« 이전계속 »
Mal. You know the reason, thoughtless Madeleine ! Made. I don't: I see you're changed. I know not why. Mal. Know you not I have felt the chilling hand Of the Archbishop?
Made. And that saddens you?
[She holds out her hand. Mal. Would you not? But-I may not take hand. Made. Why not, dear Malcolm? Take my hand, I pray you. Mal. No.
Made. Malcolm, you are not offended with me ?
Mal. What! take your
[He covers his face with his hands.
Enter JAMES, L., disguised in a common travelling dress, resisting robbers.
Rob. Down with him!
James. Easier said than done, my What, ho!
Made. Help! help!
Mal. [Rushing forward with his staff.] What! five on one Down, dogs!
And you-and you———
James. All gone-all gone! i'faith, 'Tis pleasant after-dinner exercise ; And you, brave sir—I thank you from my 'Twas nobly done-by'r lady-and a youth! Let the knaves go; they did not fight amiss. Mal. You are not hurt, sir? James. But a bump or so
[The robbers are beaten off.
On the tough head; 'tis used to such small coin.
Mal. My name is Malcolm Young, commendator
James. Sir Adam Weir ?-a worthy gentleman.
Mal. This, sir, is his grandchild,
She'll bid you welcome to her kinsman's house.
Made. [In alarm.] Oh, sir, waste not the time in compliment
Pray you, come to the house.
My cousin, sir, Is skilled in liniments. Support him, Malcolm. Mal. Lean on my arm.
James. I've felt its worth before;
I hope to pay you for't some other time.
[Exeunt, L., Malcolm supporting King James. SCENE III.--A Parlour in Laichmont House.
SIR ADAM WEIR and WIDOW BARTON discovered.-Sir Adam at a table, L. c., is busy arranging a packet.Widow Barton seated, R. C., has a small pestle and mortar on her knee.
Sir A. "A messenger-a faithful messenger. "Malcolm-he is my kinsman, and a priest; "This Mungo-he's a courtier and a fool; "If Dacre knew the risk he lays on me
In traffic with these Lords, he scarce would grudge 'Name, rank, all that I claim, to pay the peril.'
If I can get these missives to the lords,
And stay this war-by the persuasive tones
A messenger must be found,-or down goes all
Sir A. Ha!-oh! 'tis only you—I'm busy, niece. Where is your cousin ?-where's my Madeleine ?
Widow. I thought 'twould be about his Madeleine!
Sir A. Good! I would have her hold his company
Sir A. I shall be ready
Widow. It's always so. These wondrous clever people Are all alike. And as for Madeleine,
They'll spoil her: I'm quite sure they'll spoil the girl
May do as well, with all her French and Spanish”
Sir Adam, know you what it is o'clock ?
To give him welcome.
Widow. Is the laird a scholar?
Sir A. I do not think he is. He never aimed At scholarship.
Widow. Indeed? -so much the betterNor I.
Sir A. What, did you never ?
Widow, Never aimed
At scholarship; but I'll get ready now
Sir A. And yet she was the wife-
"And knew not, all the time they lived together,
I would not have her wretched-not quite wretched.
Laird. Give ye good day, Sir Adam.
Welcome to Laichmont Grange.
Laird. A dirty day,
Gadso―a dirty day-and a false mare.
I tell you. As I came by Whitstone mill,
Sir A. Done. I will buy her of you; fret no more.
You're not much hurt?
Laird. No, no-not hurt; but spoilt,
My doublet splashed, and all my new white feather
Sir A. I'm glad to see you here,
And have been thinking over what we said,
Laird. Gadso! and so have I.
Sir A. You see this pictured plan, friend Small; 'tis drawn
By a cunning artist.
'Tis our two estates, The boundaries, the measurements; each field, Each tree, each ditch.
Laird. It is not possible!
Gadso? I had a friend who-let it pass-
And drew and drew-'twas marvellous how he drew.
Sir A. You see where, to the right, it bends— "Laird. Ay, 'tis the Langstone Knowe-I know it well.
"I have a flock there--thirty-five white sheep"A goodly flock.
"Sir A. And here the river runs!
"Laird. It is the Bourtree burn-the bonny burn! "Gadso! he's a rare hand, the planner on't."
Sir A. If the estates were joined, and one sole man Could ride round both, and call them all his own,
Here following up the river to the north,
"The hill along the east, and to the south
"And west the king's high-road"—what say you, friend?
Sir A. It may be done.
Sir A. Upon your son,
Laird. Hoo! Gadso! he's a youth! I say, a youth. I'll say no more: there was a friend of mine
Looked on him once, and said, “Friend Small,” he said, "Your son is such a youth!" And so he isHe's such a youth.
Sir A. I've never had the pleasure To see him yet.
Laird. Oh! he is well worth seeing; "A goodly youth-not tall, not very tall"But stout-exceeding stout-and waits at court—' A courtly gentleman; the King admires him, And loves him much--a very proper man, My son, young Mungo Small.
Sir A. I doubt it not;