The Gentle Shepherd: A Pastoral Comedy Part 23

_Sir William._

And was that all?--Well, Bauldy, ye was serv'd No otherwise than what ye well deserv'd.

Was it so small a matter, to defame, And thus abuse an honest woman's name?

Besides your going about to have betray'd By perjury an innocent young maid.

_Baul._ Sir, I confess my faut thro' a' the steps, And ne'er again shall be untrue to Neps.

_Mause._ Thus far, Sir, he oblig'd me on the score; I kend not that they thought me sic before.

_Baul._ An't like your Honour, I believ'd it well; But trowth I was e'en doilt to seek the deil: Yet, with your Honour's leave, tho' she's nae Witch, She's baith a slee and a revengefu'---- And that my _Some-place_ finds;--but I had best Had in my tongue; for yonder comes the _Ghaist_, And the young bonny _Witch_, whase rosy cheek Sent me, without my wit, the deil to seek.

_Enter_ MADGE, PEGGY _and_ JENNY.

_Sir Will._ [_looking at Peggy._] Whose daughter's she that wears th' Aurora gown, With face so fair, and locks a lovely brown?

How sparkling are her eyes! What's this! I find The girl brings all my sister to my mind.

Such were the features once adorn'd a face, Which death too soon depriv'd of sweetest grace.

Is this your daughter, Glaud?----

_Glaud._ ----Sir, she's my niece;-- And yet she's not:--but I should hald my peace.

_Sir Will._ This is a contradiction: What d'ye mean?

She is, and is not! Pray thee, Glaud, explain.

_Glaud._ Because I doubt, if I should make appear } What I have kept a secret thirteen year. }

_Mause._ You may reveal what I can fully clear. }

_Sir Will._ Speak soon; I'm all impatience!--

_Pat._ ----So am I!

For much I hope, and hardly yet know why.

_Glaud._ Then, since my master orders, I obey.

This Bonny Fundling, ae clear morn of May, Close by the lee-side of my door I found, All sweet and clean, and carefully hapt round, In infant-weeds of rich and gentle make.

What cou'd they be, thought I, did thee forsake?

Wha, wa.r.s.e than brutes, cou'd leave expos'd to air Sae much of innocence sae sweetly fair, Sae helpless young? for she appear'd to me Only about twa towmands auld to be.

I took her in my arms, the bairnie smil'd With sic a look wad made a savage mild.

I hid the story: She has pa.s.s'd sincesyne As a poor orphan, and a niece of mine.

Nor do I rue my care about the we'an, For she's well worth the pains that I have tane.

Ye see she's bonny, I can swear she's good, And am right sure she's come of gentle blood: Of whom I kenna.--Nathing ken I mair, Than what I to your Honour now declare.

_Sir Will._ This tale seems strange!----

_Pat._ ----The tale delights my ear:

_Sir Will._ Command your joys, young man, till truth appear.

_Mause._ That be my task.--Now, Sir, bid all be hush: Peggy may smile;--thou hast nae cause to blush.

Long have I wish'd to see this happy day, That I might safely to the truth give way; That I may now Sir William Worthy name, The best and nearest friend that she can claim: He saw't at first, and with quick eye did trace His sister's beauty in her daughter's face.

_Sir Will._ Old woman, do not rave,--prove what you say; 'Tis dangerous in affairs like this to play.

_Pat._ What reason, Sir, can an old woman have To tell a lie, when she's sae near her grave?

But how, or why, it should be truth, I grant, I every thing looks like a reason want.

_Omnes._ The story's odd! we wish we heard it out.

_Sir Will._ Mak haste, good woman, and resolve each doubt.

[_Mause goes forward, leading Peggy to Sir William._]

_Mause._ Sir, view me well: Has fifteen years so plow'd A wrinkled face that you have often view'd, That here I as an unknown stranger stand, } Who nurs'd her mother that now holds my hand? } Yet stronger proofs I'll give, if you demand. }

_Sir Will._ Ha! honest nurse, where were my eyes before?

I know thy faithfulness, and need no more: Yet, from the lab'rinth to lead out my mind, Say, to expose her who was so unkind?

[_Sir William embraces Peggy, and makes her sit by him._]

Yes, surely thou'rt my niece; truth must prevail: But no more words, till Mause relate her tale.

_Pat._ Good nurse, go on; nae musick's haff sae fine, Or can give pleasure like these words of thine.

_Mause._ Then, it was I that sav'd her infant-life, Her death being threatned by an uncle's wife.

The story's lang; but I the secret knew, How they pursu'd, with avaritious view, Her rich estate, of which they're now possest: All this to me a confident confest.

I heard with horror, and with trembling dread, They'd smoor the sakeless orphan in her bed!

That very night, when all were sunk in rest, At midnight hour, the floor I saftly prest, And staw the sleeping innocent away; With whom I travel'd some few miles ere day: All day I hid me,--when the day was done, I kept my journey, lighted by the moon, Till eastward fifty miles I reach'd these plains, Where needful plenty glads your chearful swains; Afraid of being found out, I to secure My Charge, e'en laid her at this shepherd's door, And took a neighbouring cottage here, that I, Whate'er should happen to her, might be by.

Here honest Glaud himsell, and Symon may Remember well, how I that very day Frae Roger's father took my little crove.

_Glaud._ [_with tears of joy happing down his beard._]

I well remember't. Lord reward your love: Lang have I wish'd for this; for aft I thought, Sic knowledge sometime should about be brought.

_Pat._ 'Tis now a crime to doubt,--my joys are full, With due obedience to my parent's will.

Sir, with paternal love survey her charms, And blame me not for rus.h.i.+ng to her arms.

She's mine by vows; and would, tho' still unknown, Have been my wife, when I my vows durst own.

_Sir Will._ My niece! my daughter! welcome to my care, Sweet image of thy mother good and fair, Equal with Patrick: Now my greatest aim Shall be, to aid your joys, and well match'd flame.

My boy, receive her from your father's hand, With as good will as either would demand.

[_Patie and Peggy embrace, and kneel to Sir William._]

_Pat._ With as much joy this blessing I receive, As ane wad life, that's sinking in a wave.

_Sir Will._ [_raises them._] I give you both my blessing: may your love Produce a happy race, and still improve.

_Peg._ My wishes are compleat,--my joys arise, While I'm haff dizzy with the blest surprise.

And am I then a match for my ain lad, That for me so much generous kindness had?

Lang may Sir William bless these happy plains, Happy while Heaven grant he on them remains.