PATIE and PEGGY.
[]SCENE a Village.
Enter Patie and Roger.
AIR I. The bonny grey-ey'd Morn. [...]
PATIE
THE bonny gray-ey'd Morning begins to peep,
And Darkneſs flies before the riſing Ray,
The hearty Hind ſtarts from his lazy Sleep,
To follow healthful Labours of the Day.
Without a guilty Sting to wrinkle his Brow,
The Lark and the Linnet he hears with Glee,
And he joins their Concert driving the Plow;
From Toil of Grimace and Pageantry free.
[2] While fluſter'd with Wine, or madden'd with Loſs
Of half an Eſtate, the Prey of a Main,
The Drunkard and Gameſter tumble and toſs,
Wiſhing for Calmneſs and Slumber in vain.
Be my Portion Health and Quietneſs of Mind,
Plac'd at due diſtance from Parties and State,
Where neither Ambition nor Avarice blind,
Reach him who has Happineſs link'd to his Fate.
How wholſome 'tis to ſnuff the cooling Air,
And all the Sweets it bears, when void of Care!
Freely, Friend Roger, ſay, what ails thee then?
Tell me the Cauſe of thy ill-ſeaſon'd Pain.
Rog.
I'm born, O Patie, to a froward Fate!
I'm born to ſtrive with Hardſhips ſad and great.
Tempeſts may ceaſe to ſwell the raging Flood,
And prowling Wolves to ſuck our Lambkins Blood.
But I, oppreſt with never-ending Grief,
Muſt ſtill deſpair of lighting on Relief.
You have ſo ſoft a Voice, and ſmooth a Tongue,
You are the Darling both of Old and Young;
Charm'd by your Throat, our Woods with Ecchoes ring:
The Laſſes jeer me if I try to ſing.
Nature unkind denies me that ſweet Art,
And all my Harmony is in my Heart.
Pat.
The Bees ſhall loath the Flower, and quit the Hive,
Willows on marſhy Grounds ſhall ceaſe to thrive,
E're ſcornful Maids, or Loſs of worldly Gear,
Shall ſpoil my Reſt, or ever force a Tear.
[3]AIR II. A New Scotch Tune. [...]
My Peggy ſmiles ſo kindly,
Whene'er I whiſper Love,
That I look down on all the Town,
That I look down upon a Crown.
My Peggy ſmiles ſo kindly,
It makes me blith and bold;
My Peggy is a gay young Thing,
And I'm not very old.
In vain from me you wou'd your Sorrows hide,
Your well-ſeen Love, and ſcornful Jenny's Pride:
With freedom to your Friend, your Grief impart;
I'll ſhare your Griefs, or caſe your o'er-fond Heart.
Confeſs, fair Jenny cauſes all this Smart.
Rog.
I wiſh I cou'd not love her, but in vain,
I ſtill muſt doat and feed her proud Diſdain;
No other Laſs, tho' fair, my Heart alarms,
They but remind me of my Jenny's Charms;
Not Time or Abſence can abate my Flame,
She ſtill is beauteous, and my Love the ſame.
Pat.
Fond Swain! leave off that ſilly whining Way;
Seem careleſs, there's my Hand, you'll win the Day.
[4]AIR III. Fy Gar rub her o'er with Straw. [...]
Ne'er feed her Pride with fond Reſpect,
Who pays your Kindneſs with a Slight;
Seem unconcern'd at her Neglect:
All Women in a Man delight:
But them deſpiſe who're ſoon defeat,
And with a ſimple Face give way
To a Repulſe,—then ne'er retreat,
Puſh boldly on, and win the Day.
When Maidens, innocent and young,
Their fond and tender Hearts belye;
Ne'er mind their pretty lying Tongue,
But mark the Language of the Eye:
If theſe agree, and ſhe perſiſt
To anſwer all your Love with Hate,
Seek elſewhere to be better bleſt,
And let her ſigh when 'tis too late.
[Exeunt.
[5]Enter Peggy and Jenny.
Peg.
Nay, tell me now, dear Jenny, why the Swain
Who Loves ſo well you treat with cold Diſdain;
Faith, you'll repent it, ſhou'd his Love grow cold.
What's like a ſcornful Maiden, when ſhe's old?
AIR IV. Polwart on the Green. [...]
Coy Jenny, you'll repent,
Shou'd Roger's Heart grow cold;
None will your Smiles regard,
Soon as your Face looks old.
The froward Child thus in a Pet,
Tho' 'tis by Hunger preſt,
Whimpers and quarrels with its Meat,
'Till laugh'd at by the reſt,
They jeſt it till the Dinner's paſt;
Thus by it ſelf abus'd,
The fooliſh Chit's oblig'd to faſt,
Or eat what they've refus'd.
Ah, Jenny, think, and do not loſe your Time.
Jenny.
I never thought a ſingle Life a Crime.
Peg.
Indeed!—but Love in whiſpers tells me then,
That Men were made for us, and We for Men.
[6] But do you as you liſt; for me, I find,
I ſhall be yielding, as my Patie's kind.
Jen.
We ſoon ſhall hear what a diſtracted Life.
You two will lead, when once you're Man and Wiſe.
Peg.
I'll run the Riſque, nor have I any Fear,
But rather think each tedious Day a Year,
'Till I with Pleaſure mount my Bridle Bed,
Where on my Patie's Breaſt I'll lean my Head.
Then he may kiſs as long as kiſſing's good,
And what we do, there's none dare call it rude.
Jen.
He may indeed, for ten or fifteen Days,
Be fondly laviſh of his Love and Praiſe;
But Love once cloy'd, what then are your Delights?
Dull tedious Days, and loneſome reſtleſs Nights!
AIR V. O dear Mother, what ſhall I do. [...]
O dear Peggy, Love's beguiling,
We ought not to truſt his ſmiling;
Better far to do as I do,
Leſt a harder Luck betide you.
Laſſes, when their Fancy's carry'd,
Think of nought but to be Marry'd;
Running to a Life deſtroys
Gladſome, free and youthful Joys.
Peg.
Such homeſpun Thoughts as theſe want Force to move
My ſettled Mind, I am far gone in Love.
[7] My Patie ſpeaks with ſuch a taking Art,
His Words they thrill like Muſick through my Heart.
And his good Senſe will long his Love ſecure;
Ill Nature reſts in Souls are weak and poor.
AIR VI. As down in a Meadow, &c. [...]
How can I be ſad, when a Husband I've choſe,
That has better Senſe, than any of thoſe
Sour weak ſilly Fellows, that ſtudy like Fools,
To ſink their own Joy, and make their Wives Tools.
The Man who is prudent ne'er brawls with his Wiſe,
Or with dull Reproaches encourages Strife;
He praiſes her Virtue, and ne'er will abuſe
Her for a ſmall Failing, but find an Excuſe.
Jen.
[8]But what if ſome young Wanton he ſhou'd ſpy,
With dimpled Cheek, and a bewitching Eye?
Peg.
No more of that—dear Jenny, to be free,
Some Men in Love more conſtant are than we:
Nor is the Wonder great, when Nature kind
Has bleſt 'em with Solidity of Mind.
AIR VII. Corn Riggs are bonny. [...]
My Patie is a Lover gay,
His Mind is never muddy;
His Breath is ſweeter than new Hay,
His Face is fair and ruddy:
His Shape is handſome middle ſize,
He's comely in his walking,
The ſhining of his Eyes ſurprize,
'Tis Heaven to hear him talking.
See yon two Elms, that grow up ſide by ſide;
Suppoſe 'em ſome Years ſince Bridegroom and Bride;
Nearer and nearer ſtill each Year they've preſs'd,
Till wide their ſpreading Branches are increas'd,
And in their Mixture now are fully bleſt.
This ſhields the other from the Eaſtern Blaſt,
That in return defends it from the Weſt;
Such as ſtand ſingle (a State lik'd by you!)
Beneath each Storm from every Corner bow.
Jen.
Peggy, I've done—dear Laſſie, I muſt yield;
Your better Senſe has fairly won the Field.
[9]AIR VIII. Nancy's to the Green Wood gone. [...]
I yield, dear Laſſie, you have won,
And there is no denying,
That ſure as Light flows from the Sun,
From Love proceeds complying;
For all that we can ſay or do
'Gainſt Love, no Thinker heeds us,
They know our Boſoms lodge the Foe,
That by the Heartſtrings leads us.
[Exeunt.
Enter Glaud and Symon.
Glaud.
Good Morrow, Neighbour Symon.
Sym.
—Ah old Boy!
I've gather'd News will fill your Mind with Joy;
'Tis fifteen Years ſince wiſe Sir William fled,
And left a fair Eſtate to ſave his Head;
But with the King return'd, each. Thing's in Tune,
And we ſhall ſee our dear Sir William ſoon.
Glaud.
This makes me blithe indeed,—but, is it true?
Tell o'er your News again—and ſwear it too.
Sym.
[10]They who ſore grip'd us 'till they made us groan,
Have loſt their Power, and away are flown;
And good Sir William ſhall enjoy his own.
AIR IX. Moggy Lawther. [...]
Unhappy be the Rebel's Fate,
Oppreſſors baſe and greedy,
Who with hard and cruel Hearts,
Alike gripe Rich and Needy:
Bleſt be he of Worth and Senſe,
And ever high his Station,
That bravely ſtands in the Defence
Of Conſcience, King, and Nation.
Glaud.
My Heart's o'erjoy'd; dear Neighbour, will you ſtay,
And take your Dinner here with me to-day?
I'll yoke my Beaſt, and ſend to the next Town,
To fetch a Stoop of Ale, both Stout and Brown.
Sym.
[11]Spoke like your ſelf, old Glaudy; never fear,
But at your Banquet I will ſtrait appear.
Glaud. I'faith, we'll fill each Can, and look ſo bold,
'Till we forget all Cares, or that we're old;
Old, ſaid I?—Troth! I'm younger by a Score,
With this good News, than what I was before.
[Exeunt.
Enter Sir William, Solus.
Whilſt thus I view around each fertile Plain,
Which once I loſt, which now are mine again,
Amidſt my Joys ſome Proſpects Pain renew,
Whilſt I my once fair Seat in Ruins view.
But that ſhall be repair'd; and now my Joy
Forbids all Grief.—When I'm to ſee my Boy,
My Patrick, now ſole Object of my Care,
Since Heav'n too ſoon call'd home his Mother fair:
Him, e'er the Rays of Reaſon clear'd his Thought,
I ſecretly to faithful Symon brought,
And charg'd him ſtrictly to conceal his Birth,
'Till we ſhou'd ſee what changing Times brought forth.
Enter Symon.
Sym.
My Maſter! my dear Maſter! bleſſed Sight!
How your Return will all our Plains delight!
Sir Will.
Riſe, faithful Symon, in my Arms enjoy
A Place, thy Due, kind Guardian of my Boy:
But pr'ythee, honeſt Symon, quickly run
O'er all your Obſervations on my Son.
A Parent's Fondneſs eas'ly finds Excuſe;
But do not, with Indulgence, Truth abuſe.
Sym.
To ſpeak his Praiſe, the longeſt Summer's Day
Wou'd be too ſhort.—wou'd I his Worth diſplay.
[12] In Word and Deed his Birth's ſo well confeſt,
That out of Sight he runs before the reſt:
With a firm Look, and a commanding way,
He makes the proudeſt of our Herds obey.
Whene'er he walks to Edinborough Port,
He buys ſome Books of Hiſt'ry, Songs, or Sport:
About one Shakeſpear, and the famous Ben,
He often ſpeaks, and calls them beſt of Men.
Sir Will.
He's now arriv'd the Age when little Loves
Flutter around young Hearts, like cooing Doves;
Has no young Maiden, with inviting Mein,
And roſie Cheek, the Wonder of the Green,
Engag'd his Eye, and caught his youthful Heart?
Sym.
I fear'd the worſt, but knew the ſmalleſt Part,
'Till lately I have ſeen him, Sir, more ſweet
With Glaud's fair Neice, than I thought right or meet.
Sir Will.
This Night muſt end his unambitious Fire,
When higher Views ſhall greater Thoughts inſpire.
Haſten then, Symon, bring him quick to me,
None but yourſelf ſhall our firſt Meeting ſee.
[Exit Symon.
When wiſh'd-for Pleaſures riſe like Morning Light,
The Pain that's paſt, enhances the Delight.
Theſe Joys I feel, that Words can ill expreſs,
I ne'er had known, without my late Diſtreſs.
But from his ruſtick Buſineſs and Love,
I muſt, in haſte, my Patrick ſoon remove,
To Courts, and Camps, that may his Soul improve.
Like the rough Diamond, as it leaves the Mine,
Only in little Breakings ſhows its Light,
'Till artful Poliſhing has made it ſhine:
Thus Education makes the Genius bright.
[Exit.
[13]Enter Patie and Peggy.
Peg.
Oh Patie! let me go, I muſt not ſtay;
We're both call'd home, and Jenny, ſhe's away.
Patie.
I'm loth to part ſo ſoon, now we're alone,
And Roger is away with Jenny gone;
They're as content, for ought I hear or ſee,
To be alone themſelves, I judge, as we.
Here, where Prim-roſes thickeſt paint the Green,
Near to this purling Riv'let, let us lean.
Hark, how the little Larks chaunt round our Heads,
How ſoft the weſtern Winds ſigh thro' the Reeds.
Peg.
The ſcented Meadows, Birds, and healthy Breeze,
For ought I know, may more than Peggy, pleaſe.
Pat.
You wrong me, Fair, to doubt my being kind;
In ſpeaking ſo, you call me Dull and Blind.
Thy Breath is ſweeter than the ſweeteſt Brier;
Thy Cheek and Breaſt the fineſt Flow'rs appear;
Thy Words excel the moſt delightful Notes,
That warble thro' the Nightingale's ſoft Throats.
The ſweeteſt Fruits that hang upon the Tree,
Are far inferior to a Kiſs of thee.
Peg.
I feel your Pow'r, nor dare I liſten long,
Unleſs you ſwear never to do me Wrong.
Pat.
Sooner a Mother ſhall her Fondneſs drap,
And wrong the Child, ſits ſmiling on her Lap;
The Sun ſhall change, the Moon to change ſhall ceaſe,
The Goats to climb, the Sheep to yield their Fleece,
E're Infidelity in me you prove.
No Power on Earth can ſhake my conſtant Love.
[14]AIR X. Auld Rob. Morris. [...]
Peg.
When firſt my dear Patie went to the Green Hill,
And I at Ewe-milking firſt try'd my young Skill,
The Toil of the Day no Pain was to me,
So at Cloſe of the Ev'ning I met but with thee.
Pat.
When the Corn it wav'd yellow, the fair flow'ry Field,
If my Peggy was abſent, no Pleaſure cou'd yield;
But Bryers and Thorns gave no Trouble to me,
If I found the Berries right ripen'd for thee.
Peg.
When you Ran, or Wreſtled, or pleaſingly Danc'd,
And came off the Victor, my Heart was entranc'd;
Thy each manly Sport gave Pleaſure to me;
For none can Dance, Wreſtle, or Run ſwift as thee.
Pat.
Young Jenny ſings ſoftly the Cowden Broom knows,
And Kitty ſings briskly the Milking the Ewes;
There's few Jenny Nettles like Nancy can ſing;
With Thro' the Wood Laddie, Beſs makes our Ears ring.
But when my dear Peggy ſings with better Skill,
The Boatman, Tweedſide, or The Laſs of the Mill,
'Tis many times ſweeter, and pleaſing to me;
For tho' they ſing nicely, they ſing not like thee.
[15]
Peg.
How ſoon we believe whate'er we deſire!
And Praiſe from our Lovers increaſes Love's Fire;
Give me ſtill this Pleaſure, my Study ſhall be
To make my ſelf better and ſweeter for thee.
AIR XI. As Jockey and Jenny, &c. [...]
Peg.
You need not to pull me thus, gently I fall
Into my kind Patie's Arms, for Good and all;
But your Wiſhes confine to this kind Embrace,
And offer no farther 'till the Prieſt has ſaid Grace.
[16]
Pat.
My dear charming Angel! my Cares hence away;
Thus I'll kiſs my Treaſure all the Live-long Day;
Thoſe Kiſſes at Night I will dream o'er again,
'Till that Day arrive, that rewards Love's ſoft Pain.
Both.
Thoſe Kiſſes at Night, &c.
AIR XII. O'er the Hills and far away. [...]
Both.
Sun, gallop down the weſtern Skies,
Go ſoon to Bed, and quickly riſe;
O laſh your Steeds, poſt Time away,
And haſte about our Bridal Day;
And if you're wearied, honeſt Light,
Sleep, if you pleaſe, a Week that Night.
Repeat.
And if you're wearied, &c.
[Exeunt.
Enter Roger and Jenny.
Rog.
I muſt ſpeak, Jenny, tho' I risk your Scorn;
You're never from my Thoughts, Night, Noon, or Morn.
Ah! cou'd I love you leſs, I'd happy be;
But happier far, cou'd you but fancy me.
Jen.
And who knows, honeſt Lad, but that I may?
You cannot ſay, that e'er I ſaid you Nay.
Rog.
Alas! my frighted Heart begins to fail,
Whene'er I ſtrive to tell you out my Tale,
For fear ſome worthier Lad, more rich than I,
Has won your Love, and near your Heart may lie.
Jen.
[17]I love my Father, and my Couſin love;
But to this Day, no Man my Heart cou'd move,
Except my Kin; each Lad's alike to me,
And from you all I beſt had keep me free.
Rog.
Oh deareſt Jenny, ſay not that again;
What Pleaſure can you take in giving Pain?
I'm glad however that you yet ſtand free;
Who knows you may relent, and pity me?
Jen.
What ſoft'ning Words from Wooers Lips can fall!
But palling Marriage comes and ends 'em all.
I've ſeen with ſhining Fair the Morning Riſe,
And ſoon a low'ring Cloud dark all the Skies.
I've ſeen the Silver Spring a-while run clear,
And ſoon in Moſſey Puddles diſappear.
The Bridegroom may rejoice, the Bride may ſmile,
But ſoon Contentions all their Joys beguile.
Rog.
I've ſeen the Morning riſe with faireſt Light,
The Day unclouded, ſink in calmeſt Night.
I've ſeen the Spring run winding thro' the Plain,
Increaſe and join the Ocean without Stain.
The Bridegroom may be blith, the Bride may ſmile,
Rejdice thro' Life, and all your Fears beguile.
[18]AIR XIII. Katharine Ogie. [...]
Jen.
I well cou'd paſs my Days with thee,
Cou'd I with Love ſecure thee;
But when thou'ſt had thy Fill of me,
How ſhall I then allure thee?
Alas! I fear too ſoon to love,
Leſt thou ſhou'dſt ſoon forſake me;
Yet from thy Sight I can't remove:
Then eaſe my Heart, and take me.
Rog.
Oh! I'm too happy. Let my aching Head
Upon thy ſnowy Boſom be reclin'd;
The ruſhing Joy I fear will ſtrike me dead.
Is't poſſible! and is my Jenny kind!
[19]AIR XIV. Yellow-hair'd Ladie. [...]
Jen.
Oh Roger, I own ſince now you ſpeak free,
'Bove all other Swains I lik'd your Company;
And ever a Warmneſs I felt in my Breaſt,
That made you ſtill dearer to me than the reſt.
And ever, &c.
Rog.
O let me preſs thee, Deareſt, to my Heart,
And round thy Waſte my fondling Arms entwine;
Delightful Thought! we'll never, never part!
Be huſh'd my Fears, my charming Jenny's mine.
AIR XV. The blithſome Bridal. [...]
Jen.
Well, I agree to Wed you.
Now to my Father go,
Nor doubt that he'll forbid you;
Lads wealthy are ſeldom ſaid No.
[20] Your Flocks and Poſſeſſions are large,
So he'll commend you well;
But Love, he ſays, ſoon grows cold,
Where Bairns want Milk and Meal.
But fear not; while I not ſcorn ye,
He'd contradict in vain;
Had all my Kindred forſworn ye,
I'll have no other Swain:
Then learn not to change your Love,
Like thoſe in high Degree:
If conſtant for ever you prove,
You'll find no Fault in me.
[Exit.
Rog.
This kind Confeſſion has my Boſom fir'd;
We'll Love for ever, and be never tir'd:
We'll ſmile and kiſs, the Sun and Stars away,
And wonder at the quick Return of Day.
Enter Patie.
AIR XVI. The Laſs of Patie's Mill. [...]
Duty, and Part of Reaſon,
Plead on the Parents ſide;
But they 'gainſt Love talk Treaſon,
Whoſe Power will be obey'd:
[21]
Tho' now I'm of the Gentry,
My Truth Falſhood repells,
Nor in my Heart finds Entry;
My Peggy there excells.
Rog.
Friend Patie, Jane who broke my Heart, this Morn
Has taught her tender Heart no more to ſcorn.
I ſpoke my Mind—She heard—I ſpoke again,
She ſmil'd—I kiſs'd—I woo'd, nor woo'd in vain.
Pat.
But now a Father took me to his Breaſt
With Looks all Kindneſs, Words that Love confeſt:
Poſſeſs'd of Lands that lifts me 'bove the reſt.
Such were the Eyes, he ſaid, thus ſmil'd the Mouth
Of thy lov'd Mother, bleſſing of my Youth!
Who ſet too ſoon! and while he Praiſe beſtow'd,
A-down his graceful Cheeks a Torrent flow'd.
My new-born Joys, and this his tender Tale,
Did (mingled thus) o'er all my Thoughts prevail.
That ſpeechleſs long, my late-known Sire I view'd;
While guſhing Tears my panting Breaſt bedew'd.
But he has heard—too-faithful Symon's Fear!
Has brought my Love for Peggy to his Ear,
Which he forbids;—'Tis this confounds my Peace;
While, thus to beat, my Heart muſt ſooner ceaſe.
Fixt in my Soul the Shepherdeſs excells,
And part of my new Happineſs repells.
Rog.
Enjoy 'em both; your Father may be won,
Your Peggy's bonny—you his Darling Son.
Pat.
She's mine by Vows, and ſtronger ties of Love;
And from thoſe Bonds, not Fate my Mind ſhall move.
Rog.
Is not your Father and yourſelf to ſtay
Among us here, or muſt you hence away?
Pat.
To-morrow we to Edenburgh advance,
To London next, and afterwards to France;
Then 'tis deſign'd, when I can well behave,
That I muſt be ſome Purſe-proud Maid's dull Slave.
[22] But Peggy, dearer to me than my Breath,
Sooner than hear ſuch News, ſhall hear my Death.
My Vows I'll keep, and ſhe ſhall be my Bride:
But I ſome Time this laſt Deſign muſt hide.
Keep you the Secret cloſe, and leave me here,
I ſent for Peggy: Yonder comes my Dear.
[Exit Roger.
With what a Struggle muſt I now impart
My Father's Will to her that holds my Heart:
Kind Heaven, propitious ſmile upon my Fair,
And let her Comfort claim your tend'reſt Care.
Alas, ſhe weeps—
Enter Peggy.
—My Peggy, why in Tears?
Smile as you wont, allow no Room for Fears:
But chide 'em hence, nor let thy Heart repine;
Tho' I'm no more a Shepherd, yet I'm thine.
AIR XVII. Waes my Heart, that we ſhou'd ſunder. [...]
[23]
Peg.
Speak on, ſpeak thus, and ſtill my Grief,
Hold up a Heart that's ſinking under
Theſe Fears, that ſoon will want Relief,
When Patie muſt from Peggy ſunder.
A gentler Face, and Silk Attire,
A Lady rich in Beauty's Bloſſom,
Alas poor me! will ſoon conſpire,
To ſteal thee from thy Peggy's Boſom.
No more the Shepherd who excell'd
The reſt, whoſe Wit made them to wonder,
Shall now his Peggy's Praiſes tell;
Ah! I can die, but never ſunder.
Ye Meadows where we often ſtray'd,
Ye Banks where we were wont to wander;
Sweet ſcented Fields round which we play'd,
You'll loſe your Sweets when we're aſunder.
Pat.
My Father has forbid our Loves, I own;
But Love's ſuperior to a Parent's Frown.
Sir William's generous; leave the Task to me,
To make ſtrict Duty and true Love agree.
[24]AIR XVIII. Tweed-Side. [...]
Peg.
When Hope was quite ſunk in Deſpair,
My Heart it was going to break;
My Life ſeem'd unworthy my Care,
Which now I will ſave for thy ſake.
Pat.
Where-e'er thy Love travels by Day,
Where-ever he lodges by Night,
With him thy dear Image ſhall ſtay,
And his Soul keep thee ever in Sight.
Peg.
With Patience I'll wait the long Year,
And ſtudy the gentleſt Charms;
Hope Time away 'till thou appear,
Then lock thee for aye in theſe Arms.
Whilſt thou waſt a Shepherd, I priz'd
No higher Degree in this Life;
But now I'll endeavour to riſe
To a height is becoming thy Wife.
Pat.
The Beauty that's only Skin-deep,
Muſt fade like the Flowers of May;
But inwardly rooted, will keep
For ever without a Decay.
[25]
Both.
Nor Age, nor the Changes of Life,
Can quench the fair Fire of Love,
If Virtue's ingrain'd in the Wife,
And the Husband have Senſe to approve.
Pat.
Sure Heaven approves.—And be aſſur'd of me,
I'll never ſwerve from what I've ſworn to Thee:
If at my Foot were Crowns and Scepters laid,
To bribe my Soul from thee, delightful Maid;
For thee, I'd ſoon leave thoſe inferior Things,
To ſuch as have the Patience to be Kings.
Wherefore that Tear? believe, and calm thy Mind.
Peg.
I weep for Joy, to hear my Love ſo kind;
With Patience then I'll wait each wheeling Year,
Dream thro' that Night, 'till my Day-Star appear:
And all the while I'll ſtudy gentler Charms
To make me worthy of my Lover's Arms.
[26]AIR XIX. Buſh aboon Traquair. [...]
At ſetting Day and riſing Morn
With Soul that ſtill ſhall love thee,
I'll ask of Heaven thy ſafe Return,
With all that can improve thee.
I'll viſit oft the Hawthorn Buſh,
Where firſt you kindly told me
Sweet Tales of Love, and hid my Bluſh,
Whilſt round thou didſt enfold me.
To all our Haunts I will repair,
By Green Wood-Shade, or Fountain;
Or where the Summer-Day I'd ſhare
With thee, upon yon Mountain.
[27] There will I tell the Trees and Flowers,
From Thoughts unfeign'd and tender;
By Vows you're mine; by Love, is yours
A Heart which cannot wander.
Both.
By Vows you're mine, &c.
Enter Sir William, Glaud, Symon, Roger, Jenny, and Margery.
Sir Will.
What Maiden's this who does my Son em⯑brace?
Beauty and Innocence are in her Face;
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 ſhou'd hold my Peace.
Sir Will.
This is a Contradiction. What d'ye mean?
She is and ſhe is not: old Man, explain!
Glaud.
Troth, Sir, I doubt if I can make appear
What I have kept a Secret Fifteen Year.
Mar.
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 pretty Fondling, one clear Morn of May,
Cloſe by the Threſhould of my Door I found,
All ſweet and clean, and carefully wrapt round,
In Infant Weeds, of rich and gentle Make.
What cou'd they be, thought I, did thee forſake?
I took her in my Arms, the Infant ſmil'd
With ſuch a Look, wou'd make a Savage mild.
The Story I conceal'd, and ſince that Time,
She paſs'd, Sir, for an Orphan Niece of mine.
Sir Will.
This Tale ſeems ſtrange!
Pat.
[28]—The Tale delights my Ear.
Sir Will.
Command your Joys, young Man, till Truth appear.
Marg.
That be my Task—Now, Sir, bid all be huſh,
Peggy may ſmile, thou haſt no 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 Parent ſhe can claim.
At firſt he ſaw it—and with quick Eye did trace
His Siſter's Beauties in her Daughter's Face.
Sir Will.
Good Woman, do not rave; prove what you ſay;
'Tis dangerous in Affairs like this to play.
Marg.
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.
My honeſt Nurſe! where were my Eyes before?
I know thy Faithfulneſs, and need no more.
Marg.
Know, Sir, 'twas I that ſav'd her Infant Life,
Her Death being threaten'd by an Uncle's Wife.
The Story's long; but I the Secret knew,
How they purſu'd with avaricious View
Her rich Eſtate, of which they're now poſſeſt:
All this to me a Confident conſeſt.
I heard with Horror and with trembling Dread,
They'd kill the helpleſs Orphan in her Bed.
That very Night, when all were ſunk in Reſt,
At Midnight-Hour the Floor I ſoftly preſt,
And ſtole the ſleeping Innocent away,
With whom I travell'd ſome few Miles e're Day.
All Day I hid me,—When the Day was done,
I kept my Journey, lighted by the Moon,
[29] Till Eaſtward fifty Miles I reach'd theſe Plains,
Where needful Plenty glads your chearful Swains.
Fearful to be found out, I to ſecure
My Charge, did lay her at this Shepherd's Door,
And took a Neighbouring Cottage here, that I,
Whate'er ſhou'd happen to her, might be by.
Wonder I ſee is fixt in every Eye.
Pat.
Sir, with Paternal Love ſurvey her Charms,
And blame me not for ruſhing to her Arms;
She's mine by Vows, and wou'd, 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;
My Boy, receive her from a Father's Hand,
With as good Will as either wou'd demand.
[They embrace and kneel.
Pat.
With as much Joy this Bleſſing I receive,
As one wou'd Life, juſt ſinking in a Wave.
Marg.
I hope your Honour now will take amends
Of them that ſought her Life for wicked Ends.
Sir Will.
The baſe unnatural Villain ſoon ſhall know,
That Eyes above watch the Affairs below:
I'll ſtrip him ſoon of all to her pertains,
And make him reimburſe his ill-got Gains.
Peg.
To me the Views of Wealth and Grandeur prove
Trifles, when put in Ballance with my Love.
For his ſake only I'll ſtill thankful bow,
For ſuch a Kindneſs, beſt of Men, to you.
[30]AIR XX. I'll never leave thee. [...]
Pat.
No more, my dear Peggy, let Sorrows oppreſs ye;
For while my Blood's warm I'll kindly careſs ye.
Peg.
Dear Patie, thy Sweets in my Heart are indented,
And Love will preſerve ſtill, what Love has imprinted.
Both.
O deareſt Jewel, you may believe me,
Let Fortune ſmile, or frown, I'll ne'er deceive thee.
Rep.
O deareſt Jewel, &c.
Good Margery! how ſhall I grateful be
For all thy matchleſs Kindneſs ſhewn to me?
Marg.
[31]The flowing Pleaſures of this happy Day
Does fully all I can require repay.
Sir Will.
She in my Houſe ſhall calmly cloſe her Days,
With nought to do, but ſing high Heaven's Praiſe.
Pat.
Sir, here's a truſty Friend, that always knew
My Boſom Secrets, e'er I wealthy grew;
Glaud's Daughter Jenny (Jenny owns the ſame)
Rais'd and maintains in him a Lover's Flame:
Be pleas'd to ſpeak to Glaud for his Conſent,
That none may wear a Face of Diſcontent.
Sir Will.
My Son's Demand is fair—Glaud, let me crave,
That truſty Roger may your Daughter have.
Glaud.
You crowd your Bounties, Sir; what can we ſay,
But that we're Debtors that can ne'er repay?
Whate'er your Honour wills, I ſhall obey.
Rog.
I ne'er was good at ſpeaking in my Days,
Nor ever learnt a Courtly flattering Phraſe;
But for my Maſter, Father, Friend and Wife,
I will employ the Cares of all my Life.
[32]AIR XXI. An thou wert mine ain Thing. [...]
Jen.
When I am to my true Love wed,
I will love him, I will love him:
Soon as the Prieſt the Grace has ſaid,
How dearly will I love him.
To Merit I no Claim can make,
But that I love, and for his Sake,
What Laſs cou'd do, I'd undertake,
So dearly do I love him.
Sir Will.
My Friends, I'm ſatisfy'd you'll all behave,
Each in his Station, as I'd wiſh or crave.
I ſhall remain Friends with you from this Day,
And never from theſe Fields again will ſtray.
Let Courtiers ſweat in State, and toil for Fame,
The Poor and Rich but differ in the Name;
Content's the greateſt Bliſs we can procure
Beneath the Sun—Without it Kings are Poor;
While o'er the Moor, the Shepherd, without Care,
Enjoys his ſober Wiſh, and wholeſome Air.
[33]AIR XXII. Muirland Willy. [...]
Pat.
The Shepherd early with the Dawn
Riſes as freſh as Roſes blown,
And ranges over the Heights and Lawn,
After his bleating Flocks.
Peg.
Healthful, and innocently gay,
He chaunts and whiſtles out the Day;
Untaught to ſmile, and then betray,
Like Courtly Weather-Cocks.
Pat.
Life happy, from Ambition free,
Envy and vile Hypocriſy,
When Truth and Love with Joy agree,
Unſullied with a Crime:
Peg.
Unmov'd with what diſturbs the Great,
In propping of their Pride and State,
We live, and unafraid of Fate,
Contented ſpend our Time.
[34]
CHORUS of All.
Unmov'd with what diſturbs the Great,
In propping of their Pride and State,
We live, and unafraid of Fate,
Contented ſpend our Time.
Sir Will.
Be ever virtuous: Soon or late you'll find
Reward and Satisfaction to your Mind.
The Maze of Life ſometimes looks dark and wild;
And oft when Hopes are higheſt we're beguil'd.
Oft when we ſtand on Brinks of dark Deſpair,
Some happy Turn with Joy diſpels our Care.