade to the green hill, And I at ewe-milking firft feyd my young fkill, To bear the milk-bowie no pain was to me, When I at the bughting forgather'd with thee. PATIE. When corn riggs wav'd yellow, and blew hether bells Bloom'd bonny on moorland and fweet rifmg fells. Nae birns, brier, or breckens, gave trouble to me, If I found the berries right ripen'd for thee, PEGGY. THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 35 PAT I E. I'm fure I cannot change, you need not fear, Though we're but young I've lov'dyou many a year: I mind it well, ere thou could'ft walk along, Or lifp out words, I chofe thee from the throng- Of little ones, and led thee by the hand, Oft to the tanfy bank or rufhy ftrand ; Thou fmiling by my fide, I took delight To pull the rumes green with roots fo white, Which mixt with flowers to belts and garlands wove, As my young fancy taught, bedeck'd my love n . PEGGY. When firfl thou went'fl with fhepherds to the hill, And I to milk the ewes firfl tried my fkill, To bear the milking pail ne'er gave me pain, When at the fold on nights I met my fvvain. SONG. PEGGY. When firft my dear lad he went to the green hill, And I at ewe-milking firft tried my young fkill, The milk-pail to carry no pain was to me, If at the fheep-folding I chanc'd to meet thee. PATIE. When corn fields wav'd yellow, and purple heath bells, Bloom'd lovely on moorlands and fweet rifing hills, What ever gave trouble was nothing to me, If I found the berries right ripen'd for thee. F 4 PEGGY, 36 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. PEGGY. When thou ran, or wreftled, or putted the ftane, And came off the viftor, my heart was ay fane ; Thy ilka fport manly gave pleafure to me ; For nane can putt, wreftle, or run fwift as thee. PAT IE. Our Jenny fings faftly the " Cowden broom knows,'* And Rofie lilts fwiftly the " Milking the ews ;" There's few " Jenny Nettles" like Nanfy can fing, At " Throw the wood laddie," Befs gars our lugs ring. But when my dear Peggy fings with better fkill, The Boatman, Tweed-fide, or the Lafs of the Mill,'* 'Tis mony times fweeter and pleafing to me j For tho' they fing nicely, they cannot like thee. PEGGY. How eafy can lafles trow what they deflre ! And praifes fae kindly increafes love's fire : Give me ftill this pleafure, my ftudy fhall be, To make myfelf better and fweeter for thee, PATIE. When corns grew yellow, and the hether-bells Bloom'd bonny on the moor and riling fells, Nae birns, or briers, or whins, e'er troubled me, Gif I cou'd find blae berries ripe for thee. PEGGY. When thou didft wreftle, run, or putt the ftane, And wan the day, my heart was flightering fane : At all thefe fports thou ftill gave joy to me ; For nane can wreftle, run, or putt with thee. PATIE. Jenny fings faft the " Broom of Cowden knows," And Rofie lilts the " Milking of the ews ;" There's THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 36 PEGGY. When thou ran'ft, or wreftled, or putted the ftone , My heart beat with gladnefs, when thou the prize won. Thy every fport manly gave pleafure to me, For none can putt, wreftle, or run fwift as thee. PATI E. Our Jenny fmgs foftly the " Cowden broom knows," And Rofie chants fweetly the " Milking the ewes," And few " Jenny Nettles" like Nancy can fmg, In " Through the wood laddie," Befs makes our ears ring. But when my dear Peggy fings with better (kill, The Boatman, Tweed-fide, or the Lafs of the Mill," 'Tis many times fweeter and pleafing to me, For though they fmg well, yet they cannot like thee. PEGGY. How eafy can lafTes truft what they defire ! And praifing fo kindly increafes love's fire : Give me ftill this pleafure, my ftudy fliall be To make myfelf better and fweeter for thee. PATIE. When corn grew yellow, and the fweet heath-bells, Bloom'd lovely on the moors and rifing hills, Furze, briers, or new-burnt heath ne'er troubled me, If I found purple berries ripe for thee. PEGGY. When thou didft wreftle, run, or putt the ftone, My heart with gladnefs beat when thou didft win : At all thefe fports thou ftill gav'ft joy to me, For none can wreftle, run, or putt like thee. PATIE. Jenny fmgs foft the " Broom of Cowden knows," And Rofie chants the " Milking of the ewes ;" In 37 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. There's nane, like Nanfy, " Jenny Nettles" finfis : At turns in " Maggy Lawder," Marion dings : But when my Peggy fings with fweeter fkill The " Boatman," or the " Lafs of Patie's Mill," It is a thoufand times mair fweet to me ; Tho' they fing well, they canna fing like thee. PEGGY. How eith can lafles trow what we defire, And, roos'd by them we love, blaws up the fire ; But wha loves beft, let time and carriage try ; Be conftant, and my love mail time defy. Be ftill as now, and a* my care (hall be, How to contrive what pleafant is for thee. PAT IE. Wert thou a giglet gawky like the lave, That little better than our nowt behave, At naught they'll ferly, fenfelefs tales believe, Be blyth for filly hechts, for trifles grieve Sic ne'er con'd win my heart, that kenna how Either to keep a prize, or yet prove true : But thou in better fenfe, without a flaw, As in thy beauty, far excels them a'. Continue kind, and a' my care mall be, How to contrive what pleafing is for thee. PEGGY. Agreed; but harken, yon's auld aunty's cry, I ken they'll wonder what can make us flay. PATIE. And let them ferly, now a kindly kifs, Or five fcore good anes wad not be amifs ; And THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. $] In " Jenny Nettles" Nancy does furpafs : For " Maggy Lauder" Marion is the lafs : But when my Peggy fings with better fkill The " Boatman," or the " Lafs of Patie's Mill," Jt is a thoufand times more fweet to me ; Though they fmg well they cannot fing like thee. PEGGY. With cafe we foon believe what we defire, And, prais'd by one we love, blows up the fire ; But who loves befl, let time and conducl: try, Be conftant, and my love mail time defy. Be ftill as now, and all my care ftiall be, HOW to contrive what pleafing is for thee. PATIE. Like many a one, a gigling fool wert thou, Who feem as void of breeding as a cow, At nought they'll wonder fenfelefs tales believe, Be glad for trifles, and for trifles grieve Such ne'er could win my love, that know not how Either to keep a heart, or yet prove true : Without a flaw, much better fenfe thou haft, And beauty too, that far excels the reft. Continue kind, and all my care fhall be, How to contrive what pleafing is to thee. PEGGY. Now we're agreed ; but, hark ! we muft away, My aunt doth call, they'll wonder at our flay. PATIE. And let them wonder now a kindly kifs, Or five fcore good ones would not be amifs j And 3& THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. And fyne we'll fing the fang with tunefu' glee. That I made up laft owk on you and me. PEGGY. Sing firfl, fyne claim your hyre PATJE. Well, I agree. SANG. To Its one Tune. P A T I E. By the delicious warmnefs of thy mouth, And rowing eye that fmiling tells the truth, I guefs, my laflie, that as well as I, Ye're made for love, and why fhould ye deny ? PEGGY. But ken ye, lad, gif we confefs o'er foon, Ye think us cheap, and fyne the wooing's done : The maiden that o'er quickly tynes her power, Like unripe fruit will tafte but hard and fowr. p A T i E. But gin they hing o'er lang upon the tree, Their fweetnefs they may tyne, and fae may ye ; Red-cheek'd ye compleatly ripe appear, And I have thol'd and woo'd a lang half year. PEGGY (falling into Patie's arms.) Then dinna pow me, gently thus I fa' Into my Patie's arms, for good and a' : But ftint your wifhes to this kind embrace, And mint nae farther till we've got the grace. PATH THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 38 And then the fong we'll fing with mirth and glee, That I laft week made up on you and me. PEGGY. Sing firft, then claim your hire P ATI E; Well, I agree. SONG. PAT IE. By all the fmiling beauties of thy mouth, And foften'd eyes that fweetly tell the truth, I guefs, my lafs, that thou as well as I, Art made for love, then why fhould'ft thou deny ? PEGGY. But know ye, lad, if we confefs too foon, You think us cheap, and then the wooing's done : The maiden that too foon gives up her pow'r, Like unripe fruit will tafte but hard and four. PAT IE. But if they hang too long upon the tree, Their fweetnefs they may lofe, and foRiay ye : Like full ripe fruit your glowing cheeks appear, And I have figh'd and woo'd a long half year. PEGGY (falling into his arms.) Then do not pull me, gently thus I fall Into my Patie's arms for good and all : But don't betray your truft, and there's my hand Whene'er the prieft fays grace, you ihall command. P A T I E 39 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. PATIE (with his left hand about her wa'ijl.) O charming armfu' ! hence ye cares away, I'll kifs my treafure a' the live lang day ; All night I'll dream my kiffes o'er again, Till that day come that ye'll be a' my ain. SUNG BY BOTH. Sun, gallop down the weftlin fkies, Gang foon to bed, and quickly rife ; O lafli your fteeds, poft time away, And hafte about our bridal-day ; And if you're weary'd, honeft light, Sleep, gin ye like, a week that night. \Let down the curtain^ and let them kifs. END OF THE SECOND ACT. ACT THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 39 . PAT IE (with his left hand about her waijl.) O charming truft ! away, my cares away, I'll kifs my treafure all the live long day ; And when 'tis night, then I fhall dream of thee, 'Till that one conies that gives thee all to me. SUNG BY BOTH. Sun, gallop down the weftern fkies, Go foon to bed, and quickly rife; O lafh your fteeds, poft time away, And hafte about that happy day ; Then, if you're weary, honeft light, Take a whole week to make one night. END OF THE SECOND ACT. ACT 4/> THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. SCOTCH. ACT III. SCENE I. PROLOGUE. Now turn your eyes beyond yon fpreading lyme, And tent a man whafe beard feems bleech'd with time; Ane elwand fills his hand, his habit mean, Nae doubt ye'll think he has a pedlaj been j But whifht it is the knight in mafquerade, That comes hid in this cloud to fee his lad. Obferve how pleas'd the loyal fuff'rer moves Throw his auld av'news, anes delightfu' groves. SIR WILLIAM SOLUS. 1 HE gentleman, thus hid in low difguife, 1*11 for a fpace, unknown, delight mine eyes With a full view of ev'ry fertile plain, Which once I loft which now are mine again. Yet, 'midft my joys, fome profpects pains renew, Whilft I my once fair feat in ruins view. Yonder, ah me ! it defolately flands, Without a roof, the gates fall'n from their bands; The cafements all broke down, no chimney left, The naked walls of tap'ftry all bereft. My THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 40 ENGLISH. ACT III. SCENE I. DESCRIPTION. Now turn your eyes beyond yon fpreadlng lime, Obferve a man, whofe beard feems bleach'd with time j A yard wand in his hand j his habit mean ; No doubt you think he has a pedler been But, hufli ! the knight has this difguife put on, And comes in mafquerade to fee his fon. Obferve how pleas'd the loyal faff rer moves Through his old avenues, once delightful groves. SIR WILLIAM SOLUS. 1 HE gentleman thus hid in low difgiiife, I'll for a fpace unknown delight mine eyes , With a full view of every fertile plain, Which once I loft, which now are mine again. Yet, 'midft my joys, fome profpedts pains renew, Whilft I my once fair feat in ruins view. Yonder, ah me ! how defolate it looks, Without a roof; the gates fall'n of their hooks, The cafements broken down, no chimney left, The naked walls of tapeflry all bereft. G My 4-1 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. My {tables and pavilions, broken walls ! That with each rainy blaft decaying falls : My gardens once adorn'd the moft compleat, With all that nature, all that art makes fweet; Where round the figur'd green and pebble walks, The dewy flow'rs hung nodding on their ftalks : But, overgrown with nettles, docks, and brier, No jaccacinths or eglantines appear. Here fail'd and broke's the rifing ample lhade, Where peach and nedt'rine trees their branches fpread, Bafking in rays, and early did produce Fruit fair to view, delightful in the ufe ; All round in gaps the walls in ruin lie, And from what (lands the wither 'd branches fly. Thefe foon mail be repair'd; and now my joy Forbids all grief when I'm to fee my boy, My only prop, and object of my care, Since heaven too foon call'd home his mother fair: Him, e'er the rays of reafon clear'd his thought, I fecretly to faithful Symon brought, And charg'd him flridly to conceal his birth Till we fhou'd fee what changing times brought fortht Hid from himfelf, he ftarts up by the dawn, And ranges carelefs o'er the height and lawn After his fleecy charge, ferenely gay, With other mepherds whittling o'er the day. Thrice happy life ! that's from ambition free, Remov'd from crowns and courts how chearfully A calm contented mortal fpends his time In health, his foul unftain'd with crime. SANG. THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 4! My flables, and pavilions, ruins all! That with each rainy blaft decaying fall. My gardens, once adorn'd the moft complete, With all that nature, all that art makes fweet ; Where round the figur'd green, and pebbled walks, The dewy flowers hung nodding on their ftalks : But, overgrown with nettles, docks, and brier, No hyacinths or eglantines appear. Here fail'd and broke's the ample rifing fliade Where peach andnect'rine trees their branches fpread, Bafking in funbeams, early did produce Fruit fair to view, delightful in the ufe : All fall'n in gapes the walls in ruins lie, And from what (lands, the withered branches fly. Thefe foon (hall be repair'd ; and now my joy Forbids all grief when I'm to fee my boy, My fole fupport, and object of my care, Since heav'n too foon call'd home his mother fair. Him, ere the rays of reafon clear'd his thought, I fecretly to faithful Symon brought, Charging him ftrictly to conceal his birth 'Till we fliould fee what changing times brought forth. Hid from himfelf, he flarts up by the dawn, And ranges carelefs o'er the heights and lawn After his fleecy charge, ferenely gay, With other fhepherds whittling out the day. Thrice happy life ! that's from ambition free, Removed from crowns and courts how cheerfully A calm contented mortal fpends his time In health and peace, with foul unilain'd by crime. G 2 SONG. 42 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD, SANG. Tune, Happy Clown. Hid from himfelf, now by the dawn He ftarts as frefh as rofes blawn, And ranges o'er the heights and lawn, After his bleeting flocks. Healthful, and innocently gay, He chants and whittles out the day: Untaught to fmile, and then betray, Like courtly weathercocks. Life happy from ambition free, Envy and vile hypocrifie, When truth and love with joy agree, Unfullied with a crime : Unmov'd with what difturbs the great, In propping of their pride and ftate, He lives, and, unafraid of fate, Contented fpends his time. Now tow'rds good Symon's houfe I'll bend my way, And fee what makes yon gamboling to-day; All on the green, in a fair wanton ring, My youthful tenants gaylie dance and fmg. [Exit Sir William. SCENE THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 42 SONG, Hid from himfelf, by early light, As new blown rofes, frefti and bright, He ranges o'er the lawn and height After his bleating flocks ; Healthful, and innocently gay, He chants and whittles out the day; Untaught to fmile, and then betray, Like courtly weathercocks. Bleft life that's from ambition free, Envy, and vile hypocrify, Where truth and love, with joy agree, Polluted with no crime : Unmov'd with what difturbs the great, Supporting of their pride and ftate, He lives, and, ne'er miftrufting fate, Contented fpends his time. Now to good Symon's houfe I'll bend my way And fee what makes yon gamboling to-day; All on the green in a fair wanton ring, My youthful tenants gaily dance and fing. [Exit Sir William. SCENE 43 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. SCENE II. PROLOGUE. 'Tis Symon's houfe, pleafe to ftep in And vifly't round and round, There's nought fuperfTous to give pain, Or coftly to be found. Yet all is clean : a clear peat ingle Glances amid ft the floor: The green horn fpoons, beech luggies mingle On (keifs forgainft the door. While the young brood fport on the green, The auld anes think it bell, With the brown cow to clear their een, Snuff, crack, and take their reft. SYMON, GLAUD, AND ELSPA. GLAUD. W E anes were young our fells I like to fee The bairns bob round with other merrylie : Troth, Symon, Patie's grown a ftrapan lad, And better looks than his I never bade; Amang our lads he bears the gree awa' : And tells his tale the clev'reft of them a*. ELSPA. Poor man ! he's a great comfort to us baith ; God mak him good, and hide him ay frae fkaith. He THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 43 SCENE II. DESCRIPTION. *Tis Symon's houfe, pleafe to ftep in And view it round and round ; There's nought fuperfl'ous to give pain, Or coftly to be found. Yet all is clean a fire of peats Is blazing on the floor. The green horn fpoons, beech bowls and plates On (helves that front the door. The young folks on the green dance light, The old ones think it beft With good brown ale to clear their fight, Take fnuff", and chat, and reft. SYMON, GLAUD, AND ELSPA. G LAUD. W E once were young ourfelves I like to fee The young folks foot it round fo merrily : Troth, Symon, Patie's grown a handfome lad As one could wifh, he's tall and tightly made ; Amongft our youths I think he bears the bell, And beft amongft them all he tells his tale. ELSPA. He's a great comfort to us both, poor lad, God make him good, and keep him from what's badj G 4 He's 44 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. He is a bairn, I'll fay't, well worth our care, That gae us ne'er vexation late or air. CLAUD. I trow, goodwife, if I be not miftane, He feems to be with Peggy's beauty tane, And troth, my niece is a right dainty wean, As ye well ken ; a bonnyer needna be, Nor better be't (he were nae kin to me. SYMON. 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 reafons I'll no tell, I'd rather be mixt with the mopls myfell. GLAUD. What reafon can ye have? There's nane I'm fure, Unlefs he may caft up that (he's but poor : But gif the laffie marry to my mind I'll be to her as my ain Jenny kind; Fourfcore of breeding ews of my ain birn, Five ky that at ae milking fills a kirn, I'll gie to Peggy that day (he's a bride; By and attour, if mv good luck abide, Ten lambs, at fpaining-time, as lang's I live, And twa quey cawfs I'll yearly to them give. ELSPA. Ye offer fair, kind Glaud, but dinna fpeer What may be is not fit ye yet mould hear. SYMON. Or this day eight-days likely he (hall learn That our denial difna (light his bairn. GLAUD. be, I ?. ) THE GENTLE SHEPHERB. 44 He's well worth all our care, that I will fay, And ne'er gave us vexation, night nor day. CLAUD. I think, my dame, if I am not miflaken, He feems to be with Peggy's beauty taken : She is a tidy maid as one can fee, And well you know, more pretty need not Nor better, though fhe were no kin to me. S Y M O N. Ha, Glaud ! I doubt that ne'er will be a match, My Patie's arch, and will be ill to catch j And ere he were, for reafons that I know, J rather would be in the earth laid low. CLAUD. What reafons can you have ? there's none I'm fure, Unlefs you flighting fay that me is poor : But if that Peggy marries to my mind I'll be to her as my own Jenny kind ; With my own mark, fourfcore of teeming ewes; That fill a churn at once, fiv good milch cows, I'll give to Peggy, that day fhe's a bride; O'er and above, if my good luck abide, Ten lambs at weaning time, as long's I live, And two cow-calves I'll yearly to them give. ELSPA. Ye offer fair, kind Glaud ! but aik not now What may be is not fit that you Ihould know. SYMON. Ere this day week fome things may come to light Will (hew him our denial is no flight. CLAUD. 45 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. CLAUD. Well, nae mair o't; come, gi's the other bend, We'll drink their healths, whatever way it end. [Their healths gae round. SYMON. But will ye tell me, Glaud ? By fome 'tis faid Your niece is but a fundting, that was laid Down at your hallon-fide, ae morn in May, Right clean row'd up, and bedded on dry hay. CLAUD. That clattern Madge, my titty, tells fie flaws, Whene'er our Meg her cankart humour gaws. ENTER J ENN Y. JENNY. O father ! there's an auld man on the green, The felleft fortune-teller e'er was feen : He tents our loofs, and fyne whops out a book, Turns owre the leaves, and gies our brows a look : Syne tells the oddeft tales that e'er ye heard ; His head is gray, and lang and gray his beard. SYMON. Gae bring him in, we'll hear what he can fay, Nane (hall gang hungry by my houfe 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 faxvs I doubt, For greater liars never ran thereout. Returns THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 45 CLAUD. Whatever way it ends let's have a glafs, And drink good health to both the lad and lafs. [Their healths go round* SYMON. But will you tell me, Glaud? by fome Vis faid Your niece is but a foundling, that was laid Down at your door, upon a morn in May, Nicely wrapt up, and bedded on new hay, GLAUD. My chattering lifter Madge fuch fluff reports Whenever Peg her wayward humour thwarts. ENTER JENNY. JENNY. O father! there's an old man on the green, The clev'reft fortune-teller e'er was feen : He views our palms, and then pulls out a book, Turns o'er the leaves, and gives our brows a look : Then tells the oddeft tales that e'er were heard ; His head is grey, and long and grey his beard. SYMON. Go bring him in, we'll hear what he can fay; None mail go hungry by my houfe to-day. [Exit JENNY* But for his fortune-telling, faith I fear He knows no more of that than my grey mare. GLAUD. In fortune-tellers' tales I always doubt, For greater liars do not go about. JENNY 4-6 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. Returns JENNY bringing in SIR WILLIAM; with them PAT IE. SYMON. / Ye're welcome, honeft carle here, tak a feat. SIR WILLIAM. I give ye thanks, goodman, Ife no be blate. CLAUD (drinks.) Come, t'ye, friend How far came ye the day ? SIR WILLIAM. I pledge ye, nibour, e'en but little way : Roufted with eild, a wie piece gate feems lang, Twa miles or three's the maift that I dow gang. SYMON. Ye're welcome here to flay all night wi' me, And tak fie bed and board as we can gi'e. SIR WILLIAM. That's kind unfought : Well, gin ye have a bairn That ye like well, and wad his fortune learn, I ftiall employ the fartheft of my ikill To fpae it faithfully, be't good or ill. SYMON (pointing to PATIE ,) Only that lad alack ! I have nae mae, Either to mak me joyfu' now or wae. SIR WILLIAM. Young man, let's fee your hand what gars ye fneer ? PATIE. Becaufe your fkill's but little worth, I fear. SIR THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 46 JENNY returns bringing in SIR. WILLIAM; with them PATIE. S YMON. You're welcome, friend, here, take a feat by me. SIR WILLIAM. I give you thanks, and fhall not bafhful be. CLAUD. Friend, to your health ; How far came you to-day ? SIR WILLIAM. I pledge you, neighbour, but a little way : Rufled with age, fhort roads feem long to me, The moft that I can go's two miles or three. s Y M o N. Here (lay with me to-night, and take your reft, Such as I have, you're welcome to the beft. SIR WILLIAM. That's kind unafk'd a fav'rite child have you Whom you love well, and would his fortune know, I mail employ the utmoft of my fkill To tell it truly, be it good or ill. SYMON (pointing to PATIE. j Only that lad alas ! I have no more, Either to pleafe my heart or make it fore. SIR WILLIAM. Young man,(hew me your hand what makes you fneer? PATIE. Becaufe your Mi's but little worth, I fear. SIR 47 THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. SIR WILLIAM. Ye cut before the point 1 but billy, byde, I'll wager there's a moufe-mark on your fide. EL SPA. Beteech-us-to ! and well I wat that's true ; Awa, awa, the deel's owre girt wi' you : Four inch aneath his oxter is the mark,. Scarce ever feen fince he firft wore a fark. SIR WILLIAM. [ tell ye mair, if this young lad be fpair'd But a Ihort while, he'll be a braw rich laird. E L s p A. A laird ! Hear ye, goodman What think ye now? SYMO N. 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 IE. A laird of twa good whittles and a kent, Twa curs, my trufty tenants on the bent, Is a* my great eftate and like to be ; Sae cunning carle, ne'er break your jokes on me. s Y M o N. Whifht, Patie let the man look owre your hand, Aftymes as broken a (hip has come to land. [SIR WILLIAM looks a little at PATIE'J band, then counterfeits falling into a trance, while they endea- vour to lay him right.~\ ELSPA. THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 47 SIR WILLIAM. You cut before the point judge me when try'd, I'll wager there's a moufe-mark on your lide. EL SPA. The Lord protect us ! I know well that's true; Away, away the devil's too great with you : The mark's beneath his arm-pit inches four, Scarce ever feen fince he a fhirt firft wore. SIR WILLIAM. I'll tell you more in a Ihort time you'll fee That this young man a fine rich 'fquire will be. E L s p A. Hufoand, d'ye hear a 'fquire ! What think ye now? s y M o N. I do not know Strange old man, what art thou ? But blefs your heart 'tis good to promife wealth; Come, fill a bumper to 'fquire Patie's health. [PA TIE'S health goes round. f AT IE. A ftieep-crook and two flutes of thefe I'm fquire, Two trufly dogs, my faithful tenants are ; Such is my great eftate, and like to be, So cunning man, don't break your jefts on me. s Y M o N. Hulh, Patie, let the man look o'er your hand, Ofttimes as broken a (hip has made the land. [SIR WILLIAM Isoks at PATIE'J band, then counter- feits a faint, zi'hilft they endeavour to place him right.] ELSPA. 4 L S P A. Preferve's ! the man's a warlock, or pofleft With fome nae good, or fecond-fight at leaft : Where is he now ? CLAUD. He's feeing a* that's done In ilka place beneath or yont the moon. ELS p A. Thefe fecond-fighted fowks, his peace be here ! See things far aff, and things to come, as clear As I can fee my thumb wow ! can he tell (Speer at him foon as he comes to himfell) How foon we'll fee Sir William ? Whiftit, he heaves, And fpeaks out broken words like ane that raves. s Y M o N. He'll foon grow better Elfpa, hafte ye, gae And fill him up a tafs of ufquebae. SIR WILLIAM (Jlarts up and fpeaks.) " A Knight that for a LYON fought " Againft a herd of bears, " Was to lang toil and trouble brought, " In which fome thoufands (hares : " But now again the LYON rares, " And joy fpreads o'er the plain. " The LYON has defeat the bears, " The Knight returns again. " The Knight in a few days (hall bring " A fhepherd frae the fauld, " And mail prefent him to the King, " A fubjeft true and bauld : He THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 48 E L S P A. Defend us ! he's a wizard, or pofleft With what's not good, or fecond-fight at lead : Where is he now ? CLAUD. He's feeing all that's done In every place, beneath, beyond the moon. E L s P A. Thefe fecond-fighted folks P, God's grace be here ! See things far off, and things to come, as clear As I can fee my thumb O can he tell Afk him as foon as ever he is well, When we'll SirWilliam feeHum! his breaft he heaves, And fpeaks out broken words like one that raves. S Y MON. He'll foon be better Elfpa, hafte away And fill him up a glafs of ufquebaugh. SIR WILLIAM (Jlarts up and fpeaks.) " A Knight that for a LION fought " Againft a herd of bears, *' Was to long toil and trouble brought, " In which ten thoufand mares :