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Enter Sir Frederick Vernon and Diana, who are muffled in Horsemen's Cloaks.
Sir Fred. Soho'. Friend, whither go you?
Frank. To Aberfoil: Can you direct me?
Sir Fred. Turn the projecting rock on your left, and the village lies before you.
Frank. I thank you; in return, let me advise, if you travel northward, to wait till the passes are open—there has been some disturbance in this neighbourhood.
Sir Fred. We have heard so;—the soldiers had the worst, had they not?
Frank. Yes; but in another quarter, the Outlaw, called Rob Roy, has been captured.
Sir Fred. Know you not Rob Roy has again escaped?
Frank. Escaped! I rejoice to hear it! that circumstance will at once secure a friend of mine from danger, and prevent my being detained by a commission with which I was entrusted in his behalf.
Sir Fred. Who are you? what is your name?
Frank. My name can be of little consequence to an utter stranger.
Diana. Mr. Francis Osbaldistone should not sing his favourite airs, when he wishes to remain concealed.
Frank. Miss Vernon! at such an-hour, in such a lawless country!
Sir Fred. Now, Diana, give your cousin his property, and waste no further time.
Diana. But a moment, Sir; but one moment, to say farewell.
Sir Fred. Remember, 'tis your last.
Frank. Our last!
Diana. Yes, dear Frank; there is a gulph be
tween us —a gulph of absolute perdition—Where we go, you must not follow—What we do, you must not share in. Take from my hand these eventful papers—poor Scotland has lost her freedom, but your father's credit will at least be restored.
Frank. And is there no way in which I may be allowed to show my gra'itude?
Diana. Alas! none! adieu! be happy!
Forlorn and brolsen,hearted,
I weep my last adieu!
That time can ne'er renew.
Farewell! my love, I leave tlicc,
For some far distant shore,
We part to meet no more!
Tho' grief may long oppress thee,
Your love I'll ne'er resign;
My last sad tear be thine!
Farewell! my love, &c.
Mrs. M'alpinev Hut.
Bailie Jar Vie discovered at the Table.
Bailie. Well, after the fatigue it has been my lot to suffer this blessed day, a oupo'brandy does no harm. My cousin Rob is bringing up his family to an ill end: and as for my cousin Helen! My Conscience! - (drinks) Thank Heaven, I shall soon leave this doleful country.
Enter Rob Roy.
—Rob again! why, the man's like a bogle, a ghost!
Rob. 'Twas business that made me follow you so quickly, Bailie, and business waits for no man — there is the payment I promised you—Never say a Highlander belied his word.
Bailie. You're an honest man, Rob —that is, you've a sort of honesty —a kind of—Rob, you're an honest rogue.
Rob. Come, come, take your money, and your cup, and say no more about it.
Bailie. Well, here's your health, and my cousin Helen's, and your two hopeful sons, of whom more anon (drinks). As to Helen, her reception of me this blessed day, was the north side of friendly, that I must say.
Rob. Say nothing of her, but what is befitting a friend to say, and her husband to hear.
Bailie. Well, well, we'll let that flea stick by the wa"; but I must tell you, your sons are as ignorant as the very cattle you used to drive to market.
Rob. And where was I to get them teachers? Would you have me put on the College-gate of Glasgow, "Wanted a Tutor for the Children of Rob Roy, the Outlaw?"
Bailie. Why, not exactly ; but you might have taught them something.
Rob. I have—Hamish can bring down a blackcock on the wing, with a single bullet; and his brother drive a dirk thro' a two inch deal board.
Bailie. So much the worse; but I have been thinking, Kob, to take them 'prentices; (Rob starts angrily) and I'll give you back your two hundred pound, for the satisfaction.
Bob. What!—a hundred thousand devils!— the sons of M'Gregor, weavers! I'd sooner see every loom in Glasgow, beams, traddles, and shuttles, burnt first in hell fire!
Bailie. My Conscience !—well, you needn't grip your dirk, as tho' you were going to drive it through me: I am not a two-inch deal board.
Bob. Give me your hand—You mean well, but you press over hard on my temper. Consider what I have been, and what 1 am become; above all, consider that which has forced me to become what I am.
Enter Fbancis Osbaldistone.
Frank. Ah! M'Gregor and Mr. Jarvie—both safe!
Rob.- Ay, and like to keep so—the worst hour is past.
Bailie. It has left behind it plenty of sore bones; but a man mustn't expect to carry the comforts of the Salt-market at his tail, when he comes visiting his Highland kinsfolk.
Bob. (Aside to Frank) Your father is now in Glasgow—send the packet to him, by Mr. Jarvie.
Frank. My father !— how knew you this?
Bob. Dispatch your business, and follow me— You shall see the moonlight on the mountain— You shall hear—
Rob. The night-bird scream !—will you listen to her bodings—now the mist is on the brae, and the spirit of the Gregarach walks !—but I forget! you mean kindly—Farewell, Cousin—farewell— (shakes hands with the Bailie, who is much affected). I would speak with you alone—follow me towards the Loch.
[Exitt making a sign of dispatch to Frank. Bailie. What did Rob say?
Frank. Something concerning these papers.
Bailie. Ey!—Papers! why, by the son of my lather, Rob is an honest!—Stay! (Frank tears open the packet).—Here's Mr. Owen's list —"Catch'em and Whjttington 706," delightful !—" Pollock and Peelman 2—8—7"—Exact—" Grubb and Grinder"—right to a fraction! Lord save us, what's this? •« Will of Sir Hildebrand Osbaidistone, in favour of his nephew, Francis? — —My Conscience!
Frank. Is it possible?
Bailie. True, as I'm a Bailie!
Frafik. This, then, was the cause of Rashleigh's unrelenting hatred.
Bailie. No matter—we've got the stuff, praise be blest! We've got the stuff!
Frank. Mr. Jarvie, I entrust these documents to your care, as, henceforward, the sole agent of my Father's concerns in Scotland. Take some repose, and set forward early.
Bailie. Sole agent! Mr. Osbaldistone (bowing) I'll not affect to disclaim having done my best to deserve the favours of my friends in Crane-Alley, London; or, that the recompense will not be highly advantageous to Nicol Jarvie, Merchant and Magistrate, of the Salt-market in Glasgow, — but, I trust, you'll say as little as need be, of our pranks here among the hills;—the Members of the Town Council mightn't think it creditable, for one of their body to fight with a red-hot poker, or to hang dangling like an old scarecrow, over a potatoe garden.
Frank. Fear nothing, Sir, on that score. Your kindness deserves, and shall receive every expression of the most grateful sentiments; but