Still do I say, that a sowsed face and sausages

Osw. (looks sternly at him, then at his wife.) There's
something under this, but that the present

Is not a time to question. (To ELE.) Wife, my mood
Is at such height of tide, that a turn'd feather
Would make me frantic now, with mirth or fury!
Tempt me no more-but if thou hast the things
This carrion crow so croaks for, bring them forth;
For, by my father's beard, if I stand caterer,
"Twill be a fearful banquet!

ELE. Your pleasure be obey'd-Come, aid me,
Flora.
[Exeunt.
(During the following speeches the Women place
dishes on the table.)

Osw. (to DUR.) How did you lose your path?
DUR. E'en when we thought to find it, a wild me-

teor

Danced in the moss, and led our feet astray.-
I give small credence to the tales of old,
Of Friar's-lantern told, and Will-o'-Wisp,
Else would I say, that some malicious demon
Guided us in a round; for to the moat,
Which we had pass'd two hours since, were we led,
And there the gleam flicker'd and disappear'd,
Even on your drawbridge. I was so worn down,
So broke with labouring through marsh and moor,
That, wold I nold I, here my young conductor

Whose fathers beggar'd Cumberland-Greybeard, let it be so,

I'll not dispute it with thee.

(To LEO. who was speaking to FLORA, but, on
being surprised, occupied himself with the suit
of armour.)

What makest thou there, young man?
LEO. I marvell'd at this harness; it is larger
Than arms of modern days. How richly carved
With gold inlaid on steel-how close the rivets-
How justly fit the joints! I think the gauntlet
Would swallow twice my hand.

[He is about to take down some part of the Ar-
mour; OSWALD interferes.
Osw.
Do not displace it.
My grandsire, Erick, doubled human strength,
And almost human size--and human knowledge,
And human vice, and human virtue also,
As storm or sunshine chanced to occupy
His mental hemisphere. After a fatal deed,
He hung his armour on the wall, forbidding
It e'er should be ta'en down. There is a prophecy,
That of itself 'twill fall, upon the night
When, in the fiftieth year from his decease,
Devorgoil's feast is full. This is the era;
But, as too well you see, no meet occasion
Will do the downfall of the armour justice,
Or grace it with a feast. There let it bide,
Trying its strength with the old walls it hangs on,
Which shall fall soonest.

DUR. (looking at the trophy with a mixture of feeling.)
Then there stern Erick's harness hangs un-
touch'd,

Since his last fatal raid on Cumberland!

Osw. Ay, waste and want, and recklessness—a comrade

Would needs implore for entrance; else, believe me, Still yoked with waste and want--have stripp'd these

I had not troubled you.

Osw. And why not, father?-have you e'er heard aught,

Or of my house or me, that wanderers,

Whom or their roving trade or sudden circumstance
Oblige to seek a shelter, should avoid
The House of Devorgoil?

DUR.

Sir, I am English bornNative of Cumberland. Enough is said

walls

Of every other trophy. Antler'd skulls,

Whose branches vouch'd the tales old vassals told
Of desperate chases-partisans and spears-
Knights' barred helms and shields-the shafts and
bows,

Axes and breastplates, of the hardy yeomanry-
The banners of the vanquish'd-signs these arms
Were not assumed in vain, have disappear'd.

Why I should shun those bowers, whose lords were Yes, one by one they all have disappear'd;
hostile

To English blood, and unto Cumberland

Most hostile and most fatal.

And now Lord Erick's harness hangs alone,
'Midst implements of vulgar husbandry
And mean economy; as some old warrior,

Osw. Ay, father. Once my grandsire plough'd, Whom want hath made an inmate of an alms-house,

and harrow'd,

And sow'd with salt, the streets of your fair towns;
But what of that?-you have the 'vantage now.

DUR. True, Lord of Devorgoil, and well believe I,
That not in vain we sought these towers to-night,
So strangely guided, to behold their state.

Osw. Ay, thou wouldst say, 'twas fit a Cumbrian
beggar

Should sit an equal guest in his proud halls,

Shows, mid the beggar'd spendthrifts, base mechanics,
And bankrupt pedlars, with whom fate has mix'd him.
DUR. Or rather like a pirate, whom the prison-
house,

Prime leveller next the grave, hath for the first time
Mingled with peaceful captives, low in fortunes,1
But fair in innocence.

1 MS.-"Mingled with peaceful men, broken in fortunes."

Osw. (looking at DUB with surprise.) Friend, thou That is to say,—for learn'd commentators
art bitter!
Do so expound substantials in some places,-

DUR. Plain truth, sir, like the vulgar copper coin- With a sows'd bacon-face and sausages.

age,

Despised amongst the gentry, still finds value
And currency with beggars.

Osw.

Be it so.

I will not trench on the immunities

I soon may claim to share. Thy features, too,
Though weather-beaten, and thy strain of language,
Relish of better days. Come hither, friend,

[They speak apart.
And let me ask thee of thine occupation.
[LEONARD looks round, and, seeing OSWALD
engaged with DURWARD, and GULLCRAM-
MER with ELEANOR, approaches towards
FLORA, who must give him an opportunity of
doing so, with obvious attention on her part to
give it the air of chance. The by-play here
will rest with the Lady, who must engage the
attention of the audience by playing off a little
female hypocrisy and simple coquetry.
LEO. Flora-

FLO. (apart.) Would thou wert sows'd, intolerable

pedant,

Base, greedy, perverse, interrupting coxcomb!
KAT. Hush, coz, for we 'll be well avenged on him,
And ere this night goes o'er, else woman's wit
Cannot o'ertake her wishes.

[She proceeds to arrange seats. OSWALD and
DURWARD come forward in conversation.
Osw. I like thine humour well.-So all men
beg

DUR. Yes-I can make it good by proof. Your soldier
Begs for a leaf of laurel, and a line
In the Gazette. He brandishes his sword
To back his suit, and is a sturdy beggar—
The courtier begs a riband or a star,
And, like our gentler mumpers, is provided
With false certificates of health and fortune
Lost in the public service. For your lover,
Who begs a sigh, a smile, a lock of hair,
A buskin-point, he maunds upon the pad,

FLO. Ay, gallant huntsman, may she deign to ques- With the true cant of pure mendicity,
tion

Why Leonard came not at the appointed hour;
Or why he came at midnight?

LEO. Love has no certain loadstar, gentle Flora,
And oft gives up the helm to wayward pilotage.
To say the sooth-A beggar forced me hence,
And Will-o'-wisp did guide us back again.

FLO. Ay, ay, your beggar was the faded spectre

Of Poverty, that sits upon the threshold
Of these our ruin'd walls. I've been unwise,
Leonard, to let you speak so oft with me;
And you a fool to say what you have said.
E'en let us here break short; and, wise at length,
Hold each our separate way through life's wide

ocean.

LEO. Nay, let us rather join our course together, And share the breeze or tempest, doubling joys, Relieving sorrows, warding evils off

With mutual effort, or enduring them

With mutual patience.

"The smallest trifle to relieve a Christian,
And if it like your Ladyship!"-

[In a begging tone.

KAT. (apart.) This is a cunning knave, and feeds

the humour

Of my aunt's husband, for I must not say
Mine honour'd uncle. I will try a question.-
Your man of merit though, who serves the common-
wealth,

Nor asks for a requital?

[TO DURWARD.
Is a dumb beggar,

DUR.
And lets his actions speak like signs for him,
Challenging double guerdon.-Now, I'll show
How your true beggar has the fair advantage
O'er all the tribes of cloak'd mendicity

I have told over to you.-The soldier's laurel,
The statesman's riband, and the lady's favour,
Once won and gain'd, are not held worth a farthing
By such as longest, loudest, canted for them;
Whereas your charitable halfpenny,2

FLO. This is but flattering counsel-sweet and Which is the scope of a true beggar's suit,

Is worth two farthings, and, in times of plenty,
Will buy a crust of bread.

FLO. (interrupting him, and addressing her father.)
Sir, let me be a beggar with the time,

And pray you come to supper.

ELE. (to OSWALD, apart.) Must he sit with us?
[Looking at DUrward.
Osw. Ay, ay, what else since we are beggars all?
When cloaks are ragged, sure their worth is equal,
Whether at first they were of silk or woollen.

ELE. Thou art scarce consistent.

This day thou didst refuse a princely banquet,
Because a new-made lord was placed above thee;
And now-

2 MS." Whereas your genuine copper halfpenny."

1

Osw. Wife, I have seen, at public executions,
A wretch that could not brook the hand of violence
Should push him from the scaffold, pluck up courage,
And, with a desperate sort of cheerfulness,
Take the fell plunge himself—

Welcome then, beggars, to a beggar's feast!

Such dainties, once familiar to my board,
Have been estranged from 't long.

[He again fills his glass, and continues to speak
as he holds it up.

Fill round, my friends-here is a treacherous friend

now

GUL. (who has in the meanwhile seated himself.) But Smiles in your face, yet seeks to steal the jewel,

this is more.-A better countenance,

Fair fall the hands that sows'd it!-than this hog's,
Or prettier provender than these same sausages,
(By what good friend sent hither, shall be name-
less,

Doubtless some youth whom love hath made profuse,)
[Smiling significantly at ELEANOR and FLORA.
No prince need wish to peck at. Long, I ween,
Since that the nostrils of this house (by metaphor,
I mean the chimneys) smell'd a steam so grateful-
By your good leave I cannot dally longer.

[Helps himself.

Osw. (places DURWARD above GULLCRAMMER.)

Meanwhile, sir,

Please it your faithful learning to give place
To grey hairs and to wisdom; and, moreover,
If you had tarried for the benediction

GUL. (somewhat abashed.) I said grace to myself.
Osw. (not minding him.)—And waited for the com-
pany of others,

It had been better fashion. Time has been,
I should have told a guest at Devorgoil,
Bearing himself thus forward, he was saucy.

[He seats himself, and helps the company and
himself in dumb-show. There should be a
contrast betwixt the precision of his aristocra-
tic civility, and the rude under-breeding of
GULLCRAMMER.

Which is distinction between man and brute

I mean our reason-this he does, and smiles.
But are not all friends treacherous ?-one shall cross
you

Even in your dearest interests-one shall slander

you

This steal your daughter, that defraud your purse;
But this gay flask of Bordeaux will but borrow
Your sense of mortal sorrows for a season,
And leave, instead, a gay delirium.
Methinks my brain, unused to such gay visitants,
The influence feels already!—we will revel!—
Our banquet shall be loud!-it is our last.
Katleen, thy song.

KAT. Not now, my lord-I mean to sing to-night For this same moderate, grave, and reverend clergyman;

I'll keep my voice till then.

ELE. Your round refusal shows but cottage breed

ing.

KAT. Ay, my good aunt, for I was cottage-nur
tured,

And taught, I think, to prize my own wild will
Above all sacrifice to compliment.

Here is a huntsman-in his eyes I read it,
He sings the martial song my uncle loves,
What time fierce Claver'se with his Cavaliers,
Abjuring the new change of government,

Osw. (having tasted the dish next him.) Why, this is Forcing his fearless way through timorous friends, venison, Eleanor!

GUL. Eh! What! Let's see

[Pushes across OSWALD and helps himself. It may be venisonI'm sure 'tis not beef, veal, mutton, lamb, or pork. Eke am I sure, that be it what it will,

It is not half so good as sausages,

Or as a sow's face sows'd.

Osw. Eleanor, whence all this ?-
ELE.

Wait till to-morrow,
You shall know all. It was a happy chance
That furnish'd us to meet so many guests.

[Fills wine.

Try if your cup be not as richly garnish'd
As is your trencher.1

And enemies as timorous, left the capital
To rouse in James's cause the distant Highlands.
Have you ne'er heard the song, my noble uncle?
Osw. Have I not heard, wench-It was I rode
next him,

"Tis thirty summers since-rode by his rein;
We marched on through the alarm'd city,
As sweeps the osprey through a flock of gulls,
Who scream and flutter, but dare no resistance
Against the bold sea-empress-They did murmur,
The crowds before us, in their sullen wrath,
And those whom we had pass'd, gathering fresh cou-
rage,

Cried havoc in the rear-we minded them
E'en as the brave bark minds the bursting billows,

KAT. (apart.) My aunt adheres to the good cautious Which, yielding to her bows, burst on her sides,

maxim

And ripple in her wake.-Sing me that strain, Of," Eat your pudding, friend, and hold your [TO LEONARD tongue." And thou shalt have a meed I seldom tender, Osw (tastes the wine.) It is the grape of Bordeaux. Because they 're all I have to give-my thanks. LEO. Nay, if you'll bear with what I cannot help,

1 Wooden trenchers should be used, and the quaigh, a Scot- A voice that 's rough with hollowing to the hounds, I'll sing the song even as old Rowland taught me.

tish drinking-cup.

SONG.1

AIR-" The Bonnets of Bonny Dundee."

With sour-featured Whigs the Grassmarket was
cramm'd

As if half the West had set tryst to be hang'd;2
There was spite in each look, there was fear in each e'e,

To the Lords of Convention 'twas Claver'se who As they watch'd for the bonnets of Bonny Dundee.

The Gude Town is weel quit of that Deil of Dundee." The Gordon demands of him which way he goes— Come fill up my cup, &c.

As he rode down the sanctified bends of the Bow,
Ilk carline was flyting and shaking her pow;
But the young plants of grace they look'd couthie
and slee,

Thinking, luck to thy bonnet, thou Bonny Dundee !
Come fill up my cup, &c.

1 "Dundee, enraged at his enemies, and still more at his friends, resolved to retire to the Highlands, and to make preparations for civil war, but with secrecy; for he had been ordered by James to make no public insurrection until assistance should be sent him from Ireland.

"Where'er shall direct me the shade of Montrose!
Your Grace in short space shall hear tidings of me,
Or that low lies the bonnet of Bonny Dundee.
Come fill up my cup, &c.

"There are hills beyond Pentland, and lands beyond
Forth,
[North;
If there's lords in the Lowlands, there's chiefs in the

carried thither that Dundee was at the gates with an army, and had prevailed upon the governor of the Castle to fire upon the town. The Duke of Hamilton, whose intelligence was better, had the presence of mind, by improving the moment of agitation, to overwhelm the one party and provoke the other, by their fears. He ordered the doors of the house to be shut, and the keys to be laid on the table before him. He cried out, That there was danger within as well as without doors; that traitors must be held in confinement until the present danger was over: but that the friends of liberty had nothing to fear, for that thousands were ready to start up in their defence, at the stamp of his foot.' He ordered the drums to be beat and the trumpets to sound through the city. In an instant vast swarms of those who had been brought into town by him and Sir John Dalrymple from the western counties, and who had been hitherto hid in garrets and cellars, showed themselves in the streets; not, indeed, in the proper habiliments of war, but in arms, and with looks fierce and sullen, as if they felt disdain at their former concealment. This unexpected sight increased the noise and tumult of the town, which grew loudest in the square adjoining to the house where the members were confined, and appeared still louder to those who were within, because they were ignorant of the cause from which the tumult arose, and caught contagion from the anxious looks of each other. After some hours, the doors were thrown open, and the Whig members, as they went out, were received with acclamations, and those of the opposite party with the threats and curses of a prepared populace. Terrified by the prospect of future alarms, many of the adherents of James quitted the Convention, and retired to the country; most of them changed sides; only a very few of the most resolute continued their attendance."-DalrymPLE'S Memoirs, vol. ii., p. 305.

"Whilst Dundee was in this temper, information was brought him, whether true or false is uncertain, that some of the Covenanters had associated themselves to assassinate him, in revenge for his former severities against their party. He flew to the Convention and demanded justice. The Duke of Hamilton, who wished to get rid of a troublesome adversary, treated his complaint with neglect; and in order to sting him in the tenderest part, reflected upon that courage which could be alarmed by imaginary dangers. Dundee left the house in a rage, mounted his horse, and with a troop of fifty horsemen who had deserted to him from his regiment in England, galloped through the city. Being asked by one of his friends, who stopt him, 'Where he was going?' he waved his hat, and is reported to have answered, 'Wherever the spirit of Montrose shall direct me.' In passing under the walls of the Castle, he stopt, scrambled up the precipice at a place difficult and dangerous, and held a conference with the Duke of Gordon at a postern-gate, the marks of which are still to be seen, though the gate itself is built up. Hoping, in vain, to infuse the vigour of his own spirit into the Duke, he pressed him to retire with him into the Highlands, raise his vassals there, who were numerous, brave, and faithful, and leave the command of the Castle to Winram, the lieutenant-governor, an officer on whom Dundee could rely. The Duke concealed his timidity under the excuse of a soldier. A soldier,' said he, 'cannot in honour quit the post that is assigned him.' The novelty of the sight drew numbers to the foot of the rock upon which the conference was held. These numbers every minute increased, and, in the end, were mistaken for Dundee's adherents. The Convention was then sitting: news were of execution at Edinburgh.

2 Previous to 1784, the Grassmarket was the common place