The Gentle Shepherd: A Pastoral Comedy Part 18

_ACT III--SCENE IV._

This scene presents the Knight and Sym Within a Gallery of the Place, Where all looks ruinous and grim; Nor has the Baron shown his face, But joking with his shepherd leel, Aft speers the gate he kens fu' well.

SIR WILLIAM _and_ SYMON.

_Sir William._

To whom belongs this house so much decay'd?

_Sym._ To ane that lost it, lending generous aid, To bear the Head up, when rebellious Tail Against the laws of nature did prevail.

Sir William Worthy is our master's name, Whilk fills us all with joy, now _He's come hame_.

(_Sir William draps his masking beard, Symon transported sees The welcome Knight, with fond regard, And grasps him round the knees._)

My master! my dear master!--do I breathe, To see him healthy, strong, and free frae skaith; Return'd to chear his wis.h.i.+ng tenants sight, To bless his son, my charge, the world's delight!

_Sir Will._ Rise, faithful Symon; in my arms enjoy A place, thy due, kind guardian of my boy: I came to view thy care in this disguise, And am confirm'd thy conduct has been wise; Since still the secret thou'st securely seal'd, And ne'er to him his real birth reveal'd.

_Sym._ The due obedience to your strict command Was the first lock;--neist, my ain judgment fand Out reasons plenty: since, without estate, A youth, tho' sprung frae kings, looks baugh and blate.

_Sir Will._ And aften vain and idly spend their time, 'Till grown unfit for action, past their prime, Hang on their friends--which gi'es their sauls a cast, That turns them downright beggars at the last.

_Sym._ Now well I wat, Sir, ye have spoken true; For there's laird Kytie's son, that's loo'd by few: His father steght his fortune in his wame, And left his heir nought but a gentle name.

He gangs about sornan frae place to place, As scrimp of manners, as of sense and grace; Oppressing all as punishment of their sin, That are within his tenth degree of kin: Rins in ilk trader's debt, wha's sae unjust To his ain fam'ly, as to give him trust.

_Sir Will._ Such useless branches of a common-wealth, Should be lopt off, to give a state mair health.

Unworthy bare reflection.--Symon, run O'er all your observations on my son; A parent's fondness easily finds excuse: But do not with indulgence truth abuse.

_Sym._ To speak his praise, the langest simmer day Wad be o'er short,--cou'd I them right display.

In word and deed he can sae well behave, That out of sight he runs before the lave; And when there's e'er a quarrel or contest, Patrick's made judge to tell whase cause is best; And his decreet stands good;--he'll gar it stand: Wha dares to grumble, finds his correcting hand; With a firm look, and a commanding way, He gars the proudest of our herds obey.

_Sir Will._ Your tale much pleases;--my good friend, proceed: What learning has he? Can he write and read?

_Sym._ Baith wonder well; for, troth, I didna spare To gi'e him at the school enough of lair; And he delites in books:--He reads, and speaks With fowks that ken them, Latin words and Greeks.

_Sir Will._ Where gets he books to read?--and of what kind?

Tho' some give light, some blindly lead the blind.

_Sym._ Whene'er he drives our sheep to Edinburgh port, He buys some books of history, sangs or sport: Nor does he want of them a rowth at will, And carries ay a poutchfu' to the hill.

About ane Shakspear, and a famous Ben, He aften speaks, and ca's them best of men.

How sweetly Hawthrenden and Stirling sing, } And ane ca'd Cowley, loyal to his king, } He kens fu' well, and gars their verses ring. } I sometimes thought he made o'er great a frase, About fine poems, histories and plays.

When I reprov'd him anes,--a book he brings, With this, quoth he, on braes I crack with kings.

_Sir Will._ He answer'd well; and much ye glad my ear, When such accounts I of my shepherd hear.

Reading such books can raise a peasant's mind Above a lord's that is not thus inclin'd.

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

_Sir Will._ Well jested, Symon:--But one question more I'll only ask ye now, and then give o'er.

The youth's arriv'd the age when little loves Flighter around young hearts like cooing doves: Has nae young la.s.sie, with inviting mien, And rosy cheek, the wonder of the green, Engag'd his look, and caught his youthfu' heart?

_Sym._ I fear'd the warst, but kend the smallest part, 'Till late I saw him twa three times mair sweet, With Glaud's fair Neice, than I thought right or meet: I had my fears; but now have nought to fear, Since like your sell your son will soon appear.

A gentleman, enrich'd with all these charms, May bless the fairest best born lady's arms.

_Sir Will._ This night must end his unambitious fire, When higher views shall greater thoughts inspire.

Go, Symon, bring him quickly here to me; None but your self shall our first meeting see.

Yonder's my horse and servants nigh at hand, They come just at the time I gave command; Straight in my own apparel I'll go dress: Now ye the secret may to all confess.

_Sym._ With how much joy I on this errand flee!

There's nane can know, that is not downright me.

[_Exit_ SYMON.

_Sir_ WILLIAM _solus_.

When the event of hopes successfully appears, One happy hour cancells the toil of years.

A thousand toils are lost in Lethe's stream, And cares evanish like a morning dream: When wish'd for pleasures rise like morning light, The pain that's past enhances the delight.

These joys I feel that words can ill express, I ne'er had known without my late distress.

But from his rustick business and love, } I must in haste my Patrick soon remove, } To courts and camps that may his soul improve. } Like the rough diamond, as it leaves the mine, Only in little breakings shews its light, Till artfu' polis.h.i.+ng has made it s.h.i.+ne: Thus education makes the genius bright.

_Or sung as follows._

SANG XV.--_Tune_, Wat ye wha I met Yestreen.

_Now from rusticity and love, Whose flames but over lowly burn, My gentle shepherd must be drove, His soul must take another turn: As the rough diamond from the mine, In breakings only shews its light, Till polis.h.i.+ng has made it s.h.i.+ne: Thus learning makes the genius bright._ [_Exit_

End of the THIRD ACT.

ACT FOURTH.

_SCENE I._

The scene describ'd in former page, Gland's onstead,--Enter _Mause_ and _Madge._

MAUSE _and_ MADGE.

_Mause._

Our laird's come hame! and owns young Pate his heir!

That's news indeed!----

_Mad._----As true as ye stand there.