“O Mrs Dolly! what was his favourite oath?”
“I do not see, my dear, that it would do you any good to know it. Well, the Bible, as matters went, was not to be had. King, Queen, chaplain, and courtiers, there was not a man nor woman at the table that owned to possessing a Bible.”
“How shocking!” said Phoebe, under her breath.
“Very shocking, my dear,” assented Mrs Dorothy. “But all at once my Lord Rochester cries out, ‘Please your Majesty, I’ll lay you forty shillings there’s one man in this palace that has a Bible! He cut me short for swearing in the yard a month since. That’s old David, your Majesty’s Scots cook. If you’ll send for him—’ ‘Done!’ says the King. ‘Killigrew, root out old Davie, and tell him to come here, and bring his Bible with him.’ So away went Mr Killigrew, the King’s favourite page; and ere long back he comes, and old Davie with him, and under Davie’s arm a great brown book. ‘Here he is, Sire, Bible and all!’ says Mr Killigrew. ‘Come forward, Davie, and be hanged!’ says the King. ‘I’ll come forward, Sire, at your Majesty’s bidding,’ says Davie, ‘and gin ye order it, and I ha’e deservit it, I can be hangit,’ saith he, mighty dry; ’but under your Majesty’s pleasure I’ll just tak’ the liberty to ask, Sire, what are ye wantin’ wi’ the Buik?”
“Oh, how queer you talk, Mrs Dolly!”
“As David talked, my dear. He was a Scot, you know. Well, the King gave a hearty laugh; and says he, ‘Oh, come forward, Davie, and fear nothing. We’ll not hang you, and we want no hurt to your darling book.’ ‘Atweel, Sire,’ says Davie, ‘and I’d ha’e been gey sorry gin ye had meant to hurt my buik, seein’ it was my mither’s, and I set store by it for her sake; but trust me, Sire, I’d ha’e been a hantle sorrier gin ye had meant onie disrespect to the Lord’s Buik. I’ll no stand by, wi’ a’ honour to your Majesty, an’ see I lichtlied.’”
“What does that mean, Mrs Dolly?”
“Set light by, my dear. Well, the King laughed again, but I think Davie’s words a little sobered him, for he spoke kindly enough, that no harm should be done, nor was any disrespect intended; ‘but,’ saith he, ‘my Lord Rochester and I fell a-disputing if certain words were in the Bible or no; and as you are the only man here like to have one, I sent for you.’ Davie looks, quiet enough, round all the table; and he says, under his breath, ‘The only man here like to have a Bible! Ay, your Majesty, I ken weel eneuch that I ha’e my habitation among the tents o’ Kedar. Atweel, Sire, an’ I’ll be pleasit to answer onie sic question, gin ye please to tell me the words.’ My Lord Rochester saith, ‘“Wine, which cheereth God and man.” Are such words as those in the Bible, David?’ Neither yea nor nay said old Davie: but he turned over the leaves of his Bible for a moment, and then, clearing his voice, and first doffing his cook’s cap (which he had but lifted a minute for the King), he read from the Book of Judges, Jotham’s parable of the trees. ’Twas a little while ere any spoke: then said the Queen’s chaplain, swearing a great oath, that he could not but be infinitely surprised to find there to be such words in the Bible.”
“O Mrs Dolly! a parson to swear!”
“There are different sorts of parsons, my dear. But old David thought it shocking, for he turns round to the chaplain, and saith he, ‘Your pardon, Mr Howard, but gin ye’d give me leave, I’d be pleasit to swear the neist oath for ye. It would sound rather better, ye ken, for a cook than a chaplain.’ ‘Hurrah!’ says the King, swearing himself, ‘the sprightliest humour I heard of a long time! Pray you, silence, and hear old Davie swear!’ ‘I see nothing to swear anent the now, an’ it please your Majesty,’ says Davie, mighty dry again: ‘when I do, your Majesty’ll be sure to hear it.’ The King laughed heartily, for he took Davie right enough, though I saw some look puzzled. Of course he never would see reason to do a sinful thing. But a new thought had come into the King’s head, and he turns quick to Mr Howard, and desires that he would give exposition of the words that Davie had read. ‘You ought to know what they mean, if we don’t, poor sinners,’ saith the King. ‘I protest, Sire,’ saith the chaplain, ‘that I cannot so much as guess what they mean.’ ‘Now then, David the divine,’ cries my Lord Rochester, ‘your exposition, if you please.’ And some of the courtiers, that by this time were not too sober, drummed on the table with glasses, and shouted for David’s sermon.”