Bauldy.

What's this!—I canna bear't! 'tis war than hell,
To be sae burnt with love, yet darna tell!
O Peggy, sweeter than the dawning day,
Sweeter than gowany glens, or new mawn hay;
Blyther than lambs that frisk out o'er the knows;
Straighter than ought that in the forest grows:
Her een the clearest blob of dew outshines;
The lilly in her breast its beauty tines.
Her legs, her arms, her cheeks, her mouth, her een,
Will be my dead, that will be shortly seen!
For Pate loes her,—waes me! and she loes Pate;
And I with Neps, by some unlucky fate,
Made a daft vow:—O but ane be a beast
That makes rash aiths till he's afore the priest!
I dare na speak my mind, else a' the three,
But doubt, wad prove ilk ane my enemy.
'Tis sair to thole;—I'll try some witchcraft art,
To break with ane, and win the other's heart.
Here Mausy lives, a witch, that for sma' price
Can cast her cantrips, and give me advice.
She can o'ercast the night, and cloud the moon,
And mak the deils obedient to her crune.
At midnight hours, o'er the kirk-yards she raves,
And howks unchristen'd we'ans out of their graves;
Boils up their livers in a warlock's pow,
Rins withershins about the hemlock low;
And seven times does her prayers backward pray,
Till Plotcock comes with lumps of Lapland clay,
Mixt with the venom of black taids and snakes;
Of this unsonsy pictures aft she makes
Of ony ane she hates—and gars expire
With slaw and racking pains afore a fire;
Stuck fu' of prins, the devilish pictures melt,
The pain, by fowk they represent, is felt.
And yonder's Mause: Ay, ay, she kens fu' well,
When ane like me comes rinning to the deil.
She and her cat sit beeking in her yard,
To speak my errand, faith amaist I'm fear'd:
But I maun do't, tho' I should never thrive;
They gallop fast that deils and lasses drive. [Exit.

ACT II.—SCENE III.

A green kail-yard, a little fount,
Where water poplan springs;
There sits a wife with wrinkled-front,
And yet she spins and sings.

SANG IX.—Tune, Carle an the King come.

Mause sings.

Peggy, now the King's come,
Peggy, now the King's come;
Thou may dance, and I shall sing,
Peggy, since the King's come.
Nae mair the hawkies shalt thou milk,
But change thy plaiding-coat for silk,
And be a lady of that ilk,
Now, Peggy, since the King's come.

Enter Bauldy.

Baul. How does auld honest lucky of the glen?
Ye look baith hale and fere at threescore ten.
Mause. E'en twining out a threed with little din,
And beeking my cauld limbs afore the sun.
What brings my bairn this gate sae air at morn?
Is there nae muck to lead?—to thresh nae corn?
Baul. Enough of baith:—But something that requires
Your helping hand, employs now all my cares.
Mause. My helping hand, alake! what can I do,
That underneath baith eild and poortith bow?
Baul. Ay, but ye're wise, and wiser far than we,
Or maist part of the parish tells a lie.
Mause. Of what kind wisdom think ye I'm possest,
That lifts my character aboon the rest?
Bauld. The word that gangs, how ye're sae wise and fell,
Ye'll may be take it ill gif I shou'd tell.
Mause. What fowk says of me, Bauldy, let me hear;
Keep nathing up, ye nathing have to fear.
Baul. Well, since ye bid me, I shall tell ye a',
That ilk ane talks about you, but a flaw.
When last the wind made Glaud a roofless barn;
When last the burn bore down my Mither's yarn;
When Brawny elf-shot never mair came hame;
When Tibby kirn'd, and there nae butter came;
When Bessy Freetock's chuffy-cheeked we'an
To a fairy turn'd, and cou'd na stand its lane;
When Watie wander'd ae night thro' the shaw,
And tint himsell amaist amang the snaw;
When Mungo's mear stood still, and swat with fright,
When he brought east the howdy under night;
When Bawsy shot to dead upon the green,
And Sara tint a snood was nae mair seen:
You, Lucky, gat the wyte of a' fell out,
And ilka ane here dreads you round about.
And sae they may that mint to do ye skaith:
For me to wrang ye, I'll be very laith;
But when I neist make grots, I'll strive to please
You with a firlot of them mixt with pease.
Mause. I thank ye, lad;—now tell me your demand,
And, if I can, I'll lend my helping hand.
Baul. Then, I like Peggy,—Neps is fond of me;—}
Peggy likes Pate,—and Patie's bauld and slee, }
And loes sweet Meg.—But Neps I downa see.—}
Cou'd ye turn Patie's love to Neps, and than
Peggy's to me,—I'd be the happiest man.
Mause. I'll try my art to gar the bowls row right;
Sae gang your ways, and come again at night;
'Gainst that time I'll some simple things prepare,
Worth all your pease and grots; tak ye nae care.
Baul. Well, Mause, I'll come, gif I the road can find:
But if ye raise the deil, he'll raise the wind;
Syne rain and thunder may be, when 'tis late,
Will make the night sae rough, I'll tine the gate.
We're a' to rant in Symie's at a feast,
O! will ye come like badrans, for a jest?
And there ye can our different 'haviours spy:
There's nane shall ken o't there but you and I.
Mause. 'Tis like I may,—but let na on what's past
'Tween you and me, else fear a kittle cast.
Baul. If I ought of your secrets e'er advance,
May ye ride on me ilka night to France.
[Exit Bauldy.
Mause her lane.
Hard luck, alake! when poverty and eild,
Weeds out of fashion, and a lanely beild,
With a sma' cast of wiles, should in a twitch,
Gi'e ane the hatefu' name a wrinkled Witch.
This fool imagines, as do mony sic,
That I'm a wretch in compact with Auld Nick;
Because by education I was taught
To speak and act aboon their common thought.
Their gross mistake shall quickly now appear;
Soon shall they ken what brought, what keeps me here;
Nane kens but me,—and if the morn were come,
I'll tell them tales will gar them a' sing dumb. [Exit.