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diff --git a/old/68535-0.txt b/old/68535-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6566a84..0000000 --- a/old/68535-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3625 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Robert Burns: A play, by John -Drinkwater - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Robert Burns: A play - -Author: John Drinkwater - -Release Date: July 16, 2022 [eBook #68535] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Thomas Frost, Tim Lindell and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBERT BURNS: A PLAY *** - - - - - - ROBERT BURNS - _A Play_ - - - BY - JOHN DRINKWATER - - - [Illustration] - - - BOSTON AND NEW YORK - HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY - 1925 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1925, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY - - -All dramatic rights in this play are reserved by the author. - -The music for _Robert Burns_ has been composed by Frederick Austin, and -the play may not be performed without this. - - - The Riverside Press - CAMBRIDGE · MASSACHUSETTS - PRINTED IN THE U.S.A. - - - - - FOR - DAVID - - - - -THE CHARACTERS IN THE ORDER OF THEIR APPEARANCE ARE - - - NELL - ROBERT BURNS - HOLY WILLIE - LANDLORD AT THE INN - TAM LAURIE - MICHAEL - JAMES ARMOUR - A FACTOR - AN OLD BEGGAR - A DOXY - ANOTHER BEGGAR WOMAN - GAVIN HAMILTON - A SHERIFF’S OFFICER - JOHN ANDERSON - MRS. STEWART OF STAIR - THE DUCHESS OF GORDON - MISS TAYLOR - MRS. FERGUSON - MRS. MONTGOMERY - WALTER SCOTT - MR. ROBERTSON - PROFESSOR FERGUSON - DR. BLACKLOCK - LORD MUIR - BALIOL WHITE - SAM OGILVIE - NEIL SIMPSON - ‘SHY’ DUNCAN - MEG - GIRL AT ELLISLAND - JEAN ARMOUR - WILLIE CAMPBELL - MRS. FERGUS - M’PHERSON - MR. FENTON - - - - -ROBERT BURNS - - -SCENE I - - _A fine warm afternoon in late winter. A green hillock at the edge of - a ploughland. A peasant girl, with mischief in her movement, runs on, - and looks from the hillock up and down the furrows. Then she fixes her - gaze on some object in the distance, and after a moment sings_-- - -_Nell_: - - The ploughman he’s a bonnie lad, - His mind is ever true, jo; - His garters knit below his knee, - His bonnet it is blue, jo. - - Then up wi’ it a’ my ploughman lad, - And hey my merry ploughman. - Of a’ the trades that I do ken, - Commend me to the ploughman. - - My ploughman he comes hame at e’en, - He’s aften wat and weary; - Cast off the wat, put on the dry, - And gae to bed, my dearie! - - Then up wi’ it a’ my ploughman lad, - And hey my merry ploughman. - Of a’ the trades that I do ken, - Commend me to the ploughman. - - [_As the song is closing the approach of plough-harness is heard, and_ - ROBERT BURNS, _driving, appears at the back of the scene. He sees_ - NELL _and draws the plough up_.] - -_Burns_: Nell! there’s a good lass now. - -_Nell_: Oughtn’t you to go on with your ploughing? - -_Burns_ (_turning_): To please you? - -_Nell_: That’s as may be. - -_Burns_ (_coming back_): Pretty Nell. - -_Nell_: You think I’m pretty? - -_Burns_ (_taking her in his arms and kissing her_): Pretty, pretty -Nell. - -_Nell_ (_sitting on the grass_): I could be pretty if you had some -money. - -_Burns_: Oh, I’ll have money yet. - -_Nell_: But by then I shan’t be able to be pretty any more. - -_Burns_ (_sitting beside her_): But you are, Nell--pretty as a fair-day. - -_Nell_: A girl wants ribbons and laces and all that. Look at my -frock--why, the quality’s serving women would laugh at it. - -_Burns_: Their ignorant pride, Nell. I don’t laugh at it--I think it’s -like a queen’s dress--you make it look like that. I thought that the -first day, barley-gleaning--you remember? The way you walked, and then -stooping--willow rods and birds’ wings and the way a star falls. What’s -a dress to all that, my dearie? - - [_He sings._] - - O, once I lov’d a bonnie lass, - Ay, and I love her still; - And, whilst that virtue warms my breast, - I’ll love my handsome Nell. - - She dresses aye sae clean and neat, - Both decent and genteel: - An’ then there’s something in her gait - Gars ony dress look weel. - - A gaudy dress and gentle air - May slightly touch the heart; - But it’s innocence and modesty - That polishes the dart. - - ’Tis this in Nelly pleases me, - ’Tis this enchants my soul! - For absolutely in my breast - She reigns without control. - -_Nell_: And all that is for me? - -_Burns_: You like it? - -_Nell_: Yes, Robbie. But what was that about innocence and modesty? - -_Burns_: That’s for the Sabbath, maybe. - -_Nell_: It’s not the Sabbath to-day. - -_Burns_ (_accepting the invitation_): My pretty, pretty Nell. (_As he -kisses her._) - - [_After a long embrace_, BURNS _repeats_.] - - _Burns_: - - She dresses aye sae clean and neat, - Both decent and genteel: - An’ then there’s something in her gait - Gars ony dress look weel. - - [_As he finishes, the music announces the coming of_ HOLY WILLIE, _the - canting parson of Scotch bigotry, upon whose appearance the lovers - separate_, NELL _a little disconcerted_, BURNS _returning to his - plough_. HOLY WILLIE _sees them, with a great gesture of disapproval. - When they have gone, he sings the following part of his prayer._] - - _Holy Willie_: - - O Thou that in the heavens does dwell, - Wha, as it pleases best Thysel’, - Sends ane to heaven, and ten to hell, - A’ for Thy glory, - And no’ for ony guid or ill - They’ve done before Thee! - - Lord, bless Thy chosen in this place, - For here Thou hast a chosen race: - But God confound their stubborn face, - And blast their name, - Wha bring Thy elders to disgrace - And public shame. - - But, Lord, remember me and mine, - Wi’ mercies temporal and divine, - That I for grace and gear may shine, - Excell’d by nane, - And a’ the glory shall be Thine, - Amen, Amen! - - [_Towards the end of the prayer_, BURNS _has come back, and stands - listening; as the prayer closes_, HOLY WILLIE _turns and sees him_.] - -_Holy Willie_: Young man, young man, I do not like your ways. - -_Burns_: I don’t like your prayer. - -_Holy Willie_: You blaspheme against Holy Kirk. - -_Burns_: You blaspheme against God. - -_Holy Willie_: Beware the wrath of the ministry, young man. - -_Burns_: Beware His wrath on holy upstarts, minister. - -_Holy Willie_: Shameless, shameless. With your doxy there. Who was she? - -_Burns_: A good girl, minister. All affection, and young, and kisses, -and likes a song. - -_Holy Willie_: A hussy--a woman of evil, I doubt not. - -_Burns_: And the greatest of these is charity. - -_Holy Willie_: Profane not that holy word. - -_Burns_: Meditate upon it, minister. - -_Holy Willie_: Who was the wench? - -_Burns_: A sweet ankle--did you notice maybe? - -_Holy Willie_: Dare you speak so--to me? - -_Burns_: Aye--we are all tinder, completely tinder. Some are ashamed of -it, that’s all. - -_Holy Willie_: I am not ashamed--that is, I have no cause for shame. - -_Burns_: And some of us give praise for all good gifts--a sweet ankle, -believe me, minister. - -_Holy Willie_: Have a care of the pit, and the everlasting flames. - -_Burns_: They’ll come or not as it may be. You’ll not be the judge, -minister, there’s hope in that. And the lasses are here, and a man’s -heart beats, and you can’t frown us out of it, minister. Look at us, -labouring and wearing ourselves and near starving often, and are we to -take nothing that bright eyes and fond lips and white young arms may -offer? Who talks of profaning, minister! - - [_He sings._] - - There’s nought but care on ev’ry han’, - In every hour that passes, O: - What signifies the life o’ man, - An’ ’twere na for the lasses, O? - - Green grow the rashes, O! - Green grow the rashes, O! - The sweetest hours that e’er I spend - Are spent amang the lasses, O. - - The warl’ly race may riches chase, - An’ riches still may fly them, O: - An’ tho’ at last they catch them fast, - Their hearts can ne’er enjoy them, O. - - But gi’e me a canny hour at e’en, - My arms about my dearie, O: - An’ warl’ly cares, an’ warl’ly men, - May a’ gae tapsalteerie, O. - - For you sae douce, ye sneer at this, - Ye’re nought but senseless asses, O: - The wisest man the warl’ e’er saw - He dearly lov’d the lasses, O. - - Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears - Her noblest work she classes, O: - Her prentice han’ she try’d on man, - An’ then she made the lasses, O. - - Green grow the rashes, O! - Green grow the rashes, O! - The sweetest hours that e’er I spend - Are spent amang the lasses, O. - -_Holy Willie_: But think of that poor young girl. - -_Burns_: I think of her, and think, and think--goddesses, all of them. - -_Holy Willie_: I fear you will be damned. - -_Burns_: Then I’ll be gallantly damned, minister. - -_Holy Willie_: A stubborn heart. She would listen, maybe, though you are -deaf. Again I ask you, young man, Who was she? I will counsel her to -prudent godliness. Who was she? - -_Burns_: A sweet ankle, and an inviting waist--no, I wouldn’t trust you -with her, minister. - -_Holy Willie_: Lewd and idolatrous! Son of Belial! If thy tongue offend -thee pluck it out--offensive tongue! Disgrace among us, profligate and -wanton, beware the end! - - [_Sings._] - - But, Lord, remember me and mine, - Wi’ mercies temporal and divine, - That I for grace and gear may shine, - Excell’d by nane, - An’ a’ the glory shall be Thine, - Amen, Amen! - - [_He goes._] - -_Burns_: Beware the end. Had he been a cleaner gospeller, that might be -a thing to consider. But the man’s rotten--who is to be preached at by -such a one? But, the end. Holy Willie there maybe has the truth of it, -for all he’s a false and snivelling prophet. A pretty face, and I’m all -song, all springtime. Is that peace in the end? Pretty, pretty Nell. -But I’ll sing a song for Scotland yet before I founder--cottar though -I be. A song to remember on the highways--aye, and in Courts too. But -continence, Robin, or they will consume you. - - O, were I on Parnassus hill, - Or had of Helicon my fill. - -I must mend, indeed, indeed. And they are lovely, but deceivers--so -positive and sly--deceivers--I’ll forswear them. I’ll be a monk, and -none but John Barleycorn for merry company. Holy Willie is a bad man, -but he spoke truth I fear, though by rule of the Kirk’s thumb. Forswear -them, Robin. - - [_He sings._] - - Deluded swain, the pleasure - The fickle fair can give thee - Is but a fairy treasure-- - Thy hopes will soon deceive thee. - - The billows on the ocean, - The breezes idly roaming, - The clouds’ uncertain motion-- - They are but types of woman. - - O! art thou not ashamed - To doat upon a feature? - If man thou would’st be named, - Despise the silly creature. - - Go, find an honest fellow; - Good claret set before thee: - Hold on till thou art mellow, - And then to bed in glory. - -The plough, and John Barleycorn--once in a week just--or twice maybe, -and I’ll be cold to all glances till wedding-time, if it comes. - - [_He moves back towards the plough. As he does so_, NELL _is heard - singing, and he stops_.] - -_Nell_: - - O whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad, - O whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad: - Tho’ father and mother and a’ should gae mad, - O whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad. - - [_She appears._] - -_Burns_: Nay, I did not whistle. I must to the plough. I am all new in -resolution. - -_Nell_ (_singing_): - - Come down the back stairs when ye come to court me; - Come down the back stairs when ye come to court me; - Come down the back stairs, and let naebody see, - And come as ye were na coming to me. - -_Burns_: I’m not courting any longer, I tell you. I’m to beware of -lasses, Nell, henceforth. I’m ice, I tell you. - -_Nell_ (_moving away, singing_): - - O whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad, - O whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad: - Tho’ father and mother and a’ should gae mad, - O whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad. - - [_She has gone._ BURNS _makes another move to the plough, then turns - suddenly, and calls_--] - -_Burns_: Nell--Nell. - -_Nell_ (_singing_): - - O whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad, - O whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad.... - - [BURNS _whistles the rest of the tune through, and_ NELL _is with him - again_.] - -_Nell_: That black-coated, lean-bodied, yellow-faced gowk to scare you. -Cracked metal like that to turn you off, a pretty man like you, Robin, -with your kisses and your rhymes. A snivelling man, a watery-eyed -man--and bawdy too, I know him. He’s bad Sabbath, a leering, lecherous, -safe man--he would and he would not afore God--oh yes, I know him. And -you’ll let him trip you up, spoil your stanzas--for shame, Robin. - -_Burns_: You ran away, Nell, and left me alone against him. - -_Nell_: Ran away--yes I ran away--no Master Sanctimony for me. Ask -Annie Leslie. - -_Burns_: I gave him no civil flattery--I can read him as well as you or -Annie. But I fell to thinking afterwards. - -_Nell_: To have done with courting. - -_Burns_: Till I’m for wedding. - -_Nell_: But I want no talk of weddings. Let that bide. Spring’s coming, -and it’s a clear day, and here are we, and you’re a man, Robin, to make -holy rags there look the famine he is. - -_Burns_: It was a bad resolution. - -_Nell_: A miserable resolution, Robin. - -_Burns_: I discard it. - -_Nell_: You whistled and I came to ye, my lad. - -_Burns_: Love shall keep me company with John Barleycorn, Nell, - - Until I’m on Parnassus Hill - And had of Helicon my fill. - -_Nell_: You’re ice! - -_Burns_: Then I’m a rogue. It was a spleen of Holy Willie’s begetting. -Kiss me. - -_Nell_: Are there kisses on the Parnassus Hill you talk of? - -_Burns_: Immortal kisses. - -_Nell_ (_in his arms_): Take me with you. - -_Burns_: I’ll take you, Nell. It shall be our Parnassus Hill. - - [_He sings, and, in the repetitions_, NELL _with him_.] - - O my luve is like a red, red rose, - That’s newly sprung in June; - O my luve is like the melodie - That’s newly played in tune. - As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, - So deep in luve am I; - And I will luve thee still, my dear, - Till a’ the seas gang dry. - - Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear, - And the rocks melt wi’ the sun; - And I will luve thee still, my dear, - While the sands o’ life shall run. - And fare thee weel, my only luve! - And fare thee weel a while! - And I will come again, my luve, - Tho’ it were ten thousand mile. - - - THE CURTAIN FALLS - - -SCENE II - - _A late spring evening two years later. The Inn at Mauchline. The room - is lamplit._ - - _A number of villagers are seated round the room, drinking, being - served by the landlord, and_ NELL, _now the maid of the Inn_. BURNS - _is standing on a chair, singing, all joining in every other verse_. - - _Burns_: - - There was three kings into the east, - Three kings both great and high; - And they hae sworn a solemn oath - John Barleycorn should die. - - _Chorus_: - - They took a plough and plough’d him down, - Put clods upon his head, - And they hae sworn a solemn oath - John Barleycorn was dead. - - _Burns_: - - But the cheerful Spring came kindly on, - And show’rs began to fall; - John Barleycorn got up again, - And sore surpris’d them all. - - _Chorus_: - - The sober Autumn enter’d mild, - When he grew wan and pale; - His bending joints and drooping head - Show’d he began to fail. - - _Burns_: - - They’ve ta’en a weapon, long and sharp, - And cut him by the knee; - Then tied him fast upon a cart, - Like a rogue for forgerie. - - _Chorus_: - - They wasted o’er a scorching flame - The marrow of his bones; - But a miller us’d him worst of all-- - For he crush’d him ’tween two stones. - - _Burns_: - - And they ha’e ta’en his very heart’s blood, - And drank it round and round; - And still the more and more they drank, - Their joy did more abound. - - _Chorus_: - - Then let us toast John Barleycorn, - Each man a glass in hand; - And may his great posterity - Ne’er fail in old Scotland! - - [_There is general acclamation and toasting._] - -_Burns_ (_jumping down from his chair, a little ‘flown’_): Fill -up--fill up! John Barleycorn is Scotland’s king, and shall be so for -ever! Fill up! There’s a pretty Nell. How’s that for a song, landlord? - -_The Landlord_: Very good sentiments, Robin. Let all honest men -prosper, say I. - -_Burns_: Meaning, most noble landlord, all honest men to be John -Barleycorn’s liege subjects--that pay tribute, mark you. Drink up, Tam -Laurie--why so doomsday, man? - -_Tam_ (_a meek, hard-driven little man_): It’s the cursed factors, -Robin. They’ll not let a man scrape supper gruel from his toil. - -_Burns_: Blast and misfortune to them! Craft and fat bellies--a flea -on a dog’s tail is a respectable work of God beside a factor. A toast, -friends, fellow-citizens of Mauchline--‘To hell with all factors.’ - - [_The toast is drunk with enthusiasm._] - -_A lean but well-to-do Farmer_: That’s all very well, but rents have to -be paid. - -_Burns_: Friends--another toast--‘To hell with all rents.’ - - [_And again._] - -_Burns_: Michael, you speak as a man the Lord prospers. - -_Michael_: I speak as one who is diligent. - -_Burns_: Diligent, quotha! A man left a fat inheritance and his croft -all favoured by nature, and he talks diligence. Have you sweated, -Michael, with your share always ringing on the stones, and your -breeches letting in the cold blast behind you, and your boots full -of March rain, and your belly empty, and a bare table to go home to -when dark comes, and a gap in the roof above you as wide as a lassie’s -embrace? Have you done these things, and kept the heart true steel -within you, like Tam Laurie there? - -_Tam_: I’ve to quit come Tuesday week. - -_Burns_: To quit, Michael--do you hear that? Do you know what quitting -means? You stand out there under the sky, and your steps may as well -go this way as that, for you have no door in the world, and a ditch to -starve in is all you can borrow. And rents must be paid. To hell with -such rents I say! - -_Michael_: I’ll not listen to such heresies in the state. Respectable -houses are not safe when tongues are loose like this. But the Lord will -look to his own. - -_Burns_: You put off settlement with the Lord as long as you can, -Michael Johnson--you’ll be wise. - -_Michael_: They say that Mr. Armour will not be put off, though. - - [BURNS _is suddenly silenced by this, and with his parting score_ - MICHAEL _goes, two or three of the others following him. One or two - of the party are now asleep, two or three others talking together_, - TAM _sitting by himself. The landlord is smoking, and_ NELL _cleaning - pots_.] - -_Tam_: He was always bitter to poverty. Thank you, Robin, for speaking. - -_Nell_: What’s that about Mr. Armour? - -_Burns_: They’ve beaten me, Nell. I’ve got to go. - -_Nell_: How’s that? - -_Burns_ (_sitting at a table near to us, in dejection._ NELL _comes to -him, still working. Some of the others at another table are playing -cards_): We were friends, Nell, you and I. - -_Nell_: Good friends, Robin. - -_Burns_: Parnassus Hill, you remember? - -_Nell_: You and I, and love, and John Barleycorn--yes. - -_Burns_: Then there was my Mary; she died. Then Jean came. You didn’t -scold. - -_Nell_: I knew they would come. I told you I was not for wedding. - -_Burns_: Jean is a mother. - -_Nell_: You? - -_Burns_: Yes. - -_Nell_: You’ll wed her then, so why grieve? She’s good, and she’s -comely. - -_Burns_: I love her, Nell, and I’d be proud of her. But I’m not to wed -her. - -_Nell_: But that’s not honest, Robin. - -_Burns_: They won’t let me. - -_Nell_: Who won’t? - -_Burns_: That’s what Michael meant. Mr. Armour. He’s forbidden it. I’m -not genteel enough. He says I’m profligate. He’s right I dare say. But -that, it’s bitter, that. He’d rather have his girl be shamed alone than -be shamed by wedding me. And I can’t pay as I’m ordered (_he shows her -a paper_), so it’s jail or leaving Scotland. John Barleycorn is all -now. Fill my pot, Nell. - - [NELL _does so, and brings it to him_.] - -_Nell_: What will you do? - -_Burns_: I came here to forget it. I’m going. Jamaica--that’s a world’s -journey off, Nell. Jean, and Scotland--I’m losing both. - - [_He sings._] - - O thou pale Orb, that silent shines, - While care-untroubled mortals sleep! - Thou seest a wretch that inly pines, - And wanders here to wail and weep! - With Woe I nightly vigils keep, - Beneath thy wan, unwarming beam; - And mourn, in lamentation deep, - How life and love are all a dream. - - [_As he is ending the song, three men come to the door. One is_ JAMES - ARMOUR, JEAN’S _father, another a_ FACTOR, _and with them is_ HOLY - WILLIE. _The_ FACTOR _goes to the counter and drinks._] - -_Armour_: So you can sing in the midst of the desolation you’ve caused. - -_Burns_: It was no happy song, Mr. Armour. - -_Armour_: There’s a warrant coming down the road for you. - -_Burns_: But I cannot pay, I told you. I’ll work for Jean, but you’ll -not let me. - -_Armour_: I will not. I want no creeping seducer for a son-in-law. - -_Burns_: That’s--I’ll not say what it is, Mr. Armour. Ask Jean. She -loves me. We’re proud of it, if you would let us be. - -_Armour_: Proud of it, you Barbary sheep! The girl’s a scandal to my -name, but she’s not for you. Let her be proud of it alone. - -_Holy Willie_: I told you of this, young man. I preached the light to -you. - -_Burns_: Good counsel from you would corrupt the saints, minister. Why -won’t you let me wed Jean, Mr. Armour? - -_Armour_: I came to give no reasons, Robert Burns. I came to see you -knew the choice rightly. You can pay, or you can feel handcuffs, or you -can go where you’ll never offend honest Scots eyes with the sight of -you more. - -_Holy Willie_: And whichever you choose, you’ll first do penance in -kirk for an incontinent sinner. It is the kirk’s will. - -_Burns_: Let him that is without sin, minister--but let that go. -Again, Mr. Armour, I ask it in good faith, let me take Jean to church. -There’ll be no penance in that, but hope and goodwill, I promise it. - -_Armour_: You’ve no virtue, but if you were made of it, I’ld say no -still. You’ve not rank enough for the Armours. - -_Burns_: Rank, rank, rank! Then destroy her and destroy me, and ask -your holy friend here to pray God to show you your own black and proud -and silly heart. Fill up my pot, Nell. - - [_As she does so, the_ FACTOR _is about to leave, but seeing_ TAM - LAURIE, _goes across to him_.] - -_The Factor_: Have you found that money, Laurie? - -_Tam_: It’s not for finding. - -_The Factor_: It’s for spending, it seems. - -_Tam_: I’ve had but two pots, and not to my score. - -_The Factor_: Tuesday week then. I hope you’ll have joy of your travels. - -_Tam_: It’s a poor thing to fleer at a man that’s beaten. - -_Burns_ (_crossing, pot in hand_): A dirty thing, Master Factor, a -thing that makes old Nickie-ben laugh down among the sulphur the -minister is so fond of gabbing about. And before I’m gone, I’ll stand -up and prophesy among you. Mr. Armour, you’re a little man, in a little -place, and for your peddling bit of dignity and self-esteem you’ll -break your girl’s heart and ruin me. Minister, you’ll sit on the Lord’s -right hand till He turns round and catches you there. And you, Factor, -will sit on a lord’s right hand till he turns round and finds your -fingers in his pocket. And you’re all upright pillars of repute, praise -the Lord, Amen. And Tam here is a pauper, and I’m forfeit, and before -the God that you blaspheme with your devil’s work, we’ll take our -chance at the day of judgment against the lot of you. He’ll have mercy -on us, for we are sinners, but I doubt he’ll take no notice of you at -all, and you’ll find it a wide place to wander in and learn your lesson. - - [_Outside is heard the sound of music and song, coming from a band of - Beggars passing along the road._] - -_Burns_ (_going to the window, and looking out_): Listen to -them--vagabonds, unwashed, thieves perhaps, and kiss who kiss can. But -they’re free, and they’re honester than your sort, righter commanders. -(_Opening the door._) Come in, come in--a pot apiece for a song, my -hearties--come and teach the gentlemen to say their grace. - - [_The Beggars crowd at the door._] - -_Armour_: You think we’ll stay with you and your dirty rapscallions. By -your leave-- - - [_He_, _the_ FACTOR, _and_ HOLY WILLIE _move to go_.] - -_Burns_: No, no--persuade them friends. (TAM _and the others_, NELL -_and the_ LANDLORD _assisting, hold them back, while_ BURNS _cries to -the Beggars_.) Come in--come in--serve them, Nell, my dear, full pots -all round. - - [_He locks the door, and_ NELL _hands round the full pots_.] - -_Armour_: This shall be a case for the Justice. - -_Burns_: Justice is a blind wench, Mr. Armour--and it would be a bonny -jest for the parish, wouldn’t it? I think we shall swallow it. Now, you -jolly beggars, drink and sing. - - [_The_ FIRST BEGGAR, _an old man in soldier’s rags, a girl in his - arms, sings_.] - - I am a son of Mars, who have been in many wars, - And show my cuts and scars wherever I come; - This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench, - When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum. - - Lal de daudle, etc. - - And now tho’ I must beg with a wooden arm and leg - And many a tatter’d rag hanging over my limbs, - I’m as happy with my wallet, my bottle, and my callet, - As when I us’d in scarlet to follow a drum. - - Lal de daudle, etc. - - [_He is followed, after drinking and laughter, by the girl in his - arms, who sings._] - - I once was a maid, tho’ I cannot tell when, - And still my delight is in proper young men; - Some one of a troop of dragoons was my daddie, - No wonder I’m fond of a sodger laddie. - - Sing, Lal de lal, etc. - - The first of my loves was a swaggering blade, - To rattle the thundering drum was his trade; - His leg was so tight, and his cheek was so ruddy, - Transported I was with my sodger laddie. - - Sing, Lal de lal, etc. - - But the godly old chaplain left him in the lurch, - The sword I forsook for the sake of the church; - He ventur’d the soul, and I risket the body, - ’Twas then I prov’d false to my sodger laddie. - - Sing, Lal de lal, etc. - - Full soon I grew sick of my sanctified sot, - The regiment at large for a husband I got; - From the gilded spontoon to the fife I was ready, - I askèd no more but a sodger laddie. - - Sing, Lal de lal, etc. - - And now I have lived--I know not how long, - And still I can join in a cup and a song; - But whilst with both hands I can hold the glass steady, - Here’s to thee, my hero, my sodger laddie. - - Sing, Lal de lal, etc. - - [_Then comes a dark, tragic woman, who has been sitting apart._] - - A Highland lad my love was born, - The lalland laws he held in scorn; - But he still was faithfu’ to his clan, - My gallant, braw John Highlandman. - - _Chorus_ - - Sing hey my braw John Highlandman! - Sing ho my braw John Highlandman! - There’s not a lad in a’ the lan’ - Was match for my John Highlandman. - - With his philibeg an’ tartan plaid, - An’ guid claymore down by his side, - The ladies’ hearts he did trepan, - My gallant, braw John Highlandman. - - Sing hey, etc. - - They banish’d him beyond the sea, - But ere the bud was on the tree, - Adown my cheeks the pearls ran, - Embracing my John Highlandman. - - Sing hey, etc. - - But, och! they catch’d him at the last, - And bound him in a dungeon fast; - My curse upon them every one, - They’ve hang’d my braw John Highlandman. - - Sing hey, etc. - - And now a widow, I must mourn - The pleasures that will ne’er return; - Nae comfort but a hearty can, - When I think on John Highlandman. - - Sing hey, etc. - - [_As she finishes, the_ FIRST BEGGAR, _leaving his doxy, goes up to - her and sings_.] - - Let me ryke up to dight that tear, - And go wi’ me and be my dear, - An’ then your every care and fear - May whistle owre the lave o’t. - - _Chorus_ - - I am a fiddler to my trade, - An’ a’ the tunes that e’er I play’d, - The sweetest still to wife or maid, - Was whistle owre the lave o’t. - - But bless me wi’ your heav’n o’ charms, - And while I kittle hair on thairms, - Hunger, cauld, and a’ sic harms, - May whistle owre the lave o’t. - - I am, etc. - - [_At the conclusion she sinks into his arms, and there is an - altercation between the two Beggar women, the_ OLD BEGGAR _quieting - them, and then there are cries from all to_ BURNS.] - -Now, Master, a song for a song, a taste of your quality, good liquor -makes good tunes, a song, a song! - -_Burns_ (_leaps on to the table with_): Here’s for you, then, my -hearties. - - [_And sings._] - - I am a Bard of no regard, - Wi’ gentle folks, an’ a’ that: - But Homer-like, the glowrin byke, - Frae town to town I draw that. - - _Chorus_ - - For a’ that, an’ a’ that, - An’ twice as muckle’s a’ that; - I’ve lost but ane, I’ve twa behin’, - I’ve wife eneugh for a’ that. - - Great love I bear to a’ the fair, - Their humble slave, an’ a’ that; - But lordly will, I hold it still - A mortal sin to thraw that. - - For a’ that, etc. - - Their tricks an’ craft ha’e put me daft, - They’ve ta’en me in, and a’ that; - But clear your decks, and here’s the Sex! - I like the jades for a’ that. - - _Chorus_ - - For a’ that, an’ a’ that, - And twice as muckle’s a’ that; - My dearest bluid, to do them guid, - They’re welcome till’t for a’ that. - - [_This is received with an uproar of acclamation. The doxy climbs up - on to the table beside_ BURNS, _and shouts above the din_, ‘A chorus, - a chorus, and then for the road!’ _and they sing in chorus_.] - - A fig for those by law protected! - Liberty’s a glorious feast! - Courts for cowards were erected, - Churches built to please the priest. - - Life is all a variorum, - We regard not how it goes; - Let them cant about decorum - Who have characters to lose. - - [_The Beggars depart, to the music that brought them_, BURNS - _exchanging farewells as they pass through the door. The villagers - follow them, except one lying in a drunken sleep on the floor._ BURNS, - ARMOUR, HOLY WILLIE, _the_ FACTOR, TAM, _the_ LANDLORD, _and_ NELL - _are all that remain. The room is now in confusion, filled with - fumes, the floor stained with liquor, tankards lying about, a litter - of straw and oddments of rags left by the Beggars._] - -_Burns_: And that, your reverences, is life too. They’ll all come to -the Day of Judgment with the rest of us. Miserable sinners, God bless -them. Is there anyone to say God bless you, think you? - -_Armour_: Let us pass. - -_Burns_: Aye, in a moment. That tune has just put another rhyme to -shape--I’ld have you hear it before you go. - -_Holy Willie_: You heard what Mr. Armour told you. There’s a warrant -coming this way. Now for the reckoning. - -_The Landlord_ (_coming forward_): Aye, the reckoning. - -_Burns_ (_his hand going uselessly to his pockets_): Yes, landlord. How -much is it? - -_The Landlord_: Four shillings and a penny. - -_Burns_: Four--not a penny even. There now. Wouldn’t one of you -gentlemen--? - -_Holy Willie_: For shame, young man. - -_Burns_: It was a good mumming, worth it surely. Mr. Armour, it would -be an act of grace--a soul might almost be saved for four shillings and -a penny. - -_The Landlord_: Let it be, let it be. I’d have none of their pence. -Wipe it out, Nell. - - [NELL _cleans the slate_.] - -_Burns_: That’s honour for you, true bred out of Elysium. I have it all -in my head now. You with your rank and your rents and your holy purses -and your grand little airs, listen. - - [_To the tune of_ ‘I am a bard of no regard,’ _he sings, in a passion - of conviction now_.] - - Is there, for honest poverty, - That hings his head, and a’ that? - The coward-slave, we pass him by, - We dare be poor for a’ that! - For a’ that, and a’ that, - Our toils obscure, and a’ that, - The rank is but the guinea’s stamp, - The man’s the gowd for a’ that! - - Ye see yon birkie, ca’d a lord, - Wha struts, and stares, and a’ that; - Though hundreds worship at his word, - He’s but a cuif for a’ that: - For a’ that, and a’ that; - His ribband, star, and a’ that, - The man of independent mind - He looks and laughs at a’ that! - - Then let us pray that come it may-- - (As come it will for a’ that) - That Sense and Worth, o’er a’ the earth, - May bear the gree, and a’ that; - For a’ that, and a’ that, - It’s comin’ yet for a’ that, - That man to man, the world o’er, - Shall brothers be for a’ that! - - [_While he sings, a man of bearing and authority has come in and taken - a seat quietly at the back, unobserved. He now comes forward._] - -_Burns_: Mr. Hamilton. A respectful good-even to you. - -_Gavin Hamilton_: Well sung, Robert. A new one? - -_Burns_: Yes, Mr. Hamilton. - -_Hamilton_: I hear of trouble. - -_Burns_: These gentlemen could tell you. - -_Hamilton_: No doubt. They would find it an agreeable narrative. I know -them. - -_Holy Willie_: I’ll trouble you, Mr. Hamilton, to keep your offensive -observations to yourself. - -_Hamilton_: But why, when I part with them so suitably in your company? - - [_A_ SHERIFF’S OFFICER _comes in_.] - -_The Officer_: Are you Robert Burns? - -_Burns_: I am. - -_The Officer_ (_serving a warrant_): In the King’s name. - -_Hamilton_: What is this? - -_Burns_: I’m a ruined man, Mr. Hamilton. Mr. Armour’s daughter--I can’t -pay--and he won’t let me wed her as I would. - -_Armour_: He will not. And he will bid you good-night. - - [_He goes_, HOLY WILLIE _and the_ FACTOR _with him_.] - -_Hamilton_ (_taking the warrant, and speaking to the_ OFFICER): Perhaps -you could keep this till to-morrow afternoon? - -_The Officer_: If Mr. Hamilton asks me to. - -_Hamilton_: You may bring it to my house. - -_The Officer_: Certainly, sir. - - [_He goes._] - -_Hamilton_: Robert, you’re a fool. - -_Burns_: I believe you, Mr. Hamilton. - -_Hamilton_: But I’m not going to see you destroyed by men of that -tonnage. We must consider. - -_Burns_: I had a fancy, but there’s no time now. - -_Hamilton_: What was it? - -_Burns_: If I could print some of my rhymes, and you and some like you, -Mr. Hamilton, could get a little interest for me-- - -_Hamilton_: Good. Yes. Come to-morrow morning. We’ll talk of it. What -was that factor fellow doing here? - -_Burns_: Tam Laurie there. - -_Hamilton_: O, it’s you. - -_Tam_: I’m sorry to say it is, Mr. Hamilton. - -_Hamilton_: Rent? - -_Tam_: A week come Tuesday. - -_Hamilton_: Yes. I think I might change his mind. Good-night, Robert. - -_Burns_: Good-night, Mr. Hamilton. - -_The Landlord_: I suppose, Mr. Hamilton (_going to the slate_), let me -see, four shillings and a penny-- - - [_But_ HAMILTON _has gone_.] - -_The Landlord_: No, quite so--not four shillings and a penny. - -_Burns_: Never mind, landlord, when I’m laureate crowned, you shall -supply the nectar. - -_The Landlord_: Aye, and I’ll be more than four shillings and a penny -out on that I take it. (_Waking the sleeping man._) Now then, John -Anderson, bed-time. - -_Burns_: Good-night, landlord. Good-night, Nell. (_He kisses her._) -Come along, Tam. John Anderson, my jo, John, get up. - -_John_ (_lifting himself, as uncertain as his speech_): I was sleeping -with the seven kings, and the Beast of the Apocalypse. I’m getting too -old to be called before the sunrise. - -_Burns_: Come with us my jo, John--we’ll take you home. - -_John_: But I don’t wish to go home. There will only be a wifely -exhortation, and I’m troubled by the seven Beasts of the Apocalypse. - -_Burns_: This way. Take an arm, Tam. - - [_He sings._] - - John Anderson, my jo, John, - When we were first acquent; - Your locks were like the raven, - Your bonnie brow was brent; - But now your brow is beld, John, - Your locks are like the snaw; - But blessings on your frosty pow, - John Anderson, my jo. - - John Anderson, my jo, John, - We clamb the hill thegither; - And mony a canty day, John, - We’ve had wi’ ane anither: - Now we maun totter down, John, - And hand in hand we’ll go; - And sleep thegither at the foot, - John Anderson, my jo. - - [_They go down the road together._] - -_The Landlord_: Good-night, lass. Lock the door. Leave chores till the -morning. - -_Nell_: Good-night, Mr. Lomas. - - [_The_ LANDLORD _goes_.] - - [NELL _puts a little of the confusion to rights, goes to the door, - opens it and looks down the road. She comes into the room, leaving the - door open, and, moving about, sings._] - - O whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad, - O whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad: - Tho’ father and mother and a’ should gae mad, - O whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad. - - [_She stands looking at the door for a moment. Then she goes to it, - closes and locks it, and puts out the lamp. She goes out by the - candlelight of the stairway door, and leaves the scene in darkness, - and the music continues as_ - - - THE CURTAIN FALLS - - -SCENE III - - _At_ PROFESSOR FERGUSON’S _house in Edinburgh, nearly a year later--in - February_. - - _It is a cheerful, comfortable room, marked by the taste and culture - of Edinburgh literary society at its best, with the elegance of - fashion. A few portraits of Scots men of letters and action hang on - the wall--Allan Ramsay, Robert Fergusson, James VI., Robert Bruce; in - addition there are books and a pair or two of claymores, and two or - three prints, including one by Bunbury of a dead soldier and his dog. - On the mantelpiece is a bust of David Hume. The chill Scots winter day - is brightened by a large fire in the grate; outside is snow._ - - _Folding doors are open to a room beyond, where a luncheon party has - been taking place. The ladies have left the table, and are seated - round the room before us. They are the hostess_, MRS. FERGUSON, _the_ - DUCHESS OF GORDON, MRS. MONTGOMERY, MISS TAYLOR, _and with them a boy - of fifteen, the young_ WALTER SCOTT. _Men’s voices can be heard from - time to time._ - - _Another lady, young and beautiful_, MRS. STEWART OF STAIR, _is seated - at the piano, singing to her own accompaniment_. - - Flow gently, sweet Afton! among thy green braes, - Flow gently, I’ll sing thee a song in thy praise; - My Mary’s asleep by thy murmuring stream-- - Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. - - Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, - And winds by the cot where my Mary resides! - How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, - As gathering sweet flow’rets she stems thy clear wave! - - Flow gently, sweet Afton! among thy green braes, - Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays! - My Mary’s asleep by thy murmuring stream-- - Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. - - [_At the end of the song_ WALTER SCOTT _goes to a desk at the back of - the room, and turns over the pages of a book_.] - -_The Duchess_: Bravo! A very beautiful song. - -_Miss Taylor_ (_very fashionable, rather plain, towards fifty, and not -for poetry_): And you say he gave it to you? - -_Mrs. Stewart_: He sent it this morning. - -_Miss Taylor_: Rather indelicate, don’t you think--that piece about -snowy feet? - -_Mrs. Stewart_: I think it’s lovely. - -_Miss Taylor_: Well, I must say I should feel rather embarrassed myself. - -_Mrs. Ferguson_ (_benign and easy, the professor’s wife_): I like that -tune so much--Afton Water, isn’t it? - -MRS. STEWART: Yes. - -MRS. FERGUSON: Jamie used to whistle it, I remember. - -_Mrs. Montgomery_ (_marble, more the duchess than_ GORDON _herself_): I -must say, Mrs. Ferguson, your young lion behaves himself quite prettily. - -_The Duchess_: Why shouldn’t he, Mrs. Montgomery? - -_Mrs. Montgomery_: Oh well, Duchess, you would hardly expect it from a -ploughman, now would you? - -_The Duchess_: ‘Flow gently, sweet Afton! among thy green -braes’--wouldn’t you expect it of that? - -_Mrs. Stewart_: His conversation is entrancing. - -_Miss Taylor_: A very dangerous young man, and with those eyes too. - -_The Duchess_: Nonsense, Martha. You needn’t alarm yourself. - -_Miss Taylor_: Well, I shouldn’t like to be alone with him. - -_The Duchess_: I am sure he would be discreet. I think you’re a very -lucky woman, Mrs. Stewart. I wish Mr. Burns would write poems to me. -My husband says there’s never been such a natural genius in Scotland -before. - -_Mrs. Montgomery_: Oh, come now. For an uncultivated talent it is -pretty well, we may allow. But we must not turn his head. - -_Miss Taylor_: I entirely agree with you, Mrs. Montgomery. Most unsafe. - -_Mrs. Stewart_: I wonder he hasn’t married. - -_Mrs. Montgomery_: Oh, my dear, haven’t you heard of the scandal in his -own village? It would have been jail I’m told if it hadn’t been for -some Mr. Gavin Hamilton who took a fancy to him. But I believe he has -several families. - -_Miss Taylor_: I really don’t think we ought to encourage him. And one -of his poems, I hear, is quite friendly to the Devil. - -_The Duchess_: - - But, fare-you-weel, auld Nickie-ben! - O wad ye tak’ a thought an’ men’! - Ye aiblins might--I dinna ken-- - Still hae a stake-- - I’m wae to think upo’ yon den, - E’en for your sake! - -_Miss Taylor_: Most confusing. - -_Walter Scott_ (_moving from his book to_ MRS. STEWART): Have you any -more of his poems, ma’am? - -_Mrs. Stewart_: I have his book, Walter. - -_Walter Scott_: I wish I could read it. - -_Mrs. Stewart_: I’ll lend it to you. - -_Walter Scott_: Will you really? Thank you. He has got lovely eyes, -hasn’t he? I should write poems if I had eyes like that. Couldn’t you -sing again? - -_Mrs. Ferguson_: Yes, please do, Mrs. Stewart. - -_Miss Taylor_: Something with a little religion in it. - -_Mrs. Stewart_ (_after a glance at this, sings_): - - Her flowing locks, the raven’s wing, - Adown her neck and bosom hing; - How sweet unto that breast to cling - And round that neck entwine her! - - Her lips are roses wat wi’ dew, - O, what a feast her bonnie mou’! - Her cheeks a mair celestial hue, - A crimson still diviner. - -_Miss Taylor_: Really! - -_The Duchess_: I think my husband is right, Miss Taylor. - - [_From the room beyond comes the sound of voices, or particularly of - one voice, raised in argument._ MRS. MONTGOMERY _majestically moves up - to a view of the proceedings_.] - -_Mrs. Montgomery_: Dear me. Mr. Burns seems to be making a speech. I -fear I was mistaken. - -_The Duchess_: It’s that foolish man Robertson. He was speaking ill of -Mr. Gray’s _Elegy_. He was very provoking. Mr. Burns does quite right -to defend it. - -_Burns’s voice_ (_from the far room_): Sir, I now perceive a man may -be an excellent judge of poetry by square and rule, and after all be a -damned blockhead. - - [_The_ REVEREND MR. ROBERTSON, _a pedantic and acidulated clergyman, - comes hurriedly through the door accompanied by his host_, PROFESSOR - FERGUSON, _followed by_ BURNS.] - -_Mr. Robertson_: Did you hear that? - -_Professor Ferguson_: I beg you, Mr. Robertson-- - -_Robertson_: It is highly preposterous-- - -_Burns_: Will you allow me, sir, to apologise? I withdraw my -observation, and you may call the _Elegy_ what you will. - -_Ferguson_: May I add my word-- - -_Robertson_: Very well, very well. I will overlook your indiscretion, -Mr. Burns. And believe me Gray is a very inferior poet. - - [_They are now followed into the room by_ DR. BLACKLOCK, _the aged - blind poet, and_ LORD MUIR, _a middle-aged sporting laird_. BLACKLOCK - _sits beside the_ DUCHESS OF GORDON, _conducted by_ FERGUSON; - ROBERTSON _by_ MISS TAYLOR; MUIR _on a chair near them_; FERGUSON - _goes to_ WALTER SCOTT, _who has returned to his book at the window; - and_ BURNS _joins_ MRS. STEWART, _who is still seated at the piano. - There is an undercurrent of conversation from the various groups._] - -_Miss Taylor_ (_to_ ROBERTSON): That was extremely generous of you, -dear Mr. Robertson. - -_Robertson_: Charity becomes my cloth, madam. - -_Muir_ (_immensely pleased with the incident_): Yes, but a damned -blockhead. That’s straight riding, you must allow that, sir. - -_Robertson_: I regret, your lordship, I am no Nimrod. - -_Muir_: No, but damme, sir, we can all admire a straight line. I like -the lad. - -_Miss Taylor_: It’s all very well, Lord Muir, but it’s most unbecoming -to call a reverend gentleman a--h’m--blockhead. - -_Muir_: A damned blockhead, ma’am, that’s the word. - -_Robertson_ (_turning his back to him, addressing_ MISS TAYLOR): As -I was remarking to you at luncheon, the history of pew-rents is very -misleading-- - - [_They drift into their own conversation._] - -_Muir_ (_to_ MRS. MONTGOMERY, _under his breath_): That’s the kind of -poetry I can understand. - -_Burns_ (_to_ MRS. STEWART): You did me great honour in your singing. - -_Mrs. Stewart_: The songs are their own recommendation, Mr. Burns. - -_Burns_: Sponsored by such beauty, madam, they could not fail. - -_Mrs. Stewart_ (_touching the piano very lightly to the air of ‘Afton -Water’_): Do you find Edinburgh agreeable? - -_Burns_: Some moments of it. - -_Mrs. Stewart_: I hear of your fame everywhere. - -_Burns_: Fortunately it does not deceive me. - -_Mrs. Stewart_: But you have the sincere interest of many. - -_Burns_: There are not many whose interest is valuable. With most, I -please for a season--a new fashion in the window. - -_Mrs. Stewart_: A poet must not be bitter, Mr. Burns. - -_Burns_: I am not bitter, madam. I know my friends from the rest, that -is all. - -_Mrs. Stewart_: Your friends should be happy. - -_Burns_: You are very gracious. You forget the--condescensions. - -_Mrs. Stewart_: But that would be impossible. - -_Burns_: Believe me, it is common. My plough lends a virtue to flattery. - -_Mrs. Stewart_: There is honest esteem as well--delight. - -_Burns_: I am as sensitive to it, madam, as the top leaves to the last -ripple of evening wind. You are bountiful. - -_The Duchess_ (_speaking across_): Mrs. Ferguson, do you think we might -ask Mr. Burns to sing one of his songs himself? - -_Mrs. Ferguson_: If he would be so kind. - -_Burns_: Madam, if her Grace so compliments me. Will Mrs. Stewart play -an air for me? - -_Muir_: Couldn’t it be something with a chorus--eh? Nothing like -opening the lungs, sir (_to Robertson_). - -_Robertson_: I regret, your lordship, I am no Orpheus. - -_Muir_: No, but damme, sir, sing cracked, what odds? - -_Burns_: Do you know ‘The Campbells are Coming,’ madam? - -_Mrs. Stewart_: This? - - [_She plays the air._] - -_Burns_: Aye--that. I’ve made some new verses for it--thus-- - - [_He sings._] - - Upon the Lomonds I lay, I lay, - Upon the Lomonds I lay, I lay, - I looked down to bonnie Lochleven - And saw three bonnie perches play. - - The Campbells are comin’, Oho! Oho! - The Campbells are comin’, Oho! Oho! - The Campbells are comin’ to bonnie Lochleven, - The Campbells are comin’, Oho! Oho! - - Great Argyle he goes before; - He makes the cannons and guns to roar, - Wi’ sound o’ trumpet, fife and drum; - The Campbells are comin’, Oho! Oho! - - The Campbells are comin’, etc. - - The Campbells they are a’ in arms, - Their loyal faith and truth to show, - Wi’ banners rattling in the wind, - The Campbells are comin’, Oho! Oho! - - The Campbells are comin’, etc. - - [_The_ DUCHESS OF GORDON, _and_ MRS. STEWART, _with_ BLACKLOCK _and_ - FERGUSON, _join enthusiastically in the choruses_, MRS. FERGUSON _more - mildly_, MRS. MONTGOMERY _perfunctorily, and_ MUIR _excitedly, moving - about the room, vainly exhorting_ ROBERTSON _and_ MISS TAYLOR. WALTER - SCOTT, _tense with wondering admiration, slowly approaches_ BURNS _as - he sings, and stands beside him_. - - _At the close of the song there is a burst of applause, and cries of_, - ‘Bravo! Bravo! Another please, Mr. Burns,’ _through which is heard_.] - -_Miss Taylor_ (_to_ ROBERTSON): Very incendiary in sentiment, I must -say. - -_Robertson_: A very just criticism. - - [_The calls for another song persist._] - -_Burns_: The tune of ‘The Collier’s Bonnie Lassie’? - - [MRS. STEWART _plays the air, and he sings, very quietly, his audience - now_ MRS. STEWART _alone_.] - - O saw ye bonnie Lesley, - As she gaed o’er the Border? - She’s gane, like Alexander, - To spread her conquests farther. - - To see her is to love her, - And love but her for ever; - For Nature made her what she is, - And never made anither! - - Thou art a queen, fair Lesley, - Thy subjects, we before thee: - Thou art divine, fair Lesley, - The hearts o’ men adore thee. - - The Deil he could na scaith thee, - Or aught that wad belang thee; - He’d look into thy bonnie face, - And say, ‘I canna wrang thee!’ - - [_Very gravely and courteously he bows to_ MRS. STEWART _at the end, - and to a murmur of approval moves across to the fireplace_. MRS. - STEWART _remains talking to_ WALTER. MUIR _follows_ BURNS _to the - fireplace_.] - -_Muir_: Very pretty, Mr. Burns--especially that one about the -Campbells. I believe you join our little party at dinner to-night? - -_Burns_: I am much obliged to your lordship. - -_Muir_: The Barley Sheaf at seven. I subscribed for two copies of your -book. Don’t understand most of it, but I daresay I’ve spent money -worse. And I like straight riding, sir. Seven o’clock. [BURNS _bows to -this_.] - -_Muir_ (_to the_ DUCHESS): Good-day, your Grace. (_To_ MRS. FERGUSON.) -Very entertaining, Mrs. Ferguson. - - [_He takes his leave generally and goes, speaking to_ FERGUSON _on his - way out_. ROBERTSON _is saying good-bye to_ MISS TAYLOR, _and crosses - to_ MRS. FERGUSON.] - -_Robertson_: Good-afternoon, Mrs. Ferguson. A most instructive -gathering, I am sure. - -_Mrs. Ferguson_: Good-afternoon, Mr. Robertson. It was very considerate -of you to spare us the time. - -_Robertson_ (_bowing stiffly to_ BURNS): Good-afternoon, Mr. Burns. And -may the Lord chasten your muse. - -_Burns_: Yes, sir. I will speak to Him about it. - -_Robertson_: I will remember it in my devotions. - - [_He follows_ MUIR, _taking leave of the company as he goes_.] - -_Burns_ (_to_ MRS. FERGUSON): I fear I was a little heated before we -left table. I beg your indulgence. (_To the_ DUCHESS.) Ma’am. - -_The Duchess_ (_privately to him_): You were quite right. He is -a--damned blockhead, I think you said. - -_Ferguson_ (_to_ MISS TAYLOR): Very striking poems those, don’t you -think, Miss Taylor? - -_Miss Taylor_: Poetry is a pagan art, Mr. Ferguson. - -_Ferguson_: But such fervour is refreshing. - -_Miss Taylor_: Very irregular. - - [BURNS _has moved up to_ FERGUSON, _and is studying the Bunbury print - on the wall_.] - -_Blacklock_: That young man has the pure flame of genius in him. - -_Mrs. Montgomery_: A little disconcerting, doctor. We have to remember -society, you know. - -_Blacklock_: Society may be trusted with its own preservation, Mrs. -Montgomery, but Scotland has never heard songs the like of that before. -We must cherish them. - -_Burns_: There is a sublime pathos in that. (_Reading from the -print._) ‘The child of misery baptised in tears.’ Whose words are those? - -_Ferguson_: I do not remember. Dr. Blacklock, perhaps--Doctor, ‘The -child of misery baptised in tears’--do you recall the author? - -_Blacklock_: No, I am afraid not. - - [WALTER SCOTT _speaks with some timid excitement to_ MRS. STEWART.] - -_Mrs. Stewart_: Walter Scott here tells me they are by Langhorne. - -_Burns_: Indeed, Langhorne. You read the poets? - -_Walter Scott_: Every day. - -_Burns_: They will never fail you. I am much indebted to you, Mr. Scott. - - [_He leaves the boy entirely elated, and moves towards his place by - the fire._] - -_Blacklock_: Mr. Burns. - -_Burns_ (_crossing to him_): Sir? - -_Blacklock_: I am an old man, Mr. Burns, and I have been allowed, if I -may say so, many honours. I would give them all to have written those -songs. - -_Burns_: They have often been my only security, sir. - -_Mrs. Montgomery_: Dr. Blacklock is very considerate of your merit, Mr. -Burns. - -_Burns_: There are obligations, ma’am, not easy to discharge with -modesty. I am very sensible of Dr. Blacklock’s kindness. - -_Blacklock_: Mr. Burns is quite right, Mrs. Montgomery. I was not -offering him compliments. - - [_He lifts his hand paternally for_ BURNS _to take_. BURNS, _with - great tenderness, returns the salute, and goes back to the fireplace_. - MISS TAYLOR _rises and moves over to_ MRS. FERGUSON.] - -_Miss Taylor_: Good-afternoon, Mrs. Ferguson. We meet on Friday. - -_Mrs. Ferguson_: Yes, Miss Taylor. - -_Miss Taylor_: Good-afternoon, Mr. Burns. I trust you will not neglect -the vineyard. - -_Burns_: There are no vineyards at Mossgiel, madam. - -_Miss Taylor_: I mean the Lord’s. The labourer must be worthy of his -hire. - -_Burns_: The labourer--hired. Yes, I will remember. - - [MISS TAYLOR _takes leave of the_ DUCHESS _and the company, and goes, - accompanied to the door by_ MRS. FERGUSON. - - WALTER SCOTT _comes to_ MRS. FERGUSON _and shakes her hand. He stands - a moment before_ BURNS, _looking at him uncertainly_.] - -_Burns_ (_holding out his hand, which_ WALTER _takes_): Good-bye. - -_Walter Scott_: Good-bye, sir. - - [_Leaving_ BURNS _rather poignantly taken aback by the unexpected - ceremony of address, he bows to the_ DUCHESS _and the others and - goes_. MRS. STEWART _is now standing by_ DR. BLACKLOCK, _and as_ MRS. - MONTGOMERY _rises, she takes her place_.] - -_Mrs. Montgomery_ (_to her hostess_): Good-afternoon. Good-afternoon, -Duchess. If I can help Mr. Burns with any recommendation, he will let -me know. Word left at Wilson’s bookshop will reach me. - - [_She goes, escorted by the_ FERGUSONS.] - -_The Duchess_: Dr. Blair was praising your poems this morning, Mr. -Burns. But he suggested that you might with advantage enlarge your -scope. He spoke of Dr. Young and Mr. Akenside. - -_Burns_: I fear my Pegasus is for light journeys only, your Grace. - - [MRS. FERGUSON _is now sitting opposite_ MRS. STEWART _with_ - BLACKLOCK. FERGUSON _joins the group at the fire_.] - -_Blacklock_: If Mr. Burns would humour me before I go, might I ask for -another of his--masterpieces. - -_The Duchess_: Yes--please. - -_Burns_: Will Mrs. Stewart favour me--the duet you were speaking of? - - [MRS. STEWART _goes to the piano, and they sing_.] - - _She_ - - As I gaed down the water-side, - There I met my shepherd lad, - He row’d me sweetly in his plaid, - And ca’d me his dearie. - Ca’ the yowes to the knowes, - Ca’ them where the heather grows, - Ca’ them where the burnie rows, - My bonnie dearie! - - _He_ - - Will ye gang down the water-side, - And see the waves sae sweetly glide? - Beneath the hazels spreading wide - The moon it shines fu’ clearly. - Ca’ the yowes, etc. - - _She_ - - If ye’ll but stand to what ye’ve said, - I’se gang wi’ you, my shepherd lad, - And ye may row me in your plaid, - And I sall be your dearie. - Ca’ the yowes, etc. - - -_Blacklock_: The sweetest voice of Caledonia’s sons, Mrs. Ferguson. - -_The Duchess_ (_rising_): Well, your poet has captivated me entirely, -Mrs. Ferguson. I return to Gordon Castle next week, Mr. Burns. I hope -you will visit us there. - -_Burns_ (_kissing her offered hand_): If you will indulge me so far, -your Grace. - - [_The_ DUCHESS _says good-bye to_ MRS. STEWART _and_ DR. BLACKLOCK, - _and goes out with_ MRS. FERGUSON, _passing_ FERGUSON _at the door_. - FERGUSON _moves down to_ BLACKLOCK.] - -_Blacklock_ (_rising_): Mr. Ferguson? I am greatly your debtor. It has -been one of the most memorable occasions in a long life. A very great -privilege, Mr. Burns. - - [_He holds out his hand in the direction of_ BURNS, _who takes it with - real veneration_. _Then he goes_, FERGUSON _directing his steps_.] - -_Burns_: You are staying in Edinburgh long? - -_Mrs. Stewart_: I leave to-morrow. - -_Burns_ (_looking at his watch_): I must go. Mrs. Ferguson will be -tired of me. You sang enchantingly. - -_Mrs. Stewart_: You are joining the Barley Sheaf party to-night? - -_Burns_: Yes. - -_Mrs. Stewart_: You are happy there? - -_Burns_: I am free. And nobody patronises me. - -_Mrs. Stewart_: But they have been very civil to you here. - -_Burns_: Some of them. And there have been consolations even beyond -that. The old man, and the boy, and you. But the others--you heard. Why -should I? Where does it lead me? - -_Mrs. Stewart_: Success at the Barley Sheaf is more gratifying? - -_Burns_: I know, madam, I know. But I shall never learn discipline. - -_Mrs. Stewart_: Not even for the sake of your friends? - -_Burns_: In a few weeks I shall have passed out of all this--back from -it, if you will. My friends, who will they be then? I do not expect -remembrance. - -_Mrs. Stewart_: That is not kind. - -_Burns_: It is generous of you to think it. O, I am not ungrateful, -believe me. I have been fortunate in opinions that I shall cherish. -But those--with their vineyards, and preachments over me, and -Akensides, and Wilson’s bookshop--did you hear that? My time may come, -but it is not now, in Edinburgh. - -_Mrs. Stewart_: And so birthright may be wasted, at the Barley Sheaf? - -_Burns_: Do not let me deceive you, madam. Like my songs--yes, I pray -you will do that. But they thrive in that company--I am at home there. -I am not proud of it, and it will settle my account early, likely -enough. But I know my condition. Virtue was born a caprice in me, -madam, and fortune has not husbanded her for me. I sing sometimes, and -for the rest I have no talent, perhaps, but a little to know myself. - -_Mrs. Stewart_: I understand. And you will be yourself. - -_Burns_: Even through disaster, I must. It is the only honour I have. - -[_The_ FERGUSONS _come back_.] - -_Mrs. Ferguson_: Forgive us, please. - -_Burns_: Thank you, Mrs. Ferguson, for your kindness--it was very -obliging of you to bring me here. Good-afternoon. - -_Mrs. Ferguson_: Good-afternoon, Mr. Burns. - -_Ferguson_: Many flattering things have been said, Mr. Burns. - -_Burns_ (_to_ MRS. STEWART): Good-afternoon, madam. - -_Mrs. Stewart_: Good luck, Mr. Burns. - -_Ferguson_ (_going out with him_): Very flattering, I assure you. Most -gratifying you must find it-- - - [_They go out._] - -_Mrs. Ferguson_: Shall you come with me, my dear, to Dr. Mackenzie’s? - -_Mrs. Stewart_: I think I would rather stay at home this afternoon, -Mrs. Ferguson. - - [FERGUSON _returns and goes to his desk for a book_.] - -_Mrs. Ferguson_: Certainly, my dear. I’ll tell Maggie. - -_Ferguson_: Very pleasant. Dr. Robertson was most instructive at lunch -upon the second epistle, don’t you think? Yes. - - [_He bustles out._] - -_Mrs. Ferguson_: She shall bring tea to you here. - - [_She goes._] - - [MRS. STEWART _plays a few notes of ‘Afton Water’ on the piano. Then - she changes the air, and sings very softly._] - - O whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad, - O whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad, - Tho’ father and mother and a’ should gae mad, - O whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad. - - [_She pauses, and laughs lightly and humorously at herself, and_] - - - THE CURTAIN FALLS - - -SCENE IV - - _A room at the Barley Sheaf, by candlelight, in the late evening of - the same day._ - - _Seated round a table are_ LORD MUIR _and_ BALIOL WHITE, _a young - spark of fashion_; SAM OGILVIE, _a flash but unprosperous ‘sport’_; - NEIL SIMPSON, _a drab and dissolute little schoolmaster_; ‘SHY’ - DUNCAN, _a speculative gentleman of finance, at present half asleep, - and_ BURNS. - - _Their cups are frequently replenished from a large punch-bowl in the - middle of the table._ - -_Burns_ (_to full chorus, is singing_), - - O, Willie brew’d a peck o’ maut, - And Rob and Allan cam’ to see; - Three blyther hearts, that lee-lang night, - Ye wad na found in Christendie. - - _Chorus_ - - We are na fou, we’re nae that fou, - But just a drappie in our e’e; - The cock may craw, the day may daw, - And aye we’ll taste the barley bree. - - Here are we met, three merry boys, - Three merry boys, I trow, are we; - And mony a night we’ve merry been, - And mony mae we hope to be! - - _Chorus_ - - We are na fou, etc. - - It is the moon, I ken her horn, - That’s blinkin’ in the lift sae hie; - She shines sae bright to wyle us hame, - But, by my sooth, she’ll wait a wee! - - _Chorus_ - - We are no fou, etc. - -_Muir_ (_beating the table_): There’s no eloquence like it. Was not -Demosthenes an orator? Then was Demosthenes drunk. - -_Neil Simpson_: Very logically put, my lord. In vino salutas. - -_Sam Ogilvie_: There’s no badger in the world like wine. It defies the -dogs of care. The cravenous dogs of care. - -_Simpson_: Cravenous is not good lexicon. It is no word. - -_Ogilvie_: I’ll have you know, Mr. Simpson, it is my word. It means -exactly what I mean. - -_Simpson_: It is an abuse-- - -_Baliol White_: Let your lexicon go to sleep, dominie. We’ll have no -precisians here. I said precisians. Does anyone dispute it? - -_Muir_: Gentlemen, I give you a toast. We have with us this evening a -genius of the most pre-eminent intoxication--inspiration. In my opinion -he makes Homer look a ninny. I have not perused the works of that -celebrated Greek, but I am convinced that he was a ninny. Mr. Burns is -not a ninny, and I defy anyone to say that he is. Mr. Burns, if anyone -says you are a ninny, he shall answer to me for it. - -_Ogilvie_: Who suggested that Mr. Burns was a ninny? - -_Muir_: I’m not suggesting that anyone suggested it. I merely assert -that he is not. Mr. Burns, let me assure you of the confidence of the -assembled company. Gentlemen, I give you the health of Mr. Robert -Burns, and may his glass never be empty. - - [_They drink to the toast boisterously._] - -_White_: Speech, speech! - - [_He is supported by the rest._] - -_Burns_ (_rising_): It is a great honour to be in your convivial -company. They are fools outside, but we are Solomons, with the -perpetual fount of wisdom before us. We are the true ministers of -state, for our policy is everlasting. Love is our law, and drink is our -prophet, and shall we not obey these? I give you back a toast--Woman -and the brimming bowl--gentlemen! - - [_The toast is honoured._] - -_Burns_: Mr. Duncan, wake up, sir. Be not dejected in sleep, Mr. Duncan. - -_White_ (_shaking him_): Wake up, Shy. Shall we forget our behaviour -before a man of genius, a man of temperament? - -_Duncan_ (_rousing himself_): Ten per cent.? What’s ten per cent. to -me? I’ll not deal under twelve. Not a guinea under fifteen. - -_Muir_: Behave yourself, Shy. To-morrow we will be again your devoted -clients. To-night we do not discuss these things. - -_Duncan_: I beg your pardon, gentlemen. I fell asleep, and was dreaming -of a small transaction--most negligent of me to mention it in this -company. By no means. - -_White_: A very unpleasant reference, Shy. When is quarter-day? - -_Duncan_: Don’t allow that to trouble you, Mr. White. I am always -accommodating. - -_Simpson_: Sat ad diem diei malum est. - -_Duncan_: Most probably you are. But scholarship has a hungry belly, -Mr. Simpson. I forswore it when I was a swaddler. I stand for the -receipt of custom. - -_Muir_: O nimble Shy, we are not interested in your biography. - -_Duncan_: Will you write my biography, Mr. Burns? - -_Ogilvie_: It is as unwanted as a paunch on a jockey. - -_Duncan_: My lord, I ask you, does this pea-and-thimble man mean to -insult me? (_Rising._) I asked Mr. Burns to write my biography. - -_Muir_: Sit down, Shy, you’re drunk. - -_Duncan_: I know I’m drunk--I’m pleased to confess to anybody I’m -drunk-- - -_Ogilvie_: Drunk and daft, Shylock, sit down. - -_Duncan_: You stable-fly, you tap-sawdust, you ninepenny wager--he owes -me four pounds ten-- - -_White_ (_pulling him down_): Sit down, Shy, don’t be a fool. A song, -Mr. Burns. - -_The Others_: A song, a song. - -_Burns_: Shall gentlemen of spirit quarrel about four pound ten? Call -it quits, Mr. Duncan. - -_Muir_: Come, Shy, quits, in honour of Mr. Burns. Sam meant no offence. - -_Duncan_: I honour Mr. Burns highly. But I’ll see him damned before I -will stand out of four pound ten. - -_Simpson_: A very ignoble sentiment. - -_White_: A song, a song. - -_Burns_: I’m sorry, Mr. Ogilvie, that our friend will not oblige us. -But was ever candour more becoming? A song for you, gentlemen. - - Duncan Gray cam’ here to woo, - Ha, ha, the wooing o’t, - On blythe Yule-night when we were fou, - Ha, ha, the wooing o’t. - Maggie coost her head fu’ high, - Look’d asklent and unco skeigh, - Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh; - Ha, ha, the wooing o’t. - - Time and chance are but a tide; - Ha, ha, the wooing o’t; - Slighted love is sair to bide; - Ha, ha, the wooing o’t. - ‘Shall I, like a fool,’ quoth he, - ‘For a haughty hizzie die? - She may gae to--France for me!’ - Ha, ha, the wooing o’t. - - How it comes let doctors tell; - Ha, ha, the wooing o’t; - Meg grew sick--as he grew hale, - Ha, ha, the wooing o’t. - Something in her bosom wrings, - For relief a sigh she brings; - And O, her een, they spak’ sic things! - Ha, ha, the wooing o’t. - - Duncan was a lad o’ grace - Ha, ha, the wooing o’t; - Maggie’s was a piteous case - Ha, ha, the wooing o’t. - Duncan couldna be her death, - Swelling pity smoor’d his wrath; - Now they’re crouse and canty baith-- - Ha, ha, the wooing o’t. - -_Simpson_: A very sweet measure, Mr. Burns, and exemplary morality. The -ancients would most unconsciously have approved. And he who has not the -expedition of the ancients is a blockhead. - -_Muir_: A damned blockhead, dominie. That’s what Mr. Burns called the -minister at lunch to-day. I never heard a compliment more prettily put. -A damned blockhead. - -_Duncan_ (_rousing from his stupor_): Who says I’m a damned blockhead? -I resent the insults of this company--I am tired of them. If Mr. Burns -says I am a damned blockhead, he’s a bankrupt bastard. - -_Simpson and White_: Order, order. - -_Muir_ (_a little sobered_): Shy Duncan, be ashamed of yourself, -man. No one is welcome in this company who cannot get drunk like a -gentleman. - -_Ogilvie_ (_rising_): I warned you, my lord, he was no fit member for -our society. - -_Duncan_ (_standing to him_): You’re fit enough, I suppose, Mr. -Five-Ace Ogilvie. - -_Muir_ (_with authority now_): Drop it, Duncan, I tell you. Sam is our -gillie of all games. You’re our financier. We know our obligations. -Very well. But you must apologise to Mr. Burns. - -_Duncan_: I will not apologise if he calls me a damned blockhead. - -_Burns_: Mr. Duncan, believe me I had not considered you in that light. - -_Ogilvie_: You are a damned blockhead anyway, Shy. - -_Duncan_: Then I’ve done with argument. - - [_With this he flings the contents of his cup in_ OGILVIE’S _face_. - OGILVIE _tries to close with him, but is restrained by_ WHITE _and_ - SIMPSON, _while_ MUIR _and_ BURNS _hold_ DUNCAN.] - -_Duncan_ (_to_ BURNS): Leave me alone, you bawdy jingler. Go back to -your wenching, and let men settle their own affairs. Take your hands -off me, I say. - -_White_ (_to_ OGILVIE): Sit down, Sam. - -_Simpson_: Brawling is licentious. - - [_They quieten him._] - -_Duncan_: Let me go, you. - - [_But_ BURNS _needs a little help from_ MUIR _to keep him in control_.] - -_Burns_: Why do you discompose yourself, Mr. Duncan? No one means you -any harm. - -_Duncan_: You have no right to address me at all. I am above your -quality. - -_Muir_ (_tipsy like the rest, but clear as to the situation_): Duncan, -are you going to apologise? Either that, or you can go home, and don’t -come back. - -_Duncan_ (_relapsing suddenly from temper to maudlin stupor, sinking -into his chair_): I will apologise if Mr. Burns will write my biography. - -_Simpson_: He shall write it, and I will exhibit it by citation. - -_Duncan_: Very well then, I apologise. - -_Muir_: Very unedifying, Mr. Burns. I beg you will overlook it. Fill -up, gentlemen. - - [_He fills the cups. As he is doing so a serving maid comes in._] - -_The Girl_: This has just been left for Mr. Burns. (_Giving him a -note._) A lady in a coach. - -_White_: A love letter, I’ll warrant. (_To the_ GIRL.) Did you read it, -darling? - - [_He puts his arm round her and kisses her._] - -_The Girl_: I have my own, thank you. - -_White_: O, you have, have you? - - [_She moves to go._ BURNS _is fumbling with his letter, beyond any - easy reading of it_.] - -_Muir_ (_filling the last cup_): A moment, Meg. The bowl is empty. -We will replenish it. Bear it in front of us. Come, Baliol, we will -administer the ingredients together. Excuse us, gentlemen. - - [MEG _carries the bowl out_, MUIR _and_ WHITE _following her_. - - OGILVIE _has subsided on to the floor, and is lying with his head on_ - DUNCAN’S _knee, both asleep_.] - -_Burns_ (_the opened letter in his hand_): This handwriting is -confoundedly fidgetty. - -_Simpson_ (_who has carried his liquor better than the rest_): Is it of -a private character, Mr. Burns? - -_Burns_: Its character escapes me. - - [_Handing the letter to him._] - -_Simpson_ (_reading_): ‘Remember your friends. They remember you. Be -just to yourself. Afton Water.’ (_Returning the letter._) An obscure -reference. - -_Burns_: Just to myself. Are we just to ourselves, Mr. Simpson? - -_Simpson_: It is many years since I asked myself that question, Mr. -Burns. I was ambitious once. - -_Burns_: And you betrayed yourself? - -_Simpson_: I accepted my limitations. - -_Burns_: I could have been a different man, Mr. Simpson, and she died. -I, too, am accepting my limitations. We’re not very proud of it, eh, -Mr. Simpson? - -_Simpson_: I do not vex my mind on the matter any longer. - -_Burns_: That’s it. It comes. It is coming to me--I know it. Mary, -lass, Mary. - - [_And now, brooding far away from his environment, he sings._] - - Thou ling’ring star, with less’ning ray, - That lov’st to greet the early morn, - Again thou usher’st in the day - My Mary from my soul was torn. - O Mary! dear departed shade! - Where is thy place of blissful rest? - See’st thou thy lover lowly laid? - Hear’st thou the groans that rend his breast? - - That sacred hour can I forget? - Can I forget the hallowed grove, - Where, by the winding Ayr, we met, - To live one day of parting love? - My Mary! dear departed shade! - Where is thy place of blissful rest? - See’st thou thy lover lowly laid? - Hear’st thou the groans that rend his breast? - -_Simpson_: She’ll not hear. - - [BURNS _makes no reply, but sits alone in his moment of remorse_. - - MUIR _and_ WHITE _return with the bowl, now full. They place it on the - table._] - -_Muir_: Gentlemen, gentlemen. Asleep and moody. Come, this is -festivity. (_Rousing the sleepers._) Wake up, drink up, sing up! - -_Duncan_ (_waking_): I apologise--I said so. Sam Ogilvie, we will wipe -out all debts. Let us drink till morning. - -_Ogilvie_: Shy, you’re a thoroughbred. - -_Muir_: Come, Mr. Burns, do not be put out of countenance because a few -words have passed. Let gone be gone. We’re all friends now. Another -song, Mr. Burns, and here’s to you. - - [_They all drink again, and call for the song._] - -_Burns_ (_rousing himself_): You mistake me, gentlemen. I am your -servant. And, my lord, as you say, we will let gone be gone. We cannot -confound our limitations, as Mr. Simpson will tell you. So let us -drink, and sing, and drink. - - [_He drinks a full cup at a draught, and sings, the chorus now renewed - to its highest pitch._] - - Ken ye ought o’ Captain Grose? - Igo and ago, - If he’s amang his friends or foes? - Iram, coram, dago. - - Is he south or is he north? - Igo and ago, - Or drownèd in the river Forth? - Iram, coram, dago. - - Is he slain by Highlan’ bodies? - Igo and ago, - And eaten like a wether-haggis? - Iram, coram, dago. - - Is he to Abram’s bosom gane? - Igo and ago, - Or haudin’ Sarah by the wame? - Iram, coram, dago. - - Where’er he be, the Lord be near him! - Igo and ago, - As for the deil, he daurna steer him! - Iram, coram, dago. - - So may ye get in glad possession, - Igo and ago, - The coins o’ Satan’s coronation! - Iram, coram, dago. - - - THE CURTAIN FALLS - - -SCENE V - - BURNS’S _Farm at Ellisland, six miles from Dumfries. An August evening - in 1791, more than four years later._ - - _It is the general kitchen-living-room at the farm. It is fine and - warm, and the door to the straw-littered yard is open. A girl is - clearing away the evening meal, which has been shared by the family - and the farm-servants. A young labourer is sitting by the window - mending a bridle. By the fireplace_, JEAN ARMOUR, _now_ MRS. BURNS, - _is sewing and singing_. - - O wert thou in the cauld blast - On yonder lea, on yonder lea, - My plaidie to the angry airt - I’d shelter thee, I’d shelter thee: - Or did Misfortune’s bitter storms - Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, - Thy bield should be my bosom, - To share it a’, to share it a’. - - Or were I in the wildest waste, - Sae black and bare, sae black and bare, - The desert were a paradise, - If thou wert there, if thou wert there: - Or were I monarch of the globe, - Wi’ thee to reign, wi’ thee to reign, - The brightest jewel in my crown - Wad be my queen, wad be my queen. - -_The Girl_: That’s a favourite of the master’s. - -_Jean_: It was our wedding song. - -_The Girl_: It must be fine to be wed. - -_Jean_: It’s fine, but it’s anxious. - -_The Young Man_: How long have you been married, Mrs. Burns? - -_Jean_: Married six years, wed three. - -_The Young Man_: And you’re not tired of it? - -_Jean_: I’ve had no time to get tired. - -_The Young Man_: It’s different for women, I suppose. I should be -scared of wedding--having to cleave to one, as they say. - -_Jean_: It doesn’t follow. - -_The Girl_: It would follow if I was the one--I’d have you understand -that, Willie Campbell. - -_Willie_: You’re very exacting. - -_The Girl_: I’m not. You could promise it at least. You’re too -calculating. It’s no good making love to a girl unless you can lie to -her. - - [_She goes into a wash-house beyond, with plates and dishes._] - -_Willie_: That’s all right, but a man should be cautious--then they -can’t turn on him afterwards. - -_Jean_: Maybe. I’ve never come into contact with caution, Willie. - -_Willie_: Mr. M’Pherson has sent over again about the barley. That’s -the third time. - -_Jean_: Have you told Mr. Burns? - -_Willie_: Yes, but he takes no notice. - -_Jean_: I’ll speak to him. - -_Willie_: It’s no business of mine, but the farm’s wasting, Mrs. Burns. - -_Jean_: You’re right, Willie, it’s no business of yours. - -_Willie_: I’ll have to be going elsewhere. - -_Jean_: You’re a very prudent young man. - -_Willie_: What’s the use of putting me off like that? There’s no -offence in what I say. I mean it friendly. The master’s mind is not in -it. This could be a grand farm, Mrs. Burns, but it needs a judicious -industry. He’s a great man, and a poet, and all that they say, but -here’s a hundred acres being spoilt by his neglect. - - [BURNS _comes in_.] - -_Burns_: You’re quite right, Willie, neglect, that’s what it is. - -_Jean_: You shouldn’t speak so, Willie. - -_Burns_: But he should, Jean, my girl. Truth’s truth, eh, Willie? - -_Willie_: It’s no good taking it so easy, Mr. Burns, thinking you’ll -make me quiet by agreeing with me like that. I’ve started, and -I’ll finish. It’s been growing in me. We work here for a scant of -wages--that’s all fair enough--you can’t afford more. But we want to -have a pride in the place, same as you ought to, and don’t. And you -can laugh at my truth as you call it, but you feel it all the same. -I’ve watched you, and I’ve seen the conscience in your face. You stand -down in the fields there like a man moonstruck, when you ought to be -keeping your eyes on us. Couldn’t you write your poems on Sabbath -afternoons? And you take too much of the liquor. There’s the stuff in -Town meadows rotting, we’ve missed the last two Dumfries markets, and -there’s a good deal at M’Pherson’s going begging. Now I’ve said my say, -and you can turn me off. But I couldn’t watch it with my mouth shut any -longer. - - [_He goes out to the yard._] - -_Jean_: Willie Campbell is forgetting himself. - -_Burns_: No, Jean, he’s right. You know it, and I know it. It isn’t the -farm only that’s spoiling. - -_Jean_: I know, Robbie. Can’t you--I mean, it’s hard for you. - -_Burns_: It’s hard for you, lass. I’ve got a head often enough damned -well full of resolutions, but what’s the good of them--they scatter. -The land’s mean and it’s beaten me. Or I’ve beaten myself. I can’t help -the tunes running in my head, or getting a dry gullet. (_He goes to -the dresser and mixes a bowl of whisky punch._) But I’ve done with the -cursed bit of acres. I’ve accepted the excise job at Dumfries. - -_Jean_: Accepted it? - -_Burns_: Aye--we’ll be more certain there. Seventy pounds a year. -(_Drinking._) We’re famous, Jean, and now we have preferment. The muse -is honoured. We should give thanks. - -_Jean_: And there were such fine promises too, from Edinburgh and the -like. - -_Burns_: Solicitation--well, there, I’ve had no stomach for it. I’ll -not complain. - -_Jean_: Couldn’t you see M’Pherson? - -_Burns_: Aye--I’ve been meaning to this fortnight. But you know how -it is. I’m all moods these days. That’s no reason--I know where the -reproach lies well enough. But if it weren’t for you, Jean girl, and -the others, I’d take my songs to the devil point to point. I’d have -done with disillusions then. I could spread my wings in hell, maybe. - -_Jean_: Don’t talk so, Robbie. Is my faith in you nothing? - -_Burns_: It’s a miracle of your own heart. But there--Dumfries may mend -us. (_Drinking._) To the providence of Dumfries. - -_Jean_: And you’ll see M’Pherson? - -_Burns_: Aye. And I’m weak and unstable, I know, but I know where my -good fortune is, for all I’m careless of it at times. You’ve been in my -mind all day. Listen. - - [_He sings._] - - O’ a’ the airts the wind can blaw, - I dearly like the west, - For there the bonnie lassie lives, - The lassie I lo’e best: - There wild-woods grow, and rivers row, - And mony a hill between; - But day and night my fancy’s flight - Is ever wi’ my Jean. - - I see her in the dewy flowers, - I see her sweet and fair: - I hear her in the tunefu’ birds, - I hear her charm the air: - There’s not a bonnie flower that springs - By fountain, shaw, or green, - There’s not a bonnie bird that sings, - But minds me o’ my Jean. - -_Jean_: Thank you, Robin. I’ve heard from my father. He’s coming on -Friday. - -_Burns_: As you like. - -_Jean_: You know how proud he is of you now. - -_Burns_: Aye. I know. - - [_The_ GIRL _comes back with clean plates, which she puts on the - dresser_.] - -_The Girl_: Mrs. Fergus is coming across the field, Mrs. Burns. - - [_She goes out again._] - -_Burns_: That girl is too pretty, Jean. - -_Jean_: We’ll trust her. - -_Burns_: But I can’t trust myself. I never could, and I grow no wiser. -I’ll go to the barn--I can’t bide Ellen Fergus. - -_Jean_: And won’t you come in then and just sit here and read your -book? You haven’t done that lately. - -_Burns_: Maybe. Why, yes, girl, if it will please you. - - [_He finishes his drink and goes out._ JEAN _returns to her sewing, - and sings_.] - - Ye banks and braes o’ bonnie Doon, - How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair; - How can ye chant, ye little birds, - And I sae weary, fu’ o’ care! - Thou’ll break my heart, thou warbling bird, - That wantons thro’ the flowering thorn: - Thou mindst me o’ departed joys, - Departed, never to return! - - Aft hae I rov’d by bonnie Doon, - To see the rose and woodbine twine; - And ilka bird sang o’ its luve, - And fondly sae did I o’ mine. - Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose, - Fu’ sweet upon its thorny tree; - And my fause luver staw my rose, - But, ah! he left the thorn wi’ me. - - [_As she finishes_, MRS. FERGUS _appears at the door, and stands - looking in the direction that_ BURNS _has taken_.] - -_Mrs. Fergus_ (_singing, to_ BURNS): - - My bottle is a holy pool, - That heals the wounds o’ care an’ dool; - And pleasure is a wanton trout, - An ye drink it dry, ye’ll find him out. - -Are you alone, Mrs. Burns? - - [_Coming into the room._] - -_Jean_: Yes, Mrs. Fergus. Come in and sit down. - -_Mrs. Fergus_ (_sitting_): A fine, thrifty evening. - -_Jean_: The season’s very prosperous. - -_Mrs. Fergus_: I hope you find it so. - -_Jean_: We’ve much to be thankful for. - -_Mrs. Fergus_: You’re a great one for fortitude, Mrs. Burns, I’ll say -that. - -_Jean_: I don’t know how that may be. - -_Mrs. Fergus_: My husband says your farm isn’t showing as well as it -might. Mr. Burns is busy elsewhere no doubt. - -_Jean_: He’s been doing a bit of excise work. He’s going to take it up -altogether. In Dumfries. - -_Mrs. Fergus_: In Dumfries? But that makes company for him, I daresay. - -_Jean_: Yes. - -_Mrs. Fergus_: A man must need a strong constitution, what with a call -here, and a call there. But Mr. Burns looks a stout sort. - -_Jean_: He’s very popular--with his fame too. - -_Mrs. Fergus_: Quite a celebrity, I suppose, when he’s away from home. - -_Jean_: Some of our neighbours appreciate him too. - -_Mrs. Fergus_: And not the handsome ones least, Mrs. Burns, I’ll be -bound. - -_Jean_: So he tells me. - -_Mrs. Fergus_: You’re not very partial to observation yourself, perhaps. - -_Jean_: When your man’s a man of spirit, Mrs. Fergus, you can see and -you can not see. - -_Mrs. Fergus_: Well, every woman must judge for herself. - -_Jean_: Some judge for others as well. - -_Mrs. Fergus_: Do you find Ramsay’s mill satisfactory? We thought of -trying it. - -_Jean_: I’ve not heard Robert mention it. - -_Mrs. Fergus_: Indeed? I thought he did a good deal of business there. -I see him going down often. - -_Jean_: He doesn’t always trouble me with these things. - -_Mrs. Fergus_: Ramsay’s daughter Peg is growing into the flower of the -countryside they say, and none too particular either. - -_Jean_: Listen, Mrs. Fergus. You called in here neighbourly, and you’re -welcome. But I know more than you can teach me about Robert, and I’ll -ask you to take your gossip where it’s wanted. He’s no pattern maybe, -but there’s few with the heart or the brain to copy him. There’s that -in him that is beyond the understanding of the likes of us. I’ve had my -share of him, and I know how to keep my share of him. And I’d rather -have that share than ten other whole men. And when I want to take -counsel about him I’ll take counsel with him himself. - -_Mrs. Fergus_: If you take my words like that-- - -_Jean_: Just like that. - -_Mrs. Fergus_ (_rising_): Then I’d better be going. - -_Jean_: No, you needn’t go. You’re welcome, as I said. There’s plenty -else for conversation. Sit down. Do you know Dumfries? - -_Mrs. Fergus_: I’m sure I meant no interfering. (_Sitting._) A little. -It’s a very fashionable town. - -_Jean_: I fear it will be costly. - -_Mrs. Fergus_: Aye, you can spend money there. - - [ANDREW M’PHERSON, _a neighbouring farmer, comes to the door_.] - -_M’Pherson_: Is Robert at home, Mrs. Burns? - -_Jean_: He’s near, somewhere. Come in, Mr. M’Pherson. - -_M’Pherson_ (_coming in_): Thank you. Good-evening, Mrs. Fergus. - -_Mrs. Fergus_: Good-evening, Mr. M’Pherson. I’m told Mrs. M’Pherson is -not looking well. - -_M’Pherson_: She’s bonny. - -_Mrs. Fergus_: Oh? Then I’ve been misinformed. - -_M’Pherson_: No doubt you have. And not the first time, Mrs. Fergus. - - [BURNS _is heard approaching, singing as he comes_.] - - Comin’ through the rye, poor body, - Comin’ through the rye, - She draiglet a’ her petticoatie, - Comin’ through the rye. - Gin a body meet a body-- - Comin’ through the rye, - Gin a body kiss a body-- - Need a body cry? - -_Mrs. Fergus_: Yes, I think I’ll be going. Good-evening. - - [_She goes, and meets_ BURNS _at the door_.] - -_Burns_: She’s draiglet a’ her petticoatie, Mrs. Fergus. Missions of -comfort, eh? - -_Mrs. Fergus_: I hope you’ll find Dumfries very improving, Mr. Burns. -Good-evening. - - [_She goes._] - -_Burns_ (_after her_): The removal will have its compensations, -Mrs. Fergus. (_Coming in._) Andrew, my son. Just a drop? (_Filling -glasses._) I was coming to see you. - -_M’Pherson_: You’ve been long enough. - -_Burns_: Time’s a fleet colt, Andrew. (_Handing a glass._) Here’s your -good health. - - [_They drink._] - -_M’Pherson_: Well, is it a deal? - -_Burns_: I was going to tell you, yes. - -_M’Pherson_: That’s good. Here’s the coin. - - [_He counts out some money on the table._] - -_Burns_ (_taking up the money_): That’s the last deal at Ellisland. -(_Handing the money to_ JEAN.) Here you are, lass--no, I’ll keep one. - - [WILLIE CAMPBELL _comes in._] - -_Willie_: Am I to stay, or am I to go? - -_Burns_: We’re going ourselves, Willie. To Dumfries. - -_Willie_: You’re letting it beat you. - -_Jean_: It’s a very responsible excise appointment, Willie. - -_Willie_: We could have made this a grand farm, I tell you, and you’ll -go smuggler-baiting. - - [_He returns to his bridle-mending._] - -_Burns_: And so you despise me? - -_Willie_: I do not. I’m disappointed in you. - -_M’Pherson_: The land’s good. It ought to do well. - -_Burns_: Willie’s right. I haven’t the character. I love the earth, -Andrew, but I’m no master of it. It’s a live thing, and knows it. -It’ll only grow songs for me. So I’m for a gauger. It’s best. You and -Willie are the ones. (_Filling the glasses._) I was never made for firm -footing, and if I think I’ll do better in Dumfries, I think I won’t. -Make what you can of that, my friends. - - [_He sings._] - - My father was a farmer - Upon the Carrick border, O, - And carefully he bred me - In decency and order, O; - He bade me act a manly part, - Though I had ne’er a farthing, O; - For without an honest manly heart - No man was worth regarding, O. - - In many a way, and vain essay, - I courted Fortune’s favour, O; - Some cause unseen still stept between, - To frustrate each endeavour, O: - Sometimes by foes I was o’erpower’d; - Sometimes by friends forsaken, O; - And when my hope was at the top, - I still was worst mistaken, O. - -It’s a poor, low-hearted doctrine you say, you masters. Well, there it -is. Jeannie, girl, they’ve told you the truth about me. - -_Jean_: I’ve known the truth about you these six years, Robin, in spite -of everybody’s telling. - - [_A stranger, a traveller, appears at the door._] - -_Stranger_: Mr. Burns? Will you forgive me? I have a letter from Mr. -Gavin Hamilton. - - [_Handing him the letter._] - -_Burns_ (_reading_): Mr. Hamilton’s friends are welcome. Jean, Mr. -Fenton. - -_Jean_: Good-evening--have you eaten? - -_Fenton_: Thank you, I’m at the Inn. - -_Burns_: Well, a glass of grog at least. - - [_He mixes another bowl._] - -_Fenton_: You’re very kind. Mr. Hamilton’s letter has, perhaps, -explained. - -_Burns_: He recommends your acquaintance, sir, that’s all. - -_Fenton_: I am visiting in Ayr. I could not miss the opportunity of -presenting my compliments in person to Mr. Burns. - -_Burns_: Sir, you flatter me. - -_Fenton_: It is no flattery, sir. Enlightened judgment in London is -very well aware that we have no genius in England to excel one in -Scotland. It must be a great satisfaction to you, madam, to know your -husband is so generally acknowledged. - -_Jean_: We are much encouraged by it. - -_Fenton_: But genius, I know, does not need these assurances. - -_Burns_ (_handing punch_): They are my wages, sir. I am grateful for -them. - -_Fenton_: Mr. Hamilton tells me of your appointment to the excise at -Dumfries. My congratulations. - - [_They drink._] - -_Burns_: Yes. Seventy pounds a year. - - [_The_ GIRL _returns, and lights a lamp. She draws the curtain, and - joins_ WILLIE CAMPBELL _at the window_.] - -_M’Pherson_: If you gentlemen in London think so highly of Mr. Burns, -couldn’t you do something better for him than that? - -_Fenton_: Indeed, from Mr. Burns’s reputation, I could not have -supposed such expedients necessary. - -_Willie_: Reputation makes no bannocks in these parts, sir. - -_Burns_: Gentlemen, my apologies. These affairs can be no concern of -yours. What news have you in London, sir, from France? - -_Fenton_: The excesses of the revolution increase, I fear. - -_Burns_: And yet we shall have to emulate the movement, you will find. -We must earnestly hope that it can be done constitutionally. Reform -without violence, we may trust, but reform it must be. - -_Fenton_: All our best political thought would agree with you, Mr. -Burns. - -_Burns_: Here’s to a free Britain, gentlemen, and a sense of the -people’s rights in our legislators. - - [_They drink._] - -_Fenton_: And with your toast, sir, the name of Mr. Pitt. - -_Burns_: I’ll substitute a greater name, by your leave, sir. I’ll give -you George Washington. - -_Fenton_: Isn’t that rather controversial ground, Mr. Burns? - -_Burns_: Then we’ll drink to our own fancy--Pitt or Washington. - - [_They drink again._] - -_Burns_: And now, gentlemen, let us forget all budgets, state and -domestic. Good fellowship heeds no governments. - - [_He sings._] - - Here’s a bottle and an honest friend! - What wad ye wish for mair, man? - Wha kens, before his life may end, - What his share may be of care, man? - - Then catch the moments as they fly, - And use them as ye ought, man: - Believe me, happiness is shy, - And comes not aye when sought, man. - -_Jean_ (_to the_ GIRL): Are the children quiet? - -_The Girl_: Yes, Mrs. Burns. - -_Burns_ (_to_ FENTON): You have children, sir? - -_Fenton_: No, I regret to say. - -_Burns_: I don’t deserve them, but I have. - -_Willie_: They’re a great expense. - -_The Girl_: Hold your tongue, Willie. - -_M’Pherson_: I’ll be going. Good-evening to you. - -_Fenton_: I too. I only wished to present Mr. Hamilton’s letter this -evening. Will you honour me by your company at noon to-morrow? You too, -Mrs. Burns? - -_Jean_: My husband will be very pleased, I’m sure. I’ll be busy here -though, thank you. - -_Fenton_: At noon then, sir. Good-evening, madam. - -_Jean_: Good-evening. - - [_He goes with_ M’PHERSON.] - -_The Girl_: It’s a great thing to be famous like that, with folks -travelling from London to look at you. - -_Willie_: Aye, it’s great. But it’s not very profitable. - -_Burns_: Jean, Jean--I ought to be conquering the world, and I’ve crept -into favour at Dumfries at seventy pounds a year. - -_Jean_: Don’t trouble, Robin. It’s all right. - -_Burns_: ‘Here’s a bottle and an honest friend’--not many of your -honesty, Jean. - - [_He moves to fill his glass from the bowl on the table, but the_ GIRL - _skilfully removes it before he gets there_.] - -_Burns_ (_looking at his empty glass_): I--well, you’re right, maybe. - -_Willie_ (_rising_): Your fame will have a double edge, Mr. Burns, -that’s what it is. - - [_He goes out into the yard, taking the bridle._] - -_The Girl_: Shall I tell them you’ll come up, Mrs. Burns? - -_Jean_: In a few minutes. - -_Burns_: Tell them I’ll come too. - - [_The_ GIRL _goes through into the house_.] - -_Burns_: Oh, I know what you are thinking. I’ve no control, you say to -yourself. - -_Jean_: Robin boy, I’m not complaining. The land’s been disheartening, -I know. And you have tried. But it makes it so hard for us. - -_Burns_: What has Ellen Fergus been saying? - -_Jean_: Nothing--just chatter. - -_Burns_: I know--I’ve seen her watching me go down to Ramsay’s. But the -girl there is nothing--a mopsy. - -_Jean_: You’ve no need to excuse yourself, Robin. I don’t ask it. But -the dearest thing I have in the world is my pride for you. - -_Burns_: I’m not worth it. I’m a miserable, havering gipsy. You are my -only refuge, Jean. I’ll shut the yard gate. Then we’ll go up to see -them. - - [_He goes out._] - -_Jean_ (_putting her sewing away, sings_): - - The day returns, my bosom burns, - The blissful day we twa did meet; - Tho’ winter wild in tempest toil’d, - Ne’er summer sun was half sae sweet. - Than a’ the pride that loads the tide, - And crosses o’er the sultry line; - Than kingly robes, than crowns and globes, - Heaven gave me more--it made thee mine. - - [BURNS _comes to the door and continues the song_.] - - While day and night can bring delight, - Or nature aught of pleasure give, - While joys above my mind can move, - For thee, and thee alone, I live! - When that grim foe of life below - Comes in between to make us part, - The iron hand that breaks our band, - It breaks my bliss--it breaks my heart! - - [_Together they repeat_--] - - When that grim foe of life below - Comes in between, to make us part, - The iron hand that breaks our band, - It breaks my bliss--it breaks my heart! - - [_Following the_ GIRL _into the house, as_] - - - THE CURTAIN FALLS - - -SCENE VI - - BURNS’S _house at Dumfries, in July, 1796, five years later_. - - _It is a sweltering afternoon, and_ BURNS, _worn and ill, is seated by - the open window, looking out on to the street_. - - _Out in the town can be heard a drum and fife band. As it comes nearer - and passes away_, BURNS _sings with some effort_. - - When wild war’s deadly blast was blawn, - And gentle peace returning, - Wi’ mony a sweet babe fatherless, - And mony a widow mourning; - - I left the lines and tented field, - Where lang I’d been a lodger, - My humble knapsack a’ my wealth, - A poor and honest sodger. - - [JEAN _comes in_.] - -_Jean_: You mustn’t exhaust yourself, Robin dear. - -_Burns_: There’s not much left of me now to spend, my girl. It’s busy -in the town to-day? - -_Jean_: Aye. It’s the emigrants. And the volunteers are leaving this -evening. - -_Burns_: They’re going to fight the Frenchies, and I’m going to fight -auld Nickie-ben. We’re full of affairs in Scotland to-day. - -_Jean_: Mr. Gavin Hamilton is coming to see you. - -_Burns_: It’s very attentive of him. He’s welcome. Most of my fine -friends have grown tired of me these years. - -_Jean_: You mustn’t say that, Robin. - -_Burns_: Why not? It’s true. They wouldn’t look at me across the -street, lots of them, these months past. I don’t blame them. I’ve not -played my game very well, Jean. - -_Jean_: There are enquiries for you everywhere in the town. They’re -troubled for you, boy. - -_Burns_: It’s kind of them, but it’s late now. Mr. Thompson has sent -the five pounds. I’ve had to turn beggar at the end. - -_Jean_: You earned it, you know that. - -_Burns_: I know I had to beg. - - [_An approaching voice is heard._] - -_Burns_: There’s a friend who’s not welcome. - - [HOLY WILLIE _passes the window, his prayer on his lips_.] - - But, Lord, remember me and mine, - Wi’ mercies temp’ral and divine, - That I for grace and gear may shine, - Excell’d by nane, - And a’ the glory shall be Thine, - Amen, Amen! - - [_He comes to the door. Twelve years have made no change in him._] - -_Holy Willie_: Is the man Burns within? - -_Jean_: Mr. Burns is very ill. - -_Holy Willie_: Aye, so I am informed. (_Coming into the room._) I came -the journey expressly to exhort you to repentance. - -_Burns_: I’ve spent my life repenting. - -_Holy Willie_: I fear you’ve lived in unbridled pleasure. - -_Burns_: You’re a great reconciler to another world, minister. - -_Jean_: Will you not leave him in peace? - -_Holy Willie_: There’s no peace for the damned. I had little hope of -grace in him. But I wanted my flock to know that I had not failed in my -duty by one of them, though strayed. I’m content. - -_Burns_: I’ll never see you again, minister, God be praised. But -listen, a parting word to you. - - [_He sings._] - - O ye wha are sae guid yoursel’, - Sae pious and sae holy, - Ye’ve nought to do but mark and tell - Your neebours’ fauts and folly! - Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill, - Supply’d wi’ store o’ water, - The heapèt happer’s ebbing still, - And still the clap plays clatter. - - Then gently scan your brother man, - Still gentler sister woman; - Though they may gang a kennin’ wrang, - To step aside is human: - One point must still be greatly dark, - The moving _Why_ they do it; - And just as lamely can ye mark - How far perhaps they rue it. - -_Holy Willie_: Stubborn in your pride, even at death’s gate. I’ll -persevere with you no longer. Repent, repent-- - - [_He goes out, his voice fading with_--] - - But, Lord, remember me and mine, - Wi’ mercies temp’ral and divine, - That I for gear and grace may shine, - Excell’d by nane, - And a’ the glory shall be Thine, - Amen, Amen! - -_Jean_: I should have kept him out. He vexed you. - -_Burns_: I’ll never be vexed again. He’s some trick of the Lord’s. -Jean girl, I’ll say it now, and then we’ll not speak of it again. -You’ve been the one sure thing in this world for me. I’m tired, and -I leave it all gladly, but you, and them you’ve given me. Bless you -everlastingly, and forgive me for my poor soul’s sake, and I’ll need no -other forgiveness on earth. - -_Jean_ (_kisses him, and sings_): - - Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; - Ae fareweel, and then, for ever! - Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee, - Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee. - Who shall say that fortune grieves him, - While the star of hope she leaves him? - Me, nae cheerfu’ twinkle lights me: - Dark despair around benights me. - -_Burns_ (_taking up the song_): - - Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest! - Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest! - Thine be ilka joy and treasure, - Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure! - Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; - Ae fareweel, alas, for ever! - Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee, - Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee! - -_Together_: - - Had we never lov’d sae kindly, - Had we never lov’d sae blindly, - Never met--or never parted, - We had ne’er been broken-hearted. - -_Burns_: There, lass. Now we must be stout-hearted. Ah, here’s Mr. -Hamilton coming. - - [GAVIN HAMILTON _passes the window_. JEAN _goes to the door_.] - -_Jean_ (_showing him in_): It’s good of you to come, Mr. Hamilton. - -_Hamilton_: Well, Robert, my lad. Taking some of your Dumfries air? - -_Burns_: Pretty near my last draught of it, Mr. Hamilton. - -_Hamilton_: No, no. - -_Burns_: Oh, but it is. But I’m easy in my mind for myself now. If -you’ll do what you can to see that things here don’t break up. - -_Hamilton_: You can trust us about that. But you mustn’t give up. - -_Burns_: I’m old bones before my time, Mr. Hamilton, and I’ll not have -another word of repining in this house. - -_Hamilton_: There’s very widespread concern about you, Robert. - -_Burns_: Aye? I’ll be a great ceremony, dead. Now, Mr. Hamilton, I -don’t want you to talk for a little. Sit down, just there, will you, -where I can look at a friend that’s never gone back on me. - - [HAMILTON _sits opposite_ BURNS, _and_ JEAN _at her husband’s side_. - BURNS _seems for a moment to be falling asleep, then there is a sound - of moving people outside_.] - -_Burns_: What’s that? - -_Jean_ (_looking out of the window_): It’s the emigrants. They’re -leaving the town. - -_Hamilton_: I saw them gathering outside your town hall as I came by. - -_Burns_: Aye--they’re going to a new world. Starting a new life. If I -were not the miserable disaster I am, I might be going with them. I -might be going to prove myself in far lands. - - [_The crowd is approaching, singing on its way._] - -_Burns_ (_in a new excitement_): Do you hear, Mr. Hamilton--do you -hear, Jean? - - [_The crowd passes the window, singing._ BURNS _and the others taking - up the song_.] - - Should auld acquaintance be forgot, - And never brought to mind? - Should auld acquaintance be forgot, - And days o’ lang syne? - - For auld lang syne, my dear, - For auld lang syne, - We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet, - For auld lang syne. - - We twa hae run about the braes, - And pou’d the gowans fine; - But we’ve wander’d mony a weary foot - Sin’ auld lang syne. - - For auld lang syne, my dear, - For auld lang syne, - We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet, - For auld lang syne. - -_Burns_ (_as the song fades away_): Do you hear that? They’re singing -my song--they’re taking me out into the world with them. The darlings! - - [_Again he relapses into his quietness for a moment. Then in the - distance is heard the pipes of a Scots regiment on march._] - -_Burns_ (_rousing_): Listen--listen. It’s my volunteers--they’re going -to the wars. - - [_The pipes come down the street._] - -_Burns_: They’re marching away, and I’ll never see them come back. - - [_The pipers lead the regiment past the window._] - -_Burns_ (_forcing himself up, and waving his muffler out of the window -to them_): God go with you, my lads--Scotland for ever. - - [_As they pass down the street, he sings._] - - Scots, wha hae wi’ Wallace bled, - Scots, wham Bruce has aften led; - Welcome to your gory bed, - Or to victorie! - - Now’s the day, and now’s the hour; - See the front of battle lour; - See approach proud Edward’s pow’r-- - Chains and slaverie! - - By Oppression’s woes and pains! - By your sons in servile chains! - We will drain our dearest veins - But they shall be free! - - Lay the proud usurpers low! - Tyrants fall in every foe! - Liberty’s in every blow!-- - Let us do, or die! - - Scots, wha hae wi’ Wallace bled, - Scots, wham Bruce has aften led; - Welcome to your gory bed, - Or to victorie! - - [_He sinks back exhausted into the arms of_ HAMILTON _and_ JEAN, _and_] - - - THE CURTAIN FALLS - - - - -Transcriber’s Note - - -In this file, text in _italics_ is indicated by underscores. - -The following changes were made to the text as printed: - -Page 3: “why, the quality’s serving women would laugh at it” changed to -“why, the quality’s serving women would laugh at it.” - -Page 22: “Some of the others at another table are playing cards_). -We were friends, Nell, you and I.” changed to “Some of the others at -another table are playing cards_): We were friends, Nell, you and I.” - -Page 43: “out by the candle-light of the stairway” changed to “out by -the candlelight of the stairway” - -Page 71: “BURNS (_to full chorus, is singing_),” changed to “_Burns_ -(_to full chorus, is singing_),” - -Page 76: “_White_: A song, a song” changed to “_White_: A song, a song.” - -Page 109: “Heaven gave me more--it made thee mine” changed to “Heaven -gave me more--it made thee mine.” - -Page 111: “auld Nickie Ben” changed to “auld Nickie-ben” - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBERT BURNS: A PLAY *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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