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You're wretched--very wretched; what's the matter? Is not your kinsman kind?
Mal. Yes; he is kind.
Jumes. Have you no powerful friend to plead your
And raise you in the Church?
Mal. I would not rise;
"I tell you, sir, I have no wish to rise;
'Enough that I am in the church without
'Being raised; I would not have a powerful friend "To plead my cause."
Mal. If Sir Adam Weir
Had deigned to ask my thoughts,--but no-no--no--
My orphan youth,--but I am wrong-most wrong--
James. Ah! but that were unkind
To friends like me; for, trust me, though so short
Mal. But I know you not
I never saw you till an hour ago.
James. Oh!--so suspicious? Look on me, my friend"See you a lurking devil in my eyes?" I tell you I would serve you if I could, "And sympathy is all that I can offer.
Reject it not. I'm but a simple yeoman; "But I would know your grief, if happily "I might relieve it. If it come to the worst,
'I can but share it." Come, come! hide no more
Mal. Why-I—I have no sorrow to reveal.
By a cunning artist. 'Tis our two estates,
Laird. It is not possible!
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? Laird. Gadso! 'twere a most pleasant ride. Gadso! 'Twould be a square. I would it could be done. Sir A. It may be done. Laird. I cannot sell the landsMoss-Holm is fast entailed
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 is—
He'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 courtA 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;
And if you're fixed on what we settled last;
He said what was it, now ?-I don't remember--
Sir A. When can I see your son ?
Laird. Oh, any time. His month of waiting ends
Enter MADELEINE, R.
But here's a pretty maid!
Sir A. It is.
What ails you, Madeleine?
You're pale, you're sad.
Made. Oh, sir! a thing has happ'd—a man near killed. Laird. Gadso!
Sir A. What man? what man? How mean you, girl? Made. Malcolm and I were walking near the skirt Of Langstone planting, when there suddenly Rushed to us a man, resisting the assault Of five fierce robbers
Laird. Gad ha' mercy! Robbers!
Made. Malcolm rushed forward, and the villains fled. But the poor man-a wayfarer he seemsWas wounded, and he begged to rest awhile.
Sir A. He's welcome. This is past all suffering; That robber grows more daring, day by day. You've heard, Laird Small, of Buckie of Drumshorlan, The reiver
Laird. A deil's Buckie! I can't sleep In my own bed anights for thinking of him.
He minds me
Sir A. Nay, don't tremble, Madeleine;
Laird Small, will you go with me?
[Exit Madeleine, L.
Laird. What, I? and see him die ?—perhaps he'll die! I had a friend- —a soldier—ah, I know!
He was a gallant man, and fought at-somewhere,
Laird. Oh, after you, Sir Adam!
END OF ACT I.
SCENE I.-The Tapestry Room at Laichmont.
JAMES discovered, seated, L. c.-) -MADELEINE at his side.
Made. How feel you, sir?
James. Confused ;- -as if in doubt
Whether I live on this hard, workday soil,
Or have already passed the bounds of time,
Made. My cousin will be here with drugs, ere long, Shall soothe your pain.
James. There are two deep physicians
To whom I trust my cure,-wise Doctor Time,
[Winds the scarf around his head.
LAIRD SMALL looks cautiously in,then enters, R. Laird. Is the man dead ?—I hope he is not dead— I cannot bear to look on a dead man.
Is he clean gone
James. To Madeleine.] What scaramouch is this? Made. 'Tis the Laird Small; the owner of Moss-Holm. James. [Aside.] Oh, father of my wonderful new usher-A likely sire of such a learned son!
Enter SIR ADam Weir, r.
Sir A. [To the Laird.] I fear wounded man-
[To James.] You find the noise too much, sir? James. Yes, the voice
Of the old Merry-Andrew is too sharp.
Sir A. Sir! you mistake-he is a gentleman. James. Oh, cry you mercy! I thought he was a clown, Sent forward by some wandering mountebank.
Sir A. Hush! speak more low. You're not much hurt, I hope ?
James. Not quite enough to mind me of a priestA little too much to mind me of a play.
your speech may hurt the
Sir A. Oh! rest and time will set you up again.
[To the Laird. Retire you now, Laird Small,-I'll hold some speech Apart with him, and join you by-and-by.
Laird. Gadso! it is not safe; if he should die, 'Twould frighten you for life.-Pray you, good sir, Don't die till we've had notice. I once knew A man-but--well, I hope you'll join us soon. Don't die, good stranger-come, my pretty one! [Exeunt Laird and Madeleine, R. Sir A. Are you of Scotland, friend?
James. [Rises and comes forward, L. c.] No need ask that, "If you but hear the music of my voice, "And see the graceful rounding-of my cheek." Oh, yes; I'm Scotch enough!
Sir A. I saw at a glance You were no Frenchman!
James. No, i'faith—not I ;
My foot's a little too heavy ;-no, sir, nothing